LAME DEER, NORTHERN CHEYENNE RESERVATION, MT
I have settled into a fairly muddy campsite which will be home for the next 5 weeks. I am working with Red Feather Development Group, building a straw bale house for a family on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation in Eastern Montana.
It is beautiful here, in spite of the rain. Today we have been blessed with our first sunny day, which hopefully will be a new trend. Hard to do much with straw in the rain......
We've got a fantastic crew of people, both locals, and volunteers from farther afield, and I am really looking forward to the next several weeks, and seeing the project from start to finish.
There is blissfully little internet access here, and no cell phone coverage, so I am looking forward to being completely unwired for a while. So this may be my only post for the next several weeks. My writing will have to be limited to the old fashioned kind. I'll get back to this in July.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Prairie States
RAPID CITY, SD
Nebraska's sparse beauty. One of many abandoned homes along a labyrinth of dirt roads.
The sky was looking pretty ominous....
Higher than expected. Spitting distance to the Colorado border.
A glimpse of some faces through the trees. This is as close as I got to Mt. Rushmore on this trip. Really, one visit is enough for a lifetime, I think.
Today's hiking companion.
Favorite flowers along the way. Not sure what they are....
The illusion of fall, but sadly it is blight that colors these pine.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Life on the Road
KIMBALL, NE
I scan the license plates in the dark motel parking lot- Idaho, New Jersey, Wyoming. I am staying at a roadside motel in a tiny town in Nebraska, the sort of place that is unlikely to draw anyone on purpose. I doubt anyone stays here for more than a night, all people on their way to somewhere else. Through the rear window of a little blue car from Delaware, I notice a pair of jeans laid out to dry. In the passenger seat of an SUV, a box of Lucky Charms peeks out of a box of groceries. This is life on the road.
My own truck contains a cooler, a bag of groceries, a stash of toilet paper and trash bags, a bag of clothes, a pile of camping gear, along with a basket of yarn and a portable art studio of sorts. There is a bottle of lotion in one cup holder, a jar with pens and eating utensils in the other. A collection of shoes is heaped on the passenger side floor, and a damp towel hangs behind my seat. The passenger seat is piled with an atlas, an audiobook, a notebook, and a water bottle. I have everything I need, with the exception of a shower and a printer. And a mailing address.
I love the freedom and mobility of a reliable vehicle packed with everything I might need for the next few months. I have some obligations along the way- I just finished two different classes in Colorado, and will be working in Montana for 5 of the next 6 weeks, but otherwise, I choose my route each morning, visiting friends and sites along the way. It's not a bad life, but it's not always terribly easy. The world is really well set up for people who can answer "Where are you from?" in one word. It can be a little tricky dealing with personal business on the road- that contract I need to sign and return? Well, let me find a print shop and a post office. That card I need mailed to me? Hmmm, who am I visiting next? Or maybe I'll have to take the gamble with general delivery. At least finding internet has become easier, although it is often what motivates me to pay for a motel rather than a campsite.
This morning I will pilfer a few bags worth of ice from the motel ice machine to pack my cooler, and then I will head south to Panorama Point, the highest point in Nebraska. From there, I'll head to the nearest town who's dot on the map looks big enough to have a print shop and reliable cell phone service. Then vaguely north, winding my way to Montana over the next 5 days via the Black Hills of South Dakota.
My own truck contains a cooler, a bag of groceries, a stash of toilet paper and trash bags, a bag of clothes, a pile of camping gear, along with a basket of yarn and a portable art studio of sorts. There is a bottle of lotion in one cup holder, a jar with pens and eating utensils in the other. A collection of shoes is heaped on the passenger side floor, and a damp towel hangs behind my seat. The passenger seat is piled with an atlas, an audiobook, a notebook, and a water bottle. I have everything I need, with the exception of a shower and a printer. And a mailing address.
