Bisbee AZ

We visit the small, funky town of Bisbee Arizona every ten years or so, just to see how it is doing.  It is an old mining town on the Mexican border with a lot of big, brick, boomtown buildings so every time it burned or flooded, there was something regal remaining.  It was originally a big underground copper mine until after the Second World War when they said ‘screw it’ and dug some Kennecott sized open pits at the entrance to town and took down some of the local mountains.  Nonetheless it is a groovy little town now, tucked up in the hills at 5200 feet with lots of dive bars and haunted hotels, grandmas’ antiques, and tourist curio shops.  It has had its ups and downs since they stopped mining in 1975 but it is still viable and, on some level, it works.

The town is just like Park City was in 1970 with so much cute potential that it could just explode.  There is no skiing due to the dearth of snow, nor much hiking or biking, due to the dearth of local ambition.  Most of the residents are freaks and haries, old timers down on their luck or newbies looking for another way.  There is a strong art community and free form expressionism as well as the long beard and colored hair contingents.  There are not many jobs here, but no one seems to mind while living on their wits, a fixed income or the kindness of strangers. 

My wife and I got engaged there on New Year’s 1999/2000.  We were staying at the fancy old Coper Queen Hotel and having a fine New Year’s dinner when a parade of crazed hipsters passed in front of the dining room windows with kazoos and ukuleles, costumes, and props.  We dropped our silver spoons and pressed napkins and went out and joined the parade.  It serpentined all around the hilly town gaining momentum and participants.  We wound up in Brewery Gulch (the red light district) at this happening bar with a raucous grunge band cranking at midnight and I popped the question.  The rest, they say, is history.  

So my wife and I went back to Brewery Gulch in the old red light district and found the funky bar we got engaged in 22 years ago.  It is now called St Elmo’s and has been in service since 1902, without any new paint or soap employed the entire time.  I think the same old, grey-beard dude has been sitting at the corner of the bar, closest to the door, ever since 1902.  St. Elmo’s was ranked as one of the top dive bars in the USA, coming in at a respectable #7 and they are trying hard to improve on that ranking.  It didn’t seem that repulsive when we got engaged there but it just goes to show that memory is selective, transient, and inaccurate.  

St Elmo’s did remind us of the old Alamo bar (No Name now) with its vaulted-arch brick ceilings, the same guys sitting on the same stools all day long and the puddle of blood on the floor from last night’s altercations.  It reminded us of Park City before our huge success.  It reminded us what Bisbee could be with a little effort and imagination.  We started to brainstorm the immediate needs of the town for success:  water, schools, roads, hike and bike trails, art festivals, film festivals, sports fields, tournaments, theaters, traffic circles, free busses, park and ride lots, affordable housing, public art, a Banksy, gondolas, cabriolets, funiculars, Pickleball, a tunnel, a fly over, timed traffic lights, a mall, ice rinks, a terrain park, painted bike lanes, leadership, vision, ambition and energy ….  

Wait a minute, stop the music.  We had gone thru the same exercise last year with some locals in the fledgling ski town of Phillipsburg Montana, who had just gotten new sidewalks and curbs, streetlights and pavement, a brew pub and a coffee shop.  ‘We don’t want to become another Park City’ they told us in hushed, apologetic tones.  This reminded us how we used to say that we didn’t want to become another Aspen in the old days, before we became another Vail.

 Why not, we admitted, let Bisbee be Bisbee – Mayberry on Acid – as they proclaim.  Let it be small and funky, floundering for identity but comfortable with who they are.  Be careful what you wish for Bisbee, Philipsburg and Park City, when God wants to punish you, he makes your dreams come true.

Valiens

 

Well Vail has spoken and the 9990 gate is closed for good.  They have thrown us an access bone to our public lands and left the Peak 5 gate open at all times for those who can navigate the obstructions and negotiate to the safe skiing.  We locals were not invited to the table for discussion but neither was the ski patrol, from what we have heard.  The stake holders were the corporate share holders, and maybe an accountant and a lawyer or two.  Its too bad since we might have agreed with them on this decision and then they would have had transparency as well as local and patrol buy-in and not our heightened disdain or dissent. 

We get It that it was a safety decision for the loss of life up there is unacceptable, but it was not a binary decision.  The 9990 gate cold have been equipped with a screening mechanism or the ski-patrol could have regulated it to prevent the uninformed or ill-equipped from using it during unsafe times.  Or the Peak 5 gate may be more dangerous.  Instead, the qualified and compliant are being punished for the actions of the unqualified and non-compliant. 

It won’t hurt Vail even if all 1800 signees of our Petition for Meaningful Discussion didn’t buy a pass this year but they are losing an important population of those who created that resort’s vibe. We did not invent this mountain town lifestyle, but we perfected it.   Park West, Pork Worst. Wolf Mountain, The Can or Park City, it does not matter what you call it, It’s about the people.  Vail needs us on that ridge line, they want us on that ridge line.  Every skier on that mountain would look up at those fine backcountry lines and think to them selves that they too could ski there, even if they never did.  Now they will look up at empty bowls with avalanche fences on them and wonder; what are they really for if not for ultimate powder skiing.  Isn’t that what it is all about. 

We don’t want our money back, we want our mountains back.  We want our town name as well as it’s reputation of low key, world class powder skiing.  Skiing at the Canyons has now become prosaic and pedantic instead of being world class like they advertise.  Weekend and holidays are off limits and Powder days are now a crowded joke where if you can get on the mountain by 1100 it is all skied out by those who have better credentials.  There is no public access to the local backcountry and public lands and we are forced to drive into the gridlock of the Wasatch Front or out to the Uintas for long approaches and alternative fall lines. 

