Monday, November 12, 2018
Sunday, October 21, 2018
Fire sale: everything must go
"Fire Sale, Everything Must Go". You've seen signs like this. It doesn't always mean there's been a fire. The term's gone generic. Fire sale can stand for any last ditch effort to liquidate inventory and move on. I used to know a Sikh in Edinburgh Scotland who specialized in fire sales. He'd rent a store, sometimes in a posh commercial district like Prince street and sell clothes that had been the inventory of someone else's failed enterprise. He'd give them one last chance, putting a 50% discount on one rack, and 60% off on another, and let everything on the table go for 10 pounds. Well, people love a bargain don't they? When he'd sold everything he thought he was likely to unload he would just pull out in the middle of the night. The next day there'd only be an empty store and perhaps a landlord somewhere wondering what had happened to that damn rascal in a turban and the remaining rent he'd been promised.
I'm feeling a lot like that Sikh today. I'm getting rid of everything. When my creditors look for me tomorrow they'll only find an empty camp , an empty studio space, and a gaping hole in the air where I should be standing. That's alright . Someone else can occupy that empty space on the sidewalk . As for creditors, no one is going to be out a penny. I've taken care of the money, but I still owe lots of you more than I could ever repay for your generous kindness, friendship, and love.
I began coming to Telluride in the late eighties. Back then I was a bike bum, now and then a kayak bum. I really had nothing that didn't travel with me .I carried little on that bicycle, a slightly bigger pile loaded into a sea kayak. I painted and drew and worked a few short term jobs. Settling down hadn't occurred to me. While passing through Telluride in 2006 a strange thought hit me, why not put down some roots here? A new phase of my life began on the spur of the moment, and it grew into the life I created in Telluride.
Deciding to pull up stakes was almost as sudden for me. At this point I can only see next year and what remains of this one. First I get rid of the stuff that won't travel, then I make a short ride in the desert, then I prepare for a much longer ride in Europe.
Back in my free floating days there were spots I loved returning to again and again on the other side of the Atlantic. I'd found towns and cities there that were so paintable and so liveable, and so irresistible, they drew me back again and again. And in turn, I drew them. I may have been romantisizing life in small European cities. My tendency is to walk a bit above the ground ,I'll admit. The fact that you can romanticize anything at all these days is encouraging. I call the missing element of modern life magic. To me, a hopeless romantic, life without magic is hardly worth living. I can go there for a few months and bike around to my hearts content and hardly escape this prosaic existence. To make that leap into the magical takes something more . I'll have to spend more time. I'll need to depend on my brushes and pencil to sustain me. I'll have to burrow deep to extract whatever magic I can find and expose it. Another piece of magic occurs when someone sees a painting I've created and responds to it ,then buys it . It's as if I was led to paint that picture and they were led to buy it. The whole damn process was magic from start to finish . Time to celebrate at an outdoor cafe with a good meal and a glass of wine. Why wouldn't i want to return to that?
I'm using the word magic as a substitute for what i really mean but don't have words for. Often you know you've arrived when coincidence leads to coincidence, and the commonplace and the unexeptional fly right out the window. If life is going as planned, and every thing is just as you expect it you are seriously missing the boat. Someone said that coincidence is just God wanting to remain anonymous. I'll drink to that.
How long will I be gone? Will I return at all? I don't know. The answer to the last question is that's very likely. Not knowing is part of letting go. I need to let go now. Will there be more columns in the future? Just try and shut me up.
I'm feeling a lot like that Sikh today. I'm getting rid of everything. When my creditors look for me tomorrow they'll only find an empty camp , an empty studio space, and a gaping hole in the air where I should be standing. That's alright . Someone else can occupy that empty space on the sidewalk . As for creditors, no one is going to be out a penny. I've taken care of the money, but I still owe lots of you more than I could ever repay for your generous kindness, friendship, and love.
I began coming to Telluride in the late eighties. Back then I was a bike bum, now and then a kayak bum. I really had nothing that didn't travel with me .I carried little on that bicycle, a slightly bigger pile loaded into a sea kayak. I painted and drew and worked a few short term jobs. Settling down hadn't occurred to me. While passing through Telluride in 2006 a strange thought hit me, why not put down some roots here? A new phase of my life began on the spur of the moment, and it grew into the life I created in Telluride.
Deciding to pull up stakes was almost as sudden for me. At this point I can only see next year and what remains of this one. First I get rid of the stuff that won't travel, then I make a short ride in the desert, then I prepare for a much longer ride in Europe.
Back in my free floating days there were spots I loved returning to again and again on the other side of the Atlantic. I'd found towns and cities there that were so paintable and so liveable, and so irresistible, they drew me back again and again. And in turn, I drew them. I may have been romantisizing life in small European cities. My tendency is to walk a bit above the ground ,I'll admit. The fact that you can romanticize anything at all these days is encouraging. I call the missing element of modern life magic. To me, a hopeless romantic, life without magic is hardly worth living. I can go there for a few months and bike around to my hearts content and hardly escape this prosaic existence. To make that leap into the magical takes something more . I'll have to spend more time. I'll need to depend on my brushes and pencil to sustain me. I'll have to burrow deep to extract whatever magic I can find and expose it. Another piece of magic occurs when someone sees a painting I've created and responds to it ,then buys it . It's as if I was led to paint that picture and they were led to buy it. The whole damn process was magic from start to finish . Time to celebrate at an outdoor cafe with a good meal and a glass of wine. Why wouldn't i want to return to that?
