Carbon Fiber Banjo

I don't know the first thing about playing a banjo but I like the sounds from them. Chris shared about a month with us recently to work on a composite guitar project. Once we got his molds up and producing guitar bodies and soundboards, I went to work on a mold for a composite banjo. This is the first unit out of the mold and it sounds unbelievable. In keeping with Chris' spirit to create an outdoor survivable instrument, I made this banjo without a head. I sandwiched a piece of nut material behind a shaped bit of metal sheet. One screw holds the assembly to the end of the neck. The photo, if it wasn't reflecting the flash, shows two copper pegs where the four main strings attach. These I drilled for and mounted at about a 30 degree angle. The angle holds the string loops and the pegs help the single screw keep things aligned. With no head, there is nothing to tangle with the environment as one backpacks or camps out.

Headless Head

The G4 string at the 5th fret is attached to the neck with a copper peg.  The string feeds over a piece of nylon washer shaped to fit into a hole drilled behind the fifth fret. The out-hanging nylon has a grove cut into it to align the string at its proper spacing and to head it in the right direction over the fretboard.

 

G4 String Peg



I used five old guitar tuners for the rear mounted adjustments. There was difficulty bringing the strings straight down off the back of the soundboard. I went through a couple of versions of transition bridges before I settled on making one out of Plexiglas. The Plexiglas was heated and formed to the shape and then drilled at the angle the string would take to its tuner. This method relieved a lot of string sheering tension.



Rear Tuners


What to do for fret inlays? My fretboard is 1/8th inch thick. This limited me to what I could use. While trolling the Ace Hardware store I came upon a tray of nylon washers where I found some that were 1/8 x 3/8 inch in size. I picked up a tube of liquid metal to fill in the centers after the mounting glue had dried. My black felt tip marker did the rest.

Fret Inlays

The soundboard is a single layer of 3.5 ounce carbon fiber twill fabric. The soundboard also forms the initial cover for the neck. There was concern about not having a means of stretching the soundboard, as is done for conventionally covered banjo jugs. Naturally, once cured the carbon fiber is not going to stretch, so the concern was fruitless. The soundboard was resin attached to the level sanded jug and neck. It is going to be what it is. A couple of bridges were tried before settling on the one shown. The height of the bridge is important in creating the necessary gap between the frets and the strings. I turns out that even though the soundboard doesn't stretch, it does concave under pressure. Three pieces of carbon arrow shafts were glassed into the ring before the soundboard was attached. The purpose of the shafts is to maintain the circular shape when the ring is put under the tremendous warping tension when the strings are tightened. This they do well. What wasn't initially thought of was the fact that the string tension would tend to pull the bottom edge of the ring away to the rear. This created a desire for the soundboard to wrinkle and thus lower the resting plane of the bridge. A strip of brass and a turnbuckle to the rescue. These were added to the bottom of the ring to counter the motion of the bottom of the ring. The turnbuckle, although not pleasant to look at, provides the correct amount of adjust ability to the counter-tension. The bridge once again rides where it should in relation to the frets; 5/8th inch is a standard height.

Counter Tension Devices



Finished Banjo
 

The sounds are very bright and projecting. The bridge adjusted to a slight cant as a result of adjusting from the 12th fret for octave intonation. I was gifted a set of finger picks and I have been practicing different rolls. It will be sometime before I go on stage. The neck dimensions were taken from a quality commercial banjo. A strong drawback I have discovered is the strings have too narrow a spacing for my large fingers. Even when I bring my hand to a vertical angle over the strings, I still am unable to press on one without bumping into the neighbor with the pad of the finger. It may just be too new an experience. However, version Beta II will have more gap between strings.


 

Ode to a Yule Log

`Twas the day after Harbor, some fifty years hence.
The letter in the paper spoke how peace made most sense.

I was snug in my bed when suddenly jolted to a start!
The harsh ringing near my ear made me tear comics apart.

Snatching the phone from its cradle, I asked of the matter.
The neighbor daughter pleaded some "porcelain" patter.

"Help us quickly; Mom's been practicing the lunge.
Can she come right over and take the plunge?"

All was planned so discreetly, our eyes never met.
She requested the liaison be near the front step.

Nothing it seems will stretch true friendship apart,
Unless it's another cry for the "Toilet Bowl Dart"!
                                                                                       
                                                                                         Circa December 8, 1995

Busch Solar Heater

What to do with 90 -16oz Busch beer cans, empty of course. This is a thin shelled veneer box lined with 1-1/2" insulation foam. A 3/4" hole has been punched into the bottom of each can to create a hollow 10-high cylinder when stacked. Air inlet holes 3/8" were drilled through to the base of each column and the row of 9 holes was covered with fly screen. The columns are held ~1" above the insulation on the bottom. There is ~1-1/2" space above the columns. Hot air escape is through 3, 1-1/2", holes centered under a 12" x 4" shop vacuum head. The head is epoxy sealed above the holes. The exposed sides of the cans are sprayed with black primer, except for the label on several cans that were taped over to preserve their identity. A clear plastic roofing panel was cut to size and screwed and sealed to the box top. 

I set the heater outside for ~10 minutes on this 90+ day. After a few minutes I measured with my IR laser probe 107F at the bottom and 142F at the top. During cold mornings I expect the convection heater to exceed 50 degrees differential. A vacuum hose through a window to the outside, southern facing box should take the chill off the early air in the garage. A small 12v box fan inserted in the exhaust line may provide increased air flow without depleting the heating value. 

Thanks, Chris, for the idea. I'll post later in the season re how it really works. Out of pocket cost, net of the scrap materials, screws and the once full beer cans, was $21 for the piece of roofing from Lowes. 

Today, outside air is 60F and inside temp is steady at 190F; using probe thermometer. Box on head contains 12v box fan which creates a small additional flow of air. Standard vacuum hose connects to the output. Laser probe appears to be reading temp of plastic cover. Net gain is 130F. Larger input holes may increase flow volume.

Honey Bees 2012

            I have been keenly observing the hive of Russian bees each morning as I go to and from the newspaper box. There seemed to be no early morning activity near the hive’s entrance at the early hour. Later in the day I would see a few bees coming and going as the air warmed up. As August pressed on I was anticipating a level of bearding on the outside of the hive. Bearding is an indication that the hive is near capacity and it needs to be emptied soon.

            August has passed and there has been no bearding. Regardless of the hive’s state of readiness, it was the time of the year to open it up and harvest what I could. Each season I did this, I was rewarded with an abundance of thick rich honey. This year would be no different.

            I began a day early to collect everything I would need to open the hive, pull the racks, scrape the combs clean, and to drip filter separate the honey from the comb wax. I had even secured a full body suit, complete with a zip on head guard mounted to a pith helmet. The ensemble even came with elbow length gloves with leather hands and sturdy cloth extensions. I was ready.

           

            I invited Bill to join me again this year. He sounded a bit reserved during the phone call and he inquired whether I had an extra hazmat suit. I told him I had the head screen, a Bob the Mechanic jump suit, and long leather gloves. When he arrived an hour later he had been to Harbor Freight and in short order he had donned his new outfit and was ready to help zip me into mine.

 

               

            We had learned valuable lessons from our bee experiences last year. We were ready to tackle the welding job the bees will have done to the inside seams of their hive.        

            Bill used the smoker at the entrance of the hive. Both of us felt very imune to problems that may be instigated by the soon to be angry inhabitants. I quickly pryed the top lid off the hive. It seemed to separate much easier than it had last year. As I lifted the lid away the first thing I notices on top of the inner tray were a couple of moths. Wow, that’s strange. When I removed the inner tray it hit both of us hard.

            The top tier of racks was devistated. There was wax comb loaded on the racks, but there was no honey. Everywhere there were empty inch long pupal sacks and the inside of the hive was crawling with larvae.

            We removed the top layer of racks, and then the top section of the hive box. This fully exposed the middle layer of the hive and its racks. They, too, were devistated. A few brave bees crawled around the empty combs vigilent to their predisposition to be diligent in their tending of the hive. As we removed the middle racks we found a couple of them completely covered with a webbing. Both of us immediately though that we might be dealing with an attack by web moths.

            Last year was very hard on shrubbery and bushes in southern Oregon. During the summer months I discovered and removed several branches from our bushes that had been infested with web moths. Their presence is easy to see. The twig, or limb, is wrapped in a cocoon like web which can be a foot or two long on the branch. The growth inside the webbing has been destroyed and the covered section of the branch is deathly brown.

            I had disposed of the bags of trimmed shrubbery in the green lid garbage bin at the rear of the property. This bin was only thirty feet from the hive. Perhaps some of the moth had at that time been exposed to the hive.

     

I will replace the comb foundations and steam clean the wood racks and the inside of the hive. Next spring I will get another queen bee and a new hive starter colony. In the fall of 2013 I will again harvest a  bumper crop of honey.

 

 

 

Archery Mania

Each year Anne, and her tennis partner, Judy, play in the Huntsman Senior Games held in the first couple of weeks of October in St. George, Utah. They have done well and enjoy the varied competition.

My very good friend, and flying mentor, Cliff Chaney, and his wife Phyllis live in St. George, so I like to go with Anne to the games, too. I have served as their cheering squad and booster. I also look forward each year to visiting with the Chaneys.

One year I took the time to watch some of the other sports competitions. Track and field was particularily inspiring. Each sport is divided into age brackets, e.g., 55-60, 60-65, etc. The brackets go as high as the need. At the track events there were men in their early 90's running the 50 and 100m dashes. I used to run the 50yd dash and I continued to jog many years after college. Believe me, I couldn't have kept up with those men in that dash.It was amazing!

I also had a gander at the Archery competition. They have events for longbows, compound bows, target versus 3D shooting. If there is a traditional competition using bow and arrow, they do it. Watching the archery events took me back to the farm where my brothers and I would shoot arrows into a target stuck onto a couple of stacked bales of hay in front of the barn. I remember doing the shooting, but I don't recall any spectacular achievements with the bow. What haunted me was the memory of the enjoyment of trying to hit the target.

I have reflected off and on for a couple of years about the Huntsman archery competition. This is something I can still physically do with no problems. Participating in the archery competition while Anne and Judy are whomping teams in tennis seemed like it could be a lot of fun. I had a hurdle, however, I didn't own a bow.

Somehow my thoughts were read. This last season Father Christmas presented me with a compound bow. The bow is a Mission Rally, made by Mathews Bow. It is fairly long, by compound bow standards, measuring 37". Longer bows natively shoot more acurately and are more forgiving of small archer technique flaws. This is the right bow to be using for target competitions; although it could still be used for deer hunting, if the urge ever tugged at me.

