Friday, July 27, 2012

Time



Recently I have been thinking about what I’ll call the commodity of time.  From the minute we become aware of our surroundings, able to react and think, time is there. 

As a child, there always seems to be ample time—in fact, time can seem to drag, particularly if you are anticipating an event. I can remember when I was 3 years that I didn’t think Christmas would EVER arrive (apparently I had really enjoyed my Christmas as a 2-1/2 year old).

So time has always been there for us—always existed.  That is not to say that we should take this commodity for granted. When you lose a friend or loved one to death, you begin to start thinking of mortality and time ended, as we know it. After all, the minute we are born, we start the grand adventure to another life through the door called death.  We hark back to the date and time we were born and it is known as our birth day. Days, minutes, all a marker of time.

People seem to enjoy starting collections for me, although I personally stopped doing much collecting long ago (except for certain antique china patterns). I know that for years I lived by the tyranny of the clock and I still have a small collection of clocks to remind me of that fact.  
 
So back to my thoughts on time. I am slowly reading a book my sister-in-law gave me called The Gift of Time. It’s about growing old gracefully (and graciously). As it has been several years since AARP first sent me some of their propaganda, I am pretty close to being a not quite young senior citizen, so this book is quite appropriate for me.

As The Gift mentions, and as I had already noticed, the idea of time’s endless quantity, has definitely changed. I come from a fairly long-lived family, so the gene pool might predict that I could likely live into my 80’s or even 90’s. That means I may have 15 or more years of  time left on this earth to accomplish whatever God has in mind for this stage of my life—or not.

To a child or teenager that sounds like a long time. To me it sounds like a drop in the bucket of Time (which it is). Since my natural proclivity is to waste time, that characteristic really is an insult to God since He has given it (time) to me in the first place.

If this motivates you not to waste this gift-- great. It has made me take a long, serious look at it. Actually, it is biblical to consider the gift of time carefully because the psalmist says in Psalm 90:12“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Friday, July 20, 2012



Last week my blog left off with Jo’s VW and its punctured oil pan as the Diehls searched for Balanced Rocks. We turned off onto the road less travelled—and that was a real mistake! After nursing the little car as far back toward the main road as possible, we all piled into our pickup and headed for Jeffrey City.  Remembering there is no cell coverage at least for Verizon users, TC went in to the diner/bar to see if they had a land line he could use to call Lander for a tow truck. Wyoming neighborliness emerged when “Hoot,” an oil filed contractor, offered to call Lander on his cell phone (AT&T--did that company buy the cell towers in that part of the country?).

While TC waited for tow truck, the rest of us went back to the camp site to eat a bite of lunch and pack up Jo & TC’s tent, etc.  As we drove through the sage brush we discovered a beautiful antelope buck resting in the road ruts. He decided to stand and slowly walk away as we drove closer.  


We could see the road from our camp site so we ate lunch outside (wasn’t enough room inside, anyway) and about the time we were finished, Brian spied the tow truck. We piled into the pickup and headed for the injured VW. 

Soon we were waving goodbye to Jo & TC and VW plus tow truck and drivers. 
 
                                                  Can you see the rocks balanced?
Dean is a determined man and since Hoot had told him (back in Jeffrey Ctiy) that we just needed to stay on the graded road, we continued on the road we should have stayed on. Sure enough we were soon at balanced Rocks. It’s truly a beautiful spot as are the hills in that area, and a   total different scenery down in the valley where Crooks Gap and Jeffrey City are located. 

Two “sub-ticks” off the Bucket List—camped at Crooks Gap and saw Balanced Rocks. On to the Sweetwater River. Watch out, trout!  We hooked up the trailer and set out for Sweetwater Crossing. After wandering around a bit in the area, we found the Fish and Game area where the men could fish.  It was very steep descent to the river so it was a godsend that Jeff and Brian were with Dean as I wasn’t about to brave that brush with all the rattlers just waiting to strike, not to mention the ticks yearning to suck my blood. (My farmer Dad is probably rocking with laughter up in heaven as I write of my wimpiness.) 

After about an hour the fishermen returned. Dean discovered that 3 of his 4 fishing rods were not in fishing condition which was discouraging. However, Brian did catch two fish—a 12 inch and one smaller—both of which he threw back. (Talk to Jeff about a picture of the fish.) That was a first for him, so the trek was not a bust. Besides, Dean had fished the Sweetwater—sort of.