I'm using the word magic as a substitute for what i really mean but don't have words for. Often you know you've arrived when coincidence leads to coincidence, and the commonplace and the unexeptional fly right out the window. If life is going as planned, and every thing is just as you expect it you are seriously missing the boat. Someone said that coincidence is just God wanting to remain anonymous. I'll drink to that.
How long will I be gone? Will I return at all? I don't know. The answer to the last question is that's very likely. Not knowing is part of letting go. I need to let go now. Will there be more columns in the future? Just try and shut me up.
Tuesday, October 9, 2018
The presumption of evil
From the beginning the Kavanaugh hearings before the judicial committee of the Senate have provided high drama and outrageous spectacle. Most of that spectacle has occurred outside the formal hearings themselves. The allegations of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford that the Supreme Court nominee attempted to rape her when she was 15, came after the conclusion of the hearings but not before the vote. Another woman has stepped forward to claim that judge Kavanaugh sexually assaulted her while they were freshmen at Yale. Michael Avenati, the lawyer for Trump accuser Stormy Daniels , claims that he has a client who will testify that while in high school the nominee was present while she was gang raped . Whether you believe the claims of these accusers or Kavanaugh's claims of innocence is determined largely by whether you supported Kavanaugh before these accusations came to light, or believed he must be stopped.
One Senator on the committee, Mazie Hirono, D. of Hawaii, has made up her mind. When asked by Jake Tapper of CNN, whether Kavanaugh warrants the presumption of innocence she said that she would be putting into context his attitudes and legal opinions, particularly his stance on women's reproductive rights. The correct answer to this question is an unequivocal yes. I think a yes answer is the least we could expect from a lawmaker representing Hawaii, or any other State sworn to affirm the Constitution. Her answer demonstrates either ignorance of ,or contempt for it's principals and plain meaning. Her implication is that because the judge does not share her views on abortion he no longer falls under the protection of the bill of rights. It's one thing to declare that a person is guilty after an investigation has taken place, or after they have admitted guilt, or even when evidence exists making their claims to innocence ring hollow, but prior to that, condemning them over a political disagreement is astonishingly callous. For the record, judge Kavanaugh has not made his personal views on abortion public except to affirm that Roe v Wade is the law of the land. She basis her inference that he is hostile to abortion and will seek to overturn Roe v Wade on statements by Donald Trump who suddenly became pro- life when contemplating running for President as a Republican.
David French, of National Review writes about the place that the presumption of evil plays in today's politics and particularly in the argument over judge Kavanaugh. He uses as examples of this trend Senator Hirono and others, some on the right , some on the left. People who care deeply about national issues are often prone to assume the worst about those they disagree with. It's as if they're always asking themselves " what's the most diabolical reason I can come up with to explain my opponents actions? " and then going with that. You might expect this sort of thing from politicians. They're always throwing out stuff about opponents and hoping it sticks. What's shocking is when you notice how far this virus has spread among the rest of us.
Abortion opponents don't care at all about unborn babies, or federal encroachments on State power, their sole agenda is to keep women in their place. Someone who wants to do that would probably be likely to molest a woman while they were both drunk at a teenage party years ago, or stand by as another teen girl was gang raped. Anyhow if you question the claims being made against the judge you are further victimizing the victims. Victims ought to be heard! I believe survivors! There you go, that's how the opponents to Kavanaugh sound to me. Am I mischaracterizing the opposition to Kavanaugh? I hope so. I hope they're more rational than that, but I wonder.
Here's the funny thing ,I'm writing this before the hearings into the Ford accusations on Thursday. I'm writing this before the committee vote on Friday. For all I know Dr. Ford may drop some bomb shell she's been hiding and there will be some shred of evidence, or corroborating testimony for the committee to con beyond just her words. For all I know judge Kavanaugh will withdraw himself from consideration. For all I know the apocalypse will occur on Thursday night and hold up the Friday edition. But all of that seems pretty unlikely. What does seem likely is there will not be a Perry Mason moment where the accused admits " Yes, yes, I did it" as they're dragged off the stand sobbing. What does seem likely is that even after the hearings and the vote we'll continue in our divisions, easily believing the worst about each other, dividing into tribal identities, waging tribal warfare, and believing the "facts" that best suit us. That's an easy one to predict.
One Senator on the committee, Mazie Hirono, D. of Hawaii, has made up her mind. When asked by Jake Tapper of CNN, whether Kavanaugh warrants the presumption of innocence she said that she would be putting into context his attitudes and legal opinions, particularly his stance on women's reproductive rights. The correct answer to this question is an unequivocal yes. I think a yes answer is the least we could expect from a lawmaker representing Hawaii, or any other State sworn to affirm the Constitution. Her answer demonstrates either ignorance of ,or contempt for it's principals and plain meaning. Her implication is that because the judge does not share her views on abortion he no longer falls under the protection of the bill of rights. It's one thing to declare that a person is guilty after an investigation has taken place, or after they have admitted guilt, or even when evidence exists making their claims to innocence ring hollow, but prior to that, condemning them over a political disagreement is astonishingly callous. For the record, judge Kavanaugh has not made his personal views on abortion public except to affirm that Roe v Wade is the law of the land. She basis her inference that he is hostile to abortion and will seek to overturn Roe v Wade on statements by Donald Trump who suddenly became pro- life when contemplating running for President as a Republican.