Our front parking pad measures 35yards from the garage to the driveway curbing. I set up a couple of bales of tightly tied straw in front of the garage and then measured out 10, 20, and 30 yard stands for practicing. I have gotten to the point where I can fairly consistantly group an end of arrows at the 30 yard range.    

The targets used at the Hundsman Games are 48"x48" with a  bullseye having a diameter of ~10". Now, that seems like a pretty large spot to be aiming at. It is large at 30 yards. However, I won't be shooting 30 yards in St. George. I will be shooting at 60, and then 50 and finally, at 40 yards. One needs to shoot 30 arrows, in 5 ends of 6 each, at each distance beginning at 60 yards.

Why can't we shoot at 40 and work our way out to 60? Well, the reason is historical. Archers of yore came upon an advancing enemy first at some distance too far away to offend. However, as they came closer, they became targetable prey. So, you shoot first at 60 yards, and then as the enemy falls to your shafts, you advance closer to clean up the mess.

It turns out, while mowing the 3/4 acre of undeveloped field at the old office lot, that it dawned on me there was a lot of distance traveled in each of those mower laps. I paced from the southern fence over 60 yards to the northern boundery bushes in front of the neighbor's 12' high cement wall. I could put a target butt in the bushes and use the field for practicing my longer ranges. I marked off 10 through 60 yards and began my shooting.

I have not been content with just shooting the compound bow. My brother, Bill, had loaned me his recurve bow and I got hooked again on traditional shooting. I have made 4 stick bows so far. One I sent to my nephew, Liam, whom I enjoyed shooting with when I traveled with his family in New Mexico. Liam reports having good success instinct shooting with his new bow.

Two of the bows I have made have broken; both after serving some long practice shooting. As I read Bowyer's books I learn that breakage is part of the acquisition of developing bow making skill. Sometimes, the bow's limb will break just because there was a hidden flaw in the grain. So, you go back to the shop and build another one.

I have just finished crafting my next bow. This one I made out of Hickory, all of the prior bows have been made out of Red Oak. Hickory, however, is a stronger wood than oak, and it should serve better. After you decide what the design of your new bow is going to be, then the wood needs to be cut and trimed and thined until it is ready to be tillered.

Tillering is a process whereby you put a loose string on the bow and gently start to add more and more stretch to work the limbs. During the tillering you can observe whether each limb is bending like the other and make adjustments, if needed. Eventually you add weight to the string and see if, for a given target weight, of say 40#, the limbs will arch to a comfortable draw length, typically 28". If after scraping a little wood off here and there you are successful, then you can put a proper bow string on your new work and have a go with a few shots.

This photo shows the bow having been tillered and strung with a proper string. I have attached 40# of weights to the string and verify that the bow will pull that weight to 28".

I have added a deer skin grip and a metal arrow rest slid under the padding.

I used strips of burlap from some old bags I had saved and stretched them onto the back of the the bow for additional tension reinforcement. The burlap was first glued and then two coats of epoxy resin was applied. Hickory is a difficult wood to break, but I was looking for some added assurance.

The bow casts the arrows true. Now, I just have to get refocused on using the compound bow and trying to nail those 6" paper plates at the 60 yard range. (My thinking is that if I can consistantly hit on or near the 6" plate at 60 yards, then my chances of doing well in St. George this October will be better.)

Chasing the Duncan Clan across New Mexico

March 26, 2012

             I had finished welding the extra rung to the rear ladder. The 5-gal jerry can base can now be bolted on. Over the last month or two I built a spare tire mount and a roof top access ladder for the Vanaroo. Both attached to an above the bumper rail designed for the purpose. The addition of the gas can is the last appointment I am going to make to the rear of the van. The bright red can sits in a pan that has two bolts to each of two rungs. Naturally, there is no logic involved as to the rung spacing, so I needed to add an additional rung.

            The time was close to 4 o'clock. I still needed to find four bolts of the correct size to make the attachment. Nope, no such luck. It was off to Hubbard's Hardware. The can fits perfectly, and I had a Master lock and some chain to add a degree of certainty that it would be there when I needed it.
            This last minute welding and ratchet work was final preparation for tomorrow's drive south to New Mexico to link up with Chris, Jennifer, and the boys, and with Dave and Joy, who are caravanning with them in the S.W. I am packing for one since Anne may be flying to Queensland to assist her brother when he returns home from recent knee surgery. We are awaiting word from him on when that will be.
            It will be a long and lonely drive without her, but she applauds the fact that I am brave enough to make such a journey in the van. That is secret Rob and Anne code which really means, "I don't want to drive all that way in that thing." She assures me she has plenty of quilting to do, on top of the trip Wednesday to Portland to see a performance with our good friends, the Walkers.
            Actually, the van is crammed full, as it is, with just my clothes and sundries. I am probably traveling with more than I need to, but...

March 27, 2012

            A final check and a night gowned kiss goodbye and I am off. Fuel tank and jerry can filled at Wal-Mart, I am on the freeway at 10:30. I had checked the highway reports for the Siskiyou Summit and they showed photos of clear roads. The few miles of I-5 south of Ashland are the steepest grade on the entire freeway. This time of year the Siskiyou mountain range is snow capped, but today no chains are required.

            As I drive past Ashland's exits the sky is lowering. Rain and or fog is on the way. No worries, I'll just drive slowly. That won't be too hard to do climbing over the mountain. With the rain came 30+mph gusty head winds. Wow, that was a long short trip to the summit. Now it's all downhill.
            Two hundred some miles later I pull into Williams, CA; a town of some 5,000 with a Motel 6. Williams is also just a few miles north of Sacramento, which I did not want to drive through while it was rush hour and raining. Oh yes, while it was windy out, too. The VW van has a lot of surface area for its weight. This means that one needs to be cautious when passing big trucks. It also means that when there are gusty winds, you need to hold onto the wheel very firmly. This I did until I reached Williams.
            I set up the van to overnight in, however, to maintain a minimal degree of comfort I need to be parked in a secure location with access to AC power. Yesterday I visited the Medford BLM office and/ purchased a $10 lifetime senior pass to our National Parks. Yosemite seems to be the closest park which would honor my investment, but that park is over 100 miles round trip for the free night's camping. Motel 6 seemed a more fiscally logical and environmentally conservative choice. Plus, the room is bigger.

March 28, 2012

            Going to sleep at 8 o'clock found me awake at 4:30 and on the road by 5:30. I filled up a few miles north of the long climb over the hills into LA County. Right after fill up the van started running as if it were being gas starved. A steady amount of gas pedal, ok, but try to accelerate and it coughed and sputtered. While on the I-210 it dawned on me. This would be a symptom of a badly clogged fuel filter. I'll labor on and pick one up tomorrow. Right now, I just want to be rid of these 5 lanes of 3 0'clock traffic and get out onto the more quiet stretches of I-10 across the desert.

            I drove into Blythe, CA at 7pm. I found a Best Inns of America and checked in. The recommended dinner spot was Sizzlers, just 2 blocks west. I locked the van and strolled in the cooling desert air to receive a wonderful salad and a delightfully done 6oz steak. After a pb&j for dinner last night and a pb&j for lunch at the Coalinga rest stop, I figured I was worth the $11 splurge.
            Anne packed some grits for me for the drip. Among the goodies she included 6-187ml bottles of Sutter Home Merlot. Yes, I think it is time for one, well, maybe two.

March 29, 2012

          I called O'Reilly’s first thing. Yes, they have an '82 Vanagon fuel filter. I bought the filter and some vice grips to pinch the gas line. The clerk gave me a large plastic bag to use as a drop cloth. Wares in hand I lay in the parking lot and quickly had the new filter in place. Now for the test. Yes! It fired up.

       On the I-10E and up to speed, there was no sputtering. Yea! Chris had recommended I stop at Quartzsite and visit the book store.  Getting a late start for Albuquerque, I gave the book store a miss. I'll learn more about why I should have stopped, later.
         I chose to go via I-10 to I-17 to I-40E. Anne and I had driven this route, and for me familiar was better. The mid-morning traffic was icky, but after the 6-lane northern Los Angles hoard, Phoenix was a breeze.
       I-40E opened up into the vast dry grass hilly expanses of southern Arizona.  The rest stops were miles apart, and I took advantage of each of them for a walk-about. At one I used the last of the raspberry jam to enjoy a yummy chunky Skippy pb&j.
         It was 8 o'clock by the time I crested the hills overlooking the brightly lighted expanses of Albuquerque. The city lay flat and broad in a natural vale. It was time to pull the CD of The Navigator from the radio and tune in to the information from the Garmin GPS.
       Pat and John (Stan) Stanalonis are long time friends who live in the NE suburbs of Albuquerque. I left them a message that I was going to show up around nine.  If they weren't home, I would camp out in the Vanaroo on the street side. Stan had been at a softball practice when I had called. I was greeted warmly on arrival.  Stan even had a few cans of Baseball Bud cooled and ready.
       We visited 'til after ten. Patty had fixed me a bowl of chili and we shared a plate of cheese and crackers.  I shared my plan of linking up with Chris, and family, and with Dave and Joy, near Glenwood tomorrow. The two families were caravanning together through the SW and were at Glenwood for the annual Dutch oven cooking contest on Saturday. We retired shortly after ten.
   
March 30, 2012

       Patty fixed a wonderful send off breakfast. With a hand crafted get out of town easily map by Stan, I was soon on my way south and west to find Glenwood.