This morning I will pilfer a few bags worth of ice from the motel ice machine to pack my cooler, and then I will head south to Panorama Point, the highest point in Nebraska. From there, I'll head to the nearest town who's dot on the map looks big enough to have a print shop and reliable cell phone service. Then vaguely north, winding my way to Montana over the next 5 days via the Black Hills of South Dakota.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Responsible Consumption: a soapbox for the day
ASPEN, CO
I shivered a little as snow fell around my feet. The mountains were completely obscured by the snow clouds, low hanging mists of white swirling around the ridges, leaving only the faintest hint of a mountain range visible.
As part of a solar hot water design and installation course, I had the chance to tour some homes in the Roaring Fork Valley to see their renewable energy systems. We wound our way up the valley through El Jebel, Basalt, Snowmass, and Aspen. Nearly all of the homes we saw were both second homes and absurd in size. All of them had been designed and built for two adults, apparently on the premise that those two adults would like to share a house without ever having to see each other. For weeks at a time. It was always sort of my general feeling that no one should have two houses until everyone has one. This of course is a pretty oversimplified, childlike view of the world, but it just seems terribly wrong that the wealthy are consuming vast resources in terms of land, and materials for building houses, and the enormous amounts of energy used in the house, even when empty, while others have little to no access to even a sliver of those resources.
Others in my class were willing to give credit to the owners for using renewable energy for their vast underused vacation homes, but I am not so generous. Building an enormous home halfway up a mountain when you already have another one (or two) cannot possibly be construed as anything as wasteful.
This is the problem though, I think. Solar Electric and Solar Thermal are fantastic systems that use far more sustainable methods to produce energy than what most people are using. I am glad to see them catching on, and the more I know, the more I find myself seeking them out on rooftops and fields across the country, mentally tallying how many kilowatts a system might be generating. However, using these resources to continue to consume far more than any one person needs to is a poor use of the technology. The answer to the problem of resources, their overuse, and the ill effects on the planet is to consume less. But people don't like that answer. So instead people buy a giant oversized SUV that uses E-85, or even a hybrid, and take their two week vacation in their 20,000 square foot home that is powered with solar panels. Renewable energy and green design may be catching on, but responsible consumption is not. And there in lies the problem.
I shivered a little as snow fell around my feet. The mountains were completely obscured by the snow clouds, low hanging mists of white swirling around the ridges, leaving only the faintest hint of a mountain range visible.
As part of a solar hot water design and installation course, I had the chance to tour some homes in the Roaring Fork Valley to see their renewable energy systems. We wound our way up the valley through El Jebel, Basalt, Snowmass, and Aspen. Nearly all of the homes we saw were both second homes and absurd in size. All of them had been designed and built for two adults, apparently on the premise that those two adults would like to share a house without ever having to see each other. For weeks at a time. It was always sort of my general feeling that no one should have two houses until everyone has one. This of course is a pretty oversimplified, childlike view of the world, but it just seems terribly wrong that the wealthy are consuming vast resources in terms of land, and materials for building houses, and the enormous amounts of energy used in the house, even when empty, while others have little to no access to even a sliver of those resources.
Others in my class were willing to give credit to the owners for using renewable energy for their vast underused vacation homes, but I am not so generous. Building an enormous home halfway up a mountain when you already have another one (or two) cannot possibly be construed as anything as wasteful.
This is the problem though, I think. Solar Electric and Solar Thermal are fantastic systems that use far more sustainable methods to produce energy than what most people are using. I am glad to see them catching on, and the more I know, the more I find myself seeking them out on rooftops and fields across the country, mentally tallying how many kilowatts a system might be generating. However, using these resources to continue to consume far more than any one person needs to is a poor use of the technology. The answer to the problem of resources, their overuse, and the ill effects on the planet is to consume less. But people don't like that answer. So instead people buy a giant oversized SUV that uses E-85, or even a hybrid, and take their two week vacation in their 20,000 square foot home that is powered with solar panels. Renewable energy and green design may be catching on, but responsible consumption is not. And there in lies the problem.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Moon over Mt. Sopris
CARBONDALE, CO
The nearly full moon rises over Mount Sopris, still densely covered in snow. The snow covered peaks in Colorado in early May shouldn’t have surprised me, but still I found myself startled when I came around a bend and the snow caps rose up in front of me. The icy breeze blowing off the snowmelt swollen creek makes me shiver. The clear, starry night proves cold, leaving me longing for my winter sleeping bag, which sits idly in a Chicago basement. I spent the night waking every couple hours, doing a few sit ups and shuffling my feet to warm my blood. Sleeping cold always seems like a good idea until I’m trying to sleep while cold. I have an ugly history of underestimating the cold, and overestimating my ability to sleep right through it.