David French, of National Review writes about the place that the presumption of evil plays in today's politics and particularly in the argument over judge Kavanaugh. He uses as examples of this trend Senator Hirono and others, some on the right , some on the left. People who care deeply about national issues are often prone to assume the worst about those they disagree with. It's as if they're always asking themselves " what's the most diabolical reason I can come up with to explain my opponents actions? " and then going with that. You might expect this sort of thing from politicians. They're always throwing out stuff about opponents and hoping it sticks. What's shocking is when you notice how far this virus has spread among the rest of us.
Abortion opponents don't care at all about unborn babies, or federal encroachments on State power, their sole agenda is to keep women in their place. Someone who wants to do that would probably be likely to molest a woman while they were both drunk at a teenage party years ago, or stand by as another teen girl was gang raped. Anyhow if you question the claims being made against the judge you are further victimizing the victims. Victims ought to be heard! I believe survivors! There you go, that's how the opponents to Kavanaugh sound to me. Am I mischaracterizing the opposition to Kavanaugh? I hope so. I hope they're more rational than that, but I wonder.
Here's the funny thing ,I'm writing this before the hearings into the Ford accusations on Thursday. I'm writing this before the committee vote on Friday. For all I know Dr. Ford may drop some bomb shell she's been hiding and there will be some shred of evidence, or corroborating testimony for the committee to con beyond just her words. For all I know judge Kavanaugh will withdraw himself from consideration. For all I know the apocalypse will occur on Thursday night and hold up the Friday edition. But all of that seems pretty unlikely. What does seem likely is there will not be a Perry Mason moment where the accused admits " Yes, yes, I did it" as they're dragged off the stand sobbing. What does seem likely is that even after the hearings and the vote we'll continue in our divisions, easily believing the worst about each other, dividing into tribal identities, waging tribal warfare, and believing the "facts" that best suit us. That's an easy one to predict.
Unanimity of folly
I'm thrilled that someone had the idea to create an Original Thinkers festival and put it right here in Telluride and Mountain Village during this moment of jaw dropping color and extreme weather ( including the first snowfall of the season ). I'm guessing that someone is David Holbrook ,founder and head honcho of this newest festival . Telluride is original. It's been that way for a long time. We once produced gold and silver by the bucket full, now we produce characters. It's more accurate to say we attract characters, but however they got here it's nice being surrounded by so many eccentrics. They add color to the place and give all sorts of oddballs, myself included, some cover. Eccentric characters are not exactly the same thing as original thinkers , but its in the neighborhood.
Someone really ought to start a conventional thinkers festival. Original thinkers are celebrated all the time. Right now they're handing out Nobel prizes in physics, chemistry, medicine, and literature. Every single one of those prizes goes to an original thinker. When will we give prizes to people who never had an original thought in their lives? Mediocrity deserves recognition too. We bled the sick from ancient times until relatively recently and later came penicillin. Penicillin represents original thought along with scientific rigor , bleeding was commonplace and conventional Maybe conventionality does have its limits .
Conventional thought is a branch of what social psychologists call groupthink. Irving Janis popularized the concept of groupthink in his 1972 book Victims of Groupthink where he demonstrated how this phenomenon lead to three American catastrophes, Vietnam, the Bay of Pigs, and Pearl Harbor. In each case presidents relied largely on advisors who shared his point of view and rarely disagreed or offered contrary arguments. An atmosphere of thought conformity led to foreign policy disasters. Surrounding ourselves with yes men ( or women ) may make us feel good initially, but it's bound to come back to bite us at some point. Among our thought allies we often bend to conform and extend to them unwarranted deference. It's just the opposite when it comes to the people we see ourselves at odds with. Nothing they do or say can be right, there must always be a hidden motive to their words and actions. Janis identified this as " in group " , " out group " thinking. It's human nature to form tribes and nothing unifies the tribe better than having a distinct enemy. The unity of tribe A is built on it's enmity for tribe B , and B's unity feeds on that hostility. It's a great example of a circular self sustaining feedback loop.
Does this sound anything like politics in 2018? Actually it describes politics in any era. Washington warned the nation against the rise of factionalism even as his cabinet were preparing for the political wars that would follow his departure.. Washington was successful as president because he surrounded himself with the opposite of yes men, but these strong personalities with strong opinions would be at each others throats as soon as the great man left office. Since then we've gone through many phases of increased unity ,followed by increased division. It's been suggested that the cycles last about 60-80 years. For a nation founded on the principle " from many, one" or " e pluribus unum", we haven't often offered the most shining example of that idea. We probably fit the motto best while engaged against some other nation or group of nations as in the Cold War, and World War II. Since the fall of the Eastern block we've been increasingly divided and nasty. Where we are today in that awful trajectory is as bad as I've ever seen it. If you doubt me you weren't watching the Kavanaugh hearings. Nasty on steroids!
