Category Archives: The West

More Adventures With Chainsaw Bob

Beltane                                                                   Moon of the Summer Solstice

My old friend
My old friend

More Chainsaw Bob. Took my saw into Chainsaw Bob for sharpening and an overhaul. “Let’s look inside and see if we have enough saw to overhaul.” Chainsaw Bob, with a monk’s tonsure and a long, flowing white beard, quickly removed the air filter, took out a flashlight and looked inside, shaking his head.

“Not good. See those striations?” I did. “See how we have them over here, too?” I did. “Not good. I’m afraid this saw is not worth an overhaul.” Oh. “With that it’ll have trouble idling.” In fact, that’s frustrated me the last week or so. I have to reach the throttle fast to keep the saw moving. Otherwise, it chugs, sputters and dies.

I’ve had this saw eight or nine years and it’s served me well. Wish I’d attended to whatever was causing this problem. It will work for a while anyhow, then I’ll have to consider whether to buy another one. Fire mitigation is mostly done and is the most chainsaw intensive task we’ll ever have here.

Back to Bob. I noticed a tin dancing bear sitting in a window of his crowded shop. “You a Deadhead, Bob?” “Music died on August 9, 1995. Since Jerry died, nothing good.” So, the old guy who cares for two-cycle engines like they’re babies is, in fact, about my age. However, he probably listened to the Dead while riding in a Huey gunship over the rice paddies of Vietnam.

two topper cutLast time I saw him Bob had just returned from hip surgery and wasn’t sure he’d ever walk again. He did. And is.

He rents chippers, asked me if I wanted to rent one. No thanks, I have someone coming. “Malevolent, evil machines,” he said, shaking his head, stubbing out the ever present Camel in a melamine ashtray. “If I rent’em, I go out and check on’em. Checked on a guy last week and he had 12, 13 year olds without gloves or goggles feeding the machine. I took it back. He wasn’t happy.”

Seasonal Changes

Beltane                                                                        Running Creeks Moon

Maxwell Creek, May 2015
Maxwell Creek, May 2015

As the Running Creeks Moon fades from the sky Deer Creek, Shadow Mountain Brook, Maxwell Creek, Cub Creek, the mountain streams I see frequently, have all subsided. Running full, yes, but not tumbling and roaring and foaming as they did a couple of weeks ago.

The aspen leaves are still coming, now a bright chartreuse against the gray/white bark. They soften the always green needlescape of the lodgepole pines. Solar production is up, the blue ribbon trees are down and tourists have begun to clog up Upper and Lower Maxwell Falls trail heads. We’re shifting from the more inward days of cold and snow to the more outward time of warm, clear days and cool nights.

A seasonal change. Not really the spring to summer transition of Minnesota, more like a late winter to summer shift.

A Native Plant Master class focused on the montane ecosystem (6,000 to 9,500 feet) starts in July at Reynolds Park here in Conifer. This time prostate cancer will not interfere. I want to bump up my knowledge of the ecosystem.

After several weeks of image expunging and fire mitigation, a less harried time is near. More creative work, much less destructive work. Looking forward to it.

 

Close

Beltane                                                                     Running Creek Moon

Strong trees remain
Strong trees remain

Tyler has moved 4/5ths of the slash, maybe more. He’ll be back Sunday to finish up. I’ve cut up all but two trunks. One tree remains standing with a blue ribbon. There is a way to take it down. Before Tyler returns on Sunday I’ll finish that work plus limbing logs with newly exposed branches. Then, the only work that will remain is stacking the firewood and limbing the standing trees up to 10 feet off the ground.  Since May 20th this round of mitigation has occupied some of every day, two to three hours, sometimes more. That’s almost two weeks.

Cheaper than having someone else do it. And satisfying, too.

Soon I’ll be back to writing on Reimagining, Jennie’s Dead and Superior Wolf. Translating Latin. Hiking in the woods.

 

Mitigation Nears Completion

Beltane                                                                      Running Creeks Moon

misty morning May 31
misty morning May 31

All the blue ribbon trees are down, save one. The remaining tree presents a difficulty in terms of felling and I haven’t sorted out what to do with it. I spent yesterday finishing the felling, topping most of the downed trees, those already limbed, and completing the limbing of a few others. Kate moved slash.

