Whispers in the Wind...

Originally written October 12, 2009

Grand Junction, Colorado

LAST NIGHT the wind raged, shaking the trailer, rocking us to sleep. The leaves in the trees rustling like the waves crashing at the ocean. It's nice to return from Oklahoma and be back in the trailer. This morning the energy in the sky is still there setting the evergreen and deciduous trees waving to and fro, like a couple in an all night dance off. The clouds are dark and menacing with the threat of rain, but like a teasing younger sibling end up being more show than action and by 9 am, with full light in the sky, the dreary color has changed to a bright blue with white puffy highlights. Fall is definitely here, with winter closing in on its heals. I don't think Dave and I really anticipated still being in Grand Junction for October. We were hoping to be in Rico, south of here, working on the family mine and doing a bit of hunting and fishing... but once again the truck has left us somewhat stranded and we are found changing our schedule to meet Hers. Although family is pleased to have us around, this truck's tantrums are getting more than a bit tiring and expensive and are wearing our patience thin. The sooner we can get the truck's issues resolved the sooner we can be on our way again. Dave has an appointment to take her in to the Ford Diesel shop. They will do a diagnostic and find out why she has no humph. In the meantime we visit with family and continue to work on the little things around our home.

Friday October 16

Grand Junction to Rico Colorado

8:30 am- Thanks be to Heaven above we are on our way and faster than we had anticipated. With the truck's timing adjusted we have our fingers crossed. Our home is packed, our co-captain is hiding under the covers, and we are excited to be off. Earlier this morning we had breakfast with Bob, so with full bellies and light hearts we are off to see what we can see.

9:45 am- I cannot believe this is happening. We turned off the exit to Moab and the trailer burst her 4th tire. Will this ever end? Dave changed it and we got into Moab with the GPS finding a tire place. Thankfully the new tire was only $100, however we discovered the spare we were using was bulging and on the verge of erupting. CHA-CHING $$$. Two hundred dollars later with more time spent off the road we are now on our way again. Rico here we come, and then, all things willing onto Arizona.

2:00 pm- Arrive in Rico and park the "house" at the mine. We are here! The sun is out and it feels like Fall, smells like Fall, and even sounds like Fall. Driving through Dolores and outside Rico there are lots of hunting camps staked out along the river. Occasionally a shot rings out and I wonder if another tag has been filled or did the big one get away? Right now it is not too cold, however the weather report says snow is on its way.

Sometime During the Week

Rico, Colorado

RICO IS one of those towns that are small, blink and you've missed it. I grew up in one of these towns, Dave grew up in this one. Shaped by its mining history the main street is lined with buildings showing their age... their architectural style, worn stone work, fading advertisements form a time long ago. It is these same characteristics that give the street its charm and these structures a new lease on life. The furniture shop has become an antique boutique, the old firehouse now houses the Rico Historical Museum, the state bank building transformed into the current real estate office, and it continues like this down Glasgow Ave, aka Highway 145. Tucked away among the canyons of the San Juan Forest Rico once was a booming gold and silver mining town, boasting a population of 5000 residence, with the Rio Grand Southern Railroad running through its backyard. Now these same scarred and pock-marked mountains from Rico's colorful past form the backdrop for the town's present source of revenue, tourism.

Dave and I have been lucky to visit here twice this year, once during the summer for two weeks and then again this fall for seven days. In early August we had Ty, Dave's teenage daughter, with us. It looked very different then, flowers were in bloom, everything was green and warm, little black bugs were biting in force and the bears were out having picnics in the neighbors garbage. That first night we jumped in the jeep and drove along the back roads and up into the mountains searching for bears. We didn't see any that evening, but bears were definitely in the area as the evidence the next morning was proof of the pudding. A neighbors hatchback had been broken into via the side window. Bear tracks all over the ground, even Ursus americanus hair caught in the glass as he had climbed in and out of the window in search of some

tasty snacks. The previous night he had left behind a huge poo. The game warden came out and investigated the incident. upon his findings a living trap was laid with day old danishes as bait. The next morning the culprit had been caught and apparently this had not been his first internment. Bears get "two strikes and your out" rule. Upon misbehaving the first time they get tagged and relocated. If they are stubborn, find their way back and misbehave a second time, managing to get caught again, then they are sadly put down. This bear's fate was sealed.

