Bus Home

Red signs, yellow lights, reflecting in the wet pavement.
Everybody was in doorways, beneath roofs, trying to stay dry til the bus comes.

When it does, I sit towards the back, and pull a book from my pack to read. First though I gaze out of the window, watching the people til we leave downtown.

Once a lady got on and sat next to me. I usually am quiet, never having gotten over being shy, but I talked to her.

Our conversation got around to pets, and she told me she had a border collie. I listened to her describe her dog and how much enjoyment and love it brought to her life.

I told her about my border collies, and the dream trip me and them had planned
to the Alp Lake Valley in Montana.

She cared about animals, which makes her a good person in my eyes.

Mine are waiting for me at home. I bet they listen for the bus about this time of day, and their hearts quicken when they hear me unlock the door. They are wagging tails and smiling border faces as I let them in the house through the downstairs door. I tell Ben to sing and he howls and barks as I walk up stairs.

Ramblings

I read about a study conducted on people who came in to sudden wealth. They were gloriously happy in the initial exciting state of spending almost limitless amounts of money.

The thing is though, six months or a year into their new life, they ended up about as happy as they were before. Money made them comfortable, but could not increase their happiness in the long term.

Don't get me wrong. I know money is necessary. Having enough money to pay bills, and some to give away, is a fine thing.

My heart tells me it is not the most important thing though.

I know this from all the backpacking and walking I do with my dogs, and all the nature programs I give for schoolchildren and their teachers.

What is it worth to lead those kids and teachers through the woods, into a meadow, and see in their eyes the fascination when a deer rambles off, or a hawk soars on the updrafts, to see in their eyes that my stories reach them, about the wonder and beauty of wild animals and wilderness?

What is it worth to have the heart to climb the high mountains thoughout the year, every year, to be there alone when the wind blows through the pines and spruce with noone else to hear except elk and dear and coyotes and grizzly?

Another way to describe what I am saying, is from the story of Aaron Ralson, the the young man who was trapped by a boulder for six days in a Utah Canyon, that I heard him tell last Tuesday night at a booksigning at the Tattered Cover in Denver.

Aaron said the most euphoric moment of his life was when he finally cut through the flesh of his hand, after breaking his two bones by bending them across the rock. He said that in spite of the pain, when that tissue broke away, he was lifted because he knew he had a future, a life ahead of him.

He said that he was changed from that moment, that since then he takes immense joy in the simple things of each day,in the beauty of the earth, in his friends and companions.

I think Aaron has it right. And I may have come to a similar viewpoint in my simple life, where I take great pleasure in each morning beginning, and the love and loyalty of my two border collies, who go everywhere with me. Since they were pups us three have backpacked to high mountain ranges in Colorado, Idaho. Wyoming, and Montana. And I have seen the most incredible things up there.

But we always return to the greenbelt down the hill from my house, to the grove of eleven cottonwood trees. I look up at those towering branches, stand over the cattails at the frog pond, and somehow I feel as if I add my new memories to the still air under those trees. I acknowledge my journey ends where it began, right here, where my home is, where I feel the spirit in nature, and sense the sacred beneath those eleven trees.

Cody Wyoming (Cassies Saloon)

I planned my backpack trip so that after hiking out of the Madison Range I would drive to Yellowstone and camp there. I saw Old Faithful again, then went up by the lake and across the Hayden Valley to Canyon.

Once again I went the 328 steps down the Uncle Tom's trail to the base of the Lower Falls of the Yellowstone. I waited on the steps for a long time til there was noone around, and I could play Amazing Grace on my harmonica without disturbing anyone. It meant plenty to me, to again hear my notes drifting out into such a beautiful landscape.

On the last night of my vacation I stayed in Cody. I usually try to end my trips there, with a visit to the Art and Nature Museums at the Bufallo Bill Historic Center. They had a special exhibit this year by Alexander Proctor, a sculptor who lived in Denver from age 11, in the late 1800's. The exhibit said he camped and hunted alone in the Colorado Rockies when he was young. One of his favorite places was Flattops Wilderness, where he would spend months alone. A couple of his huge sculptures are still in the park in front of the city and county building of Denver. My favorite was a lifesize piece he created in 1929 of an indian maiden and fawn.

I also stopped in Cassie's nightclub on Saturday night to be around people and listen to the band. There were several bikers there on the way to Sturgess. A large group thought I looked to lonely sitting at a table by myself, so invited me over to theirs.

They asked me plenty of questions, and I told them what I had been up to the last couple of weeks. I described backpacking in the Madison's and having to be alert because of all the Grizzlies in this mountain range just a few miles West of Yellowstone. They would not believe that I went up there without a gun, and nothing I could say would convince them.