Slightly sleep deprived, and still shivering in the morning shadows, I set off early Monday morning by bike headed into town for a class. A red hawk sat quietly in the grass watching my flash of orange as I rode by. A red-winged blackbird flitted from fencepost to fencepost. The morning is still, and devoid of traffic. A few cows ramble through the dewy grass, but they and the birds are my only company.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The High Point of the Trip
THE OZARKS, MO
It is no surprise that Mormon mythology should have chosen the Ozarks as its Eden. Though not perhaps the most awe-inspiring mountain range in the U.S. (though, as I learned today, the only range that runs east-west), they are quite lovely really. This trip didn't include the time or equipment for exploring the vast waterways that the area is particularly known for, but I have spent the better part of the last two days meandering the windy roads and rolling hills through lush green forests. The weather is warm and a little humid, a pleasant change from the damp gray of Cincinnati, where I left yesterday morning to start my westbound progression.
It's still a little early in the season for the enormous sweet blackberries that I remember from a childhood family vacation to the area, but this is turning out to be a lovely time to be here. The weather is warm but not sweltering, the trees and flowers are in full bloom, and the parks and campgrounds are still delightfully empty, a pleasure that will last only as long as school does, I'm sure.
Driving down one gravel road, I startled two hawks who took to the air, one soaring in front of my truck, leading me down the road. Wildlife is abundant, particularly of the tiny hard-shelled variety. I swerved to miss hitting the first turtle, before I quite realized what the dark spot was. I passed several who weren't quite so lucky. I stopped to relocate one from the middle of the road, and remembered once reading something that suggested that turtles are deliberate in their movement and have quite the memory, so that if you were to put the turtle back where it started, it is likely to keep trying to cross the road. Old wives tale perhaps, but I figure I might as well help them along in their direction of choice. Though the first fella I stopped for was walking down the middle of the lane in the direction of travel, so it's hard to say where he started or where he was headed. I set him on the side, hoping he'd find the gravel shoulder equally amenable to travel. While driving at 50 mph, it's a little hard to tell if a turtle is moving at all. But I wondered how many of these shelled creatures, with their necks craned upward, were merely sunning themselves on a nice warm patch of asphalt, somewhat oblivious to the larger, faster, more menacing creatures rumbling by. After swerving around a gopher and a shrew, I stopped for just one more turtle, and after giving him a firm talking-to, set him on the opposite side from where he seemed to have started.
I arrived at Taum Sauk Mountain Park, home of the highest point in Missouri. I've had sort of a vague, poorly-pursued idea of maybe possible considering thinking about hitting all the high points in the United States. Thus far this has included me stopping by when I happen to think about it, or catch sight of it on a map. While living in North Carolina, I hiked to the top of Mount Mitchell mostly for its views, and the fact that it is the highest point east of the Mississippi. Clingman's Dome was an accident on a drive through the Great Smokies- it is perched on the Tennessee-North Carolina border, though apparently leaning just enough over the Tennessee side to take credit as their highest point. I had stopped to fill up water, and figured I might as well walk up to the lookout. Only at the top did I realize its status as the state's high point.
The most deliberate of my attempts, perhaps, has been Harney Peak in South Dakota. While traveling through the Badlands, my partner-in-crime and I had run into two hikers who talked about their exploits across the state. She handed me the map for the trail up to Harney Peak in Custer State Park and recommended it as a lovely hike. We were headed to Custer next anyway, and figured climbing the highest point was a happy bonus. The panoramic view proved worthless as by the time we reached the top, the entire valley was swathed in thick fog, and it had started to rain. By the time we returned to the van, I was soaked to the bone in spite of my rain gear, and stripped down in the parking lot, all sense of modesty gone with the clear skies.