Today Tyler comes over and will help move the slash into the front where it will get chipped. I’ll finish limbing while he does that, then begin cutting the trunks into logs. This project is nearing completion.

After Seth moves the logs that he wants and the fireplace size logs get stacked away from the house, there will remain two tasks. We need to prune the branches of the trees near the house. They need to be clear up to ten feet above the ground. This prevents laddering of a fire burning on the ground. The second task involves cutting down a few more trees further back in the yard. There are dead trees back there and a few situations where felling smaller trees will help the larger ones grow.

Feels good to have reached this point. This is the first major work I’ve done here. Glad there was a task that needed a skill set I possess. As the trees grow over the years, the virtue of this kind of forest management will become apparent. Mitigation will improve the overall health of our trees, another bulwark against fire. Healthy trees can withstand more fire.

Fire

Beltane                                                                                Running Creeks Moon

two topper cutBoth stamina and strength improving. Worked most of the morning yesterday, then an hour plus in the afternoon. This is work that needs to get done and has a meteorological timetable. When the forest dries out, it might be too late. The risk of fire here is real. According to the Elk Creek Fire Department Deputy Chief who came out last fall, there’s not been a big burn in this area for a hundred years.  That’s a lot of fuel.

Confession. I always wondered how people could choose to live on a floodplain, in an earthquake prone area, on or near a volcano. I was scornful of their choices. What were they thinking? As I cut down trees on our property so a probable forest fire might not burn down our home, I know. They wanted to live there. For some reason. Whether motivated by poverty, beauty, family or something else.

In our case we wanted to live in the mountains and enjoy the cooling effect produced by 8,800 feet in altitude. Find such a place close enough to the Denver metro-to make seeing the grandkids feasible-meant buying in the front range. Most of the front range near Denver is in the red zone for fire risk. As the climate changes, forest fire danger increases. “…fires up to this point have been five times worse than last year, and last year’s season as a whole set a fire record.” Agriculture department 2016 fire season forecast.

It has taken me years, decades really, to learn that the best antidote to anxiety is action. house400And, of course, a good dose of Zoloft. So we’re following the firewise policies of defensible space, fuel free zones. This means we will have done what we can, what makes sense. After that, we drive away with the dogs, taking our emergency kit with us, find a hotel or motel and wait.

If a fire comes and destroys the house and garage, we’ll rebuild. The fire risk will be much lower, at least for a while. In the interim we keep the fire mitigation up to date. That same Deputy Chief told me our house was well-positioned for survival. We live off the main road which makes access by the fire department easy. We have a flat, short driveway with the same virtue. Our roof is class a. Soon we will have completed a fire mitigation plan. After that? Taking our chances.

Weeding

Beltane                                                                         Running Creeks Moon

Topped all the felled trees, finished the limbing on them, too. Began the hauling to the front. Wore myself out. Tomorrow I’ll start cutting them up.

Rain today. Cloudy. Our solar production is far behind what was predicted, due in large part to the heavy snowfall, but also to cloud cover. Payout may take more time than we have here, but the intimate connection between the sun and our electrical use is worth it anyhow; as is severing, to the maximum extent we can, the link between our electrical use and coal generated power.

Chain saws whir all over the neighborhood here on Shadow Mountain. Fire mitigation is the mountain spring equivalent of planting a garden. Weeding, really, on a large scale. A weed is a plant out of place. Of course, you could argue that those of us who live up here are the weeds. Perhaps the trees should be plucking us out. Which is, of course, exactly what a wildfire does. Complex, man.

 

Becoming Native

Beltane                                                                               Running Creeks Moon

“…I am at home in the West. The hills of the coastal ranges look “right” to me, the particular flat expanse of the Central Valley comforts my eye. The place names have the ring of real places to me. I can pronounce the names of the rivers, and recognize the common trees and snakes. I am easy here in a way that I am not easy in other places.”  Joan Didion, California Notes, NYRB, 5/26/2016

Front, May 6th
Front, May 6th

Becoming native to a place implies the opposite of what Joan Didion recalls in this fine article taken from notes she made in 1976 while attending the Patty Hearst trial for Rolling Stone. The becoming process implies not being easy where you are, not knowing the place names as real, not knowing the common trees and snakes.