As the evening went on they kept drinking and became more talkative and uninhibited. One said this was such wide open country that you could hide a body anywhere and noone would find it. He thought that was so funny he repeated it again to me twice more in the next half hour. I told them about my long marriage, and how my exwife and I used to come to Cassie's a few years ago while on vacation. They wanted to know what happened to end my marriage after twenty six years, and were quiet waiting for my answer. 'She said she wanted to move on.' , 'she said it was her', was my reply, which sound like sour cliches now, especially when used to end a lifetime together. One of the ladies at the table said 'He is allright, he has good eyes', which I figure was a compliment.

That was plenty of socializing, and countered all the time I had spent with just my two dogs in the weeks before. I also got to twostep with all the local western ladies from Cody who came out on a Saturday Night. The best was the intensity of dancing with a pretty woman with long blonde hair while the band played a great version of Steve Earle's Copperhead Road

Bud

Its been three years since my old dog Bud passed away. I still think of him, remember how happy his life was with me.

I am not sure why, but I have been taking some of his ashes with me on my backpack trips to the mountains since them. I scatter them over high country landscape in the most beautiful places I visit.

I like to picture him in the Rockies enjoying the freedom and beauty of the glacial lake basins, running among touring spruces in front of peaks reflected in the the mountain lakes.

The kind of heaven I hope for is one where Bud and I would again visit those lake basins, on sunny mornings.

Contra Dancing, or Three Weeks Without My Truck

My truck is being fixed for hail damage. The shop is keeping it twice as long as they had planned. After already being two weeks without a vehicle, I am facing the three-day labor day weekend with no wheels.

Fortunately I get around on my bicycle and the bus just fine for 90 percent of my activities.

I still havent found a way to get to the Saturday Night honky tonk without my truck though. The bicycle or the bus just don't work for that. When I get it back I will try my darndest to make up for the Saturdays I have missed, at the Grizzly Rose and the Stampede.

I did manage to get to a contra dance on Friday night though, and it was a heck of a good time.

Have you ever heard of Contra dancing?

It is not well known, but it is very popular throughout the country. Contra consists of sets of 2 couples, in a long line. A live
band is always present. Dances last ten to fifteen minutes each, and are a physical workout.

To start the dance the caller walks you through the patterns, which are various combinations of swings, pass thorughs, circles, do-si-do's,etc., The swings can be fast and furious, and tend to make me dizzy. I never did spin myself much in country western dancing, just lead my partners into them, so spinning and controlling dizziness is new for me.

At the end of each set of patterns of the dance, you pass down the line, and repeat the same sequence with a new couple. This causes you to end up dancing not only with your own partner, but also with every other lady in the line.

Contra dances are high spirited and fun. Dances typically start at 8 and last three hours. There is usually a class for beginners before the dance. There is no smoking or drinking, and plenty of socializing before the dance and during the food break in the middle of the evening. That is a good thing for me, as I am very comfortable dancing but being shy, have lots of work to go to become comfortable at socializing.

I have made many friends however at the contra dances and love going. It helps that the ladies are so pretty and easy to talk to.

Contra dancers are often in very good shape, since the dances are so physical and exhausting. I have learned my normal cotton shirts I wear on a Saturday
night quickly get soaked in sweat. The moisture wicking long sleeve t-shirts are much better, and most of the men wear something like that. The ladies usually wear thin sleeveless and very cool dresses.

On friday I mentioned to a lady that I really wanted to come to this event, truck in the shop be damned, and told her I rode my bicycle here. She asked how far that was. "Eight miles or so", I replied. She said that isnt too bad, "Yesterday I rode 70 miles." She felt like it too, as light as a feather and a body like agate.

The trick to avoid getting dizzing during the spins is to look your partner in the eye as you go around. I am just starting to master this. All you see is a smiling face and passionate eyes. The rest is a blur, and the world is pretty much irrelevant, right then anyway.

The live band consists of banjos, guitars, and one or more fiddles. The fiddle is the main instrument. Threre are no steps in contra. You just walk to the beat of the music, which makes it very easy to learn. What is hard for a beginner is remembering the patterns of that dance. It helps to play close attention what the caller says and to be aware of what the other couples are doing, in case you get behind with the movements.

The more experienced dancers often keep an eye on you and are quick to set you right when you start to mess up, in a friendly manner.

The band will start the song slow and steady. Later when it looks like the dancers are doing well, they will pick up the beat and intensity of the music. The dancers respond in kind, and that is when it gets really fun. The caller may even stop calling when he sees that everyone has the dance patterns memorized.

All ages are welcome at contra. There are often teenagers or younger all the way up to men and ladies in their seventies. The olnly required is a love of old time music and a desire to have fun, and it surely is that, and also great exercise.

For more information on contra visit this website:
http://www.contradance.org/