We Found Paradise, but Where is Judd Falls?

Some visitors had heard that a little bit north of Crested Butte, Colorado, there is a hiking trail that leads to Judd Falls.  They were advised: You'll know when you get there, because there is a bench to sit on.


On the way to Judd Falls, the visitors found Paradise.  They knew it was Paradise, because that's what the sign on front, just to the right of the door said:

On further up the road from Paradise, they put on their backpacks and started up a trail.  It was late September, and the aspen trees were decked out in fall gold.  The trail split off in a couple of places, and it wasn't very well marked.

They asked the people with the Camelback water bottles.
They asked some people from South Carolina.
They asked the guy from Denver:
Do you know how to get to Judd Falls?
Nobody knew, but they said there was supposed to be a bench there.


They came to a place where they could hear a waterfall, but there was no bench.  Before leaving to walk back down the mountain, they decided to look just a little further.  What do you know!  There was a bench...

...and there was Judd Falls, down near the bottom of a seriously deep canyon.  The following picture doesn't really capture the scene.  It was a beautiful sight, but kinda scary to see someone stand close to the precipice.

Okay, there's one more picture of the hikers sitting on the bench, getting ready to snack on granola bars.

The Meaning of Winter

So what's the deal about the red-and-white stick attached to a Bayfield, Wisconsin fire hydrant?  It's so the hydrant can be located in a snowdrift.  Herb is six feet tall, so that gives us some idea as to the amount of snow Bayfield residents are prepared to receive.


Local people say that Lake Superior freezes around the Apostle Islands; when the ice is thick enough, cars and trucks can drive to and from Madeline Island on an ice road.  Many people welcome the ice road: it's less expensive than the ferry for one thing.  A Bayfield resident told of a mild winter when the ice wasn't thick enough--that made transportation to and from the island difficult.


We Missourians know what snow is, but the idea of locator poles on fireplugs and driving on a frozen lake isn't part of our winter experience.  Travel is so great because it gives a person a different perspective.

The Kettle Falls Hotel

The Kettle Falls Hotel, the only lodging within Voyageurs National Park, is only accessible by boat or seaplane.  That alone makes it an interesting place to stay.  To that add that it is a historic building, built in the early 1900s and used by lumberjacks, fish buyers, prospectors, bootleggers, and tourists over the years.

To get there, we made arrangements for a boat to pick us up at the Ash River Visitors' Center.  Hotel owner and operator Rick Oveson picked us up in his boat, and after about twenty minutes of travel on water between forested islands, we arrived at a dock.  We rode in the back of a golf cart from the dock, along a gravel road to the hotel.

There are about 12 guest rooms in the hotel, all on the walk-up second floor.  (There are villas--rental cabins--in the surrounding woods, however.)  Our room in the hotel was not large, but quite comfortable.  A couple of shared bathrooms were accessible from the hall, which was, well, a different arrangement for a city girl like me, but it worked out okay.  Our room was right next to one of the bathrooms.

A lovely screened-in porch runs across the entire front of the hotel.  That's where guests can sit and drink a beer, talk, or eat a meal.

On the left side is the Lumberjack Saloon with its famously uneven hardwood floor.  The building settled and nothing was done about it; the result was a wavy saloon floor that makes a person feel tipsy before he drinks a single drop. Fisher-people and houseboat people drift in during the afternoon.  The music starts up, and the laughter and beer begins to flow.  Pretty soon the place is rockin'.

On the right is the restaurant where one may enjoy some of the specialties of the house:  cream of wild rice soup and fruit of the forest pie.  (Fruit of the forest pie is a blend of rhubarb, strawberries, blueberries, and apple.)  And of course, there is the best fish in the world: fresh walleye from the cold northern waters.  Mmmmmm.

The hotel was named for the the nearby waterfall which is now a dam.  The border waters have the appearance of a series of lakes, but they must flow like a river, the way Nanakan Lake falls into Rainy Lake.  In the days before the dam, the swirling water carved out kettle-like holes in the rock.  Since humankind traveled those waters by canoe, the area was a place of portage over land from one lake to the other.

The Oveson family made us feel welcome during our stay.  Those people have a strong work ethic, and they do what it takes to keep it all going the way it should.  If something needs to be done, they jump right in and do it.  I guess that's what it takes when you're about 30 miles from the nearest road.

I suppose I could go on, but perhaps I've said enough.  It was a memorable experience, and we're glad we stayed at Kettle Falls.  For more details, here is a link:  kettlefallshotel.com/

Morning Air

Crossing the dam early Saturday morning on our way to breakfast, we saw cumulus clouds illuminated by the rising sun, and the reflected glow on the surface of Longview Lake.  This is the time of day when the world seems peaceful and fresh.


