Radio Silence

Tomorrow I move to a cabin in Polebridge, a town 60 miles north on the border of Glacier National Park. There is no electricity and no running water. There is one phone. So I will be out of touch for about three weeks, until I move again. Here is a picture of Polebridge, the town (pop. 90):


I'll have pictures of my own when I come back.

Where I've Been for the Past Ten Days

Great used book/record store in Bozeman. Owner's a jazz head, has a great eye. Picked up Roberto Juarroz in translation, which I've been looking for, and Requiem by Anna Akhmatova. One of my favorite shops.

Big Sky Country.

This was my place in Bigfork. Pretty plush. Buttering myself up before the true wilderness.

This was my view. Those are mountains in the background.

This is where I read.

Bear-Bait

Pebble Creek hike.

An hour later.

We left around the same time. Luckily, I only saw him from my car.


I saw three other bears in the park: a grizzly through binoculars, and the black bears, mother and cub, barely visible in this photo.

The Animals of the Grand Canyon

The majestic buffalo.

Taking back what's his, bellowing.


Buffalo family. Not pictured is the rest of the herd, upwards of 100 head. There are several herds in the park, with enough animals (3500 or so) to necessitate population control through annual hunts.

Grouse family.

Elk does. Never saw a buck.

The Views of Yellowstone (Boring)

Near the North Entrance

On my hike to Pebble Creek.

North/Northeast

Northeast.


Pictures of the Chief Joseph Highway didn't work out, which is ok, because the Nez Perce are more interesting than the view, anyway:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chief_Joseph

Blame it on the Tetons

The big one.

Jenny Lake, where I camped. Jogging around its perimeter, I saw a wolf.

Fitting, then, that this is called the Lupine Meadow.

Americana.

American.
(that's the back of a truck, with a camper top on it, shut off and soldered at the end, and attached to a trailer hitch)

Into Wyoming

Boulder Books, in Boulder, Colorado.

Pig and Crossbones, near the CO/WY border.

Wyoming is underrated.

One of my favorite books of short stories is Rock Springs, by Richard Ford. The title story takes place here, in Wyoming. I didn't find the gold mine that is in the story-- just coal.

Durango to Redstone, Colorado

I have no idea what this is.

Between Durango and Red Stone. I washed my feet here.


Same place. I did not wash my feet in the abandoned house.

Washed out. Looked better in person. Here it looks kind of like this M83 album cover:
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2wViwLz_0WaNuhoDE7EeDGD8bVZ19JUvle6bhJtjOOr_uxy-ed12CwlzhqYTDXlN_hen8KKNH9HmN5QQsT1PUBR384_pyaup1WbNowd-w2F41PqI1pFVtsCkNo0snWT_VuBTbQpad8n8/s400/run+into+flowers.jpg

The Hike

I was young and stupid, and had no depth perception.

"I love ten mile hikes!" I said. Just like I love these desert rocks!

At the bottom of the Grand Canyon, I blazed a new trail and ate lunch by a waterfall. All was still good. But the nettles in my flesh were a portent of what was to come.

Five miles straight up, at 7,000 feet of elevation, makes even the most benign desert plant (one that I found beautiful on the way down) a totem of overwhelming hatred.

As I dragged myself up the Grand Canyon, I heard the French tourists whispering.
It was only in my car, driving away, that I realized why.
I had stripes of sweat-borne salt on my forehead in patterns resembling war paint.

If they only knew.

The Grand Canyon

Off the side of the road in northern Arizona, on the way.

Shout-out.

Scary Larry cleans many of the highways in northern Arizona.

Obligatory Grand-Canyon vista shot.

Pt. II.

Petrified Forest/ Flagstaff

Puerco Pueblo is a small settlement in Arizona. 100 people lived here between 1250 and 1350. I nonetheless believe that Park Rangers built most of the walls on display.

The people of Puerco Pueblo drew many things on the rocks. The woman behind me kept yammering things like "the stork and the baby are so adorable!" I think it is a hawk, vulture, or eagle eating an infant, but that's just me.

A 225 million-year old tree.

Obligatory vista shot (the Painted Desert).

Clever girl.

After photographing the T. Rex, a sandstorm blew up. I wished the dinosaur luck in these post-meteor times.

My motel in Flagstaff, on Route 66. I loved the town but all of my pictures of it are boring pictures of coffee-shops and bookstores, so none here.

Santa Fe Pt. II

I used to be Dave Maass's intern at the San Antonio Current. Now he works at the alt-weekly in Santa Fe, the Reporter, and his intern is a pot-bellied pig named Truffles.

I had Vietnamese pork noodles for lunch, which interested Truffles greatly. All in all, I think I was a better intern.

Continued fascination: derelict, round agricultural equipment. This is a cistern outside of Madrid, New Mexico, on the so-called Turquoise Trail.