         The map guided me to I-25S. My exit is to be at Socorro. From there I head west on Hwy 60 until I reach Datil. On the way I passed the National Observatory Very Large Array. This is a large field of parabolic antennas all turned skyward tuning the electromagnetic bandwidth in search of signals of ET life originating in far off galaxies. 
       Passing the observatory gave me many miles of contemplation regarding the consequences of actually picking up a repeating signal from the far off cosmos. With galactic spans easily measuring tens, hundreds, and thousands of light years away, it leaves one to ponder "so what" if we pick up a signal? What on earth could mankind do about it anyway?
           Hwy 60 ended at Reserve, where I picked up Hwy 12. This is a scenic and rugged link to Hwy 180, the western north/south road. It was approaching one o'clock and time for a PB&J. I found a pull off in an open section across from the Apache Creek volunteer fire department. I had only 19 miles to go before 180.
          I could hear the fire truck whining as the driver drove the rig around pilons during a training exercise. As I got out of the van to open the side door, I the whining got louder and I picked up the scent of hot electrical circuits. Wait, that noise is coming from the van. I looked under the rear and I could see a light amount of smoke. The starter motor was running; despite the fact that I had the keys in my hand. I quickly disconnected the battery cable and brought calm to the side of the road. Momentarily making contact at the battery energized the starter. Time for that sandwich.
           After lunch, and much mental deliberation, I concluded that the only thing that could be happening is that the key switch was sending a maintained start signal to the starter. The wire from the key switch clipped onto the top of the starter. Disconnecting that wire should only disable key control of the starter. I shimmied under the van and pulled the wire loose. I reconnected the battery and tried the key switch, nothing. The starter had bee put to sleep.
            Skip Price, a 50 year resident of Apache Creek was coming from the fire department on his Yamaha ATV. I flagged him over and arranged for him to motor home and bring back his pickup to give me a short tow start. By the time I had repacked tools, Skip returned. It took less than a ten foot tug on the highway and the van fired up. After disconnecting the tow chain I thanked Skip and headed for the Hwy 12/180 junction.
For a main north/south highway, 180 was less than I had expected. No worries, I had only thirty some miles before I would link up with the family at San Francisco Hot Springs. Their camp site was a couple of miles south of Glenwood. The final leg went quickly. Three passes later, I finally discovered the dirt road which led to the camping area. I saw their bus and 5th wheel and as I approached I was greeted by the three boys running towards me, flailing their arms in recognition of Grandpa's arrival. This hadn't been a long day, but it brought some strenuous moments. I was relaxed with the thought that I didn’t have to plan a quick rest for a take off the next day. Actually, without a push, I wasn't going to go anywhere, anyway. It was time to unpack a bit, visit and share a cold beer, or two.
                                                                                          
March 31, 2012

              Dawn brought a crisp clear day and the reason the families were camped near Glenwood, NM in the first place.  Today was the 10th anniversary of the Dutch Oven Cooking Contest. Having read about the event a campsite back, both couples wanted to take part in it.
            Dutch ovens are cast iron pots with lids which are placed on the coals of a camp fire to achieve the cooking task. Chris and Dave had both been enjoying preparing meals using a Dutch oven for some time in their journey. For this day's event the single or three pot preparations had to be cooked over either a briquette or wood fire. Dave's dessert preparation of luscious lemon bars employed primarily the use of briquettes, while Chris and Jennifer's presentation of chicken tortillas required a hotter wood fire.
        The Duncan’s entered as a 3-pot team in the Tenderfoot or first timers division. The 3-pot criteria meant that this entry would consist of not just one course, but an entire meal. The dessert entry had to be submitted earliest, so Dave had first dibs on the use of the newly built campfire. Dave and Joy had discovered many secrets in the preparation of this dessert. The crust needed to be cooked, but not over done, while the lemon based filling required a dehydrating baking from above. The correct ratio of hot briquettes under the pot to those placed on the lid was the cooking secret to achieving a nicely done crust that held a lightly breaded filling.
           The tortilla dish began with the light tanning of corn on an open skillet. The utensil used by Chris was a plow disk which had had two handles welded on. Rusty when first acquired, Chris had used salt and oil to scrub and cook the surface until it glistened clean and black the disk was also used to quickly toast the tortillas.
          The tortilla cooking was a magnificent production line. Jenifer prepared the dough and presented each tortilla-to-be as a ball a little over an inch across. Chris meticulously prepared the campfire's blaze so that the disk was maintained at a temperature of around 350 degrees. He measured the temperature with an infrared laser gun thermometer. The bread needed to be cooked quickly, but not over done. Tucker took on the responsibility of converting the cue ball sized lumps of dough into precision engineered 4" diameter disks.
          While Tucker and his dad cooked dozens of tortilla disks, Jennifer sliced and diced chicken breasts that would be soon cooked in a pot, and then she turned her blades to the dicing of vegetables to be stir fried and the making of the salsa that would top off each tortilla.
          The evening before, Chris and Dave had staked out a shade tree in the large Glenwood campsite area to be the team's base. The tree's shade became invaluable as the warm morning wore on to a hot afternoon. The work carried on from seven in the morning until past one in the afternoon. The judges required only a small sample from each of the fifty plus cook-off contestants. The rest of the preparation was to be served to an event record breaking 420 hungry eaters who had paid $5 for a plate to sample each contestant's entry dish. The Duncan Team pots were toted to the serving tables and Jennifer deftly parceled out sample servings.
             At 3 o'clock the announcement was made for the winners of the three divisions. The large crowd clustered near the host speaker. Single pot Tenderfoots were awarded first. We were waiting for the Tenderfoot 3-pot team awards. The third place was presented first. There was an anticipatory hush over the crowd. A collective cheer was raised when the Duncan team was announced as the winner.
        The prize award was a portion of the lunch cash receipts. Third place came to $38. For the team, the placing was the most important thing. However, the cash did offset the basic cost of the food preparation. What a wonderful event for caravanning marauders to look forward to.      
          We quickly unloaded Dave's pickup upon returning to the San Francisco Hot Springs camp site. We were all hot and tired. The kids ate greedily and were soon tucked into bed. Chris, Dave and I had to fend for ourselves for the evening meal. We settled on Bush beanie weenies and Budweiser. Yea, that hit the spot.
         
April 1, 2012

            We all enjoyed a bit of a Sunday sleep-in.  Around 8 o'clock I was down in the nearby wash, where I discovered a lovely target stump at the northern end. Several yards behind the stump the gully made a turn. This created a backstop wall several feet high. This would be a wonderful place to do some archery target practice. I measured out 20, 30, 40, 50, and 60 yard stations and marked the points with gully stones.

            Liam had earned his scouting archery merit badge shooting a recurve bow. He was eager to shoot with a compound bow. I had brought alone my bow as well as the two target bows an elderly archer friend gave me. One of the two bows had been his wife's and I had it tuned to a 30 pound draw weight. Liam was very comfortable with this much strength. I adjusted the peep sight on the string for him and he was set. After some familiarization shots, Liam was hitting the 10 inch paper plate target from 20 yards. We got the bow site adjusted for 30 yards and he was getting tuned into it when Joy called out for us to get ready for Sunday breakfast.
            Joy and whipped up the ingredients for a Spanish omelet. Dave had built a briquette coal fire in the pit and he prepared the omelet in his Dutch oven. It came out of the pot very tall and puffy. It was masterfully cooked. Bacon and bran muffins rounded out the Sunday breakfast treat.
            By the time we had finished our meal the valley winds had begun to pick up. The winds were out of the west and quite gusty. Chris tuned in the weather channel on his ham radio and we learned that a front was moving in and we would expect clear and warm with winds 20 - 30, gusting to 45mph later in the day. Oh boy.
            Dave and I mixed some of his trailer's gray water with a bit of the local dirt in a bucket. We had stacked rocks around the fire pit to increase its cooking depth. Now, it was time to do some SE adobe work to hold the stones in place. All of the males got involved. We mixed and slapped mud onto the stones. Chink stones were stuck into the larger gaps and then glued in. Old pieces of campsite rubbish were plastered into the outer skin to add texture and, I guess, a bit of a Duncan touch to the final fire pit’s appearance. This afternoon's desert sun and tonight's dinner fire will dry the adobe into a solid campsite leave-behind that will be used by many campers to come.         
      Later in the afternoon a visitor drove up. He was stopping at the camp for assistance. He and members of his extended family were hiking the trail to the hot springs. The trek gets quite arduous at some points. All of a sudden one of the women in the party went into a seizure. She was a month pregnant and slightly diabetic.
         The relative humidity is under 10%. We are camped on the continental divide. The high altitude sun exposure at southern New Mexico's latitudes can be very intense. Especially when active, it is important to constantly consume water. These factors may have led to the woman's sudden attack.
          Chris immediately got on his ham radio and began broadcasting an "urgent" message. Soon he achieved a link through to the county's emergency response people and an ambulance was on the way. With a few carefully selected questions Jennifer had established how her resources could assist the stricken woman. She sent the man back with a high electrolyte bottled drink and some chocolates.
         All was back to normal in the camp when the man returned with another emergency. The woman's son has asthma and in the trauma of his mom's collapse he began hyperventilating. He was having severe difficulty getting a breath. Chris got back on the radio and amended his urgent request. Jennifer quickly gathered some relief items from the bus. Chris has suffered from asthma all of his life and Jennifer is well schooled in medications. The man returned to his group of hikers.
        In a few minutes a first responder truck drove onto the camp area's gravel roadway. Shortly we saw the flashing red lights of an ambulance truck approaching. The ambulance was followed by a third responding pickup. This truck carried a large single wheel gurney. This specialized gurney is used to transport injured over rugged trails. The family had brought the mother and son up to the trail's head so the gurney wasn't unloaded.  
         Prior to the responder’s arrival the youngest members of the family came to the camp to wait. The Dutch oven fairies had prepared a pot of stew and bowls were shared with the kids. Liam brought out his juggling balls and proceeded to entertain the young group with a distraction from their stress.
         The ambulance left with its care to report into Silver City General Hospital. One of the responders pulled up to our camp and told us what the resolution was. Everyone will be all right. While he visited, Chris and Jennifer picked his brain about the region's visitor highlights.
      The sun had set and stew and biscuits had been consumed. We all sat around our new adobe fire pit and shared stories about stars, space, and things we had always wondered about. The day has been exciting, but now it was time for bed.

April 2, 2012

            Monday was cloudy and windy. I was definitely a day to stay sheltered and near the campfire. Chris had detected some bad batteries on the bus and worked on rewiring the pack to make the most of the power he had. He and Dave had both installed dual solar panels on their roofs and this permitted daytime recharging of the batteries.

          Dave's 5th wheel uses a combination of propane and electricity for its maintenance. The bus uses just electricity. Chris gets power from a camp's service, if available, or as in the case of the San Francisco Hot Springs camp grounds, from battery or diesel generator. So, in sites like this one, having good batteries and a solar recharging system means the family doesn't have to run the generator.
            While they both did their service things, I had service of my own to do on the Vanaroo. The starter wasn't engaging the flywheel. I may have to replace it. To find out, I jacked the back up so I could crawl under. Garbed in Chris' jump suit I set to removing the starter. This turned out to only take about one half hour. Disconnecting the battery wire from the top of the starter was the most frustrating task. It was a wrench-by-feel slow process.
            We discovered that the nine teeth of the starter had been worn down about a half inch from having spun for such a long time against the running engine before I stopped at Apache Creek and discovered the problem. The end of each tooth was also flattened out. This was possibly preventing the teeth from engaging the teeth of the flywheel.
            Dave unpacked his Dremel tool kit and put in a small diamond cutting tip. I held the starter as he surgically reshaped the ends of the teeth on the starter. It had become late enough in the day so we called a stop to maintenance work and began fire preparations for dinner.
            During the mid-day Dave had begun to add an oven attachment to the adobe fire pit. We set up an assembly line production of mud for him to build the walls. The oven would be about three feet long, have an adobe door and a wire shelf. Dave and Joy dedicated a package of long twisted wire marshmallow roasting sticks to use for the shelf. Liam kept a bin filled with dirt and I used shower water from the 5th wheel to mix the adobe mud.
            The walls were constructed by dinner time so we quit for the day to let them dry and strengthen before we took on adding the arched top. A wonderful Dutch oven meal was once again prepared, and then we all relaxed for the evening.

