I walked into the fire house for a training session. not intending to stay. After all, I am leaving the valley, and therefore the fire department, probably in summer (what will happen to this blog?). But an odd thing happened. There happened to be a very comfortable chair parked right in front of the television, and I was ushered right into it. It felt good; I'd been working all day and I fit right into the chair with my sore back. The training had already started and the movie was going.
I was actually able to hear better than I often am able to, and that's partly because the chair was right there at the monitor. The guy giving the training had reasonnably clear speech. I learned a lot about fire crews. They start with communication. We often watched clips from forty, fifty years ago.
But then it occurred to me. Fire training is based on real life experience where lives are at stake. Unlike academics, there is abslolutely no reward for using big words or being obtuse. All of their systems are based on hard experience and on what saves lives and works best fire after fire.
Of course, being a grammarian and proofreader, I couldn't help but analyze the kind of speech they used. But I also felt a little sheepish as, being inexperienced, I've never actually been in anything like these guys, ever. And they, living in this area, have seen a lot.
The movies that went through time served to show how firefighting has been a mutual aid society - we are all out there helping each other, and, in the mountains, our time will surely come - and I came to appreciate all the more my neighborhood and the neighbors I will soon be leaving. Probably most of them know what the movie was telling them - I am the most rookie-est of rookies, but they are not - and most of them use clear direct communication all the time anyway. That's what I love about them. But when it comes time to learn more about firefighting and pay attention to the fire season at hand, they are there - all of them - and they are watching the same movie.
Yes I am leaving the valley, but not because I don't love it. I do love it, and love my neighbors. I'll spare you the details for now but will eventually tell all, before it happens. It's a hard place to live - roads that are so bumpy our fitbits give us credit for driving them - weather that makes the ridge a little icy - switchback roads with cliffs - but I've loved it out here. The fire training is a community event, and it was a joy to see a group of neighbors work together for a common goal - the protection of our valley.
Saturday, February 26, 2022
Friday, December 24, 2021
Hunting season
I've been here a couple of years now, so I've gotten to see the whole cycle of hunters and RV people (often the same) coming up on certain cold fall weekends, and going home either with deer, with elk, or without. Some, I think, come up for turkeys or maybe even other things, but I don't see that clearly into what they're hauling out, unless they've strapped it to the back of their pickup trucks and the antlers are sticking out.
We in the mountains object when they just cut the antlers off or just cut the whole head off, and leave the rest for nature to pick clean, but that doesn't happen all that often. Mostly they seem to be polite and respectful to our ways and I would have to guess that if they haul a buck off on the back of their truck, somehow they've paid the state for the hunting permit that made that possible, and the state obliged them by allowing it all the while keeping their own eye on it. What I'm saying is that the majority of what I see appears to be legally obtained, all more or less above-board, and it doesn't seem to be endangering any of the species involved, or I think some of the locals would be bothered about that. I used to notice that lots of the larger deer and elk would simply go to town during the peak of the hunting season, knowing that the village itself is probably the safest place for them, but I think it's more accurate to say they know about the hunters and their schedules, they avoid any place with human contact at all during that time, and we are not as likely to see them as usual.
Another crowd that comes up here in this time is the Christmas-tree-foragers, who pay a fee to the National Forest and then just cut and take whatever tree they want - usually they trudge into the forest for a ways, as opposed to taking something out by the road which I think the Forest Service has asked them not to do. We see more trees on trucks this time of year than deer or elk - it's easier to catch a tree, which after all can't run away - and you're more likely to come home with a successful haul to unload when you get there.
So actually I'm all in favor of these things, though I know hunters in particular have their detractors. To me it's ok to have a small group of people maintain the skills and practices of using nature to feed themselves. against all odds, even though it requires carrying around all these firearms which I know can be dangerous in the wrong hands. I'm a little quesy myself in the presence of blood and guts and a sharp knife and a big mess, but I still respect them for the ability to do it and wouldn't want them to have to stop just because some people aren't comfortable with the killing of animals. We humans were born with two very sharp teeth and to me that means we were probably made to eat some red meat every once in a while, although nothing in my natural instincts seems to say anything about guns except to avoid them in the hands of angry people at all costs.