I've hit Sassafras in SC, Mt Washington in NH, and Mauna Kea in HI, though I feel a little guilty counting them since I drove to the top of each. Today's feat took hardly more effort. Taum Sauk Mountain is hardly noticeable as a mountain per say. By the time I arrived at the park, I had done all the elevation gain. I parked at the trailhead to find a paved walkway that wound through a lovely patch of woods to arrive, half a mile and not a single slope later, at a marble plaque marking the state's highest point. Slightly anti-climactic if I do say so myself. That's the thing about these fairly flat midwestern states- their highest points just aren't that high. I think I'll knock out Nebraska and Kansas while I'm in the vicinity, but I hardly expect a good hike. Perhaps Montana will have more to offer.
It is no surprise that Mormon mythology should have chosen the Ozarks as its Eden. Though not perhaps the most awe-inspiring mountain range in the U.S. (though, as I learned today, the only range that runs east-west), they are quite lovely really. This trip didn't include the time or equipment for exploring the vast waterways that the area is particularly known for, but I have spent the better part of the last two days meandering the windy roads and rolling hills through lush green forests. The weather is warm and a little humid, a pleasant change from the damp gray of Cincinnati, where I left yesterday morning to start my westbound progression.
It's still a little early in the season for the enormous sweet blackberries that I remember from a childhood family vacation to the area, but this is turning out to be a lovely time to be here. The weather is warm but not sweltering, the trees and flowers are in full bloom, and the parks and campgrounds are still delightfully empty, a pleasure that will last only as long as school does, I'm sure.
I arrived at Taum Sauk Mountain Park, home of the highest point in Missouri. I've had sort of a vague, poorly-pursued idea of maybe possible considering thinking about hitting all the high points in the United States. Thus far this has included me stopping by when I happen to think about it, or catch sight of it on a map. While living in North Carolina, I hiked to the top of Mount Mitchell mostly for its views, and the fact that it is the highest point east of the Mississippi. Clingman's Dome was an accident on a drive through the Great Smokies- it is perched on the Tennessee-North Carolina border, though apparently leaning just enough over the Tennessee side to take credit as their highest point. I had stopped to fill up water, and figured I might as well walk up to the lookout. Only at the top did I realize its status as the state's high point.
The most deliberate of my attempts, perhaps, has been Harney Peak in South Dakota. While traveling through the Badlands, my partner-in-crime and I had run into two hikers who talked about their exploits across the state. She handed me the map for the trail up to Harney Peak in Custer State Park and recommended it as a lovely hike. We were headed to Custer next anyway, and figured climbing the highest point was a happy bonus. The panoramic view proved worthless as by the time we reached the top, the entire valley was swathed in thick fog, and it had started to rain. By the time we returned to the van, I was soaked to the bone in spite of my rain gear, and stripped down in the parking lot, all sense of modesty gone with the clear skies.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Life NOT on the road....
CINCINNATI, OH
In a few days it will be time to hit the road again, though you wouldn't know it by the growing piles of projects strewn about the house. There's a vague packing list forming in my head. It's a little different packing for an open-ended season than packing for a single trip. There will have to be some version of a portable studio, and a crate of camping gear, and a few cooking staples. Maybe a few pairs of underwear and a toothbrush.
In the meantime, here's what happens when I sit still for more than a minute and a half (well first off, I make a giant mess. In every space not currently in use by the owner of the house. But no one needs to see THAT):
If you're interested in checking out some of the final products of my creative endeavors, please visit my shop: papersticksandstring.etsy.com
In a few days it will be time to hit the road again, though you wouldn't know it by the growing piles of projects strewn about the house. There's a vague packing list forming in my head. It's a little different packing for an open-ended season than packing for a single trip. There will have to be some version of a portable studio, and a crate of camping gear, and a few cooking staples. Maybe a few pairs of underwear and a toothbrush.
In the meantime, here's what happens when I sit still for more than a minute and a half (well first off, I make a giant mess. In every space not currently in use by the owner of the house. But no one needs to see THAT):
If you're interested in checking out some of the final products of my creative endeavors, please visit my shop: papersticksandstring.etsy.com
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