April 3, 2012

            This day was bright and clear. Today I would reinstall the starter and find out if Dave's surgery had done the trick. Like it had come out, the starter reinstalled quickly. Reconnecting the battery and alternator charging wire was a slow, blindly wrenched job. I used a flashlight and mirror to verify the wires wouldn't touch the wire terminal coming from the key switch, which is what created the problem.
            My hands were all cleaned up and I was ready to give it a try. The starter spun without engaging. This it had always done occasionally. I tried a few more times with the same result. Dave helped me rock the van while in gear. This would turn the engine a bit and hopefully expose an open flywheel notch for the starter to sync with. Ta da! It worked and the van fired up.
            I didn't want to turn the engine off right away so I let it warm up and then I moved it to a spot closer to the other two units. The engine was running very rough. Dave suggested we drive into Glenwood and use the bat phone to order new plug wires and a spare fuel injector nozzle. He felt the wires may improve my economy and the nozzle could be used to swap out the others one at a time to find out if any of the four was bad.
            Going to Glenwood meant a shopping list for the trading post and empty water cans to fill at the park's tap. Loaded and buckled we headed out of the camp grounds. The battery light and the EGR light were both showing bright red. Plus, the engine just wasn't running well. I may have blown a fuse in the alternator circuit. We returned to camp and loaded stuff into Dave's pickup.
            Inside the trading post was the only place we could pick up Verizon service coverage. AT&T was completely dead in this part of the state. After the first call to an auto parts store Dave's phone went dead. The store keeper loaned us her phone and I was able to have the plug wires delivered to the trading post via UPS on Thursday. This was the best we could do. The water tanks were refilled, the parts order was made, and the only thing left to do was to go to the pub across the road and get some beer to take back. Shucks, why don't we have one while we are here.
            Nothing on tap and the pickings were slim from the cooler. We both ended up trying a Negro Modelo. Say, this was better than the Bud we had the other day. On leaving we took away two 6-packs of the dark Mexican brew.
            Now, where were we on that oven project? I cut a large piece of cardboard to act as a supporting frame for setting the arched top on the oven. Small lava stones were selected to form multiple touching bridges over the cardboard. As with the early cathedral domes, the touching stones would be self supporting under the tug of gravity once the adobe had firmed up.. The cardboard frame wouldn't last but one or two uses of the oven.

            Chris had prepared a Dutch oven pizza for the boys and he was anxiously waiting for us to mud in the oven top so he could put hot coals inside and cook the dinner for the adults. The flame in the oven didn't want to get going. There wasn't a draft source for the fire.    
            Liam and Dave set to digging a hole at the rear of the oven that would be large enough to allow a good draft flow. With this completed, the flame inside took off. Soon things were getting hot enough to cook with. The amount of draft was easily controlled by placing a stone at the front of the hole. With this group, quality control is everything. That includes the fires.

            The ladies had prepared a gluten free pizza on a cookie sheet and covered it with tin foil to keep oven ash from spoiling it. The adobe door was nice and dry and Dave's design of the oven opening allowed it to seal beautifully leaving small cracks to let the oven vent.
            Chef Chris placed the pizza sheet onto the wire shelf and closed the door. There was a lot of doubt in the air. In what seemed like a very quick tug on the fresh bottle of Negro Modelo, Chris had removed the pizza sheet and he and Joy were carefully removing the tin foil. Plates were topped with a tossed salad while we waited for the meal to cool. The chef served pieces and we all ate. It had turned out to be just right. The crust wasn't over done, and the toppings were scrumptious. Kudos all around.

April 4, 2012.

            Chris had suggested we run and extension cord to the van and connect his radiant heater for my sleeping comfort. He planned to get up at around 4am to turn the generator on for an hour. This would add power the heater for that period and while it cooled add some lasting heat. In this high dessert the late mornings before dawn are the coldest times. The temperatures have been dropping to freezing.
            I asked Chris in the morning why he hadn't started the generator. He said he had. I didn't hear it running and without the usual morning chill in the van, I had comfortably slept right through the well thought out process. Good job, Chris.
            Dave and I prepared a fire and warmed up the skillet. We cooked a package of sausages and I did myself a couple of eggs over easy. Joy mixed some special pancake batter and Dave deftly prepared three at a time for each plate. Everyone ate well.
            After breakfast the houses were tidied while I sharpened knives and enjoyed visiting next to the fire with the boys. By the time I had finished about ten blades, belonging to kitchens or pockets, the troupe had readied themselves for the two mile hike in and out to the hot springs. They were all covered, backpacked and fully watered. They were all marching single file through the brush as I heard the fainting chorus of Happy Trails to You being sung.
            While they were gone I was to take the pickup up to Glenwood for some shopping and more water. While there, I put in a call to Anne. I got her answering machine and I left a long message about what I had been doing. Now it is time to power up Chris' ham radio in the jeep and get an update of their progress. They should be back in camp around 6 o'clock.
            At 6 o'clock I turned on Chris' ham radio and called them for a check-in. Chris reported they were 3/4 mile out. I cut a piece of log Dave had been hauling and started a cooking fire. The coals were glowing when the family started straggling in.
            The consensus is that the hot springs experience was a tremendous one. The stream was several feet across, a couple of feet deep, and wonderfully warm. They had all taken their bathers and enjoyed the dip. The walk had its difficult spots, but they all were ok. Jennifer had one slip and caught herself with her injured wrist. This brought her a bit of evening pain.
            Tonight's dinner was going to be another Chef Chris and Jennifer's creation. When at the Glenwood Trading Post I bought two packages of franks. Jennifer made a cornmeal batter while we prepared coals for the adobe oven. Chris wrapped franks with the cornmeal and put half of them in a Dutch oven and put the other half on a cast iron tray in the oven. Now we wait.
            The first corn dogs done were from the oven. They turned out great. The Dutch oven corn dogs were a bit slower to bake, but the wait was also worth it.

April 5, 2012

            I was awakened at around 4 am when the bus generator came on. The resulting source of heat into the van was very comfortable. Back to sleep until around 7:30. I was the first one up and I quietly started a fire in the adobe pit. Tucker soon joined me and he was hungry for a couple of scrambled eggs. He and I cooked him up a yummy plate.
            Slowly the yawners started to mill about with their fresh coffee. Dave and Joy prepared a sausage crusted egg soufflé in the Dutch oven. I had already eaten a bowl of granola and wasn't up to eggs by the time they were done.
            Liam was already target practicing. Soon Chris and I joined in. We all had success at 30, 40, and 50 yards. The shooters were all getting a big kick out of the bows and arrows. I'm glad I brought them along.

            Chris and Dave helped me diagnose what may have caused the van to run so rough yesterday. Special fuses and connections checked, Dave fired the van up. It ran great; to everyone's satisfaction. I will be taking it to Glenwood midday to check the post office and pick up the expected delivery of new plug wires.
            Now that maintenance was done, and tools put away, it was time for me to enjoy a quick shower in the 5th wheel. Wow, what a blissful few minutes. I was now ready to take on the rest of the day.
            By mid afternoon we had the day planned. We were going to Glenwood to check the post office, make phone calls, and see if my plug wires had arrived. They hadn't. Then we were going to trek the Cat Walk.

            The Cat Walk is updated remnants of the cliff side water duct that was built by miners in the late 1800's to sluice their ore digs. The water comes from a stream that has carved a very narrow canyon o the east of Glenwood. Long gone, the duct system was replaced in the 1930's by a suspended wooden walk way by men from the local CCC. The wood cat walk along the side of the canyon was replaced in the 60's by the government with a more permanent one of steel.
            As the original duct once did, the cat walk winds its way up the gorge toward the head water. Along this path it crosses many times high over the stream. Those occasions afford wonderful vistas up and down the gorge.
            The 6:30 late arrival back at camp meant a scramble for dinner. I got the fire going and Jennifer and Joy scrambled together left over’s that needed heated up. It all came together very well.

April 6, 2012

            Vehicles were packed and the camp site was tidied by late morning. This had been a very enjoyable stay. Today we were going to stop at Glenwood and then head for Datil, which is on the route to Socorro.
            Midway into the trip the Vanaroo was running poorly. We discovered that a wire connecting the alternator and the van's computer had been left unhooked when I reinstalled the starter. I remember taking it off and folding it out of the way. I just forgot to reconnect it. Big difference.
            We stopped at the Datil store for some fuel and we were guided to the Datil Wells Campground. This is a BLM ground, so the nightly rate was just $2.50 per camper for senior pass holders, otherwise it was $5.
            We found two pull through sites next to each other for the big rigs and I had a small spot just across the road. Sheltered camping tables, fire pits, rubbish bins, and spotless bathrooms were all right there.
            Chef Chris set in right away making a Shepherd Pie using two Dutch ovens; one was used to brown ground beef, and the other was used to steam corn and peas. Joy made some mashed potatoes. Chris put the steaming veggies on top of the meat and then spread the mashed potatoes over the top. Joy sprinkled on a little oregano and Chris put the pot on the coals. In a little while he was ringing the dinner bell. We all enjoyed seconds and left the pot empty. Yum!
            The camp ground is a little over 7,400 feet in elevation. There is an evening breeze that is quickly removing the warm feeling we all had after the Shepherd Pie. This evening is going to be an early turn in for everyone.
            Joy was concerned that I may not stay warm enough tonight. I have been impressed with how warm the single layer of sleeping bag has been. Tonight, however, I am going to go to the wardrobe and dig out the gray hoodie I've been saving. My ears and nose have been the only parts that have noticed the cold morning air. I'll see how it goes.

