Hot mud and other facts of life

This is called a paint pot.  I’m not completely sure if that is a scientific term or one some  high browed visitor used a hundred years ago to describe the feature.  Yep, they call them features here.  They are amazing in their own little way I suppose.  What’s even more amazing is that I walked a mile to see them carrying a big camera.  The steady stream of tourists moving up and down the trail somehow reminds me of going to a bunch of museums in a row.  They have that blank tourist stare you get from too many “features”.  You know.. you want to look interested because you don’t want people to think you’re a savage but you really are museumed out.   Next, Next, Next.  It was enlightening to watch people just stand there and wait for the next bubble.  I’m sure the lady on the crutches was very impressed when she finally got there.  So my advice to folks who come up to me looking for the next great secret of the Yellowstone is, “features in moderation please”.  

Buffalo 4, Tourist 0

Buffalo 4   Tourist 0

It might be in poor taste to keep score but I’m going to do it anyway.  I figure that the Buffs could use a win considering how they haven’t gotten a fair fight over the last 300 years.   This year the “big shaggies” are on a roll.  Shear muscle and horn meet bacteria level stupidity.  We had one where a rather intoxicated female ran full on into the back off a big bull in total darkness sneaking across a field she shouldn’t have been in.  In another more unfortunate encounter an older lady was hiking and got in a little hacky sack with a big bull.  Needless to say....she was the hacky sack. 

Yesterday, was buffalo day. (Bison ok).  We were herding a big herd across a narrow stretch of road by yelling and slapping our safety vests on the ground.  I was feeling very “ cowboy like” and had most on my side across the road except for one rather large fellow who happened to be standing next to a car full of terrified Asian tourists.  I advanced with presence because I am a ranger and had the hat.  I focused on the bull and started slapping the ground.  The bull just turned and made eye contact with me.  Hum...I thought...this is not going according to plan.  Just as I was about to be more of a man, I heard the screams of the wildlife ranger in the background.  She was screaming..NOT THAT ONE..HE DOESN”T LIKE THAT.   Now those are not words one likes to hear when exposed in the open with an angry 1200 lb. piece of meat.  The only car anywhere close was one that looked like a match box toy.  I could feel the horrified occupants praying that I would not run their direction.  Fortunately, the bull decided I was not worth the effort and walked off.   Only the strong and adequately supervised rookies survive on the Yellowstone.

One of the Herd

Has anyone noticed that as we bounce along the rutted dirt road of life, we encounter what we think are “all kinds of people”.  Some rich some poor, some sweet some....mean spirited, some of different color or beliefs...  But you know...looking down on this herd of “Buffalo”  yes, I called them Buffalo.  I don’t care what the text book calls them...to me...they are BUFFALO.  I realized that we are really all just the same.  No real differences only made up ones.  I wonder if my neighbor Ned is in that herd just chilling by the Yellowstone River.  If he is, Ned, enjoy the beauty and sunshine.  We really are all the same in the end.  But don’t forget to let the colors within shine out too.  (reason for the other picture....get it.)  Your homework for the day...find a way to bridge a gap.  You know what I mean.  

The Road Less Traveled

The Road Less Traveled....

Today was a monumental day.  I found a near perfect road into the wilderness.  The Grassy Lake Road out of Flagg ranch that goes 47 miles to Ashton, Idaho.  It twists and turns through the forest  over streams and through high meadows.  Nothing but gravel and rutted track.   My favorite.  And best of all....no tour buses loaded with people.  No RV’s or mini vans....no bear jams either.    Just a road less traveled by....and that has made all the difference.  Taking that road less traveled has been one great passion of mine over the years.  I can honestly say that I have only been disappointed once or twice in countless adventures on that road.  So, next time you see that road whatever it is....take it.  Worry about where you end up some other time.  You won’t be disappointed.

Terlingua, Rocket Fuel and St. Patties Day

Visualize the Chicago River flowing green on St. Patties Day.  How about Boston and the parade route.  It's hard to believe that such festivities are to be found in Terlingua.  It's true though, right in the heart of the Last Frontier you can find all of the above and more.  I witnessed it first hand from a special spot along the parade route....beautiful green haired maidens, floats, and leprechauns.  The fact that it was only 6 vehicles long didn't to a thing to detract from it.  In fact it was the only parade on my calendar that day.

One thing that Chicago and Boston could not come close to was "The Rocket Fuel Party".  The party is now a Terlingua tradition put on by Mr. Jimmy.  Jimmy spent time in a few wars and even fought a few of his own.  Now, he gives it back by raising money for the Terlingua Emergency Services once a year.   It's an amazing get together with some very hair raising juice aptly named Rocket Fuel.  It's a great excuse for a few Department of Public Safety Troopers and the locals to get together and have some laughs...   No one knows how much work Jimmy puts into this but it's very much appreciated by everyone.  He has a strong heart even though is fighting some health demons.  So, next time you are raising a glass, mention Mr. Jimmy.  He deserves it even if you don't know him.  

Something about Rain

I’m not sure what it is about rain that I like.  No doubt I have done a bit of thinking about it.  In another life it used to mean that either I got out of having to work most of the time or it meant that I would have to play later or sometimes not at all.  I used to curse it when I was playing and pray for it when I was teaching.  Looking back neither of those seemed to do much good.  Now, out in the desert, rain has yet again come to my life and stumped me.   Rain and I do not see each other much these days.  Just a brief encounter now and then.   It brings life here.  It makes color here.  It slows the pace a bit here.  It leaves it’s mark on the landscape like nowhere else ,here.   I am just not sure where it fits in the circle for me?   No long rainy nights with some wine and a candle or two.  It doesn’t stay that long in the desert.  Few folks own umbrellas or raincoats in Terlingua.  That is not to say that rain does not have it’s audience in the desert.   People are afraid of it, curious about it, thankful for it, but most do not worship it.  Maybe like all things that are out of place, it can be a pain in the ass.   So, what is it about rain that I still like?  

Fun and Fire in Terlingua

Never a dull moment in Terlingua.  We BBQ, hang out, and pose for Calendars...well, you get it.  The Three Amigos are legend in Terlngua.  If we are on then you can guarantee that there will be no calls in Terlingua.  Come have a  visit.