The RV's sometimes just park in the middle of the forest, but on the forest road, and I recognize that they are hopefully carrying out everything they brought in, including their own poop and garbage, as we have literally no services there in the middle of the forest. Sometimes these guys sleep in the RV's during the days, so they can go out into the forest in the middle of the night, but if they are bringing back carcasses with them, I am rarely seeing it, and I'm often wondering how you'd handle that with just an RV, and all that blood and guts all over the place. But that's their problem, and my guess is they'd have to be pretty comfortable with blood and guts before they'd even try such a venture anyway. I sometimes wonder if some of these RV people aren't just trying to get away from it all, get away from the city, get out and be left totally alone, and don't really want to hunt at all. But what do I know - I leave them alone, no matter what, just drive by, and though I can sometimes see whether they have guns and are wearing camo. (most often yes & yes), other times, I only see the RV, and don't know anything about it. Sometimes you'll come up behind someone, and they're driving really slowly, and they're driving in the middle of the road, looking both ways all the time and trying to keep from driving right off the side of the road, and often they don't even see I'm there, and don't know to pull over and simply let me pass, since, if they don't, I'm kind of stuck. For a few moments there we share the road in the middle of the national forest, but the animals themselves are long gone, knowing full well what's up, and the scenery is nothing I haven't seen a million times in the last year. Pines and more pines, and the possibility of other critters, if you hang around long enough.
We in the mountains object when they just cut the antlers off or just cut the whole head off, and leave the rest for nature to pick clean, but that doesn't happen all that often. Mostly they seem to be polite and respectful to our ways and I would have to guess that if they haul a buck off on the back of their truck, somehow they've paid the state for the hunting permit that made that possible, and the state obliged them by allowing it all the while keeping their own eye on it. What I'm saying is that the majority of what I see appears to be legally obtained, all more or less above-board, and it doesn't seem to be endangering any of the species involved, or I think some of the locals would be bothered about that. I used to notice that lots of the larger deer and elk would simply go to town during the peak of the hunting season, knowing that the village itself is probably the safest place for them, but I think it's more accurate to say they know about the hunters and their schedules, they avoid any place with human contact at all during that time, and we are not as likely to see them as usual.
Another crowd that comes up here in this time is the Christmas-tree-foragers, who pay a fee to the National Forest and then just cut and take whatever tree they want - usually they trudge into the forest for a ways, as opposed to taking something out by the road which I think the Forest Service has asked them not to do. We see more trees on trucks this time of year than deer or elk - it's easier to catch a tree, which after all can't run away - and you're more likely to come home with a successful haul to unload when you get there.
So actually I'm all in favor of these things, though I know hunters in particular have their detractors. To me it's ok to have a small group of people maintain the skills and practices of using nature to feed themselves. against all odds, even though it requires carrying around all these firearms which I know can be dangerous in the wrong hands. I'm a little quesy myself in the presence of blood and guts and a sharp knife and a big mess, but I still respect them for the ability to do it and wouldn't want them to have to stop just because some people aren't comfortable with the killing of animals. We humans were born with two very sharp teeth and to me that means we were probably made to eat some red meat every once in a while, although nothing in my natural instincts seems to say anything about guns except to avoid them in the hands of angry people at all costs.