 3 Diehl men hiking down to the river

We knew there was no gas station anywhere close, so we headed for Lander to eat dinner, gas up, and find an RV park. Life was getting better—we were learning how to “tweak” the trailer appliances, sleep warmer, and “rotate” more efficiently.

Wednesday morning we had to turn back toward SLC so we headed for South Pass (Wind River Mountains) and the area of the Sweetwater’s headwaters. Dean had fished the area many years ago so remembered the approximate area.  After three or four miles of wash-boardy road heading for Big Sandy, we turned off the main road and unhitched the trailer.  Dean took over the wheel from Jeff and headed for the trees in the distance.




Dean, bank fishing






Jeff taking Linus for a walk
Many bumps later we arrived at the riverbank—really an idyllic spot. All three Diehl men took turns fishing with the one good reel. Dean fished from the bank and Jeff and Brian waded in the river and casted. I resisted the wading, but set up a camp chair by the riverbank in the shade of a willow bush, wrote a bit, and just enjoyed the sound of the river. No fish caught this time but we all enjoyed the site/sight tremendously. 

Brian in the river, casting

The rest of the trip was  uneventful for which we were grateful. We spent the last night in our favorite motel in Evanston, the Prairie Inn and got the trailer back to the rental place in good time. 

Bucket List item—complete. The Diehls’ trip—memorable (however you want to look at it).

The Road Less Traveled



Last week my blog left off with Jo’s VW and its punctured oil pan as the Diehls searched for Balanced Rocks. We turned off onto the road less travelled—and that was a real mistake! After nursing the little car as far back toward the main road as possible, we all piled into our pickup and headed for Jeffrey City.  Remembering there is no cell coverage at least for Verizon users, TC went in to the diner/bar to see if they had a land line he could use to call Lander for a tow truck. Wyoming neighborliness emerged when “Hoot,” an oil filed contractor, offered to call Lander on his cell phone (AT&T--did that company buy the cell towers in that part of the country?).

While TC waited for tow truck, the rest of us went back to the camp site to eat a bite of lunch and pack up Jo & TC’s tent, etc.  As we drove through the sage brush we discovered a beautiful antelope buck resting in the road ruts. He decided to stand and slowly walk away as we drove closer.  


We could see the road from our camp site so we ate lunch outside (wasn’t enough room inside, anyway) and about the time we were finished, Brian spied the tow truck. We piled into the pickup and headed for the injured VW. 

Soon we were waving goodbye to Jo & TC and VW plus tow truck and drivers. Dean is a determined man and since Hoot had told him (back in Jeffrey Ctiy) that we just needed to stay on the graded road, we continued on the road we should have stayed on. Sure enough we were soon at balanced Rocks. It’s truly a beautiful spot as are the hills in that area, and a total different scenery down in the valley where Crooks Gap and Jeffrey City are located.

Two “sub-ticks” off the Bucket List—camped at Crooks Gap and saw Balanced Rocks. On to the Sweetwater River. Watch out, trout!  We hooked up the trailer and set out for Sweetwater Crossing. After wandering around a bit in the area, we found the Fish and Game area where the men could fish.  It was very steep descent to the river so it was a godsend that Jeff and Brian were with Dean as I wasn’t about to brave that brush with all the rattlers just waiting to strike, not to mention the ticks yearning to suck my blood. (My farmer Dad is probably rocking with laughter up in heaven as I write of my wimpiness.) 



After about an hour the fishermen returned. Dean discovered that 3 of his 4 fishing rods were not in fishing condition which was discouraging. However, Brian did catch two fish—a 12 inch and one smaller—both of which he threw back. (Talk to Jeff about a picture of the fish.) That was a first for him, so the trek was not a bust. Besides, Dean had fished the Sweetwater—sort of.

We knew there was no gas station anywhere close, so we headed for Lander to eat dinner, gas up, and find an RV park. Life was getting better—we were learning how to “tweak” the trailer appliances, sleep warmer, and “rotate” more efficiently.

Wednesday morning we had to head back toward SLC so we headed for South Pass (Wind River Mountains) and the area of the Sweetwaater’s headwaters. Dean had fished the area many years ago so remembered the approximate area (of course, he remembered the approximate area of Balanced Rocks, too).  After three or four miles of wash-boardy road heading for Big Sandy, we turned off the main road and unhitched the trailer.  Dean took over the wheel from Jeff and headed for the trees in the distance.