April 7, 2012

            Hash browns and eggs for breakfast, tidy the camp site, and we were on our way for the day. Tomorrow is Easter. Jennifer would like to buy some amenities in Socorro to help make Sunday special for the boys. Chris located a camp ground that was about 15 miles west of Socorro. That's where we were headed.
            Between Datil and Socorro is the Very Large Array (VLA). The VLA is a large field of radio telescopes. There are 27 of these enormous 25 meter parabolic dishes. All of them synchronously rotated and pointed at the exact same spot in the heavens. It takes nine minutes for the dishes to turn 360 degrees.
            The VLA is operated by the National Science Foundation, is staffed by PhD Astronomers and scientists, and is available for anyone's data collection research whose proposal has passed a scientific board of review.
            The radio telescopes receive high frequency radio signals which have been emitted by stellar objects undergoing some form of physical transition. Signals from the 27 telescopes are fed into a computer which compares and compiles a radio frequency image. Through this computer processing, images of the universe can be created of events which may have occurred many billions of light years ago. The VLA is filling a visual void left by the limitations of optical telescopes.
            Ralph, a scientist who has worked at the VLA for over 40 years, took us on a short walking tour of the operations building. Here we were briefed by Tom, a software engineer, who was currently on duty at the computers which held the programs that run specific data collection experiments. Over the top of the monitors Tom can view the field of telescopes and verify they are positioning correctly.
            Wind is the greatest threat to the antennae. Each telescope has two anemometers mounted on the rim to measure wind velocity. If the speeds exceeded a critical velocity, around 40mph, the dishes were all stored in a vertical pointing position. By this time the wind shaken dish wasn't collecting reliable data.
            A few miles west of Magdalena a four mile road lead to a campsite. This is the site Chris had located earlier on the maps. Chris tried to take the bus to the campgrounds last winding approach leg and found that his rig could not make it around the sharp and narrow S-turns. He disconnected the jeep and backed the bus down to the last junction. Reconnected with the jeep, we headed for the Socorro Municipal Airport parking lot. This would be our next campsite barring the discovery of an alternative.
            Yea! Chris located Kiva RV site at milepost 175 off I-25 north of Socorro. Jennifer drove ahead of the bus to Socorro to do her shopping at the Wal-Mart. By 5 o'clock we were hooked up at our new camping spots. The Kiva grounds are private and have bathroom, shower and laundry facilities. The cost for the Vanaroo is $20 per night. Not too bad. The grounds only shortcoming is that it is adjacent to the freeway with its constant noise.

            We had arrived back into strong cell coverage and I gave Anne a call. She had invited Bill and Pat over for an evening of pinochle. I could hear their visiting in the background. I relayed to Anne the different locations we had been in and she told them to Pat, who was raised in NM. Pat recognized all of the towns. Anne reported that she was doing great, especially food wise. Without me there, she was able to be very focused on her Weight Watchers program. She was having great results. Kudos.
           Thank you Jennifer for snagging a couple of pizzas while at Wal-Mart. The dusking ends of some days are specially meant for convenient food dinners. This was one of those days. The elevation of this campground at Bernardo is 4,750 feet. The evening air is much milder and I shouldn't have a need to wear the hoodie for extra warmth to bed tonight.  Lights were all out by 9 o'clock.

April 8, 2012

            Sun shining through the front curtain and the roar of 18-wheelers brought me awake this wonderful Easter morning. It was a bit past seven and the only sign of life outside is Liam juggling the five special balls he had received for his birthday. He also got a very complete book filled with different juggling routines. He had the book open on the table and was studiously scanning some new instructions. Liam has developed a large repertoire of routines. He has been able to keep the five balls in the air for over 40 cycles of a specific act. I have a hunch he may be hooked for life by now. Liam is fun to watch.

            I donned my jacket and shoes and carried my towel and ditty bag to the shower room. No one noticed me as I walked through campsites in my pajamas from the fifth parking row to the main building. The long hot shower was a blessing. Still in my pj's, but wearing a clean shirt, I returned to the van to finish getting dressed. Now this Easter day was going to be great.
            Chris and I decided we would start laundry before breakfast. Chris had three large bags accumulated after a couple of weeks away from civilization. He loaded a couple of them on bicycles, which the boys pushed, and he carried the third plus the detergent and spray-and-wash. The cost for cleanliness is $1.50 for a wash and $1 for a dry. My load came out first. I was good for a couple of weeks. Chris used a total of nine machine loads. This was done easily with four machines in the room.
            While we were doing the laundry, the boys set up an assembly line on the table by the bus door and took on the massive pile of dishes that had been growing like fungi over the bus's small kitchenette. Liam washed, Tucker rinsed, and Elliot dried and transported new loads. Only three pieces dropped and just one plate was a casualty result. Good job, boys.
            Jennifer lay out a gracious breakfast spread: scrambled eggs, bacon, and a breakfast cake. The coffee was fresh, the air was warm, and we all enjoyed the meal.
            Yesterday the boys used food coloring and dyed a couple of dozen hard boiled eggs. This afternoon Jennifer hid the eggs outside around the bus and van. The boys each had a basket and the search was on. Turns were taken hiding the eggs. When each member of the family had had a turn, the eggs were put away to be deviled tomorrow morning for breakfast.
            Some time was spent trying to locate a BLMish site near Albuquerque that could fit the two big rigs. Late in the afternoon Joy had found a good site that was only a few miles from the heart of the city. We are planning to lift anchor before mid-morning and move to the new campsite.
            The Vanaroo has been making rear axle clunking noises. As you drive faster, the clunks are more frequent. The best minds in the party believe the noise is the result of bad CV (constant velocity) joints. These are the thingies that permit the axle to turn the wheel even though the wheel is moving up and down and changing relative positions with the axle shaft. At any rate, the CV joints have never been replaced and the van has over 170,000 miles.
            The CV joints were ordered for delivery at O'Reilly's in Albuquerque on Tuesday morning. On the same order I asked for new spark plug wires, the engine has a couple of frayed wires, a spare fuel filter, and a PCV (positive crankcase ventilation) valve; with time these become oil clogged and stop ventilating the crankcase to the air intake. That's not good.
            My plan is to drive to O'Reilly's on Tuesday morning, collect the parts and go to Pattie and Stan's house to do the small amount of under the van work. P.S. Remind myself to call Stan and ask if that would be alright.
            Today Jennifer prepared two small chickens in a pot, along with mashed potatoes, gravy and some green oval leaf things with dressing. I had the delight of carving the foul things. As expected, the dinner meal was gourmet delicious.
            As I sit outside at the dinner table making these notes I am glancing to the sky. Mars is nearly straight over head, Venus and Jupiter are on the western horizon. While we were at the San Francisco hot springs site there were no city or building lights to pollute the air. It has been since days long ago on the dairy that I have been able to sit and gaze at such a large number of very bright heavenly objects. There is much to experience in the SW desert region; during the day, and at night.
        
April 9, 2012

            This morning we are ready to roll at 8:30. The drive today is to Albuquerque where we will muster at Patty and Stan's. Dave and Joy are going to drive to Bernalillo, ~15 miles north of Albuquerque on I-25. They will set up their camp and join us later at Stanalonis' for dinner.
            The bus and jeep fit nicely at the front of the home. I parked the Vanaroo on the street, also. We were here, and warmly welcomed. After a bit of visiting, Stan and I went to the market to stock up on dinner needs and refreshments. Patty and Stan had bid farewell yesterday to a family gathering of 15 relatives. As a result of the week long gathering, Patty had a surplus of leftovers. Dinner for our group meant some quick reheating. However, I truly wondered whether more company was a good idea.
            We visited past bedtime on the back patio. The early evening winds died down and without the added chill factor it was short sleeve weather. Chris, Jennifer, and Stan got to know each other while Patty hosted the boys for a viewing of Back to the Future. A great evening.
                       
April 10, 2012

            My shipment was due at O'Reilly's at 7:30. Patty whipped up some hot cereal for breakfast. Stan was ready to drive me for the parts when I had finished eating. O'Reilly's had everything at the counter except a backup gas filter. We found one at Napa Auto Parts.
            Chris helped me with the removal of the old and installation of the new axles and CV joints. This took us about three hours. We then installed the new sparkplug wires, cleaned up the work area, degreased ourselves, and fired up the Vanaroo. It seemed to run the same.
            Each of the axles had a $38 core charge so Stan and I loaded up the old ones and drove down to O'Reilly's for my refund. The van piloted well and didn't make any noises. The long distance driving will confirm our impression, but I think the problem is solved. The axle from the driver's side had both of its rubber boots badly cracked. As a result, there was no grease at all on the ball bearing. Dirt and dust infusion probably led to the rapid demise.
            The bus' cabin batteries have all failed. Chris, Stan and I drove to the Interstate Battery store to select replacements. Chris had spent a lot of time researching quality, cost, and core trade-in credit. Interstate came up on top and their professionalism upon our arrival confirmed the decision.
            Ham, scalloped potatoes, corn, okra goulash, and a fine wine is our fare for tonight's dinner. I'm looking forward to it.

April 11, 2012

            Stan took Patty to the airport for an early flight to Pensacola where here team will play in a softball tournament. By 8 o'clock everyone was busy. Stan and I made up a shopping list of things to buy at the AutoZone; oil and filter for a change of the Vanaroo, clip to hold the hitch to the jeep closed, and a look for filters for the bus' oil and fuel. A while later Stan and I went to the Big 5 store to look at the BB air rifles. Chris would like to get one for the boy's target practicing. I found a Daisy on sale, a tube of 0.177 gauge BBs, and a metal target with swinging icons that ring when struck. The beauty of the target is that it will stop and capture most of the BBs that hit it. A penny saved, said Ben.
            Liam and I then drove to the Archery Shoppe. We found a dozen Easton arrows to replace the ones we damaged with our stump shooting. The arrows were about $1.25 less per shaft that I had been paying at Dewclaw, in Medford. We also picked up a small target butt that will be easy to hit from 30 to 40 yards. The butt will accept arrows with target tips, so we won't be breaking any more shafts.
            We said goodbye to Stan a little after ten. Heading out, we followed the Tramway to its intersection of I-25. This was a great way to circumvent Albuquerque's lunch time traffic. A few miles up the road at exit 242, we came to Bernalillo. The Coronado county RV ground is where Dave and Joy have been staying.

            We were guided to the no frills, $14 per night sites. The one we chose, R4, has a nice elm tree and a covered picnic table. Both of the rigs are parked at the same site, so we figure the cost will only be $14, total. Yahoo is pronounced the same in Scotland as it is in NM.
            The pickup was not at Dave and Joy's 5th wheel, so we will link up with them later. Dave had called and said he was going for a haircut and then a visit to the nuclear museum. Chris didn't think the boys would be too interested in the bomb's history, and I had seen the presentations before, so we gave this one a miss.
            For dinner Jennifer cut up the left over chickens and made a nice crock-pot stew. This preparation tested the new battery set. It had only taken 1/4 of the reserve capacity. Cooking this one meal would consume more than would normally be used in a whole day, if cooking were done on a fire.
            After dinner Chris and I began to sight in the BB gun. We have found there is a lot more consistency if the gun is pumped more than two times for the shot. A camper moved in near the target so we called it a day. Later we set up the archery target and practiced until it grew too dark to clearly see the sight pin. Evening winds were gusty. It will be fun to shoot some more in the calm of the morning.
            Dave and Joy returned from the museum trip and said they would stop over. Dave got into washing off the camper and it has grown dark. They arrived around nine with nothing but kudos for the nuclear museum. We shared a beer and visited until ten.