Note: important to use bear proof garbage cans to dissuade the critters from finding easy food in human habitations. Fortunately this bear did not go to waste. The meat was cut up and distributed. The Jones's received a portion of it, and mighty tasty he was too.

Although we love visiting family, one of the biggest reasons Dave wanted to come back to his home was to mine. His face lights up like a little kid when he recounts tales of his boyhood, mining with his dad and finding quartz veins that would lead to nuggets of gold. With pan in hand he would take off on the four wheeler to the lands he'd explored as a kid. Sometimes I would go along and at other times it'd be just him, the mountain, and the mines. Much of those first weeks in August were spent showing Ty and I around his old stomping grounds. Other days Dave would hang around his dad's mining buildings. Old wood was burned, various metals salvaged, and the Grand Junction bomb squad called in to manage the boxed caps that were still stored there. All in all it was very exciting. We did a bit of camping with the family, celebrated Wyatt's birthday, and had a really terrific time meeting old friends. When the two weeks were up it was hard to say good-bye, but Dave and I knew we'd be back later.

We thought we'd have the entire Month of October in Rico, however as we have learned over and over on this trip one must be flexible with their time. We spent an extra week in

Oklahoma, and then the truck misbehaved, so now it's the middle of October and we have finally returned. The evenings are cooler and there are no annoying gnats or mosquitoes. Instead the river's water level has dropped dramatically and the Aspens have turned color and dropped their leaves, only the most stubborn are holding onto their yellow cloaks of Autumn. Dave and I have parked the trailer down at the mine and enjoy the privacy the woods and river provide. At night we can hear the coyotes, and in the quiet of the morning watch the juncos and chicadees forage for those last remaining seeds before the storms arrive. It is nice here, it feels familiar and comforting like the old quilt we snuggle under while reading a favorite book. With the last rays of Indian Summer I sit outside and draw the surrounding landscapes, or walk the dirt roads threading passed collapsed wealth of the past. Dave continues to dig, sifting through

snap shots of mining memories, excavating bits of remembered conversations with his father, and panning soil samples in anticipation of a little color. No hunting or fishing this October. In the eveni

ng we gather at the Jones's sharing a meal and the days adventures.

Saturday October 24

WE HAVE decided to take our leave. The weather is getting much colder. The last couple of mornings we've woken with ice on the inside of the windows. Todd's small generator has been keeping the trailer warm as the sun is only out for such a sort period of time during the day, and some days not at all. Yesterday morning Dave and I walked the river toward the cemetery. We could see our words as frozen condensation as we spoke of alternative travel plans. At times we would pause and watch the trickle of the

river break through the thin ice of a new winter. Small icicles have begun forming along eroded banks where the water has washed the soil away, leaving exposed roots and rocks. We walked and walked realizing we would need to find a way across. There were no bridges. With shoes and socks flung over our shoulders we slowly entered the freezing cold water, picking our path while trying not to fall in. It was a funny site, and neither of us thought to take a photo of the other until we were both on the opposite shore, feet warming in wool socks once again. The walk was enjoyable and took us all morning and part of the afternoon. We spied new spots for the trailer for future visits and watched hawks circling in the updraft searching for meaty morsels. The season is definitely changing. It has become a tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwich kinda day.

The truck continues to have issues, now it's the starter. Dave fixed it, but we don't know how long it will last and with the small amount of savings left we cannot risk a bigger problem out in the middle of nowhere. We talked about heading south, but the jobs that were available have been filled. Now it's Plan B- back to Grand Junction. We'll drive the 5 hours without stopping, as we have no confidence in Gutless restarting if we stop. Everything is packed, tied down and ready to go. We leave before 9:00 am.

We are back in Grand Junction now and plan to spend the holidays here. We hope you are all well this winter and we look forward seeing many of you in the coming spring.

Dave and I would like to take this moment and thank a very special lady for a precious gift she made us before we left on this adventure. Dixie knitted each of us a pair of woolen slipper socks and they are one of our most treasured belongs we have. They have saved our feet on some very cold nights and have been a comfort on those days when you just want to fluff around. Thank you Dixie, we love you and look forward to seeing you at Barnes & Noble upon our return. Keep up the knitting!!

Huggs to everyone.

V, D and the cat!