I've just started reading Glen Beck's new book Addicted to Outrage. So far he hasn't brought up groupthink, but he does address tribalism. This being the latest incarnation of Glen Beck it's all about reconciliation and how right and left need to talk to each other and find common ground. I wonder if trends and cycles like this can be turned around so easily? The kumbaya approach works for me, it works for any of us who care to try it. It certainly works on the individual level but how many individuals are willing to try it, and how many individuals will it take to make a difference.. History demonstrates that these trends do eventually turn around, though it may take a civil war to get us there. Maybe the personal approach will do the trick, or maybe we'll just have to go to war. I hear the Chinese brushed an American destroyer in the South China sea a few days ago. There's a provocation for you. I'll consult my advisors and see if we all agree.
Someone really ought to start a conventional thinkers festival. Original thinkers are celebrated all the time. Right now they're handing out Nobel prizes in physics, chemistry, medicine, and literature. Every single one of those prizes goes to an original thinker. When will we give prizes to people who never had an original thought in their lives? Mediocrity deserves recognition too. We bled the sick from ancient times until relatively recently and later came penicillin. Penicillin represents original thought along with scientific rigor , bleeding was commonplace and conventional Maybe conventionality does have its limits .
Conventional thought is a branch of what social psychologists call groupthink. Irving Janis popularized the concept of groupthink in his 1972 book Victims of Groupthink where he demonstrated how this phenomenon lead to three American catastrophes, Vietnam, the Bay of Pigs, and Pearl Harbor. In each case presidents relied largely on advisors who shared his point of view and rarely disagreed or offered contrary arguments. An atmosphere of thought conformity led to foreign policy disasters. Surrounding ourselves with yes men ( or women ) may make us feel good initially, but it's bound to come back to bite us at some point. Among our thought allies we often bend to conform and extend to them unwarranted deference. It's just the opposite when it comes to the people we see ourselves at odds with. Nothing they do or say can be right, there must always be a hidden motive to their words and actions. Janis identified this as " in group " , " out group " thinking. It's human nature to form tribes and nothing unifies the tribe better than having a distinct enemy. The unity of tribe A is built on it's enmity for tribe B , and B's unity feeds on that hostility. It's a great example of a circular self sustaining feedback loop.
Does this sound anything like politics in 2018? Actually it describes politics in any era. Washington warned the nation against the rise of factionalism even as his cabinet were preparing for the political wars that would follow his departure.. Washington was successful as president because he surrounded himself with the opposite of yes men, but these strong personalities with strong opinions would be at each others throats as soon as the great man left office. Since then we've gone through many phases of increased unity ,followed by increased division. It's been suggested that the cycles last about 60-80 years. For a nation founded on the principle " from many, one" or " e pluribus unum", we haven't often offered the most shining example of that idea. We probably fit the motto best while engaged against some other nation or group of nations as in the Cold War, and World War II. Since the fall of the Eastern block we've been increasingly divided and nasty. Where we are today in that awful trajectory is as bad as I've ever seen it. If you doubt me you weren't watching the Kavanaugh hearings. Nasty on steroids!
I've just started reading Glen Beck's new book Addicted to Outrage. So far he hasn't brought up groupthink, but he does address tribalism. This being the latest incarnation of Glen Beck it's all about reconciliation and how right and left need to talk to each other and find common ground. I wonder if trends and cycles like this can be turned around so easily? The kumbaya approach works for me, it works for any of us who care to try it. It certainly works on the individual level but how many individuals are willing to try it, and how many individuals will it take to make a difference.. History demonstrates that these trends do eventually turn around, though it may take a civil war to get us there. Maybe the personal approach will do the trick, or maybe we'll just have to go to war. I hear the Chinese brushed an American destroyer in the South China sea a few days ago. There's a provocation for you. I'll consult my advisors and see if we all agree.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
The great slump
Have you ever done a YouTube binge? I'm not sure I qualify as a YouTube binger, I lack the time necessary for hours long binging but I often do go through tangents. A tangent may last weeks while I view and listen to the music of a particular artist or composer. Lately it's been the violinist Hilary Hahn. She's young, beautiful, and plays with unusual power and virtuosity. My favorite video is of her playing Bruch's first violin concerto with the Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra. I recommend you watch it too if you're into this sort of thing. I love the way she smiles and sways during the orchestral passages when she's not playing herself. When she is playing her expression becomes serious. She throws herself into her playing with tremendous intensity. That's the part that has me smiling ; the part where she's playing. The music fills her as a sail fills with wind, and she, in turn fills the theater with it. When Hillary puts her bow to the strings you know something wonderful is happening.
Bruch wrote this piece in 1866. Beethoven was long dead but his influence is still apparent in this concerto. It's still with us. In Bruch's time ,as in Beethoven's, if you wanted to hear the great orchestral work of the period, or of earlier periods, you had to live near a cultural capital such as Frankfurt. If you lived in the hinterlands you were out of luck. The invention of the phonograph in the early 20 th century changed all that. Then came radio, then came television, then came the internet and it's stepchild, YouTube. Put it on the long, long list of things we often enjoy ,that are drop dead wonderful, but which we all typically take for granted. Watching a performance on YouTube may be slightly inferior to having attended the actual concert yourself, but it's not far off. As far as convenience ,YouTube wins hands down. In the past if you enjoyed something the orchestra just played you might be able to convince the players to saw away at it again by clapping, stomping your feet, and shouting " encore". With an internet streaming service you only have to press play. You can have them repeat it as often as you like.