Vail’s gifts to our community are greater density developments, crowded slopes and roads, and a ‘Je ne sais quoi’ attitude towards our local thoughts and opinions.  We made our Faustian deal with the devil for their cheap season ski passes and found that everyone in town has one, not to mention Salt Lake City, Colorado, LA, New York, Switzerland, and Australia.  Their hostile takeover of our resorts has resulted with us as the vanquished, relegated to the backseat with nothing to say.  It’s either that or pack our little boxes and get out.   Is that being a good neighbor?  Now as they parcel out their inholdings they are asking for bigger buildings, higher densities and less restrictions along with better busses, parking, roads and services.  Its like they own the place.  And maybe they do.

Vail is the biggest employer in town but they impose their will with impunity.  We are only a small handful of interested skiers that are easy to ignore but we believe our politicians and leaders should step up to this corporation on land access and other issues, in a public forum where it is not so easy to ignore the will and wishes of the people.  This is not a company town yet and only good conversations and communication will keep it that way.  Keep this in mind next November when we determine who will have these conversations.   It is time for our public officials to stand up to the bully corporate ski industry to give voice to their constituents to save our quality of life and the soul of our town.

Equal TIme

 

It seems symptomatic to me that while this town struggles for its philosophical soul and balance, this venerable newspaper replaces an old school and respected columnist with a pro growth newcomer, the Director of the Chamber of Commerce.  What’s next, having Vail write a column on expanding development densities and zoning changes?  Is this equivalent to the fox guarding the hen house?  Where is the balance, where is the local opinion, where is the consideration of those who live and work here?

Now she is probably a very nice person, and she certainly is a good writer and very professional with good vision and values, but do we really need another public cheerleader for oxymorons such as ‘sustainable growth’ or ‘industrial tourism’.   Existing columnists Tom and Amy are polite and funny, and Terri is a great historical and matriarchal grounding influence so maybe we need another columnist to bring up alternative opinions on growth, economics and politics and the skiing industry. 

The Chamber, along with the Main Street Merchants, have always been very effective, maybe too effective, and have spurred unprecedented growth and economic development even during down times.  They were especially quick to recognize the ‘driving solutions’ to the Covid crisis and continued to put heads in beds and welcome the car culture to town this past year.  They deserve our thanks and support as well as our opinions on Sundance, Olympics, the Art Festival and the future of our town.

At a Leadership Meeting, years ago, I asked them when enough would be enough and was told that our economy was like a swimming shark and that to slow it or stop it would mean death.  I countered with the belief that endless growth is the mindset of a cancer cell, and we should be careful not to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.  Maybe the Chamber and Merchants are too powerful or outdated and they are entities that need to be questioned or revised.  Do we really need to fill all the beds all the time, have three or four events each weekend or sell more and more T-shirts on Main Street?  What about the people who live here?  Isn’t it our town too?  What price can we put on peace and quiet, a weekend off or perhaps even a shoulder season?

So, I ask for an equal voice and column space for the dissenters, those who support our quality of life and not just real estate, development, and the almighty dollar.  Why don’t we give Rich Wyman a shot with his pointed questions about the next Olympics, or Peter Marth and Kathyrn Decker battling up on the top of Main Street for residential district rights, or even Myles or Dana or John Haney for some old ideas and new opinions on one way streets, satellite parking  or affordable housing.  I realize they don’t run for office or buy advertisement or support the newspaper in many ways but they represent who we are or who we could be and they deserve a voice too.  There is a place for the Chamber’s opinions, but do we need it every week?   What about the rest of us?

 

Perspective IV - Positive Solutions

 

Councilman Tim Henney once told me that I should recognize some of the good things in Park City and be thankful, otherwise I’m just another old curmudgeon grumbling in my beer.  Tim is usually the smartest guy in the room, if Chris Robinson is not there, so here it goes:  

Park City has a Northern Colorado Plateau, high desert - mountain climate with 300 inches of light-dry snow each year, cold-wet winters and cool-dry summers.  We have two local world class, destination ski resorts, with several others nearby and copious, public land backcountry that provide some of the best skiing in the USA.  We have several beautiful lakes and forests nearby and the Uinta Mountains - Utah’s Yellowstone without Grizzley bears.  We have over 500 miles of regional mountain bike trails, not to mention the paved bike trails and wide shoulder bike lanes.  We have a world class Film Festivals, Art Festivals and Silly Markets and we host more special events and cultural happenings in this town than you can shake a stick at.  We have great restaurants and bars, galleries and T-shirt stores, bike and ski shops, coffee bars and sushi-smoothie stands. 

I’ve also been told that I should supply solutions to problems that I highlight, or else I am just bitching into my beard.  So here are some of my transportation ideas, however personal or draconian:  Day skiers should not drive past Kimball Junction.  Parking at the ski resorts should be paid parking only with the profits going to regional transportation.  Workers, locals and day skiers should use the bus and the park-and-ride lots or pay dearly for parking at the resorts.  Rental cars should be verboten and overnight visitors should use the bus too.   Workers should be paid for their bus commute time and skiers that ride the bus should get free coffee at the resorts.  You need to use the stick and the carrot to get people on busses.  Busses should have bus lanes so they go faster than traffic and major intersections should use all available lanes and shoulders for traffic flow.  This town should be a No-Park City Zone.  I don’t care what the Chamber of Commerce says.  They put enough heads in beds. 

