Ten Years On

We first posted at this site on January 1, 2009, exactly ten years ago.  Rural Ways has, remarkably, survived a tumultuous decade.  In the past ten years, most newspapers have cut staff, reduced editions, and added pay-walls.  We have done none of this:  Rural Ways continues to pay its staff (just as much as we paid them on the first day of operations), and to produce hard hitting stories that are free to its reader.

What has evolved, however, is our content.  On the first day of 2009 we wrote that this would be "the story of our attempt to turn a 19th century parcel into a 21st century home."  Given that statement and the somewhat old-fashioned name of this publication, our reader might be forgiven for expecting a few notes about small towns, home renovations, and gardening.  Indeed, we supplied many of those stories early on.  Today, however, what you will generally find is that we are posting about hiking and biking in the southern Utah back-country.  The newspaper should more properly be called Knowledge of Desert Trails, or something.

This shift might be partially explained by two factors:  First, we have, to some extent finished.  Our Homestead renovations are at an end.  We have upgraded the kitchen, added gas heat to the coldest rooms, and converted the sleeping porch to a painting studio.  There is less work than there used to be simply because we have finished with many of the biggest projects.  Second, the demographics of our staff have changed.  When we began, EDO was a goofy five-year-old who, during hikes, often liked to be carried.  After ten years, EDO is a super-fit teenager, hustling through a dozen rugged miles per day.  This has pushed the rest of us to update our focus from arts and crafts to outdoor athletics.

At this point, one might be tempted to ask about the future:  Can Rural Ways survive another decade?  Will we alienate our reader with our evolving editorial line?  Is there anything fresh or exciting in store?  At this time, GAO plans to shift his office from central Utah to northern California while the girls continue to manage and maintain The Homestead.  EDO's interest in athletics, particularly running, will continue to emerge, and VSO will turn some of her attention from fine art to the more prosaic pursuit of a part-time job.  Our reader should expect, then, a few new stories from the eastern Sierra, perhaps some posts from another home renovation, and plenty of pictures featuring desert trails.  Welcome to a new decade.

Fish Mouth

After a couple of hours today, we made it to the Fish Mouth Cave.  Along with a few small granaries, some grinding rocks, and dozens of ancient corn cobs, the cave was blitzed with modern graffiti.  There was an inscription from February 1918, but since turn of the latest century the mess has just exploded.  Dave, Dan, and Jordan.  Tiffany and Judy.  Why?  It always reminds me of that quote from Catcher in the Rye:  "You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful because there isn't any.  You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write 'Fuck you' right under your nose.  Try it sometime."

At any rate, I did find a motto that was easy to love:  Legalize Utah.  Actually, though, I don't understand the number, April 2020?  I thought the referendum passed last November?  Maybe it takes that long to grow the sensemilia.  I don't know.  Finally, we left the cave and made our way up an amphitheater to the north until we reached the ridge.

Collins

When we left Bluff yesterday, I was skeptical:  Skeptical that we could drive through the snow to Collins Canyon, and even more worried that the ice in the canyon would make hiking very difficult.

In the event, there was none of that.  The access road was dry from the pavement to the trailhead, and the canyon bottom was not at all slippery.  In fact, the girls walked so fast that we were able to go all the way to Bannister Ruin and back in roughly five hours:  The GPS said 13 miles.

Snow Day

To paraphrase something VSO said today, there is nothing like an inch of snow to put the slick in slickrock.  We were slowed considerably by a steady accumulation, and sometimes ended up on our knees.  We nevertheless made it to the panel of procession, and also found a little no-name cave with muddy foot prints on the ceiling.

Ellen's Kiva

We were in Mule today.  It contains the most photographed ruin in the galaxy:  The Roof is On Fire, or some such thing.  Right off the highway, one mile walk, on a groomed trail.  Bucket list.  Check list.  Whatever.  March in there, make a picture, throw the brat's diaper on the trail, drive away.  As you might guess, I would never visit.  Except today:  Murky and cold; stiff wind and snow on the road.  But, anyway, the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire, is not nearly the most interesting artifact in the canyon.  EDO spotted a beautiful kiva:  One of the really nice ones.  It wasn't difficult to find, but it required a modest amount of work and a trained eye.  I will certainly never tell anyone about it.

Quantum of Solstice

On the first day of winter there is usually not much daylight.  And this day began with heavy, low clouds, making it seem as though there would be even less.  But, by late afternoon, the sun had pushed aside the clouds and there was plenty of bright, strong sunshine.  So we grabbed the bikes and took what was available.  The full quantum.

Washed Up, Washed Out

The girls are helping-out with a Christmas party this weekend.  That isn't for me; I stayed away.  In the afternoon I took the opportunity to run back to Cottonwood Wash.  It was light when I began, but the sun sets early in December, especially in the canyons.  The nice thing, though, walking back to the truck in the growing dark, was the quiet.  The silence.  A powerful, pulsing silence.  Something that is difficult to find, but perhaps something that I love nearly as much as I love the girls.

The Wall

Warm, late-fall or early-winter afternoons are the best times for climbing on Shinobe.  When the sun is strong and the air is still, it is simply a pleasure to be out there on the wall.  Of course, it is mostly the girls on the rock, and we aren't really climbing but top-roping.

I serve as the belay slave until the sun drops behind the opposite ridge and the cross valley winds begin.  It immediately becomes too cold for standing around:  Time to clean-up and scramble down to the truck.

Three Permit Day

While I got started on a pair of dead aspens, the girls wandered around in four or five inches of snow looking for Christmas trees.  After the firewood was bucked, loaded, and tagged, we added a seven or eight foot white fir for The Homestead.  Then we drove around for a few minutes looking for a smaller one for Grandma and Grandpa.  There it was, a Chevy full of forest products.