Back To Basics

Rico, Colorado

I WAS CLEANING out my pantry a couple of days ago, trying to get it better organized, and I discovered a tiny treasure trove hidden back behind the pasta. In the far right corner of the top shelf a little grey metallic box sat. Upon pulling it out and opening it I found it was filled with recipes of all sorts, hand written on well worn index cards. Some of them had headings such as From The Kitchen Of... or Here's What's Cooking...

There were cookies, cakes, casseroles, sauces and soups, main meals and mayonnaise. A time capsule from the 50's, 60's and 70's. Family recipes passed down from mother to daughter. I went through them all and put aside a few I wanted to make in the coming weeks. The first being a chocolate chip combination different than my own.

I remember one of the first times I attempted to cook. The butter turned black, both from the burning of it and the melting of the plastic spatula. Later I attempted steak, but not before calling my neighbor to find out how to cook it. College had been all about Ramen and the 101 ways to serve it. It wasn't really until I headed off to Alaska to do some commercial fishing that my culinary skills took a 180 degree turn for the better. I had to learn quickly how to turn a wholesome meal from nothing into something. Have you ever seen tinned bacon? When you open the top the fatty rinds are swirled together with bits of wax paper. With the steering set on auto pilot I was often seen peeling potatoes, while muffins baked, and the fish marinated.

My old ratty copy of Irma Rombauer's Joy of Cooking says one should always keep onions, carrots, celery and potatoes on hand. You can make anything with those ingredients, and it's true. More so now than ever before my cupboards are stocked with those very same items along with flour, sugar, baking powder, and other standard basics. What's in my pantry, although small as it is, is not far off to what woman like my great, great, grandmother Mears would have had in theirs. Just like any good pioneer we pick up fresh veggies, keep the freezer stocked with hamburger and steaks, and always have bacon and coffee on hand for mornings with eggs and pancakes. And if I'm really lucky Dave will catch a few fresh fish that we can serve up with a slice of lemon and basil.

Traveling around has given me opportunities to improve my kitchen skills. Where $5 will get you an already pre-cooked meal of very little, for the same amount I can make a dinner that will last several days. Instead of buying the prepackaged cookies for $3, I can buy the chocolate chips and have warm, gooey, chewy homemade ones in less than an hour. They eat just as quickly and I can drop more per batch. the other night I threw together a meatloaf and later this week I'll sacrifice the black bananas turning them into bread. With the holidays coming my skills will be tested on the propane stove as I whip up pumpkin pies, green bean casserole, and later fudge. I know there is a bit of June Cleaver in me just trying to get out.

THERE IS SOMETHING to be said about having such a skill. We live in a society where speed is the thing, fast food, pre-heated dinners, right to your door deliveries. We justify this speed as our ability to save time in the kitchen in order to spend more quality time with our families. Cooking today isn't the same as when I was growing up. I remember my mom having us stir the gravy after the roast came out of the oven. Explaining how to add the potato water to the drippings, stirring slowly as the beefy juice got thicker and glossy in color. I think she said stir it until the color looks like melted chocolate. Another time we made gingerbread cookies for the church's Christmas bazaar. Hundreds of little men and women were decorated in bikinis, muscles, fig leaves, Elvis jumpsuits and other non traditional cookie men outfits. My brother and I took turns mixing and rolling out the dough, using the cookie cutters and competing to see who made the perfect cookie. We laughed the entire time we were doing it and ate a few broken bits along the way. It is scientific, it's fun, and it's yummy, and like everything else in life it just takes practice.

It is through cooking that I have found a way to connect to the women in my life; my mother, my aunt, my grandmothers, and even those pioneer woman, who traveled in tiny wagons with only core ingredients and what they harvested along the way. Cooking with its simple methods and complex combinations, without electric mixer, food processor or microwave, armed with my whisk and wooden spoon, allows me a freedom to express myself in a way I never could have imagined. I once loathed the kitchen and the idea of cooking up my next meal, but now I look forward to the challenge. Finding a recipe in the box, or cookbook, or magazine and regardless of the skill level knowing I can do it and it will taste fabulous when I am through. It also helps when you have someone who will eat pretty much whatever you put in front of him.

Try it, start with something simple, but try it one night at week for a month. See what happens. You might find you like getting back to basics, you may even uncover a bit of June Cleaver in you.

Sending you all warm thoughts.

Happy Cooking!

Dave, Vanessa and Sackett