In Walden, Henry David Thoreau writes:


Morning air! If men will not drink of this at the fountainhead of the day, why, then, we must even bottle up some and sell it in the shops, for the benefit of those who have lost their subscription ticket to morning time in this world.  But remember, it will not keep quite till noonday even in the coolest cellar, but drive out the stopples long ere that and follow westward the steps of Aurora.


One early morning a number of years ago, I was driving to work and listening to a reading of Walden.  The part about morning air came through the speakers, and I was so captured by the words that I pulled off the road into a small park.  I turned off the engine and sat there for a little while, just to consciously breathe in the morning air.


I want to keep my subscription to morning time in this world.

The Deep Blue Sea

The mother looked through old slides, and scanned one into her computer.  The photo was taken in the mid-1970s on Dauphin Island.  Since that time, the little girls have become fine young women.  The mother, well, doesn't have dark brown hair any longer, but that's okay.  She's alive and hopeful and well.


Our family has visited Gulf beaches many times over the years.  We have seen the beaches change from long expanses of sand and sea oats to populations of condos and hotels.


I have memories of playing in the surf as a child.  when I grew tall enough, I would walk out beyond where the waves break and let the water lift me up and set me back down again.  Sometimes I would body surf, riding a wave in, and then I'd lie down where the foam would wash over me.  Most of the time I was having so much fun I didn't want to leave.  After a day at the beach, I would lie in bed, and I could still feel the phantom motion of the waves.


I met Herb by chance on Pensacola Beach.  It was just a short meeting one sunny day in April, 1965, but it led to our correspondence by mail, which led to our marriage, still going strong 44 years later.


We made our home in the Midwest, but often took our children to the beach on vacation.  Cindy liked to play in the waves.  When Debbie was very young, she was more inclined to sit on the beach and dig in the sand.  I showed my little girls how to dig a hole in the sand and watch it fill with water.  We walked along the beach and looked for seashells.  We chased fiddler crabs and watched seagulls and sandpipers.


Today I have been thinking, as so many of us have been thinking, about the massive oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.  I am saddened by the insult to the sea and the creatures that live in it: the fish, dolphins, oysters, sand dollars, turtles--even the jellyfish that I tried to avoid.  There is so much life in the sea.  I can close my eyes and see pelicans gliding just above the water.  I think of birds, amphibians, and reptiles that live and breed in the marshlands.  I am also saddened for those who live by the sea and make it their livelihood.


At this point it does no good to cast blame.  The task at hand is to support efforts to mitigate the damage and move forward.  Heed the real news, but keep a skeptical eye on it.  TV news tends to focus on the worst.


As serious as the situation seems, let us hold images of clean sand and clear water; that is what we want to aim for.  Gulf beaches should be places where children can run and play and smell fresh air and feel the wind in their hair and the sand under their bare feet.  It is my hope that this will ultimately prevail.

The Black-Chinned Hummingbird

Our friend, Feldman, was relaxing at Balmorhea State Park in West Texas when he discovered something remarkable.  He saw something few of us ever get to see: a black-chinned hummingbird sitting on a nest.  After taking a few photos--quietly, for sure--he showed the pictures to a friend, also knowledgeable about birds.  Yes, this is a black-chinned hummingbird.


You may notice that this black-chinned hummingbird doesn't have a black chin.  That's because it's a female.


The nest is made mostly of spider webs.  I look for, and am delighted to discover symbiotic relationships between species.  The spider has definitely benefitted the hummingbird; whether the hummingbird has returned the favor to the spider, I do not know.  But regardless, it demonstrates the inter-connectedness of life in our world.


Something to ponder:  hummingbird eggs must be very, very small.  Imagine how many of them it would take to make an omelet.  But of course, we wouldn't want to do that, even if we could.

My Day in Court

I was called to jury duty and reported to the Jackson County Courthouse in downtown Kansas City, Missouri, on April 26.  Some folks complain about jury duty, although there isn't much point in doing so.  At least that's the way I feel.  Better to just make the best of it.  Besides, I really do believe it is my civic duty.

I don't go into downtown often enough to get good at it, so I decided to take the bus.  The morning bus was an express commuter bus, and it worked out great.  It made a number of stops, and soon was full of a diverse group of people.  It was a happy bus, it seemed to me.  People would get on and say good morning as they walked to their seats.  The bus driver said he loved all of us, and I think he meant it.