The RV's sometimes just park in the middle of the forest, but on the forest road, and I recognize that they are hopefully carrying out everything they brought in, including their own poop and garbage, as we have literally no services there in the middle of the forest. Sometimes these guys sleep in the RV's during the days, so they can go out into the forest in the middle of the night, but if they are bringing back carcasses with them, I am rarely seeing it, and I'm often wondering how you'd handle that with just an RV, and all that blood and guts all over the place. But that's their problem, and my guess is they'd have to be pretty comfortable with blood and guts before they'd even try such a venture anyway. I sometimes wonder if some of these RV people aren't just trying to get away from it all, get away from the city, get out and be left totally alone, and don't really want to hunt at all. But what do I know - I leave them alone, no matter what, just drive by, and though I can sometimes see whether they have guns and are wearing camo. (most often yes & yes), other times, I only see the RV, and don't know anything about it. Sometimes you'll come up behind someone, and they're driving really slowly, and they're driving in the middle of the road, looking both ways all the time and trying to keep from driving right off the side of the road, and often they don't even see I'm there, and don't know to pull over and simply let me pass, since, if they don't, I'm kind of stuck. For a few moments there we share the road in the middle of the national forest, but the animals themselves are long gone, knowing full well what's up, and the scenery is nothing I haven't seen a million times in the last year. Pines and more pines, and the possibility of other critters, if you hang around long enough.
Tuesday, October 19, 2021
Covid ravages the village
Otero County has a vaccination rate of about 50%, it says, and the hospital is full: no more visitors, no more elective surgery, no more hospital cafeteria, etc. It has to make room for covid patients so it doesn't, like hospitals in Hobbs and Carlsbad, have to send them to Albuquerque. It's kind of a statewide crisis.
So how does it affect us out here in Sixteen Springs? We are nervous because we are retired and vulnerable (though vaccinated, along with our three teens), but we use the roads a lot, and may need that hospital someday, if not tomorrow. We are kind of astounded at the casual attitude various people have - going around, no mask, no vax, having parties, hanging around inside. I will stand in a restaurant or business place sometimes, usually with mask though I'm known to forget, and hope that my vaccination will protect me and mine from what comes down the pike.
It's a long drive from the village and the hill out here, over James Ridge, down into Sixteen Springs Canyon, and way back into our part of it where there is virtually no one coming close to us except the UPS driver who is able to hand us the package without getting close really. The fresh air, the breeze, and the relentless New Mexico sun, even in late fall, makes us feel somewhat safer than most. And I believe that, as conservative as our neighbors are, most of them are vaccinated, actually. If you use 50% as a guideline, you tend to say, some groups are over fifty, some under, and you never quite know, because we definitely don't ask. But you walk into a place like Dave's or the Texaspit and you have whole crowds, unmasked, probably unvaxed too. The folks at Allsup's who are buying Powerball tickets are definitely not the ones playing the best odds, namely, skipping a vax out of fear, but exposing themselves in a place like Allsup's to anyone who might come by. Somebody is gonna get it, and it will probably be them, and it will probably happen sooner, not later.
One local guy I know said it probably won't get the mountain too bad; this was a while ago, and to some degree he's already been proven wrong. But he seemed to feel that we just have a different lifestyle, more isolated, more outdoors, maybe more health-and-survival conscious. I'm not so sure about the health part. I know that in general suspicion of government, distrust of institutions, hostility to collective do-my-part cooperation in the nation's health - these are all big here, and it will be hard to convince people that they should go down the hill and get stabbed for everyone else's good if not theirs. They're not much into everyone else's good, having moved out here pretty much to get away from everyone else. But since it's possible to be out here and stay away from everyone else, as we tend to do, maybe that's our saving grace.
I stop and talk to the neighbors every once in a while. When I do, we're outside, with a breeze and hot New Mexico sun between us. I feel that, vaccinated as I am, I'm probably ok most of the time. They don't seem to be spreading it amongst themselves although I might not even know if they were. Some may be going down the hill or across the state, and participating in communities that I myself would ordinarily avoid. But it's really hard to tell about these things - who is bringing it up here? Who is spreading it? Who should all these unvaxed people be avoiding? I'm not sure the tests are giving us all the answers. All I can say is, stay safe, stay out of the hospitals.
