“Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.” Mostly true, isn’t it? Our default setting for life seems to be a relentless pursuit of keeping it, even if we know where we’re going. Why is that? I suspect God holds the responsibility, he placed “eternity in our hearts.” But we can easily get confused about that concept…
Read MoreLast Legs
Mick and I left the rest of the riders in Sisters Oregon and headed home. Mt. Shasta provided a motel room, then we rode together the next morning until he split off to Susanville, to return the bike he borrowed from his son-in-law. I headed to Placerville as the starting point to cruise along Hwy 49, through the Gold Rush towns scattered along the Sierra foothills. Windy roads, finding Mark Twain’s cabin (above pic), and exploring the funky towns made it delightful, but a long day of riding. To make the last leg easier, I planned on…
Read MoreLife...Relentless and Valuable
When moving back to our home we had rented out, we discovered some huge pampas grass clumps. Three days ago before this pi, the small tan clump in the foreground looked like the abundant and green tower of pampas grass in the background. Then two days later, it got shaved to a significantly smaller “stump.” But by the next day, it had begun to grow again. Look carefully, six inch pale green shoots demonstrate the relentlessness of life. I hope the generous application of Round Up will kill the roots, but several doses might be required. Why? Life persistently…
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Oak Creek 2020
Restoration
For several decades, Dad and I fished a lot of Sierra streams, and Oak Creek just north of Independence may top the list of favorites. The water flow remained consistent for spring to fall angling, and while they had developed campsites, you could camp anywhere on the stream—just be neat. I still remember landing my first big trout there as a mid-teen: 16” and a fat 1 ½ lbs. Then troubles afflicted Oak. Whirling disease hit in 1984, stopping all stocking of rainbow trout, but some good browns remained, and the trailhead continued to give good results. Then a 2007 fire incinerated all the trees and brush from the trailhead nearly to…
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image from dailymail.co.uk
Puke and Rally
The Air Force Thunderbirds often take media people or celebs on PR flights in their jets. You likely won’t recognize Gerard Butler in the pic above, taking an in flight selfie. A family friend who has worked with them says it’s 50-50 if the media flyer will puke, so they prep them on how to avoid it, and then share their slogan: Puke and Rally. Or, if you feel like it’s gonna happen, grab the bag and...
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Brevity
130 years ago, this gravestone of my great great grandfather was fresh and clear. Now, the information about his life can only be read with difficulty. Not long ago my wife and I traveled to Park City Utah, near the birthplace of my father, to combine a week's vacation and a family heritage tour. Thomas Jefferson Thurston pioneered a valley east of Ogden, accumulated a number of worthwhile accomplishments, and passed away in St. George UT in 1885. But outside his family and a few historians, few have heard of him. But seeing his gravestone struck me with
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450 Miles of Misery
Honestly, I never thought of stopping nor turning back. But 450 miles of misery to start the motorcycle trip did wear on me. I’d pulled out of my garage about 5:15 in the morning, and slogged through 80 miles of metropolitan Los Angeles before meeting Mick and Brad at Cajon Pass on I-15. Metro freeway does not qualify as my favored mode. But the metro yielded to desert and desert brought heat and by the time we got to Vegas the bike’s thermometer bumped 100. 11AM.
Lunch at In-and-Out cooled us a bit, but the temp had risen to 105, with 170 miles to go. The temp climbed with the altitude until it maxed at 109. 30 miles from Cedar City it began to cool, and the 99 felt almost chilly. Note the almost. Our motel’s cool pool finished lowering our body temps, and we walked to a nice café next door for dinner.
That night ...
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