Many bumps later we arrived at the riverbank—really an idyllic spot. All three Diehl men took turns fishing with the one good reel. Dean fished from the bank and Jeff and Brian waded in the river and casted. I resisted the wading, but set up a camp chair by the riverbank in the shade of a willow bush, wrote a bit, and just enjoyed the sound of the river. No fish caught this time but we all enjoyed the site/sight tremendously.  (pictures)

The rest of the trip was  uneventful for which we were grateful. We spent the last night in our favorite motel in Evanston, the Prairie Inn and got the trailer back to the rental place in good time. 

Bucket List item—complete. The Diehls’ trip—memorable (however you want to look at it).

Friday, July 13, 2012

A Time to Remember



My blog title this week not only has to do with memories made on our trip, but memories of times past. On Dean's 70th birthday he decided to add Fishing the Sweetwater River to his Bucket List, so the boys and I decided to help him fulfill that wish. Memories of living at Crooks Gap led Dean to add camping at that spot and finding Balanced Rocks as addenda to the trip. So this past Sunday afternoon we headed out with Evanston, WY as our first night's stay.

Jeff was our driver and he opted to take the Weber Canyon route to Evanston—so beautiful. I had forgotten how awesome and unique Devil’s Slide is. Sorry I didn’t get a picture of it. We arrived in Evanston about 8:30 PM and had our first RV Park experience. The park, itself, was nice. The little trailer hitched to our bumper was not that great. However, we were novices at this method of travel and we knew we needed to check out the way the appliances worked—or didn’t.

The refrigerator didn’t. The 2-burner gas stove didn’t, at least the automatic igniter didn’t. The Diehl men are intrepid and fearless, so despite warnings not to use a match to light the gas burners, they did so, with the fire extinguisher at the ready (we didn’t get the chance to see if it worked, thank you Lord).  Since we were at a regular campground, we had electricity and city water so we filled up there—and filled and filled and overflowed—making a mud hole by the next morning. Remember we are novice campers! 




Then it was time to prepare for bed. The back end of the trailer became a tent supposedly a queen size mattress (that would be for a real SMALL queen). I had though the “boys” could sleep together on that so only brought adequate bedding for two beds—theirs and ours. One son is 6 feet tall and neither of them are small. Fortunately,??? the table can be lowered and the seat and back cushions made into a bed. The only problem is that the cushions that fit on the lowered table top were at least inch lower than the cushion on both ends. I had stuck in an inflatable sleeping mat thinking that one of the boys might choose to sleep outside at some point. The mat was the right height to make up the difference between the cushion heights.  So we had adequate bed surfaces, but not enough covers and nights in the desert, even in town, can get pretty chilly.  Each night we got wiser about ways to stay warm.
 


The next morning, we were grateful to start our morning with coffee, even if it was instant. However, we discovered that getting seated around the table was a real trick. It had to be scooted from side to side in order to get in and sit. That meant the least active person needed to sit on the inside. The word “rotate” soon became a byword as the passageway between appliances in our “galley kitchen” area was about two feet. If you have ever watched the British comedy, “Keeping Up Appearances” and saw the show where Richard and Hyacinth have moved into this castle tuned condo, renting the top floor apartment with no room to turn around in the kitchen, that would correspond to our situation.

We changed our route since we got the news that Dean’s sister and her husband were planning to meet us Monday night at Crrok's Gap. In order to rendezvous there, we would need to go through Rawlins rather than the more mountainous route Jeff had initially planned.   

We were able to visit Helen Jones, a family/church friend in Rawlins who had taught in Bairoil, an oil camp where the Diehls and Jones had lived in the 50's and 60’s  and was part of the Baptist church that 3 generations of Diehls had attended during various sojourns in Rawlins.  It was a short visit but full of great memories recalled by Dean and well as our boys since “Mrs. Jones” was a favorite Sunday School teacher of theirs.

 




We arrived in Jeffrey City about 5:30 PM and toured its three streets hoping for a gas station and cell coverage. No luck on either count. Dean got his picture taken in front of Home on the Range, the place where he and his 3 sisters were pictured on the same fence back in 1953 when Home on the Range and Charley’s Bar were the only buildings in the area (Jeffrey City did not exist as such until the uranium mines came on the scene.) The uranium boom has busted and oil isn’t nearly the producer it once was, so Jeffrey City is now a modern ghost town with a “new” high school building that saw very little use and a population that has shrunk from 5,000 to about 50. A sad, but realistic picture of what can happen in a boom and bust situation.




Dean spied the road out of town that led to Crook’s Gap, the Sinclair Oil camp  where his family moved to from Marcelline, MO. He knew the general area where the houses had once been, but it took a while to finally decide where the Diehl house had been located.  We found a fairly flat place to park our trailer, but after shoveling several cow pies and batting at flies, Brian decided we needed to find a better spot. We did so, unhitched the trailer, leveled it and actually got the refrigerator to work—yippee!!