April 12, 2012

            The bus was dressed and fed early. They are going to spend the day in Santa Fe. This morning I changed oil and filter and I took apart the air intake to see if a new filter was needed. It wasn't. In just a few minutes I replaced the PCV valve. With that all done, the Vanaroo was officially serviced and tuned. My next visit to AutoZone will be to buy a can of fuel injector cleaner to add to the gas tank. This may stop the engine surging after it has warmed.
            The afternoon passed and evening quickly began. Elliot showed up at the door to the 5th wheeler and announced the family's return. He played eagerly with Cleo the dog and gave us some of the highlights, from his viewpoint, of the trip. Joy thawed some fish she discovered in her freezer and put that together with red potatoes and veggies. After dinner Chris invited me to watch a humorous British spoof on MI-17 agents and some bad guys. Bed time was late tonight, but I was tucked in by 11:30.

April 13, 2012

            This morning Dave, Joy and I were going to catch the 10:03 Rail Runner train to Santa Fe. Rail Runner is a subsidized commuter/tourist system that runs between Belen, ~50 miles south of Albuquerque, to Santa Fe. Weekdays there is service at major stops every couple of hours.

            The trip to Santa Fe is just under one hour. The train travels on seamed noiseless tracks at about 70 mph past a mixture of thinly populated range cattle land, lightly treed open waste land, and sparsely populated and junk yard cluttered, track side residences. A distant pueblo or two appears on the crest of a knoll. There seems to be no reason why that piece of knobby wasteland was selected to build on, versus the one next to it.
            There were five cars in our train. Each car had lower, middle, and upper seating sections; a kind of three layers split level arrangement. One the outbound we were seated midlevel. The end of the track was in Santa Fe and the trained slowly eased its way to a stop at the terminal.
            The city of Santa Fe provides a free shuttle service which carries passengers on a loop around the main tourist sections of the city. Our destination this morning was the Plaza; a square block park space surrounded by a couple of blocks of very high valued specialty stores, museums, and galleries. At booths on the edge of the park were Indians selling their specialized hand crafted wares. Products one could buy ranged from jewelry open to the imagination, pottery, and leather crafts.
            Under the block long veranda over the sidewalk on one street Indian craftsmen and women sat on blankets in front of their beautifully crafted offerings. The weather was clear but the air was nippy and the street side shop tenders were bundled in wool blankets. I found a couple of gift items at two of the veranda venders and at the very end of the line I discovered a leather craftsman dozing behind his display of belts and buckles. My wide belt has become very tattered and is near its breaking point, so finding a nice, but reasonably priced new belt was something I wanted to treat myself to.
            I had already looked through belt options at a couple of the specialty stores and I was surprised to find the costs ranged into the several hundred dollar bracket; and that was without any buckles. The prices weren't displayed on the side walk vender's belts. I was about to ask the neighboring vender if he knew what the asking price may be when I noticed the owner's eyes opened with a recognition of customer's interest. The artist explained completely how he made his belts and other leather products. It was clear this man took pride in his workmanship. The price for the belt I liked was $40. Sold. He didn't have change for a hundred and he pointed me to an ATM machine at the US Band across the street.
            I left my tattered belt with him when I went to the bank. Upon my return he proudly held up my new belt, sized the same length as my old one, and cleanly punched to accept a few steps of adjustment on either side of my current waist measurement. He had attached my special Big R buckle to the belt and handed it to me to put on. I was very proud of my purchase.
            Dave and Joy had left me to visit some museums. We planned to meet back at the train station at 3:45 for our 4:10 return to Bernalillo. With time to kill I crossed to the venders on the park side. I looked over all of the booths and stopped at a couple. At one, I found some silver pieces I thought would be well received as gifts to family members. I found myself looking over the stone and silver pieces of jewelry at the end of the block.
            I had no intention of purchasing from this craftsman, but I spent several minutes visiting with him about his designs, how the stones were worked, and his mentoring of a few budding craftsmen who had lost their ways and needed a caring hand to get re-established with a useful skill. He told of his travels to pueblos in the NW, along the Columbia and down to Klamath Falls when he learned I was from southern Oregon.
            This man was very wise in his observations of the business methods of competitive traders; particularly in how they identified small changes in consumer desires and buying trends. He was a wonderfully skilled silversmith and rock mason and I believe he could have a successful second career as a lecturer at a business school. I enjoyed my time with him.
            Art was in the air and I found myself entering a couple of galleries and slowly perusing the displays. The first gallery was stocked with the output of Pop artists. The range of subjects and how they were portrayed was mind boggling. It was hard for me to imagine the processes of creative thought that must have been going on as they were putting paint to canvas. Their results were certainly artistic, but there wasn't anything I would want to hang on my walls.

            The second gallery was contemporary. These large canvases were very refined, some of the oil works looked to be of photographic quality in the detail of their resolution. Many pieces were very elaborate in the subtle blending of colors in the spatula applications of massive smears of oil paint. In one scene, the mountain sides seemed to be 3-dimentional in the way features emerged from the canvas surface. Different, and interesting, but as with the first gallery, not something I would buy for my home; especially with price tags for the globular depictions going for more than 20 thousand.
            The western sun played on the seat next to me on the return trip. I had the impression the train was only partially filled by the passengers loading at the three, 5-minute stops between Santa Fe Depot and the Bernalillo Station. Upon exiting into the free parking area my impression changed. Somehow the lot was suddenly alive with cars and shuttle buses. It was bumper to bumper from the station for the mile and half to the Coronado RV Park.
            We were at the camp by 5:30. Chris and Jennifer had left for the next camp area around 3pm. Dave and Joy needed to dump waste and fill up with water and diesel before they pulled out. They had a set packing routine and I was encouraged to just go ahead of them.
            The new RV Park is going to be the BLM public parking lot for the bike and hiking trailhead in the Ojito Wilderness area. I drove Hwy 550 to MP21, NW of Bernalillo. For most of the short trip I was passing through Zia Indian land. The gravel road turnoff was precisely at MP21. For the next four miles I would drive from Zia reservation onto BLM public lands; past tracts leading to mining operations; slow for Angus cattle that seemed to want to graze on the road and occasionally glance at me to see if they had my aggravated attention; over the most wash boarded, rutted, van rattling non-pasture designated strip of land in New Mexico.
            If the Vanaroo had been carrying a load of paint cans for delivery to the local Ace Hardware, they would have been completely homogenized by the time I crested the hill and spotted the top of the bus a few hundred feet off to the right, where Chris had neatly tucked it into the corner of a wooden railed, nicely graveled parking lot. The boy’s leapt from the steps and hooted and waved as Grandpa rode into the stable. There was still plenty of daylight to be able to glimpse the potential for adventure this free RV site had to offer.
            My phone rang three different times while we waited for Dave and Joy to drive up. Three times we received short, garbled, unintelligible attempts from Dave. It had become dark and they should have been here. Chris decided we should jeep it down the road to see if we could find them.
            About a mile and half later we saw headlights. The lights seemed to be stationary. It wasn't until we had driven within a few hundred feet of the approaching vehicle did we notice that it was indeed moving, but at a pace that could have been outdone by garden snails. Dave later explained that the truck's wheels and the trailer's wheels were not at a synchronous separation distance to rise and fall together over the mountainous washboard ridges. As a result, they would receive bumps from the truck interspersed with head snapping jerks as the trailer's wheels found their way over once past ridges.
            As Joy had feared, when Dave had the rig backed into its resting place in the parking lot and the truck shut down, the inside of their home was in a high degree of disorder. Items had been cast onto the floor; glasses in the overhead cupboard had rattled into a root mean square separation distance; and the once overstocked refrigerator had compacted its contents sufficient to permit space for another week's supply. We raised bottles of Bridgeport IPA as the conversation retold the 4-mile journey.

April 14, 2012

            My van windows did not display the storm, with possible snow, that had been predicted for the greater Albuquerque region. At 7am the sky was a light dusty blue and the shadows were bright and long. There was a soft and warm breeze out of the SW. This would be a time to set up the archery target in the open area outside the rustic rail fence.
            I began shooting at 30 yards and moved out to a 40 yard range. I was shooting towards the NW. Within an hour southerly winds had picked up to a constant 10 mph with gusts to 20. The bow was very difficult to hold on target. I found myself anticipating when the sight would cross the bull’s eye and then release. I occasionally hit the paper plate, and on a couple of shots I missed the target butt altogether. Liam and Chris soon joined me and we all took turns missing the target.

            Jennifer called for us to muster for a hike along the ridge. We were promised clear vistas to the east and west of the New Mexico topology. At the top of the ridge winds were blowing a steady 20 to 30 mph, with gusts over 40. These were the kinds of winds the forecasters had predicted with the storm.  
            Hiking was awkward in the gusts. The younger boys objected to the threat posed by the high winds and the steep cliff side drop offs to the iron reddened ravine below. They insisted that mom walk with them back to the camp.  The rest of us were soon to follow. The only reprieve was in passing by a trailside mountain juniper that provided a moment of shielding from the now chilling winds.
            The skies to the distant south now looked as if they were clouded by industrial pollution. The winds were filling the air with a quantity of dust. By one o'clock the sky's dusty light blue had become clouded over in all directions. We ate lunch comfortable in the protected confines of the 5th wheeler. After lunch Chris wanted to jeep down the road a few more miles to see if the alternate camping area might offer more protection from the winds. We never took the trip. The winds there wouldn't be any less.
            Toasted cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup was prepared by Joy. The three of us enjoyed the quiet meal inside the wind rocked 5th wheeler. Watching a dvd movie was suggested, but I was very tired and elected to turn in early. The van was cold; tonight was a hoodie night.
            I read a few chapters of Simple Genus, by David Baldacci, using my ear mounted led light. When I found myself startling awake by a wind buffet, I turned out the light and snuggled in. The Bat phone said it was ~8:30.

April 15, 2012
           
            If there were any dust particles on the Vanaroo, by the morning they were gone. The wind never stopped. The repeated strong gusts didn't keep me from sleeping until six. I awoke each time I changed positions and I checked to make sure the covers were still snug around my shoulders. The hoodie kept my ears warm, but a couple of times I snuck my head under the cover to warm my nose.
            Dressed by seven with a vest and jacket on top of the hoodie, I ventured out of the van. No one in camp was stirring yet and I quietly entered the 5th wheeler for tea. Chris had me plugged into the bus for ac, but with clouds during the day he had switched off the breaker to store as much energy as possible. The point being, my hot pot wouldn't work.
            Great. Dave had closed the door to their bedroom so I could move about without disturbing them. I nuked a mug of water and fixed some Earl Gray. While it steeped, I let Cleo outside for her to do her weed sniffing and morning duties. That finished, we went inside to sit by the heater and read and snooze. Cleo is a Pappion. She is a very small, but frisky puppy; especially happy after a trip outdoors.
            Twelve noon and the high speed gusts are still rocking the trailer. We are parked at the trail head of a hiking and biking path which extends several miles into the wilderness. Off road bikers are put off by the chilling winds and a couple of cars with roof racked bikes show up early. Each rider is outfitted in the image of those seen on news stand magazine covers for outdoor living and fitness. Those images show backdrops which include sunny skies, blue mountain lakes, and rugged fir covered mountains. These bikers must be just plain nuts!