No one should drive to Main Street for special events.  Main street does not need any more big events since it is a strong enough attraction to stand on its own.  It is our hometown, not Disneyland.  Festivals should be held out at the Kimball Junction - Redstone Center or the new Culture Center and not in a residential, dead end, box canyon like Old Town.  Commercial Main Street should be one-way, up, with diagonal parking and a return towards more parking down a one-way Swede Alley.  Main Street should be a pedestrian mall after 500 PM and for special occasions like it was during the Olympics.  I don’t care what the Main Street Merchants say, they sell enough Tee Shirts. 

We are fortunate to have countless great, active citizens in Park City.  We have new movers-and-shakers with fresh ideas as well as wise old timers who still set the friendly vibe for the town and smile and say ‘hello’ or ‘on your left’ when they pass.  It is still more about people and lifestyle than money and stuff, recreation is still the metric and free time is still the barometer here.  Yes, we could stand a few improvements to resist money grabbing, car-culture domination and keep up with our own success.  Park City doesn’t suck, its people rock, and it is still a pretty great place to live or visit.  Let us be thankful and work hard, together, to keep it that way.

Perspective III - Traffic

We used to imagine that we could control development with our limited water supply, but if you have privilege or wealth in the west, you have water.  Water flows to priority and money.  We solved that problem with regionalization, cooperation, conservation, good engineering, and money.  Well done.  I vacation in small Central Coast towns that have little water, want no extra water and control growth with water shortages.  This is an effective but a cowardice way of confronting development.

We thought that traffic would be the equitable, growth limiting factor in PC because you can’t use privilege or buy your way out of a traffic jam.  We told UDOT years ago that we were not ‘Flyover people’ so they redesigned Kimball Junction in just two doomed dimensions.  Then we put a two mile center lane planter box in the middle of our other entry corridor on 248. 

We have 10,000 – 20,000 units to be built around here over the next ten to twenty years.  More and more of these people will live here full time.  That’s 100,000 to 200,000 new car trips a day!  We already have grid-lock on weekends, powder days and during festivals.  While it is reprehensible to the locals what has become of our crowded streets, new people don’t think it is that bad compared to where they came from.  Perspective is everything.

We still have redundant double-wide shoulders, huge empty center-lane dividers, bike lanes AND bike paths on our major roads when shoulders could be used for traffic flow, turning movements or for bus lanes, as they were during the Olympics.  We also have a one lane exit ramp from I-80 east to UT-40 south that worked better as a 2 lane exit during the Olympics.  The Olympic traffic that we saw in 2002 is our daily traffic now and the traffic for the next Olympics is the traffic of our future and should be considered now. 

We have crazy, painted impressionistic bike lanes on the Pinebrook Frontage Road and on Park Avenue that no one understands or can follow.    We can’t pave our way out of traffic jams, but we can be consistent with road widths to avoid unnecessary pinch point constrictions and ineffective zipping.   We have competing and redundant bus systems (with empty buses and unobtainable park-and-ride lots out on the perimeter) that go no faster than traffic and have no bus lanes to drive in during peak hours. 

We have traffic light systems that are not fully coordinated or actuated with simple sensors and microprocessors, and we have traffic planners depending on Apps, bogus studies, social media, mapping and ebikes to solve our problems.  We still have busses, trucks and utility vans trolling over Guardsman, through old town and residential areas, looking for the quickest routes on their Google-Maps App.  We have traffic consultants pushing data and reports that they have not analyzed or even read.  Luckily, we have Randy Barton to tell us of the true traffic catastrophes on the radio or we would all be doomed.

Traffic is about trip generation and trip attraction, pressure, flow, velocity, and friction.  It behaves just like water and electricity.  It is iterative and adaptable, changing constantly, living, and responsive, psychologically correcting and compensating, dependent mostly on one critical mechanism – the nut behind the wheel.  We could all do better by hanging up, paying attention, and driving safely.  Yield to the right and to roundabouts, green means go, red means stop, yellow does not mean ‘punch it’.

In the end it is about supply and demand.  We need to provide more supply or less demand for our hydrologic and transportation systems.  Don’t count on water or traffic to control growth.  It takes leadership with vision and spine.  So, we ask our new and old leaders to think ahead, sac-up and save this town from itself and its success.

Perspective I

 

This town is toast.  From an old timers local perspective we have come to another turning point in our history.  We have thrown in the towel so many times that we have run out of towels.  Park City, It still doesn’t suck.  Is that enough?  Is that what we want.

The major historical inflection points for this ski town are important to note.  The first was when the John F. Kennedy Presidential administration gave us a few million dollars to jumpstart the ski industry in town in the early sixties and the Park City ski resort was formed.  The second was when Deer Valley Ski Resort came on line in the early eighties bringing style, class and customer service to the local lexicon.  The third was the expansion of upper Deer Valley in the early nineties, valiantly protested by the Citizens for Responsible Growth but ultimately settled for more than 1000 more units added to the already 2000 units approved for the resort.  Then came the Olympic games in the early 2000 where we welcomed the world here and put Park City on the map as a major international destination resort.  After that came the American Ski Corporation expansion of The Canyons master plan of several thousand units.  Finally Vail came to town and tried to take over our name while offering cheap season passes, limiting backcountry access and installing avalanche fences above trophy homes.