It was only 7 am when I arrived at the courthouse, so I walked to The Show Me Cafe, where I sat down to a bagel and a cup of coffee.  I looked across at the impressive statue of the man on the horse; almost anyone looks grand when seated on a handsome horse, I thought.  I later learned it was Andrew Jackson, the 7th President of the United States, and the first president to be born in a log cabin.  So it was that Jackson for whom our county is named, I thought.  Got to say I have a problem with what happened to the Native Americans on his watch, though.

Oh, about 7:45 I walked over to the courthouse and went through a security checkpoint, pretty much like at the airport, only we were allowed to leave our shoes on.  They don't allow sharp objects, including knitting needles.  People usually bring something to occupy their time while they sit, waiting to be called for a panel.  Apparently they can't bring knitting any longer.

We watched a film about jury service, and it featured local celebrities like former baseball star George Brett, TV weatherman Bryan Busby, and Kansas City Star columnist Charles Gusewelle.  Then we all were asked to stand when a judge came in.  He had us all raise our right hands and take an oath, but now I don't remember exactly what I was swearing to.  The judge had explained that we were to say, "So help me God," unless we had an objection to God.  In that case, we were to say, "Under penalty of law."  I was thinking about the Judge's instructions when I took the oath, and that's why I don't remember.  Probably something about abiding with court procedures and being fair, and I was going to do that anyway, so help me God and under penalty of law.

If anyone had a reason why they were unable to serve, they could approach the bench.  However, His Honor told us that he suffers from type 2 diabetes and sleep apnea, and the court can accommodate the needs of jurors with many ailments.  In other words, if you plan on being excused for a medical reason, it better be good.

As it turned out, there were only two trials on the docket for that day, and both were settled out of court.  We were dismissed at 11:45 am.

The commuter bus would not start running until about 3:30, so what to do?  The streets near the courthouse seemed empty and chilly.  Ordinarily I don't mind being alone and even enjoy it, but this time it didn't feel so comfortable.  The sky was gray overcast, and there was a wicked wind.  I walked to 10th and Main, where I caught a different bus that would bring me close enough to home.  That bus was definitely not an express bus, and not a happy bus at all; it followed a circuitous route that lasted for an hour and a half.

After I arrived at home, warmed up, and ate lunch, everything seemed better.  Everything went great except for the bus ride home, and in retrospect even that wasn't all that bad.      

Pondering the Stink Bugs

About a year ago, Herb, Debbie, and I witnessed some large bugs exhibiting some curious behavior.  We saw many of them while taking a late afternoon walk beside the Virgin River in Zion Canyon (Utah).  I even took a photo.


When we got close to a bug, it would stop in its tracks and hoist its rear end up as if trying to stand on its head.  We wondered what this was all about.


Debbie got close to one and said, "I wonder why they do that?"


I said, "Do you suppose they are getting ready to squirt something gross out at us?"


We decided to back off, just in case.


Later, we asked a park ranger, and she identified them as stink bugs.


I haven't given the stink bugs much thought for about a year.  But recently I began to re-read Cannery Row by John Steinbeck, and came upon a passage about stink bugs.  In Cannery Row, toward the end of Chapter 6, Doc and Hazel have been down by the tidal pool on the Monterey Peninsula.  (Hazel is a man, but that's another story.):


On the black earth on which the ice plants bloomed, hundreds of black stink bugs crawled.  And many of them stuck their tails up in the air.  "Look at all them stink bugs," Hazel remarked...


"They're interesting." said Doc.


"Well, what they got their asses up in the air for?"


Doc rolled up his wool socks and put them in the rubber boots and from his pocket he brought out dry socks and a pair of thin moccasins.  "I don't know why." he said.  "I looked them up recently--they're very common animals and one of the commonest things they do is put their tails up in the air.  And in all the books there isn't one mention of the fact that they put their tails up in the air or why."


Hazel turned one of the stink bugs over with the toe of his wet tennis shoe and the shining black beetle strove madly with floundering legs to get upright again.  "Well why do you think they do it?"


"I think they're praying." said Doc.


"What!"  Hazel was shocked.


"The remarkable thing," said Doc, "isn't that they put their tails up in the air--the really incredibly remarkable thing is that we find it remarkable.  We can only use ourselves as yardsticks.  If we did something as inexplicable and strange, we'd probably be praying--so maybe they're praying."


"Let's get the hell out of here," said Hazel. 

Spring in the Missouri woods.

Occasionally I will be reading a book and some little phrase or sentence grabs hold of me. Usually it will be something that creates a vivid visual image.

This happened when I was reading The Fellowship of the Ring, the first of J.R.R. Tolkien's trilogy known as The Lord of the Rings:

"Night came beneath the trees as they walked, and the elves uncovered their silver lamps."

From this came the name for my blog.