With no cell coverage, we had no idea where Jo and TC were (with the pot of spaghetti TC said they were bringing) and it was 7 PM and we were hungry. Chef Jeff cooked the frozen chicken breasts we had brought which were now thoroughly thawed along with a potato, onion and carrots. He had brought lemons and spices for seasoning so we had gourmet chow for supper during our first “real” night of camping.

Jo and TC came rolling in over the sagebrush (more like thumping and bumping, as they were in Jo’s little red VW) about 9 PM. They had eaten in Riverton so the spaghetti had to wait for another day. They were going to be tent camping which was a true sportsmanly challenge to put up as a wind storm had blown in. Crrok’s Gap is exactly that—a valley between some mountainous hills, so there was nothing much to break the wind flow. Fortunately, the storm blew itself  on to Nebraska or Colorado.

The windstorm brought MUCH cooler evening temperatures and the Diehls mostly froze. Dean couldn’t plug in his sleep machine because we didn’t rent a generator, so he ended up sleeping sitting up wrapped up in his sweat shirt. To add insult to injury, we had purchased an air mattress in Evanston in hopes of making our sleeping pad more bearable. As has been my experience with ALL air mattresses on camping trips—it went flat! (Ask me about our trek to the bottom of Grand Canyon six years ago).

The next morning we e couldn’t plug in the coffeepot but we could light the gas burners (incorrectly) so we had coffee and bacon and eggs—again thanks to Jeff. Jo and the boys went out sleuthing and came back with some lavender colored glass fragments and a little plastic figure –we figured Dean and his friends might have played cowboys and Indians with it. However, Dean said he was 11 when they moved to Crooks and he only remembers playing with cars.

One of the natural wonders of the Crooks Gap landscape is called Balanced Rocks, so Dean set off leading the VW in search of these rocks. After a while, he started saying, “I don’t remember it taking this long to get there from where we used to live.” That was worrisome as was the fact that the road/track was really poor traveling, especially for a little VW. We stopped once after a particularly bumpy spot, but Jo soldiered on. We stopped again when she quit moving. She had made it over a sagebrush clump but hidden in the brush was a rock. The rock punched a hole in the VW’s oil pan.

In the meantime, Dean explored the hill we were on a little further and discovered the Balanced Rocks must have become unbalanced because there weren’t any balancing on that hill.

Stay tuned for next week's installment to see if Dean ever found Balanced Rocks OR was able to dip his fishing line into the Sweetwater River.


Friday, July 6, 2012

The Boys Are Home (At Last)



They’re not really boys any more, but if you have adult children you know what I mean.  Brian is here attending his 20th High School class reunion so Jeff came at the same time to help Dean mark off an item on his Bucket List (more of that next week).

Yesterday morning Dean was awakened about 5 AM with a phone call from Jeff. Both boys had missed their flights. I slept through the call so didn’t know that our morning take-off for SLC would not have to be so early. (Dean remembered to tell me just as I headed for the shower.)

Fortunately, the guys were at least able to get flights later in the day—Jeff landed at 4:30 PM—not bad.  But Brian got in at 8:40 PM. Oh, my.

We had a pleasant dinner at Applebees and then went to a certain coffee shop where Jeff and I visited over yummy drinks and Dean took a long nap.  Dean got his coffee and decided he would like to wait closer to the airport.  So we waited in the Park and Wait area until Brian called us for pick-up.

About that that time, I started getting some uncomfortable stomach cramps (from that yummy coffee?). I thought nothing of it at first, but that soon changed! We picked up Brian and started home at about 60 mph as we were pulling a 16-ft trailer behind us. Slow and jerky, oh my poor tummy! I was soon very grateful to have that little trailer—no more need be said.

Just before we got to the Salt Flats there is a rest stop and I thought it might be very expedient for us (me) to stop there. Have you ever gone to the door of a Rest Stop (in great need) only to find it locked? CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE. Words cannot express my emotions!!! (Nor my pain.) Once again, I was sure thankful for that outhouse hitched to the back of the pickup.

No more incidents arose other than Dean crossing the rumble strip several times between midnight and 1 PM. He kept insisting he was not sleepy, the NDOT had just put those strips too close to the middle of the road.

Since I was too busy holding my stomach to take pictures of the gorgeous sunset as we headed home and a mysterious aspect of the Salt Flats , I am including pictures of “the boys” instead