Author: Steve

Friday. We looked up the quail and it was gamble’s. It was that little black patch
on the belly. Still at 299. It was that little black patch on the belly,
and the range map. The birds are almost identical, but their ranges don’t
overlap. If we see a quail out here in the desert, it will be a Gamble’s
Quail. If we see one closer to the coast, it will be a California Quail. Floated the river again today. Different experiences entirely. Yesterday
was the kayaks, the only boats on the water, admiring the fish, listening to
the birds, analyzing the path of the currents at low water, searching for
sunken artifacts. Leisurely. Quiet. Today was the twenty-eight foot patio boat. A powerboat. A pontoon boat.
Six of us. Not crowded. Room for fifteen or so. Ice chests. Music. All
the beers, pops, water we could drink. Floating quietly, except for the
conversation and music. Loud and fast at thirty-five mph. Stopping at sand
bars to get out and wander in the water. People to yell at, and wave to,
and visit with. A guided tour. Other boats and jet skis going every
direction. Drifted way way down the river. Blasted back. Different experiences entirely, and both well worth doing. Tomorrow. Off to visit Judy’s Mom Helen in Temecula.

Annie, lying in a puddle at 106 degrees, working on her tan.

Thursday. The park in Las Vegas was nicely landscaped. Each site had a little bit of
grass. Every night, we could hear the sprinklers come on at eleven. They
would run for just a few minutes, then shut off. Later, they would come on
again, for just a few minutes, then shut off. They would do it again at
five am, for just a few minutes. I guess they were being careful not to
water so much all at once that water could run off and be wasted. A little
bit of water wets the ground and soaks in before the next round of water
hits it. And it was all very carefully done under the cover of darkness. In Colorado, we get a phenomenon called Virga. Virga is rain. You can see
the dark cloud. You can see the streaks of rain falling. The ground
beneath is totally dry. Not a drop. All the rain evaporates in the dry air
before it makes it to the ground. It doesn’t always happen that way.
Sometimes rain makes it all the way to the ground. I can imagine sprinkling
lawns in Las Vegas at mid-day being something like that, though. Water
squirting out of lawn sprinklers, spraying into the air, the grass below
totally dry. Lawn sprinkler Virga. I’m not saying it really happened. I’m just imagining it.
Life on the river. It’s hot here. In the hundreds. Blue sky. Light breeze. The river
running past. The river is controlled by the dam right upstream. Usually
the flow is low in the mornings, and they let out progressively more during
the day, so the water is at its highest in the afternoon and evening. It’s
like a tide to monitor. When you jump in the water, you get swept away much
faster in the afternoons than you do in the mornings. John and I floated the river in the kayaks. We started before it got hot.
It was only in the nineties. Three hours. Seven miles. We stopped a lot.
Sunscreen. Judy and Sue went shopping for clothes and toe rings. Then they
drove the Jeep to pick us up at a boat ramp downstream, and have lunch in
the restaurant on the river there. It was a nice float. And the toe rings
are stunning, as well. We saw some quail in the desert outside the restaurant. I wonder if they
were gambel’s quail, or California valley quail.

Kayaks on the Colorado.

Disconnecting in Carbondale in a light rain following the thunderstorm. We
have a routine. I drive us there. Judy goes inside and gets us registered,
while I disconnect the tow car. I got the disconnection done, and went
inside out of the rain to check on Judy’s progress. She was still inside
chatting at the front desk. I hadn’t been inside more than a minute, when
the woman behind the counter directed us to our site. She was very
specific. She looked right at me and explained “That’s space “N”, like in
knucklehead.” What was that? I was only in here a minute. I had hardly
even made any smart aleck remarks at all. She must be a man-hater. So we’re settled in at the Crystal River Resort outside Carbondale for a
week. It’s right on the Crystal River. It’s a little rough here.
Carbondale is a little rough. A messy mountain town. But when you look
around at where we are, Wow! What a place to be. We’re parked with the water right outside our window. Good background noise
for sleeping. We’re right next to/under a blue spruce tree. The mountain
chickadees are outside, only three feet away. There is a white-breasted
nuthatch creeping up and down the tree trunk. The water looks a little high and rough for fishing here at the campground.
The water in the Crystal River is silver gray, just like always. Tomorrow,
we’ll scout around for a friendlier spot to fish. A little less drop.
Smoother slower water. I’ve never liked the Crystal for fishing. That’s
because I have never done well here. We have some information about where
to fish upstream, though, which could change my opinion. This might not be
a stupid river after all. Today, we drove back to Aspen to pick up the bicycles. We drop them off at
the Physics center when we first get there and leave them all week. It’s
handy to have them right there for lunchtime transportation. We got so
excited yesterday about finishing up and getting out of town before the
down-valley rush hour started, we forgot to load them back onto the car. Let me explain rush hour in Aspen. A beautiful town like this, isolated in
the high country, you wouldn’t expect something so cosmopolitan as a rush
hour. But Aspen is different. It is so beautiful here, more people want to
live here than can fit. As a result, property values got bid up. They used
to complain that all the local residents got pushed out by the millionaires.
Now they’re complaining that the millionaires are getting pushed out by the
billionaires. It comes down to this: If you have to work to be in Aspen,
you can’t afford to live in Aspen. Aspen is for people who have already
made their money. It takes a lot of people to provide the services and support for the Aspen
residents. People who can’t afford to live there. They commute. They
can’t commute out the east end of town, because the only thing off that
direction is Independence Pass. They go west. West to Basalt, El Jebel,
Carbondale. There is no relief in Glenwood Springs, so they turn left and
go off toward Rifle and Parachute. It’s forty miles from Glenwood to Aspen.
Thirty miles from Carbondale. It’s not cheap to live in the towns
down-valley, but it’s possible. We checked the classifieds for Aspen. You
can get a one bedroom apartment in Aspen for $2,000 a month. They commute. We haven’t actually seen the commute. It is legendary, so we avoid it at
all costs. Even without rush hour, it’s a difficult road to drive. It
alternates between two lanes and four lanes. The speed limit is sixty-five
miles per hour, but the drive is punctuated by stop lights. Stopping for
red lights at highway speed. Maybe ten lights between here and Aspen. I
don’t know the road well enough yet to anticipate all of them.