In between we suffer from an almost imperceptible incremental lifestyle entropy where every day there is another condo or resort, another traffic light, another annual festival or event added to our sleepy little home town.  Its like boiling frogs, where we hardly notice that it is getting hotter or more crowded.  We offer up some protest during the process, occasionally show some regulatory spine but often buy out unsightly developments at extortion prices in back room deals among the players.

 Now we come to another turning point in our history.  Both Park City and Deer Valley are on the fast track to eliminate their day skier parking lots to build larger resort centers with commercial and residential components and there is no doubt that Vail will eventually replace their lower parking lot with some kitschy Bavarian Village replica development.  Parking replacement will be minimal and only for residents or those who can pay the price.  This might not be a bad idea to help utilize our busses and satellite lots and keep traffic out of town, if the developer would contribute some of their millions in parking lot savings and profits to the cause.  And this is not to mention the creation of the Mayflower Resort, Hideout Expansion, Sliver Creek Village or Industrial Park zoning change just to mention a few.

In the past we used to imagine that we could limit development with water supply but if you have money in the west, you have water.  Some of us remember the days of dry tanks, water main blow outs, rationing and water moratoriums but we threw a lot of money and expertise at that and solved that problem by regionalization and pumping most of our water from over on the Weber river.  Then we thought traffic would be the limiting factor because you can’t buy your way out of a traffic jam.  While it is reprehensible to the locals what has become of our streets, new people don’t think it is that bad compared to where they came from. 

We used to contemplate the public good and the human welfare when considering projects and problems and evaluating real cost/benefits for all, not just the chosen few who get to make the big deals and the decisions.  I get that this state and country are now more concerned with personal property rights and individual freedoms more than the common good but this town has always been better than that.  We are a community that cared about our town and each other more than the almighty dollar.  Most of us came here for the ‘quality of life’ thing and not to get rich.  We don’t want to kill the goose that lays the golden egg but mostly we don’t want to lose our tight little town where everyone knows your name and says hello.

So it is a matter of perspective for us who remember how this town used to be and our dreams for what it might become.  We used to say we didn’t want to be another Aspen with their empty trophy homes, expensive restaurants, and fur shops, but have we just become another Vail with its car and condo culture, long lift lines and impersonal developments?  This may be the last time for the old timers to stand up and say enough is enough, before we cash in on our million dollar homes and slink off defeated with our tails between our legs to Mexico or Arizona or Maine, because this town is toast.  Or is it?

Perspective II

 

As I have mentioned before, Park City has experienced several turning points in its growth; namely the start of the Park City, Park West, and Deer Valley ski resorts in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s respectively, The Canyons in the 90’s, The Olympics in the 00’s and the Vail hostile takeover in the 10’s.  These inflection points changed the tone and the tempo of this town, spurring unprecedented growth and development with new infrastructure and new loads on old infrastructure such as water, schools, roads, and housing. 

Now we stand at precipice of change, another inflection point.  There are plans to allow a thousand new residential units in the Industrial Park at Kimball Junction, another thousand in the parking lot at Deer Valley and another thousand in high rises at the Park City Base.  And this does not include thousands of new units and commercial properties at the new Mayflower Ski Resort, the Hideout Ranch, the Browns Canyon intersection, Silver Creek Village, the Canyons Master Plan, Coalville, Kamas and Heber.  This could be at least 10,000 new units in the next ten years and some/most of these folks will live here full time!  What are you people thinking?  This housing explosion would generate 100,000 new vehicle trips a day on our already crowded roads.  This is not OK.  We should be afraid, very afraid.

Historical approval consideration used to contemplate the public good and the general human welfare when considering local projects and problems.  We evaluated real and comprehensive cost/benefits for all, not just the chosen few who get to make the back room deals and decisions.  We respected Zoning limits and historical agreements, not just the developers bottom line.  We weren’t afraid of their threatened lawsuits that maximized densities and profits or bemoaned illegal ‘takings’. 

What were these potential developers thinking when they bought their undeveloped property at a lower price for the original reduced Zoning densities?  Now they want to upgrade zoning or past approvals for larger densities and higher buildings and rake in the big bucks or extort us to pay for them not to build.  Why should we adjust zoning, prescribed densities, heights, parking demands or usage types to satisfy a developers perceived entitlement?  What about the community entitlements?

I get it that this state/country are now more concerned with personal property rights and individual freedoms than the common-good, but this town is better than that.   Most of us came here for the ‘quality of life’ thing and not to get rich.  We valued nature, mountains, recreation, isolation, open space, the challenging climate, and each other.  We didn’t invent this mountain lifestyle, but we have perfected it.  The ‘essence’ of this place is still pretty nice.  Let us not forget these values as we take the next steps in our growth and development up the stairway of our success.  Is it a stairway to heaven or a highway to hell? 

Will we ever have the political temerity or community cojones to finally say ‘enough is enough’?  Growth should be the defining issue of the next local election, not climate change or social injustice.  Those are important global problems to deal with at a higher level.  The time is right to elect people who will protect the public welfare and the future of this town, without polarizing us into ‘locals’ and ‘newbies’.  Ask the candidates where they stand on unsustainable and unsupportable growth, zoning and developer entitlements.  We don’t need any more platitudes or backroom deals.   We need vision and backbone.  Cactus Ed Abbey said we ‘don’t need more growth, we need more democracy’.  Lincoln and Jefferson said we need ‘government by the people’.  Vote carefully Park City, like your future depends on it.

