Virgin, Utah, always greets me with rain

Well, three out of four times. So a majority.

Color

One more time

Last year I wrote about my bad luck with steps for the Rolling Steel Tent. Ran over one, drove off without another one... So I built one. Really nice, made with lightweight reclaimed cedar, mitered corners, countersunk bronze screws, stain and all that.

Then I backed over it.

It  was enough to make me swear off any more steps. I'd just climb in and out of the van the hard way, the muscle building way, the clumsy old man way.

But in the process of building Forrest's cabins, we generated scrap lumber. It was just sitting there, waiting to be burned or hauled to the dump. Oh, what the hell, I told myself. Build another step.

But this time it would be nothing fancy. Just function. Slap it together with the nail gun and call it a day. I didn't even cut the top to fit. There was a piece of old plywood about the right size. Good enough. Especially for something that will end up run over of left behind.

Finding Nebo

The Mount Nebo Scenic Byway, also called the Nebo Loop, runs through Utah's Wasatch Mountains from Payson to Nephi. Or Nephi to Payson.

The road chugs up steep grades and switchbacks. It wasn't easy or cheap to build. But its main purpose, besides access for firefighters, is recreation. Hiking, camping, trail riding, nature watching, hunting, photography... There was a time when someone asked, "Build a road all the way up there and down the other side just because it's a nice place to go?" And enough people answered, "Hell yeah!"

There's lots of dispersed camping along the Loop. And there are a few campgounds, some at about 5,500 feet elevation and some at about 8,000 feet. The Loop summits at about 9,000, and Mount Nebo is just shy of 12,000 feet high.

It was a beautiful day up there. As you can see, the oaks have started to change colors. Aspens around here grow above 7,000 feet. Right now they're still green. But when they turn yellow, POW!

Last butterflies of summer

Relocation

When I first came to Forrest's place, it was hot and shade was a good thing. So camping on the north side of the shop, in the shadow, with some overhanging trees, was a good thing. No need for awnings or other heat-defeating measures.

It's September and not hot anymore up here at 7,000+ feet. Early mornings are chilly in the shade. Late mornings are chilly in the shade. Being kind of slow about some things (particularly when I'm chilly), I finally realized I could move the Rolling Steel Tent out into the sun. Duh.

Someone accidentally hit the hibernation button

I wasn't up late. I hadn't had a heavy meal or alcohol. I'd had a good siesta in the afternoon. But I slept very deeply. And long.

I roused to consciousness in the wee hours enough to see it was 4:26. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

I woke later, thinking it might be about 7:00, because that's how it usually goes. It was 9:04.

What? How did that happen? Not that I'm complaining. It caused no schedule problems (since I don't have a schedule) and I feel fine. It's just a small mystery.

Chillin' time

One of the main reasons I went to the expense of having a refrigerator in the Rolling Steel Tent is cold beverages. Well, yeah, keeping food fresh, too, but mostly frosty cold drinks.

The fridge draws considerable power from my batteries. That's not a problem during the day, when the sun and solar panels keep the batteries well charged. The batteries store enough electricity to keep the fridge running and the contents properly cooled through the night.

Unless...

There are times when I'm not paying attention and I run out of chilled drinks toward the end of daylight hours. Putting air-temperature things in the refrigerator raises the fridge's temperature. The fridge then needs to run a lot to cool things back down. And that depletes the batteries. So I end up waiting until morning before restocking. Then drinks won't be chilled until later in the day.

Ah, but since I'm camped next to Forrest's shop, I have shore power. The fridge isn't wired to run directly off 110 volt current, but I have a battery charger. Shore power to battery charger, battery charger to batteries, batteries to fridge. Problem solved.

The original Zorro the Wonder Dog

1989–2005

I need to stop wanting a drone

I thought I had the drone thing out of my system. Then I happened to pass by a display of them while getting necessary supplies.

"YES," said Id.

"Maybe," said Ego.

"No," said Superego.

Yet there I was, a few days later, looking up the DJI Phantom 3 Standard. And reading the reviews. And looking for the best prices. Id and Ego were smiling, nodding their heads. Superego was reciting the reasons for his veto.

"Too much money, and it will take up too much room."

"It's not that expensive, and it won't take up that much room," countered Ego.

"The insurance on the Rolling Steel Tent is due this month. And the tires will need to be replaced this year," counter-countered Superego.

"But it's so cool," whined Id.

"Think of the amazing videos you could shoot," added Ego.

"And it's so cool," reminded Id.

Superego was firm. "No."

Ego started negotiating. "What about a small, really cheap one just to take the occasional airborne still?"

"No. You'll be dissatisfied and want the Phantom 3 Standard even more."

"No we won't," said Ego.

"We promise," said Id. "And I'll feed it every day," dragging out an old pledge he hoped was somehow relevant and convincing.

"You forget I've lived with you two for over sixty years. I know how meaningless your promises are."

"Oh, come on. Live just a little," Ego chided.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese," Id cried.

"NO! Now go to bed."

Here it is, twelve hours later, and I'm still thinking about drones. Damn.

Done

Lou teaches his hat to sit and stay. Good hat.

We got the last of the laminate flooring installed in the two spec cabins. The buyers will finish the rest of the interior however they want.

Now it's break time. Back to my natural lazy, unproductive state. Sweet.

The Rolling Steel Tent might gather no moss, but...

Not the greatest weather to wake up to

The folks in Ridgway say August was unusually wet. Now it's September and it rained most of last night.

The morning has been gloomy with low clouds draped artistically in the ravines and over the mountains.

I heard somewhere that it takes the right combination of sunny days and chilly nights for leaves to change to their brightest colors. Otherwise, they become brownish, or just drop from the trees.

So my preference for sunshine isn't just that it makes it easier for me to get out of bed and start functioning. It's for the sake of all the aspens, cottonwoods and oaks around here. I want them to look their best. Really, it's not about me.

I'm suddenly craving cole slaw

Hangin' in T-ride

Our friends Joe and Doug had a gig over the mountain in Telluride, so Forrest, Lou and I went to give them a listen while eating kebob.