I wish it were all good news on the cultural front. It's my impression that as fast as improvements occur in the ways we access art in all it's many forms, the faster we become the kind of society that is no longer capable of producing it. We still produce art, it's just not as good as it once was. If you haven't tuned into a top forty, popular music station lately, just try it. If after an hour of that you think you're still up for more punishment, put on a country station. It's no fair if it's a country station that throws in a little Wily or Garth, or Dwight. I mean a country station that just plays current billboard of hits. If you haven't tried this lately you're in for a shock . Classical music has not been spared. The debasement just happened there much earlier. It's been fifty years since most of us expected to hear anything listenable in the " contemporary " category. Classical music stations, and performers have long ago turned their attention to playing the oldies. Audiences are understandably reluctant to hear anything post Bernstein or Barber.
If history is a guide, slumps like this are not necessarily permanent. There may be a great flowering of creativity ahead of us. Even during a slump ,such as this, there is great music being produced. There are still great performers such as Hilary. What has changed is not entirely a matter of artistic excellence. What has changed is the level of the culture itself. It goes much further than music. I'd include the plays being written, the novels, and movies. I'm always proud when a movie showcased at our own film festival , often first seen here ,goes on to achieve special recognition from the Academy of Motion Pictures. We've had quite a good streak lately scoring top picture in ten of the last eleven years. At the same time I can't help feeling a little let down when this honor goes to films that are not really great but only good. I'd put the last two winners in this category. Both pictures did a great job of highlighting people who live outside the mainstream. Bravo for that, but what else have you got? No recent winner comes even close to matching the greatness of past best pictures such as Copalla's Godfather movies, or Apocalypse Now, or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by the late Milos Forman. Do I really have to think back forty years to remember when motion pictures were at their best?
Bruch wrote this piece in 1866. Beethoven was long dead but his influence is still apparent in this concerto. It's still with us. In Bruch's time ,as in Beethoven's, if you wanted to hear the great orchestral work of the period, or of earlier periods, you had to live near a cultural capital such as Frankfurt. If you lived in the hinterlands you were out of luck. The invention of the phonograph in the early 20 th century changed all that. Then came radio, then came television, then came the internet and it's stepchild, YouTube. Put it on the long, long list of things we often enjoy ,that are drop dead wonderful, but which we all typically take for granted. Watching a performance on YouTube may be slightly inferior to having attended the actual concert yourself, but it's not far off. As far as convenience ,YouTube wins hands down. In the past if you enjoyed something the orchestra just played you might be able to convince the players to saw away at it again by clapping, stomping your feet, and shouting " encore". With an internet streaming service you only have to press play. You can have them repeat it as often as you like.
I wish it were all good news on the cultural front. It's my impression that as fast as improvements occur in the ways we access art in all it's many forms, the faster we become the kind of society that is no longer capable of producing it. We still produce art, it's just not as good as it once was. If you haven't tuned into a top forty, popular music station lately, just try it. If after an hour of that you think you're still up for more punishment, put on a country station. It's no fair if it's a country station that throws in a little Wily or Garth, or Dwight. I mean a country station that just plays current billboard of hits. If you haven't tried this lately you're in for a shock . Classical music has not been spared. The debasement just happened there much earlier. It's been fifty years since most of us expected to hear anything listenable in the " contemporary " category. Classical music stations, and performers have long ago turned their attention to playing the oldies. Audiences are understandably reluctant to hear anything post Bernstein or Barber.
If history is a guide, slumps like this are not necessarily permanent. There may be a great flowering of creativity ahead of us. Even during a slump ,such as this, there is great music being produced. There are still great performers such as Hilary. What has changed is not entirely a matter of artistic excellence. What has changed is the level of the culture itself. It goes much further than music. I'd include the plays being written, the novels, and movies. I'm always proud when a movie showcased at our own film festival , often first seen here ,goes on to achieve special recognition from the Academy of Motion Pictures. We've had quite a good streak lately scoring top picture in ten of the last eleven years. At the same time I can't help feeling a little let down when this honor goes to films that are not really great but only good. I'd put the last two winners in this category. Both pictures did a great job of highlighting people who live outside the mainstream. Bravo for that, but what else have you got? No recent winner comes even close to matching the greatness of past best pictures such as Copalla's Godfather movies, or Apocalypse Now, or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by the late Milos Forman. Do I really have to think back forty years to remember when motion pictures were at their best?
Wind Warrior
The wind is blowing. It's been blowing for days. It blows at night too. I'm happy for a well designed tent that sheds the wind and holds it's shape come what may. It's during the riding part of the day that it's a problem. While riding I'm either fighting it or being carried along with a giant smile on my face. I prefer that to fighting it. Its not a fair fight. I can eek out an pyrrhic victory of sorts, but the wind never suffers from our occasional bashes while I'm left sore ,exhausted, and reeling.