 

 

Enough Water

 

We have enough water, its just going to the wrong places.  It is going to irrigate pastures at 8000 feet, grow cotton in the high desert and rice in the low desert.  It is going to golf courses, playing fields and your front lawn.  It’s going to long showers, teeth brushing and shaving flows.  Why don’t we just grow cows in Texas, cotton in Alabama or rice in Vietnam.  Why don’t we golf off of mats, play ball on Astro turf or xeriscape our front lawns.  Why don’t we take short showers or turn the water off when we shave or brush our teeth.

Because we don’t want to.  We don’t have to.  Push has not come to shove.  The tap has not run dry.  We have not run out, our streams are still flowing, our wells have not run dry, our lakes have not dried up, completely.  Water is cheap, subsidized, we have not had to pay for what our water is worth.   Water flows towards money.  If you have money you have water. There is no need to limit population, immigration or growth, water use, waste or consumption.  Water keeps flowing.  

It is not quiet a commodity to be bought and sold and traded with a price and a worth but it is not quite a public resource for the common good and general welfare.   It is regulated by the state for beneficial use and economic development without real regard or priority for what it is used for.  Alfalfa, microchips, people - it is all the same.  It is a social system with capitalistic implications. 

I used to think that water would limit growth in Park City but we did too good a job of water regionalization in the City and the County.  I asked why St George needs a pipeline from Lake Powell; so they can grow to half a million people.  Why would you possibly want that and enable it to happen.   Why should everyone in the state pay for that new Lake Powell pipe when they have ground water and use more water than anyone.

The basic archaic premise remains the same for water; use it or loose it, to save it is anathema to the old system.  If you save it someone will use your share.  Conservation used to mean using it all up, our original goal, now conservation just allows for more development and growth.  If you leave water in the stream or ground, the next in line will take it.  Now more of it is going to cities and people.  Now it is waste it or taste it.

 The priority system; first in time, first in right is supposed to take care of distribution in times of scarcity.  When you run out of surface water, you stop farming.  When you run out of groundwater, you dig a deeper well.  Our basin aquifers, full of ancient, one time historical water, are dropping like stones and yet we keep pumping like there is no bottom or there is no tomorrow.  Out of sight out of mind.  Now it is first in time, first in line.

So what’s the big deal, what’s all the hub bub about.  Is it all a big media game pursued by the water owner and water developers, to give them higher prices or give them things to do?  Is this the kind of news that they sell to us, like weather and sports to keep us tuned in?  Or is there a real crisis of unlimited demand and shrinking supply, a crisis of conservation, a crisis of climate, a crisis of confidence.  

Reason to Pause

 

I take a  midmorning time-out daily, between my reading and writing session and my dynamic active session.  Before I go play.  It is a time to sit and think and compose my day without activity or chores or lists.  Nothing to read and nothing to write, no devices, I force myself to sit and plan and appreciate small things, wherever I am, like the flow of a stream thru a mountain meadow or a Bougainvillea bush near the ocean or a Saguaro Cactus tree framing the rim of the hat on Sombrero peak in the desert.  I am instantly and constantly drawn to dabble with some distraction, such as a skewed hammock, a damp wetsuit, or an imperfectly babbling desert fountain, but I resist the overpowering impulse to do something, anything, everything.

For five minutes I force myself to do nothing and my thoughts quickly coalesce into appreciation, improvement and resolve.  How swiftly my thoughts are stripped of practicality and purpose and are allowed to float where they wish.   It is difficult to resist my penchant to produce, to optimize or to improve things, and just let things be.  After five minutes I intuitively have my marching orders prioritized in an efficient order and have a focus for the day.  Magically.

This forced incubation period was effective when I was in the working world, the fast lane, the rat race.  I would go swimming a few days a week in a local pool where I would get my own lane, if not the entire pool to myself.  After a confusing morning with assignments and projects backing up and unsolvable problems daunting me, I welcomed to cool, calm silence of the water.  

After warming up with a long slow progression I would settle into my usual workout counting without numbers as the laps ticked away.  The problems of the morning were seldom overtly on my mind but were nestled in my subconscious churning effortlessly as I thought of more pleasant and irrelevant things; water, women or wine.  I swim breaststroke and kicking laps for variety and a rest.  My pace increased finally as I hit my stride and finished with fast sprints and intervals where I would speed up incrementally.  Mindlessly.

After a brief warm down I would rest out in the sun for 20 minutes in the summer, or go back to the office for lunch and a quick nap in the winter.  When I finally got back to work I would start with something easy and instantly gratifying before tackling the larger problems.  More-often-than-not I would have things magically prioritized and broken down to the core issues.  I would have ideas for solutions, if not the complete problem mastered.  All that was left was the details of the solution, dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.  Voila. 

Many things work out that way, the harder you try the worse you do.  Like skiing powder or riding a bike, thinking of someone’s name or sinking a putt.  Ready, aim, relax.  Do what you can to prepare and then let your inner mind take over.  You cant think about riding a bike and it takes a million motions and muscles to ski powder or sink a putt, you just have to let it go.  We are  our own worst enemies at times when we fight our instincts and our biggest fans when we can just let the mystery be.

Nothing to do. Let the Day Come to You.

 

Another Monday with nothing to do. Up at sunrise 800.  Dog chores and coffee.  Read the fake news feed.  Two below zero with four inches of snow but I take my daily pause out on the deck chair in my thick bathrobe to feel the cold and let the day come to me, unfettered.  My guilty pleasure to set the tone, tempo, ground my thoughts and acclimate for winter.  No phone, no booze, no pets.   We make French toast for breakfast.  Shower shave and clean the bath.  Minor instant gratification, indoor fix-it chores, laundry, yoga with the howling down-dog and I work for a just a little bit. 