            This morning Chris and the boys are playing a board game. I have kept my IPad and phone charged, despite AT&T's inability to get a signal into these mountains. Dave and Joy both enjoy coverage with Verizon. Later today I will check in with home and visit with Anne.
            Early afternoon we decided we were suffering from cabin fever. The solution was to hop in the trucks and drive further into the Ojito Wilderness. After 8 miles we pulled into a service lot and spent a few hours exploring the sandstone cliffs, cacti, lichen, and the tracks and guano left by free ranging cattle and horses. This afternoon brought a lot of exposure to the nature of the composition of this part of New Mexico's vast desert.
            On the way back to camp we spotted on a ridge some ruins that appeared from the road to be a wall. We hiked to the top of the ridge and discovered a stacked flat rock building structure which may once have been a stockman's shelter. There was no adobe used in its three room construction. All but two four foot high walls had been knocked over.
            It was noticed as we approached the truck that the winds had stopped. Hurray! A few minutes later we drove into the RV parking lot. This had been a fun afternoon. Drats! When we got out of the truck, the wind was with us again. Tomorrow is forecast to be in the 70s and the winds will be gone. We'll see.

April 16, 2012

            There were no winds when I left the van at 6:30. I had fixed myself a cup of tea and I enjoyed the quiet warmth of it as I set up the archery target. I would start at 40 yards and move out to 50, then 60. I had good success in the quiet hours of the dawn. I watched the sun slowly work its way over the target towards me. Finally, I was standing in the sun. Although there was no wind, it was still chilly.
            Liam joined me around 8:30. We took turns shooting the 15 arrows, and then fetching them. At the longer yardages, one of us watched the target through the spotting scope. This gave the shooter instant feedback on the shot. We shot for another hour.

           Today we were moving camp to the higher altitudes above Jemez Pueblo. We were driving out around 12:30. The four miles down the Cabazon road to the intersection of Hwy 550 was just as bumpy and jiggley as the inbound was the other day. Dave had left first and waited at the junction.
            This drive was only about 35 miles, but it would take us from around 5,600 feet to 8,370 feet. We would definitely be in the hoodie zone. The Jemez tribe is dominating in this high mountain region. Just outside of Jemez Springs we Soda Dam. Soda Dam is a large rock formation which, when seen with the perspective from the road, has the appearance of a large wall or dam. At the bottom southern end of the wall the Jemez River tumbles through and down from a large hole in the stone; just as water would that was being released over a dam's spillway.
            The wall raises from a flat platform of stone which forms one edge of the narrow cavern through which the Jemez flows. The boys climb down to the base from the side of the road and join with a bus load of children visiting Soda dam on a field trip. The formation received its name because of the sodium bicarbonate-like smell the air has here. The school children climb amass to a cave in the wall formed eons ago by eddies from the river. A few even brave the climb up the side of the wall to top and then sprint across the surface to where the wall meets the road's edge.
            Jennifer has a write-up of the camping area we are headed for. This site has no name, so we can't use the GPS Points of Interest function to look it up. I put in the coordinates given in the publication and press GO TO. Soon the GPS has us turning onto a NF (National Forest) road. I radio the two large rigs to stay at the highway junction until I determine there will be easy access in and out of the campground. After 1.2 miles I am told to turn left onto NF 604, and I do so. The announcement is then made that I have arrived at Camp, the name I had given the pair of coordinates. This was a great spot. I stopped the van and radioed Dave and Chris to "come on down".
            Soon they were both with me in the large clearing in the pine forest beside NF 604. Rigs were parked and leveled while the boys explored the surrounding wooded area. The forest floor is soft with a deep pad of pine needles and has an absence of underbrush leaving clear views to the next large rock formation that can be climbed.
            At the end of each busy traveling day there is always a level of frustration in having to once again get things set up, so in a couple of days or less they can be again taken down and moved. The captains and first mates of each ship had their particular sets of procedures for this process. In the mean time Grandpa, Cleo, and the boys dug out the BB gun, sardine can, bows, arrows and target and set up our own high mountain forest diversions.
            The cooking fire was being prepared to the background sounds of "plink", and "twang, thump" as brave soldiers and Robin Hoods attacked their foe. A buffet table was set up and Dutch oven chili and potatoes, sprinkled with diced onions and shredded cheese was served. An early chill, which signaled a freezing night to come, was in the air. We all ate our dinner while we played smoke dodge as we braved getting as close to the cooking fire as possible.
            The sardine can lay propped at the base of a nearby tree. Chris and his boys took turns with the air rifle until darkness defeated the scope. It was time for bed.
            Chris had spent considerable time running extension cords to the 5th wheel and the van to ensure we could receive maximum comfort from the resource of the bus' generator when he ran it tonight. He loaned me his sealed oil heater to add spots of relief in the van.
            Dave invited both of us to his cabin for a special Scottish treat to end this busy day. Reflective perhaps of its absence, our relaxed discussion was centered on forms of mobile satellite communications and how AT&T was receiving fortunes from its subscribers while providing no service what so ever to the few isolated campers in New Mexico. With the topic and glasses drawn to an end, Chris started the generator and we all went to bed. Bob says, "Warmth is good."

April 17, 2012

            At five am Chris started the bus generator. I had slept comfortably with socks, pajamas, t-shirt and hoodie beneath two layers of sleeping bag. Each time I shifted during the frosty night I awoke to check that my feet and shoulders were snugly tucked in. When the generator came on I noticed through the curtains that dawn was arriving as well. With renewed warmth in the van I got up and heated some water for coffee. Recapturing sleep would have been futile. With coffee on the dresser, I placed a piece of broken cutting board atop the heater for a base for the I-pad and I sat at the foot of the bed and updated my travel log.
            At 8 o'clock the forest floor was sprinkled with patches of sunlight. Higher on the sides of the mounded bark of the ponderosa horizontal beams yellowed, here and there, and brought lively depth to the stately surfaces. Only bright blue sky could be seen from my window above the tips of the towering pines.

            Upon arriving yesterday we all noticed the elk tracks numerous on the sandy floor of the camp clearing. With an early rising it had been my hope to see one or more of the large forest bovines ambling through the nearby trees. People, machines, and the residual smell of a campfire helped them determine a different route. Maybe by chance, later today, or perhaps tomorrow.
            Elliot and I built a campfire. The motivation was strictly self-serving on both our parts. When I left the van I noticed a coating of frost on the edges of the canvas chairs. Last night it had dipped into the 20s. Soon we had a toasty warm blaze going. It wasn't too long before Jennifer joined us with utensils, bacon, eggs and bread.
            The pound of bacon was frozen but on the disk wok it took only a few minutes to get the slabs separated. Jennifer dipped some pieces of bread in an egg batter and I scooted the bacon around to give her some cooking space. The boys were fed, now it was time for the adults. I was handed two eggs and told to cook them up. Eggs over easy with a couple strips of bacon did me just fine.
            After breakfast each rig had some tasks to do. Chris needed to trim the old marine battery boxes so the new batteries would fit in them. Dave needed to trace some electrical so he could connect 12v led lights to the headboard of the bed. I needed to help where I could and practice some 20 yard shooting.
            Early afternoon Jennifer rang the school bell. Moaning all the way, the boys got stuck into some lessons. Liam is working with ratios in his math and I reviewed his last problem set with him.
            Scouting is very important to the young Duncan family. Liam is a Star scout and is working on merit badges to obtain his Life ranking. Outdoor survival skills is an important badge to have earned along the way to becoming an Eagle Scout. One aspect of the survival skills area is to have built a shelter from provisions Nature has provided and to weather through a night sleeping in that shelter. A component of the exercise is to also prepare a write up of the possible predator and other health risks one might be exposed to and how they may be dealt with.
            In the high desert exposure to the wind and cold are probably the greatest environmental risks. Liam chose a large rock cluster which would put him on the leeward side for the prevailing winds. He found some 3" diameter pieces of pine which he used to fashion a lean to base against the rock. Limbs from the forest floor provided lattice for the walls. He then collected great quantities’ of pine needles from the forest floor to cover the lattice work. A few additional branches were used to pinch the needles to the lattice. This led to a well covered enclosure. Inside his roomy enclosure he spread more needles to form a soft bedding several inches thick. He will use his sleeping bag on top of the needle mattress.
            I helped Chris with the cooking fire to make Sheppard pie. The peas and corn were both frozen to start with, so the dinner took a little longer than anticipated. It was great, and worth the wait. Earlier, Tucker mixed the fixings for some cinnamon rolls for desert. On the top he put a caramel sauce which glazed as the rolls cooked in a Dutch oven. This, too, turned out excellent.
            By 9 o'clock everyone was ready for bed. Chris started the generator which fed my heater and warmed the van for an initial period of the cool night. Now it is time to read on about Simple Genius.