Did I mention that I'm on a bicycle tour? I'm riding from Denver to Telluride. I know that shouldn't include parts of Arizona or New Mexico, Utah, or Nevada, but it's spring and it's off season, so it's my time to tour. I'm going to make the most of it.
Five months ago I crossed by here on my way to the East Coast. I did a lot of smiling then, as most of the way I had helpful winds to push me along. Now that I'm on the return leg I'm having little luck. On the first full day of riding I passed from Evergreen to Kenosha pass. It was uphill and the wind was either straight into my face or worse and picking up strength throughout the day. The worst winds come at you from every direction but behind, Northwest one moment, then Northeast before you can react. It's the blasting wind that is just off center that drives you crazy and wears your body down as you try to keep your little piece of the road and continue moving forward. The wind has other ideas as it tears away at your ability to steer while just turning a full peddle stroke becomes in itself a Herculean task .
At the end of the day I was hammered. I managed to squeeze my bike through the gate of a winding forest road on a steep mountainside and set my tent up on the first switch- back that concealed me from the highway below and offered at least a little wind protection. I could barely stand without feeling very week and dizzy. Was I sick, I wondered? Was I coming down with something? Or was I just getting very old, very suddenly? Maybe I'd pushed this thing too far and expected too much from myself? Maybe it's time I hang up my cleated shoes, or what ever it is cyclists hang up once they've reached the end of the road. No, I wasn't falling ill, or becoming suddenly old, I was just too fresh to the ride to be taking on so much. I'd been cycling through hellish conditions. In another week I'd be able to storm any mountain pass or overcome any wind, but not yet. I'd have to be broken in first. I'd have to be burnt and blasted, chilled, and strained. There's no other way to prepare for the harsh conditions of riding than experience the harsh conditions of riding. It doesn't really get better, it just gets easier to take. Let me change that. It always gets better, and someday it will get better still. Why else would you ever cycle? You have to at least believe it's true. You have to experience the good side now and then too .Once in a while you must be surprised with how good it can get, otherwise you'd trade your wheels in for something easier, in other words, anything else.
It's day six now and I'm in Walsenburg Colorado. As I said, the wind is still blowing. Today it's from the Southwest at about 20 knots. That's been the prevailing direction and speed since Evergreen. Sitting here in the library writing this column seems preferable to trying to take a bite out of that wind yet again. This morning I had it with me. This afternoon I'm headed into it's path. A wind like this ,with so much strength and personality and duration deserves a name of it's own. I can't keep calling it " the wind". If I'm going to curse it, or bless it, I need to give it a name. The song from Paint Your Wagon called the wind Mariah. Maybe that will work. I'm looking for something less dramatic like Steve or Sally.
Can you tell I'm stalling for time. Can you see that I'm just saying anything that pops into my head to avoid going out there again and facing Steve in all his awesome power. My weather app says not to expect anything better ever. Steve is with us and he's not going anywhere. I'll just have to live with Steve.
Did I mention that I'm on a bicycle tour? I'm riding from Denver to Telluride. I know that shouldn't include parts of Arizona or New Mexico, Utah, or Nevada, but it's spring and it's off season, so it's my time to tour. I'm going to make the most of it.
Five months ago I crossed by here on my way to the East Coast. I did a lot of smiling then, as most of the way I had helpful winds to push me along. Now that I'm on the return leg I'm having little luck. On the first full day of riding I passed from Evergreen to Kenosha pass. It was uphill and the wind was either straight into my face or worse and picking up strength throughout the day. The worst winds come at you from every direction but behind, Northwest one moment, then Northeast before you can react. It's the blasting wind that is just off center that drives you crazy and wears your body down as you try to keep your little piece of the road and continue moving forward. The wind has other ideas as it tears away at your ability to steer while just turning a full peddle stroke becomes in itself a Herculean task .
At the end of the day I was hammered. I managed to squeeze my bike through the gate of a winding forest road on a steep mountainside and set my tent up on the first switch- back that concealed me from the highway below and offered at least a little wind protection. I could barely stand without feeling very week and dizzy. Was I sick, I wondered? Was I coming down with something? Or was I just getting very old, very suddenly? Maybe I'd pushed this thing too far and expected too much from myself? Maybe it's time I hang up my cleated shoes, or what ever it is cyclists hang up once they've reached the end of the road. No, I wasn't falling ill, or becoming suddenly old, I was just too fresh to the ride to be taking on so much. I'd been cycling through hellish conditions. In another week I'd be able to storm any mountain pass or overcome any wind, but not yet. I'd have to be broken in first. I'd have to be burnt and blasted, chilled, and strained. There's no other way to prepare for the harsh conditions of riding than experience the harsh conditions of riding. It doesn't really get better, it just gets easier to take. Let me change that. It always gets better, and someday it will get better still. Why else would you ever cycle? You have to at least believe it's true. You have to experience the good side now and then too .Once in a while you must be surprised with how good it can get, otherwise you'd trade your wheels in for something easier, in other words, anything else.