So how does it affect us out here in Sixteen Springs? We are nervous because we are retired and vulnerable (though vaccinated, along with our three teens), but we use the roads a lot, and may need that hospital someday, if not tomorrow. We are kind of astounded at the casual attitude various people have - going around, no mask, no vax, having parties, hanging around inside. I will stand in a restaurant or business place sometimes, usually with mask though I'm known to forget, and hope that my vaccination will protect me and mine from what comes down the pike.
It's a long drive from the village and the hill out here, over James Ridge, down into Sixteen Springs Canyon, and way back into our part of it where there is virtually no one coming close to us except the UPS driver who is able to hand us the package without getting close really. The fresh air, the breeze, and the relentless New Mexico sun, even in late fall, makes us feel somewhat safer than most. And I believe that, as conservative as our neighbors are, most of them are vaccinated, actually. If you use 50% as a guideline, you tend to say, some groups are over fifty, some under, and you never quite know, because we definitely don't ask. But you walk into a place like Dave's or the Texaspit and you have whole crowds, unmasked, probably unvaxed too. The folks at Allsup's who are buying Powerball tickets are definitely not the ones playing the best odds, namely, skipping a vax out of fear, but exposing themselves in a place like Allsup's to anyone who might come by. Somebody is gonna get it, and it will probably be them, and it will probably happen sooner, not later.
One local guy I know said it probably won't get the mountain too bad; this was a while ago, and to some degree he's already been proven wrong. But he seemed to feel that we just have a different lifestyle, more isolated, more outdoors, maybe more health-and-survival conscious. I'm not so sure about the health part. I know that in general suspicion of government, distrust of institutions, hostility to collective do-my-part cooperation in the nation's health - these are all big here, and it will be hard to convince people that they should go down the hill and get stabbed for everyone else's good if not theirs. They're not much into everyone else's good, having moved out here pretty much to get away from everyone else. But since it's possible to be out here and stay away from everyone else, as we tend to do, maybe that's our saving grace.
I stop and talk to the neighbors every once in a while. When I do, we're outside, with a breeze and hot New Mexico sun between us. I feel that, vaccinated as I am, I'm probably ok most of the time. They don't seem to be spreading it amongst themselves although I might not even know if they were. Some may be going down the hill or across the state, and participating in communities that I myself would ordinarily avoid. But it's really hard to tell about these things - who is bringing it up here? Who is spreading it? Who should all these unvaxed people be avoiding? I'm not sure the tests are giving us all the answers. All I can say is, stay safe, stay out of the hospitals.
Monday, September 6, 2021
Just Passing Through
Autobiography and true stories from out there
$4.39 on Kindle
$8.80 + shipping paperback, through Amazon
also on Kindle Unlimited
working on other methods of selling
$4.39 on Kindle
$8.80 + shipping paperback, through Amazon
also on Kindle Unlimited
working on other methods of selling
Saturday, August 28, 2021
an august Saturday
So I'm sitting on the boardwalk, typing this, as some music is being played across the street, possibly at the Noisy Water. It seems maybe they have done something to provide Saturday afternoon entertainment for people coming to the boardwalk.
Now I have to admit I'm not sure about the details. We do seem to have lots of tourists; earlier I found it difficult to even find a place to park, and Burro is closed anyway rendering much of the area where I'm sitting (at the Green Mountain) a dead end. Now that it's after five, it's a little less crowded, but still among the people I see going up and down the boardwalk, most are not from around here. And my guess is that Noisy Water would like to attract them to stop, stay a while, taste some of their product.
My hearing is really not so great these days. I have these high-powered hearing aids but they increase the volume of everything, most noticeably the echo. So I hear a lot of echo real loud, and it's hard to tell within that if the music is any good or not. It's gotten so I don't listen to music for fun, although I do hear it, and can no longer distinguish whether it's in tune or not.