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison is not a real place to me. Neither is Four Corners nor Durango nor the summit of Mt. Evans, only 14 miles away. The owls that hoot at night, the small mammals that live here on Shadow Mountain. No. The oak savannah and the Great Anoka Sand Plain. Familiar. Easy. The Big Woods. Yes. Lake Superior. Yes. The sycamores of the Wabash. Yes. Fields defined by mile square gravel roads. Pork tenderloin sandwiches. Long, flat stretches of land. Lots of small towns and the memories of speed traps. Yes.

A local photographed yesterday near here
A local photographed yesterday near here. from pinecam.com by serendipity888

With the fire mitigation this property here on Shadow Mountain is becoming known. It has three, maybe four very fine lodgepole pines, tall and thick. A slight downward slope toward the north. Snow, lots of snow.*  Rocky ground, ground cover and scrubby grass.

Denver. Slowly coming into focus. The front range, at least its portion pierced by Highway 285, too. The west is still blurry, its aridity, mountains, deep scars in the earth, sparse population. The midwest clear, will always be clear.

Becoming native to a place is the ur spiritual work of a reimagined faith. First, we must be here. Where we are.

*”Snowfall for the season on Conifer Mountain now stands at 224 inches (132% of average).” weathergeek, pinecam.com

Hangman, Vigilante, Desperado

Beltane                                                                          Running Creeks Moon

Trying to get some printing done, photographs on fabric. Having a hard time. Our H.P. refuses to recognize its own ink cartridges. A friend of Kate’s who lives outside Bailey had an inkjet that refused to perform, too. Looking for other options in Denver and I’ve found some.

Puerto Mont, Chile tapedero
Puerto Mont, Chile tapedero

When we visited Judy Young, Kate’s friend, on Tapedero Drive, getting there gave us that odd insight street names give to an area’s early shapers. We turned off Cty. 43 onto Hangman Road. Off Hangman onto Vigilante Avenue. Hitchrack Road and Desperado Street intersected. Tapedero is a covering for the front of the stirrup so the boot won’t slip through.

An old west fantasy was on the mind of whomever platted this area.

The Madhatter Zone and Kairos

Beltane                                                                             Running Creeks Moon

This is no longer a silly season. We’ve passed over silly into the Madhatter zone. How did the richest and most powerful country in the world, renowned for its democratic experiment, manage to nominate for the presidency two its most reviled citizens? This is a question that will puzzle the world, this country, political scientists, pundits and historians for decades. Not, to make it all that much worse, that there were any really better options. A crazed Texan whom nobody liked? A sneaky far right winger with a Cuban pedigree? An Ohio governor who masked a cruel streak? An aging and not very presidential democratic socialist from the Green Mountain State? This is the best we can do?

Feeling the Bern, for those us of a leftist persuasion, has been great fun, but he was no more presidential in his way that triumph of skyscraper buffoonery, Donald Trump. Hillary does have the chops, the gravitas for the job, I’ll give her that. And, it may have to be enough this year. As a country, we simply cannot afford to put an idiot in the Whitehouse. Hillary is a centrist, a hawk and definitely uninspiring.

The people who raise her negatives are not all boiling over tea party crackpots. She’s wonky and sort of anti-charismatic. Her inability to reach younger women has put a bright line down in the lane markers of contemporary feminism. Older women who want a woman, a competent, dues paid up woman like Hillary are in a slow lane to the right of the millennials who want what the feminist revolution promised, to choose a candidate based on her politics, not her gender. This may be one of the larger ironies of our time. The very success of mid to late 20th century feminism has made breaking the ceiling with the toughest glass difficult for one its champions.

I wish I could view this as a phenomenon, a circus act, a sideshow moment in our political history. This way to see the most incredible hair in all of American politics. See the amazing slippery Hillary explain it all. It’s not, though.

It’s a time Christian theologians of the crisis school would call kairotic. A time of kairos, a time that requires action, definitive action that will dramatically affect the future. Climate change has a deadline and that deadline is 2050. If we don’t reduce the use of fossil fuels by 80% by 2050, a huge amount, then the degree of climate change that will be baked in will alter our grandchildren’s world beyond our recognition.