It's day six now and I'm in Walsenburg Colorado. As I said, the wind is still blowing. Today it's from the Southwest at about 20 knots. That's been the prevailing direction and speed since Evergreen. Sitting here in the library writing this column seems preferable to trying to take a bite out of that wind yet again. This morning I had it with me. This afternoon I'm headed into it's path. A wind like this ,with so much strength and personality and duration deserves a name of it's own. I can't keep calling it " the wind". If I'm going to curse it, or bless it, I need to give it a name. The song from Paint Your Wagon called the wind Mariah. Maybe that will work. I'm looking for something less dramatic like Steve or Sally.
Can you tell I'm stalling for time. Can you see that I'm just saying anything that pops into my head to avoid going out there again and facing Steve in all his awesome power. My weather app says not to expect anything better ever. Steve is with us and he's not going anywhere. I'll just have to live with Steve.
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Rideover Country
The heartland of the US is often called flyover country, and for whatever reason, I was sick of flying. Why not make it rideover country instead and just take it's shortcomings in stride. I'd seen much of this area before but this time maybe I'd see more than on past rides and drives. Surely there were discoveries waiting for me. God only knows how many wonders were out there. Daylight hours would be short so I'd have to stay at the pedals all day. Camps would be rudimentary, without much to offer beyond a thin screen of trees for privacy and a flat place to spread my tent, but in the dark all camps look about the same. Maybe, just maybe, flyover country, no, I mean, rideover country would surprise me. Suddenly I realized my ride could be more than just connecting point A with point B. I had a mission. I'd make this a voyage of discovery despite the unpromising prospects.
Before getting to the center of the country I had to get across Colorado. I'd start at my Telluride home and swing eastward toward Kansas. Working in my favor would be the weather. There was no rain and no snow apart from a few inches already on the ground around Monarch pass. Whenever the wind blew it was in my favor. Getting across my home State, which is famous for its tall peaks and deep snow, turned out to be pretty easy. This was my first surprise, not a discovery really, just a fortunate turn of events. By the time I reached Kansas, following the Arkansas river, my legs were well broken in for whatever was to come. I was riding strong and fast while enjoying the daily tailwinds.
In Kansas it blew even stronger, at first directly from behind then gradually veering to cross winds from the north. Riding against these ferocious winds would be hopeless, having them from the side was proving difficult. Making some route adjustments to avoid the 40 mph crosswinds took me straight into the heart of the Flint Hills range. Outcrops of chert, a very hard stone used by the first Americans to make arrow heads and tools, accentuated the higher hills and deeper gullies. The same stone, just under the surface of the prairie explained why this area of Kansas is so blissfully undeveloped. The rock is tough enough to brake plow blades. Instead of Kansas wheat fields, cattle have been brought here to fatten for over a hundred summers, replacing native herds of buffalo and preserving the largest stretch of tall grass prairie in the U.S. in all its primeval glory. That was a pleasant surprise, and the lack of traffic or towns and sweeping prairie views made for great riding.
Western Missouri was something else again. There was no avoiding the traffic. Rural roads were narrow and the frequency of small hills meant often having an unwelcome train of trucks and cars behind me on each climb. Missouri traffic wasn't just hard on me. I began noticing that the edge of the road was a slaughter ground for wildlife. Deer, raccoons, possums, even owls littered the verge. To be fair , the abundance of roadkill wasn't evidence of the poor driving skills of Missouri drivers. It was more a testament to the profusion of Missouri wildlife. One possum- like creature stood out among the carnage. It was scaled, and had an armored carapace . It was an Armadillo . I'd never thought Armadillos had a northern range outside of Texas and Florida, but here was one in far away Missouri. Was it someone's escaped pet? This pet theory was destroyed when I noticed others. None were alive.
If the rest of Missouri was going to be anything like the first twenty miles I'd be lucky to get out alive myself. Salvation came in the form of a trail. It was a new section of Missouri's famous rails to trails system. My state map confirmed that it was the Rock Island trail and following it would bring me to the Katy trail which crosses the state. Over 240 miles long it is the longest stretch of railroad right of way converted to trail use in the country, and still growing. The trails are not paved but have a smooth well packed fine grit surface. It would be slower riding, but wilder countryside would surround me, far more attractive and peaceful than anything the roads had to offer. As a bonus all the wildlife I'd now be seeing was still alive and not motionless and rotting.
I've got to back to those Armadillos, they're too wonderful to just leave flattened and stinking back there along the side of the road. I said I was surprised to see them in Missouri. For a seemingly slow moving beast they have nevertheless been on the move for the last century since showing up in Texas. They are in Florida too, but were introduced there like the Anacondas and Cockatoos that inhabit its swamps and palmetto forests. Texas Armadillos walked there from South America, by way of Central America, generation by generation. They also swam. Armadillos are unique in many ways, not least for their strategy to cross streams and rivers. To cross a river they suck air into their lungs and paddle across like a living inflatable. To cross a smaller stream they rely on the weight of their armor to keep them submerged while walking across the streambed. They're able to hold their breath for over six minutes. The more I learned about Armadillos ,the more they amazed me.