April 18, 2012

            Buckwheat pancake topped with two farm fresh eggs over easy. Dave handled the meal fixings over the gentle cooking fire. In the trees yellow bellied Sapsuckers kept Joy fixed to her binoculars. I opened the Peterson bird guide application on my I-pad. From it I played calls of the Sapsucker. In a few moments the birds were flying to the trees near the campfire. It is mating season for the birds and when they are not chasing each other through the upper limbs of the pine trees, they are clinging vertically and pecking out a rapid snare of loud thumps. From a distance away we could hear a responding couple of seconds of rat-a-tat-tats.
            Late morning we drove further on NF 604. At about 8,600 feet, at a rail guarded switch back bend, we pulled over to stand at the cliff edge of a southerly facing over look. Below us rose a village of tent rocks. These erosion formed structures stood 30 - 40 feet high. Many were sheared off at the top creating what looked to be a razor edge, others were conically pointed. In the far lower distance we could see the trace of paved hwy 4 that we came in on.
            Below the tent rocks there are a few narrow dirt roads which led to isolated and neatly kept forest cabins. Across the valley, with hwy 4 at the base, there is a collection of homes on the northern facing hillside. They were perhaps at about 7,500 feet.
            Dave and Joy wished to adventure further this morning. After dropping me off at the camp, they drove off to find the tunnels. I busied myself hanging the Lounger chair, a gift I had received from the family after I had admired the inventiveness of the one they had hung in the covered deck of their Savannah home.
            A rope is tied high up between two nearby trees. A carabineer connects the center of the rope line to a ring on the Lounger. The ring is the focus for nylon straps which tie to aluminum rods connected to the sides and back of a deep seat canvas bag chair. Once hung, the chair is a delight to gently swing and relax in.
            Drats. Soon after I had completed the Lounger, Chris asked me to help relocate the cooking fire to the pit nearer the rigs. Easy breezy, to paraphrase Tucker's "I'll help" task acknowledgement. Chris and Jennifer had come to realize the 50 yards back and forth for the preparation of three meals a day could be shortened. With the chairs and fire hardware moved, I retackled the Lounger. The second time was much easier.
            Meanwhile, the boys were busying themselves with the prepartation for a new night sleeping in the wild. Tucker had fashioned a lean to and he built it against the large rock, just around the corner from Liam's shelter. Eliott was opting for the comfort of the fully covered camping hammock. With his bed already hung, Elliot helped his brothers collect pine needles for covering the tops of the shelters.
            At around 3:30 Jennifer called for everyone to get their swimsuits on. We were going to go to Spence Hot Springs for a cleansing dip. Located a couple of miles north of Soda dam on Hwy 4, Spence Hot Springs has a long and colorful history associated with the convent located in Jemez Springs.
            We were told by Chuck, a bather in the pond we used, and a resident of the area, that the convent in Jemez Springs was one used by the Catholic Church to house nuns from around the world who had become too dependent upon fermented spirits. The springs hot, mineralized waters were believed to aid in the healing of the nuns.
            On the edge of Hwy 4 there is a very small paved and stripped parking lot. There is no signage to announce the lot's purpose and it had slots for only a half dozen cars. We pulled into the only vacant spot; an RV slot. At the forest’s edge there are steps leading down to a dirt track. At the head of the steps a small sign alerts hikers that nude bathing is unlawful and will be prosecuted. So, this is the parking lot for Spence Hot Springs?
            The three ponds, which had been built many years ago, can accommodate only about a dozen adults. This is no doubt why there is no public announcement of the purpose of the parking lot. The narrow trail winds down to the Jemez river, over a wooden bridge, and then up the opposite side of the canyon. At the point on the trail when you feel you may not be able to find your way over, or around the next stony trail impediment the trail starts to become wet, and in some places even flowing over with water. Now I've got steepness, stones, and moss to contend with.
            About 30 yards higher I see the boys leaping from boulder to boulder. I could hear adult voices, but none in sight. I can't imagine the nun's wouldn't have received forgiveness for their sins after having navigating the sharp and slippery rocks to secure a mossy stone seat in the 4 feet of bath-warm pond water.
            Strip to your bathers where ever you find an unused dry rock to stack your clothes. With your tender white soles find your way slowly across the jagged stones to the green moss blanketed pond's edge. With a couple of soakers in the pond, the water is turbid and the dark green doesn't aid in locating places to put your feet as you butt-slide into the water. You get what you get as far as sitting or crouching comfort. To keep things clear, movement is minimized.
            We enjoy the soak for about an hour. Dave and Joy have been in the spring water quite a while longer than us. Climbing out of the pond is tricky and dangerous; sharp stone edges and moss covered foot holds means that every small body movement has to be thought out. Once out, I quickly put my shoes on so I could move on the rocks. My towel was the second thing I grabbed. At 5:30 the springs were in shade and the evening air at 8,000 feet is not an atmosphere you want to stand in while dripping wet and nearly naked.
            On the drive to the camp we stopped at Amanda's Jemez Mountains Store for a few grocery supplies. The store had a pay phone. Well, it wasn't really a pay phone; you gave the clerk a dollar and then you could use the wall phone to make a call. I put in a call to Anne and I left a message on her answering machine. We have been out of cell service for a few days and I wanted her to know that all was well.

April 19, 2012

            This morning I drove to Amanda's to try again to link up with Anne. I left a brief message and began to browse the store when Ray, a proprietor, answered the store telephone and called out if I was Rob. Anne had just missed the 5th ringy dingy before her bat phone switched to message.
            Anne had returned the night before from Squim, WA, where she had attended her Aunt Julie's funeral. Yes, it had been sad, but Anne said that Julie would have been proud of the many tributes she received. Julie was very much loved by all her knew her.
            The traveling Duncan clan had invited Anne to join us for a bit of SW travel. I was ready to begin the long journey back to Medford. Anne has decided she has too many things on her plate at this time to feel comfortable galivanting around America's outback. Later this season we may be able to join the family as they migrate to the cooler northern climates. My decision had been made. When the tribe lifted stakes this morning to move on towards Taos, I would head for home.
            Everyone was packed and the campsite was left nicer than when we arrived. I spoke with Chris about Liam's interest in archery and whether the bus had storage space for the bow Liam had been using, the target butt we had picked up at Albuquerque's The Arrow Shoppe, my homemade quiver and a few arrows. He said, by all means, but also talk directly to Liam about shooting safety. Liam was very pleased and proud to receive the gift. Having watched his shooting skills grow these last many days, I know he will become and early expert.
            Goodbyes are sad. With a couple of blasts of the horn the Vanaroo and I headed away from our 8,300 foot roost. The GPS had me traveling to I-40 at Albuquerque and then turning west. It was early afternoon when I arrived at Bernalillo, where we had stayed at the Coronado RV Park. I was back into cell phone coverage so I gave Patty a call to ask if I may stay the night. The generosity of the Stanalonis' comes with their friendship. Yes, I was welcome.
            Prior to stopping at the home I drove back to the Arrow Shoppe. This store had the Easton arrows I have been using at a much nicer price than the store in Medford. In the outback shooting, Liam and I had lost several arrows and I needed more, anyway. As the shafts were being cut I looked over the many archery treasures. Maybe some day.
            Patty and Stan invited me to join them at Mexican dinner with an old school friend, Rob, and his 90 year old dad, Bud. Bud retired as an architect working for the government in association with the Department of Indian Affairs. Rob, it turns out, was a Special Agent with OSI out of District 2 in New York. After his military stint, he hired on with OSI as a civilian. I gathered his main work was in counter intelligence. It was a fun evening. Bud is still very sharp and he told me a bit about his career.
            Earlier Patty had told me about Bud's wife and how she was the special mom of the neighborhood for all of the kids. She had meant a lot to Patty over the years.
            At home we fussed a while with the computer getting CCleaner installed. Patty and Stan appreciated the program's ability to clean up the ragged aspects on the machine and how easy it was to use it to eliminate non-used programs. Stan reported the machine ran a bit faster, too. Later Stan served a couple of drinks of Wild Turkey. It was nice to just sit and visit. We called it a night about 10 o'clock.

April 20, 2012

            Wow, the nice firm bed and pillow sure felt good. I didn't mind sleeping in the Vanaroo, but the sleeping bag covers were always sliding away from my shoulders, and it was generally quite cold when I got uncovered. I had taken the opportunity to shower and shave, and that was a treat. I discovered, though, that it took the third shampoo application before I was able to create any lather. Boy that must have been some dirty hair. It's surprising, there's not much of it there to get dirty.
            Patty treated us to bacon, eggs, and hash browns for breakfast. After the third set of goodbyes to them for this trip, I pulled out at 8:30. The GPS had me mapped on I-40 to Kingman, AZ. From there it was via Hwy 93 to Las Vegas, onto I-515, and then onto Hwy 95, north to Reno.
            As I was driving past Hoover Dam the traffic came to a slug's crawl speed. There was right lane construction near the hilltop casino and it seemed impossible for the two lanes to merge gracefully into one to get past it. Climbing the long hill in stop and go traffic gave me concern for the engine heating. Not to worry, though, the fan automatically activated when needed and the van did well.

            Luck was with me. I entered the Henderson/Las Vegas traffic during the Friday rush hour. I tried to stay in the middle lane and I relied totally on Garmin to alert me when an exit was required. After about 15 miles, I-515 merged into three lanes, and then two, and the GPS kept saying, "stay left", so I did. In a little bit I was the only vehicle left on the two lane highway. Boy, this is a relief.
            Las Vegas is similar to Albuquerque in that the highway to the north is a very long gradual climb. Both must go on for something like 10 miles before the landscape flattens out. Once on the northern plateau I asked Garmin to find the nearest lodging. The first three choices pointed behind me, but there was one at about 15 miles that pointed left. I watched this one, and it started to replace the ones behind and moved to the top of the list and its direction arrow gradually turned to point straight ahead. The Indian Springs Motor Lodge Hotel was my new destination.
            Indian Springs is home to Creech Air Force Base. Creech specializes in the MQ-9 Reaper drone aircraft. This is a training base for the un-manned aircraft and it is also a training base for the Thunderbird F-16 aerial shows. The motor lodge is under the custody of the nearby casino. Discovering this, I walked to the casino to secure a room; single, non-smoking, room 212. Sounds ok to me.
            The Oasis restaurant is part of the casino and it is open 24 hours a day. The clerk recommended the steak and eggs, so that is what I had. It was tasty, and filling.
            With evening chores done, I bought a large can of Busch from the 24-hour store, located between the motel and the casino, and went to my room. Ok, the room smells alright, in need of some air-conditioning, though, and it seems cleaner than me at this point. It will do.
            I poured a nice plastic glass of beer and gave Anne a call. She, too, was just settling in for the night and was looking forward to a fun day of tennis tomorrow with three of her best friends. They were going to have a match at a new court in Gold Hill. I don't know whether I will be able to complete the long drive home tomorrow, but I will keep her posted. Sleep tight, Sweetheart.
         
April 21, 2012

            I rose early and was on the road by 6:30. The sun was at my back and I was good for about 200 miles between fuel stops. Anne and I have driven this route from Las Vegas, past Reno, through Susanville, and onto I-5 at McCloud. The highway is familiar, and with that it is a bit boring. Talk radio and sunflower seeds keep me busy. I give Anne a call at my last fuel stop at McCloud, CA. I told her to expect me around 7 pm.
            I have driven under blue skies since leaving Albuquerque and as I climb the southern Siskiyou Mountains the sun is hitting warmly on my left cheek. The 7 mile, 6% decent of the northern slopes of I-5, as it winds past Mt. Ashland, is loaded with 18-wheelers. As I slowly overtake them one by one I make a note of the number of brake-failure runoff pits the freeway has for these rigs. I count three, but I may have missed one. This section of I-5 is one of the most dangerous stretches of freeway for heavy trucks in all of America.
            I drive into the parking lot and Anne comes out to greet me. It’s great to be home. I note the GPS has recorded 3,669.6 miles for my journey to the SW. During the next few days I will unwind and be able to reflect on the wonderful adventure I had.