Morning Reading in the new winter sun, since the leaves are gone, in my favorite living room chair.  Einstein’s theory on Coriolis effects on river right meanders; magnified by the equivalent to the sine of your latitude.  Negative in the Southern Hemisphere where they favor left.  Of course.  His son Hans became a Civil Engineer and Geomorphologist. The Newtonian apple does not fall far from the tree, relatively.  Then I get sucked into a new JK Rowling mystery novel a young friend gave me.  Not bad but not my style.  

This time of year I switch to morning reading with Mountain Bike and Moto riding in the afternoon to allow it to warm up.  In the summer it is the opposite where we are out in the morning cool and hunker down after lunch to avoid the afternoon heat.  This winter timing takes some getting used to since it is counter to my natural Mediterranean biorhythm’s that want me to take a Siesta in the afternoon.  Its not bad but not my style

Leftover enchilada lunch and then minor motorcycle, hot tub, and outdoor sprinkler maintenance and off to Home Depot where I spend two hours mostly talking to some other irrelevant retired friends. Then some indoor Pickle ball and chatting up the Mexican workers swarming in the neighborhood, scrambling to finish in the cold. 

Home I catch up on work and correspondence, run the dog, start a fire, and take a nap with Tracey. PBS news and Jeopardy while we cook pizza dinner, finish Giuliani with Borat, and the great new Sorkin Chicago 7 film and a Pink Floyd documentary and it is time for bed.  Read and write more, scratch the dog’s belly and sleep. Mind, body, and soul.

The point is it is so nice to let the day come you in its own time, space, and tempo, have the time to think and enjoy the little things and the details.  No messages or voice mail, commute, Windows, rushing, worrying, priorities or people who do not get your jokes, where I have to be at noon, what to leave in or what to leave out.  It is a skill that is not for everyone, but I think you might like it. 

The Emerald Mile by Kevin Fedarko

Kevin Fedarko’s book The Emerald Mile was first published in the summer of 2013 and became an instant hit with river rats and water geeks alike.  It is basically the story of the spring of 1983 when the winter snow pack continued to build unexpectedly in the Rocky Mountains until Memorial Day weekend when it all started to melt all at once.  This snow melt runoff caused unprecedented flooding along the Colorado River systems that stressed the Bureau of Reclamation on-stream dams, their engineers and their operators.  From this adversity came an opportunity for a select, almost mythical, group of river runners and guides.  They seized the moment, as well as the high water, and attempted to break the fastest rowing record thru the Grand Canyon.  These stories are seamlessly woven together in this book to provide an enlightening and entertaining story of the various, often competing, special interest groups, and stakeholders of the rivers and the water in the west.

Fedarko was originally a staff writer for Time magazine and a contributor to Esquire and Outside as well as other magazines.  He is a part time river guide in the Grand Canyon which manifests as respect, almost reverence, for that place and the river that carved it.  This may contribute to his over-the-top storytelling and his fraternity to the culture of the river guides.  Every chapter is an adventure, and every subsequent chapter is an exciting opportunity that is not to be missed.  He also translates the complex hydrologic engineering concepts and numbers into layman terms that flow like water.  The book therefore reads itself and is impossible to put down. 

Along with his complete history of river running and the development of the culture of the western river guides, Fedarko does equally well in describing the operating engineers for the Bureau of Reclamation at Glen Canyon Dam.  They are first seen anxiously watching car sized sandstone boulders shooting from the spillway tunnels and then hopefully putting plywood on the dam’s spillway gates to hold back the relentlessly rising level of Lake Powell.  Only BOR dam operator Tom Gambel really knows how close we really came to losing the dam that year.  From this gripping true story we all become more aware of the power, persistence and patience of the Colorado River from this story.   As these competing cultures converge in a crescendo of crisis, Fedarko navigates the storylines like a well season river guide riding an invisible eddy line. 

The story starts benignly enough at the beginning, where most good stories start.  Don Garcia, a captain in the 1540 Coronado expedition sent to find the seven golden cities of Cibola, accidently stumbles upon the Grand Canyon and is relatively unimpressed.  From that inauspicious first sighting of the Canyon by a white men, to the courageous first navigation of the Canyon in 1869 by John Wesley Powell, the story proceeds systematically to the dam builders, conservationist and the river runners of modern times. 

Martin Linton is presented as the enlightened entrepreneur and environmentalist who perfects the method of running the river in elegant but fragile wooden Dory boats.  He also fights along side David Brower of the Sierra Club against the dam builders for the preservation of the canyon.  His Dorys are subsequently named after environmental tragedies and we are introduced to a beaten and battered boat called the Emerald Mile that is named after an old growth, Redwood clear cut in Northern California.  This bastard boat is adopted by guru guide Kenton Grua and meticulously repaired and rebuilt for its epic run. 

Along with his equally skillful and obsessive friends, Steve Reynolds and Rudi Petschek, Grua ignores the National Park Service closing of the flooded river and, on the night of June 25 1983, launches the Emerald Mile just below the dam into a river swollen to almost 100,000 cubic feet per second.  This book is unmistakably about this historic run but it is wrapped nicely in the other side stories of the canyon, the river, the dams, the conservationists, the guides, the bureaucrats and the competing interests for the American west. 