But I'm not here as a music critic anyway, I'm a Cloudcroft critic. Or rather, I'm someone who is enjoying ending up on a boardwalk bench at the age of 67, in a small town 87,000 feet up, watching the late afternoon settle on Burro Street. It's a nice town. If my whole life is Sixteen Springs and this little town I could be doing much worse. In fact I've done much worse through most of my life; I moved here from Lubbock. At the time I was going under the illusion that it didn't matter that much where you planted your roots and set things going. I was wrong; it mattered a lot.
Other cities have these five or six-lane freeways curving in to take you to their downtowns. Green signs and exits every half mile, people switching lanes as per their hurry or their need to show off their reckless youth. Our commute is a steep hill, winding up from Wimsatt, cliff on either side, possibility of elk or deer around each corner. Yes there are some who want to do it at seventy, uphill or down, but they will pass, recklessly or not, and life goes on. The wildflowers fill the meadows on the sides of the road. Hail occasionally hits the canyon and everything turns white and sometimes there is a fog that goes with it. It's a lot different from Chicago, I assure you.
Back at home, the new deer families will be walking around as I drive the last of the dirt lane. There seem to be more white-tail these days, fewer mule deer, not sure why that is but it's definitely something I've noticed. The rain has gone on unabated and now it's late August. Last year, it had stopped altogether before even the middle of August. And we know that, except for a snow or two, once it's stopped, it's all over until next July. Unless things have really changed for good.
Saturday, August 14, 2021
who'll stop the rain
As I sit here on Saturday morning, it has been raining now for days, weeks, maybe even a couple of months. It started in late June. We had a few breaks, where I could get outside and do some stuff. But the last four or five days, nothing but rain.
As far as I know, there has been some flooding, but most of us are ok. We only have a few thousand people in the mountains, and water goes downhill, so there are a few in the valleys or whose houses are on the downhill slope of wide washes, and there has been some flood damage I'm sure. Whole mountainsides have washed down into roads, leaving them a muddy pile of gravel until the road guys come along with their bulldozer. In some cases I'm nervous to drive to town because the water in the road is deep and it's impossible to tell how deep. After dark it's worse. The ground is saturated; the water is not seeping into it at all.
Over the long haul, because there was a drought of over twenty years, most people are grateful that the drought is at least somewhat alleviated. The whole southwest has been pulling water out of the ground for decades, by the billions of gallons, knowing full well that it wasn't being replenished. That's why, in my own analysis of what is the most urgent problem of our present environmental crisis, I've always said there's way too much water in the system. That is, the system of rain, hurricane, thunderstorm, runoff, swollen rivers. Iowa, where I used to live, has had three or four hundred-year storms in the last fifteen years. Key West is going under.
Of course, some of this, like Key West, is due to melting ice from Arctic and Antarctic. That's a crisis too. But if the southwest thought it could just pull these billions of gallons out of there without consequence, maybe now we'll look at this and say, well here's one consequence. A monsoon season with 25 inches and counting.
I'm not even sure how many inches we've had, or what all the consequences are. I think that when the ground stays so saturated for so long, other things start happening besides too much runoff. And I'm also sure it's a joy to see water in some of the rivers that haven't had it for years - like the Rio Grande, the Colorado, etc. People have been fighting so hard about that water they haven't even looked up to see, maybe it will come back. In spades.
A bigger consequence, for us, is that places might be overrun. It seems to me that a lot of lowlanders, people who are tired of being pounded and losing their houses to a foot of mud, will just be seeking higher ground. It won't be people that threaten our lifestyle, necessarily, but the increase in rent, land price, taxes, and those things. Mountain people are right - our lifestyle is threatened. But the reason really is that they shouldn't have voted in a guy who couldn't have cared less about the destruction of the environment.
As far as I know, there has been some flooding, but most of us are ok. We only have a few thousand people in the mountains, and water goes downhill, so there are a few in the valleys or whose houses are on the downhill slope of wide washes, and there has been some flood damage I'm sure. Whole mountainsides have washed down into roads, leaving them a muddy pile of gravel until the road guys come along with their bulldozer. In some cases I'm nervous to drive to town because the water in the road is deep and it's impossible to tell how deep. After dark it's worse. The ground is saturated; the water is not seeping into it at all.