This single issue has many political inflection points: fracking, tar sands, the whole Middle East mess, the funding of terrorism, how to support renewable fuels, funding new modes of transportation, shifting the world’s manufacturing and home heating energy sources and perhaps most importantly the economic impacts of all these.

Climate change and its hydra headed nature is not, however, the only critical issue. The continued rise of Asia, China and India foremost there, will change the geopolitical nature of our world, already has changed it. The tensions in the South China Sea are a leading indicator. India, within the next decade, will pass China as the world’s most populous country. How these two Asian giants manage their economies, their militaries, their internal politics will demand creative responses in U.S. foreign policy.

Internally, we have an economy that has thrust a demagogue and a left-wing populist into national prominence. This is a gilded age more patinaed than that other Gilded Age which Mark Twain satirized. The fault lines in our economy are many. The un or undereducated young have an unemployment rate of 17.8% according to today’s New York Times. The radical union busting of the post-Reagan era, all too successful, has diminished the clout of those in working class jobs like hotel cleaners, janitors, minimum wage factory workers, convenience store clerks, fast food workers.

Meanwhile, the gutting of Glass-Steagall led to the very catastrophe it was enacted to prevent, runaway banks and cunning, rather than sensible, financial instruments and markets. This had the perverse effect of giving the already muscular top 1% of our economic elite a sustained regime of fiscal steroids leading directly to the dangerously top heavy accumulation of wealth in our distributional pyramid. It’s more of an inverted pin really, a pinhead of unimaginably concentrated power and a thin column of those who barely count economically. This is a recipe for revolution, a recipe which has already led to Trump and Sanders, the mildest menu items on the list.

The Black Lives Matter movement continues a history of our nation long struggle to open our society to descendants of the enslaved. Changing demographics will alter the relative power of Latinos, African-Americans, Asians, Native Americans and Whites. The surge of angry white men wanting to make America Great Again is an attempted stiff arm to the increasingly powerful rush of these forces.

Finally, although not at all really the end, we have in the West, where I know live, a movement, the SageBrush Rebellion, which wants to take public lands and turn them over to state control, eventually for sale to private parties. This movement is a quixotic but potent mix of NRA supporters, libertarians, would be right-wing revolutionaries, ranchers, constitutional wingnuts. All of them find the economic and demographic changes going on now threatening in the extreme. The economies of the West are often fragile, subject to market forces beyond their control and now water issues made more difficult by a changing climate.

None of these are trivial matters, none of them will be blustered away or easily solved, even with the best of intentions. The world, our planet, needs, deserves leadership that will address these problems, not avoid them. Given the choices in this madhatter political season here in the U.S., I say Hillary. She’s the best still standing.

 

Running Creeks Moon

Beltane                                                                         New (Running Creeks) Moon

Upper Maxwell Falls May, 2015
Upper Maxwell Falls May, 2015

Shadow Brook, Forest Brook, Maxwell Creek, Deer Creek, the mountains streams I see regularly, are full. The snow melt obeys the law of gravity, following the twists in spacetime toward lower points. They boil at rock beds and turns, often muddy water capped with white foam.

With all the recent snow fields have begun to green and our aspens have leaf buds. The lodgepoles look healthy. That 10 inch snow last weekend has already melted and the snow drifts even in our north facing back yard have begun to diminish. Time to get back to I’m a lumberjack, yes I am.

Wildlife is more in evidence, too. On the day of Vega’s death Kate saw a red fox on the roadside, as if Vega’s spirit were saying the good-bye we didn’t get in person. We’ve several small herds of mule deer and Kate saw four elk does yesterday. Pinecam.com, source for all things local, has had mountain lion photos and reports of hungry bears causing mischief. The Denver Post reported a bear rummaging through a man’s refrigerator in his second floor apartment.

The bicyclists also return with the clearing roads, joggers, too. Crankshafts of motorcyclists also begin to appear. And that seasonal bird, the tourist, begins to clog highway 285, racing around curves and down the 7% inclines. There are grumbles on Pinecam.com. Here in Conifer 285 is still four lane, but south (really west) of us about seven or eight miles it goes down to two lanes. That’s the direction the tourists head and it makes for dangerous driving in the summer months.

So a seasonal change is upon us, though a very different one from the flowering, leafing, sprouting spring of Andover.