It could be the text book of a Western Water 101 course and stands among the great books in this category along with Cadillac Dessert by Mark Reisner and Beyond the 100^th Meridian by Wallace Stegnar.  The Colorado River is the poster boy for the exploitation of the waters and the resources of the American West and this book is a revelation of the complex consequences that arise when you mess with mother nature, for thrills or for profit.

This is also the story of hubris and arrogance, confidence and adventure and the surprisingly counter-intuitive forces of nature on our unsustainable life style.   It is a rollicking ride full of the hyperbole and didactic exaggeration, courage and legend and the conquering of the gear and the fear that is the lexicon of the river culture.  Strap yourself in and prepare for a frantic and fantastic journey.  You will not be disappointed.

Simple

I'm sitting down by the highway
Down by that highway side
Everybody's going somewhere
Riding just as fast as they can ride
I guess they've got a lot to do
Before they can rest assured
Their lives are justified
Pray to God for me baby

He can let me slide

 Simple is more of a state of mind.  Simple ain’t easy but it is more than just a desire to streamline or uncomplicate.  It is an effort to clear the mind and the schedule and to prioritize the real things we want to do and think and get rid of the clutter of modern times like; phones, schedules, deadlines commitments, relationships, what to leave in and what to leave out and where you have to be at noon.  It is also a liberation from the constant burden of self-entertainment, self-stimulation, travel and adventure seeking.  It is the desire and ability to recognize and focus on the people that are really important to us, family and friends, partners and lovers, cohorts and comrades, and to serve and satisfy those people the best we can. They say you should have 100 friends in your life but you can only really maintain 5-10 good friends at once.  Life is too short for fast food and bad friends.

We are loving it, my wife and me.  We have been retired for ten years so we have had some practice.  Waking up when we want or when it is warm, with no list or agenda, opening one eye at first light or at full sunrise on the meadow to gage the day for what it might become.  Then enjoying a leisurely breakfast with correspondence and conversation, avoiding any contact with the real world, for that is too depressing.  Self-disciplining to de-cafe coffee, juice, Zinc and an occasional breakfast chocolate, eggs only every other day and bacon only once a week, no TV or drinking until 5, but anything else goes, all day. 

After my morning douche and yoga practice on the east facing bedroom deck while howling with my dog Eva, I take my patient canine companion out for her morning frisbee session.  Then I look around and let the day come to me.  If it is cold, cloudy, or snowing, I’ll turn the heat up a notch or start a fire and hunker down in the house for a while, reading, writing, dabbling or fixing and improving stuff.  If it is sunny and warm, I will wander around the backyard or garage to see what calls out to me.  Sometimes I will trick myself with a small, pre-determined and easy  chore to get me started.  I usually quickly find several other things to do and start mutli-tasking until a natural priority develops and the less important or non-fun chores fall off until tomorrow or next week or never.

Today it was removing half a tree encroaching on the backyard stream, by hand.  My wife Tracey and I started yesterday with a hand saw on a two foot diameter branch.  We took turns sawing the day before, 100 strokes at a time each and then jagging-off in between, talking to friends in the field, laying in the hammock or playing with the dog.  By lunch we were exhausted and by dinner we were only halfway thru.  So today we continued with little headway in the moist dense core of the tree.  The spring buds were emerging so the juices were flowing.  We thought of quitting and letting it leaf out on the branches on the far end of the moment arm, or let it fill with heavy spring snow to bring that big bad branch down. 

But we got impatient so we threw a rope up and over the far end of the branch and Tracey and I yarded rhythmically on it, up and down, until it cracked and we ran screaming while it came down with a fantastic crash, exactly where we wanted it to fall.  Then we took the ax to the downfall, chopping up the big logs and trimming the small branches off and stacking them next to the fence to build a more natural branch fence.  It was exhausting so I took a nap and then went for a long ride on my bike.   Live deliberately.  Then go for a bike ride.

So I ride the back roads back to my house on the meadow where life is simple and easy, uncomplicated by our innate desire to stimulate, challenge and entertain ourselves.  A place where we can just be.  Where mobility is overrated and freedom, liberty and independence are a state of mind,  Where the pursuit of happiness is a game and contentment is a journey, not a destination.  Where my personal legacy of good intentions is hardly noticeable, a slight improvement in the world I found or easily mitigated.  As Thoreau would say 'Richness is measured in the amount of things we can afford to leave alone'.

Cause I've been up and down this highway
Far as my eyes can see
No matter how fast I run
I can never seem to get away from me
No matter where I am
I can't help feeling I'm just a day away
From where I want to be
Now I'm running home baby
Like a river to the sea

JB

Climate, Cars and Crowds

 So we are back in Utah, unpacked but yet unsettled, two weeks late.  This is home but it seems different, weird with the cold and the clouds, snow and the mud.  Something is just not right.  

We had a nice two day drive home, stopping for some friends in Flagstaff for lunch and in Kanab for a 'Kalzone' and the night.  Pulling into Park City with our snow packed driveway was bittersweet with the mountains covered in new powder but with mud season at its peak in the backyard and meadow.  

We started unpacking an unreal amount of luggage and bikes, beds and chairs, motorcycles and golf clubs, antiques and accessories, with the relaxed realization that we did not have to do it all in one day.  We were home for the summer and the long haul.

Driving the van home for the first time in months helped me regain my freedom, liberty and independence and was another baby step in the right direction.  It also helped to remind me that there are some real bad drivers out there who don't pay attention, anticipate or drive aggressively.  The best defense is a good offense, I have always thought, and I have been told that my driving is very offensive.