Over the long haul, because there was a drought of over twenty years, most people are grateful that the drought is at least somewhat alleviated. The whole southwest has been pulling water out of the ground for decades, by the billions of gallons, knowing full well that it wasn't being replenished. That's why, in my own analysis of what is the most urgent problem of our present environmental crisis, I've always said there's way too much water in the system. That is, the system of rain, hurricane, thunderstorm, runoff, swollen rivers. Iowa, where I used to live, has had three or four hundred-year storms in the last fifteen years. Key West is going under.
Of course, some of this, like Key West, is due to melting ice from Arctic and Antarctic. That's a crisis too. But if the southwest thought it could just pull these billions of gallons out of there without consequence, maybe now we'll look at this and say, well here's one consequence. A monsoon season with 25 inches and counting.
I'm not even sure how many inches we've had, or what all the consequences are. I think that when the ground stays so saturated for so long, other things start happening besides too much runoff. And I'm also sure it's a joy to see water in some of the rivers that haven't had it for years - like the Rio Grande, the Colorado, etc. People have been fighting so hard about that water they haven't even looked up to see, maybe it will come back. In spades.
A bigger consequence, for us, is that places might be overrun. It seems to me that a lot of lowlanders, people who are tired of being pounded and losing their houses to a foot of mud, will just be seeking higher ground. It won't be people that threaten our lifestyle, necessarily, but the increase in rent, land price, taxes, and those things. Mountain people are right - our lifestyle is threatened. But the reason really is that they shouldn't have voted in a guy who couldn't have cared less about the destruction of the environment.
Wednesday, July 14, 2021
Monsoon
There's been a lot of rain lately; Walker Canyon Road has been just about impassable. The worst of the rain seems to be east of here and slightly over the ridge, down in James Canyon over by Iron Gate. But we've had plenty; I think we had more before the fourth than sometimes we get all year. Since the fourth, it's been more of a typical monsoon maybe. For example, today it's looking a lot like rain but not raining.
I don't pretend to hold it out as evidence that the whole world is going down in a climate-change microwave, but there's plenty enough evidence for that without me even having to provide any. Hundred thirty in California, fires all over the place - is this because we are hording the rain? Are we getting what rightfully belongs to someone else?
It's a ritual, I think, to poke around the ground hoping that some of the water is still close to the surface, taking its good old time getting back down to the water table. I myself will feel better if some of it makes it down to the water table. I feel like everything needs water, all the way down, even the things that live maybe ten or twenty feet below. They're all parched. They've been waiting for years.
Then, as to the problem of restoring the balance, that has been thrown way out of whack by everything from over-fracking to pulling enough water out of the aquifer to provide for vegas' fountains, all I can say is, let's get to it. I hardly know where to start, but I could start with myself, pulling a little less water out of the ground, and using it a little more wisely. I think people are not used to thinking this way, and may have some adjusting to do once we realize we have no choice.
I don't pretend to hold it out as evidence that the whole world is going down in a climate-change microwave, but there's plenty enough evidence for that without me even having to provide any. Hundred thirty in California, fires all over the place - is this because we are hording the rain? Are we getting what rightfully belongs to someone else?
It's a ritual, I think, to poke around the ground hoping that some of the water is still close to the surface, taking its good old time getting back down to the water table. I myself will feel better if some of it makes it down to the water table. I feel like everything needs water, all the way down, even the things that live maybe ten or twenty feet below. They're all parched. They've been waiting for years.
Then, as to the problem of restoring the balance, that has been thrown way out of whack by everything from over-fracking to pulling enough water out of the aquifer to provide for vegas' fountains, all I can say is, let's get to it. I hardly know where to start, but I could start with myself, pulling a little less water out of the ground, and using it a little more wisely. I think people are not used to thinking this way, and may have some adjusting to do once we realize we have no choice.
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