South America contains eleven species of Armadillo. One is able to roll itself into a ball exposing nothing but impenetrable armor to any interested predator ( all Armadillos have soft chests and bellies ). The only North American Armadillo is the Nine Banded. Their best method for avoiding a predator is to run into thorn thickets. If thorn bushes aren't handy they'll dig themselves into the earth with astonishing speed. They are also known for hopping when startled, and can jump four feet into the air from a standing start. This may confuse a bobcat or coyote and scare them away but against cars it's suicidal. That's part of the reason they are more often seen as roadkill than living creatures. Despite the danger of our highways and back roads they are thriving and steadily extending their range. Expect to see them soon in Ohio and Pennsylvania. Just don't expect to see them alive.
During the day there was only motion; spinning wheels, spinning pedals , spinning chain, and rushing pavement. Translating sustained rotation into forward motion becomes second nature. Perhaps I could do it in my sleep. I haven't tried that yet, but maybe. Meals were quick, whether something dug out of the saddle bags or ordered at a counter. I'd scoff it down then be off again. Every day was an effort to make as many miles possible before the sunset. Late season travel is like that. Sunsets come early. There's never any time to waste.
No surprises in Illinois or Indiana, not even when I had to take shelter from a looming tornado. I'll skip over them then. Ohio was nearly as unremarkable ,then came the Hocking hills. Tucked down into Ohio's southwestern corner they look nothing like most of the rest of the state. It's as if all the best scenery of the Appalachian mountains was miraculously dropped into the otherwise prosaic heartland landscape. Waterfalls, cascades, caves, cliffs, and magnificent forest surrounded me. The only drawback was the scale. There were no tall peaks or long ascents. The Hocking hills passed by in a morning's progress despite my best efforts to take it easy and enjoy it while it lasted.
Crossing the Ohio river brought me to West Virginia. If I'd missed long ascents in Ohio, or any of the rest of the heartland states, I was no longer missing them here. Soon I was wondering why I'd missed them at all. After a few days of climbing and descending, then climbing again, almost endlessly, I have to admit that I had thoroughly had my fill. Maryland offered something different. From Cumberland to the District of Columbia, one of America's earliest and most scenic canals follows the Potomac river from the center of the Appalachian chain to the tidal waters of the mid-Atlantic coastal region. The canal itself is no longer in use but it's towpath is now a National trail. It's easily rideable and avoids both hills and motorized traffic.
On the second day of C&O trail riding my weather luck ran out. The speed of the trail ,which is not great when it's dry, becomes far worse when it's covered by two inches of rain water. The amount of branches , late season leaves ,and other forest debris brought down onto the trail by the storm made conditions even worse. Night came early under dark storm clouds. I found a camping spot along the trail with a picnic bench and porta potty in a small clearing created for hikers and cyclists and apparently slept very soundly. I somehow managed to sleep through an epic tempest during the night without noticing it till the next day. Dawn's light revealed fresh layers of fallen branches on the sodden path. Wind felled trees blocked the way. One particular fallen tree was so forminable that detouring around it involved a quarter mile of backtracking then a long slog through the deep mud of a nearby cornfield.
Pennsylvania offered another challenge. The Pennsylvania Dutch countryside around Lancaster with it's quaint horse drawn buggies and old fashioned farmhouses gave way to faster traffic choking the roads , and complicated navigation to connect the easier roads. It helped considerably to be following a designated bicycle route across the southern portion of the state. Bike route signs showed the way to the more rideable roads, always the ones with the widest shoulders. Just before turning in for the last night I somehow lost the bike route. The last days ride through the northern suburbs of the greater Philadelphia area I'd have to rely on dead reckoning and careful map reading. Adding to the challenge, this was to be the busiest travel day of the year, the day before Thanksgiving.
Crossing the Delaware river into Trenton brought me to the last state, New Jersey. You can't enter New Jersey from the west without crossing the Delaware . That's a problem since most Delaware bridges bar bicyclists. I had to pass up many for this reason and jog far to the north. A sign on the Pennsylvania side of the Trenton Makes bridge insisted that cyclists walk their bikes on the walkway. I pretended not to see it. I was in no mood for walking. From here if I was to reach my family's home before dark I'd have to continue to hustle. My phone was out of power, and I had no other map to go on, just a distant memory of riding this way long before. That memory was almost useless. I was more often lost than found. The pre- holiday roads were even more crowded and busy on this side of the river than in Pennsylvania . I found myself racing through fading daylight unsure of the way and surrounded by hostile traffic. Close calls, impatient drivers, honking cars, and my own impatience to finish marked the journey. I sometimes have nightmares that run exactly like this. I pinched myself, no, I was still awake. This really was happening. I wouldn't arrive till after dark.
My story would be complete if I could report that instead of a Thanksgiving turkey I was served a scrumptious baked Armadillo the next day. Better still if this had been the first Armadillo to slip across the Delaware before being struck dead while crossing the Jersey turnpike when it made an illtimed leap into the undercarriage of a passing semi. Unfortunately life is not this perfect. I ate a turkey like most other Americans. I reflected on my blessings and considered all I had to be grateful for. That's what Thanksgiving is for afterall. At the top of my list, I'd managed to stay alive. I'd cycled some 2000 miles without accidents or incidents. I'd had some great exercise, seen some great places, had some wonderful camps, met a few great people, and had a few surprises along the way. What more could you ask from a quick ride over rideover country ?
Out for a Ride
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