I have ridden a two wheel vehicle over 100,000 miles in my life and a 4 wheel vehicle almost a million but now I get in the car maybe once a week and go down to the big city maybe once a month.  I don't miss it.  I still ride bikes and Motos a lot but mostly for entertainment and exercise on back roads, not to go anywhere in particular.  When I do, I am surprised by the speed and stupidity of the real world, as manifested by driving habits.  It is mostly people expressing their individual rights to drive dumbly.  There used to be a silent, social contract we had with each other to drive our 3 ton missals right next to each other without crashing.  Not so much so any more.

Apparently we have forgotten this contract and it is now do-what-you-want-to.   It is more apparent and acute when riding a bike or motorcycle where someone else's mistake could rag doll you or turn you into a big slice of pizza.  I was driving my moto next to a weaving young Latino woman texting wildly in an early model Saturn.  When we stopped at a light I caught her eye and gave her the two finger pointing symbol meaning 'eyes on the road'.  She understood and promptly gave me the universal one finger salute.  At least she had moxie, if not common courtesy.

Now that we are home in the Park, perhaps two weeks early, it is cold and snowing again with only indoor reading and writing and short bike rides, just like we did in Tucson when it got too hot.  You can't always find a place where it is perfect all the time but we try.  Climate isn't everything and we hate to be ultra-mobile climate snobs, but we are.   First world problems.

Tucson is nice in the morning but hot in the afternoon, Park is cold in the morning but warm in the afternoon.  The summer sun in Tucson comes up at 5 o'clock in the morning while the it doesn't go down up north until after 9 or 10 o'clock so you have to pick your moments and adapt accordingly.  Tucson has a lovely winter but also had 100 days over 100 degrees last summer and 50 days over 105 degrees with no real Monsoon rains leaving them with 4 inches of precipitation out of and average of 12 inches per year.  It may be unlivable there by 2050.  

Park City is a international skiing destination mecca but has only a 40 day growing season, not necessarily in a row, and it has had limited snow and precipitation the last few years with the biggest snow storm this year finally coming in mid April.  It may be un-skiable there by 2050.  We used to think that water would be the limiting factor in Park but if you have money you have water.  Now I think it is traffic that will kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.  You can't buy you way out of a traffic jam.  

Our secret beach town of Cayucos California on the temperate Central Coast, which has a stable population and a dog friendly beach, a sea level rise of a six inches could wipe out the beach and the houses that hang over the coast making this surf town untenable by 2050.  We might not be the only ones needing to adapt accordingly in the next few years.  It is ironic that to beat the growing Utah crowds we have to go to Arizona or California.

So we surf the wave of substantial home equity in our mountain ski-home and rent monthly in the desert and on the beach, off season, for roughly what the owners are paying in taxes.  We don't need to own and although we are losing substantial equity gains in the VRBO game, we have no worries, nothing to fix and nothing to paint. At this point we don't need that, we don't like that and don't want that.  We just want to simplify.  

Park City is our home, with all of our friends and associates, so we will stay there while exploring different places and changing climates.  It may have to be far from the maddening crowd or have a noxious component that keeps people away; like lack or water, ski lifts or an international airport.  We are looking for a place without exploding traffic or mindless growth, and a place that is neither too hot or too cold.  A place that is just right.

Refresh. Revive. Restore

 A month ago Friday I got on the bike, tentatively at first, not knowing the best way to mount without stretching, hopping or falling.  Trial and error proved that there was no best way but the best thing to do was to get on and stay on and go.  Once up and away I was free.  What started as a spin around the neighborhood turned into a ten mile sojourn.  Sore and sorry I went swimming, just to tread water but wound up swimming laps with a slow triathlon kick and a one foot flip turn.  The next day I rode twenty miles and swam some more.  The following day was 30 miles but no swimming because there was a cloud in the sky and I decided to rest.  Bad call since the swimming is critical in the process.

Swimming, an activity they reluctantly approved for me at PT only after warning me about the danger of getting in and out and flip turning.  Bike riding was also reluctantly approved without warnings of awkward mounts and dismounts.  I even looked on the interweb and they heartily endorsed riding and swimming even during The Covid - as it is now called.  

When talking with a medical professional I am aware that I'm talking to a lawyer and an insurance company that tries to minimize risk and liability.   They therefore give the most conservative advice, to the least common denominator and don't consider the actual patient in front of them.  They don't want to overpromise.

I'm no Jim Thorpe but I'm reasonably athletic or sporty and I recover and heal fairly well.  I've had enough practice.  Although at home in PC I'm near the bottom of the proverbial barrel physically, since everyone else is an Olympian, but here in Arizona they consider me an athlete at the doctors, at PT and on the Pickle-ball courts.  I laughed at this until I looked around one day and see all the old, big people shuffling around, taking it slow and easy.  One mans floor is another man ceiling.

So we left Arizona two weeks late, weeks full of hot record temperatures, and come home two weeks early, full of snow and cold and clouds and bare trees.  We forgot about mud season and soring storms that blow salty snow on the windows and cars.  We hate to be weather snobs, but we are, and the timing is critical.  Spring in the desert, summer and early fall in the mountains, late fall at the beach, early winter in the desert again and full winter in the mountains when you can embrace the cold and the snow.  

Its not hard to do since rentals are cheap, especially out of season, and there is always a friend to rent or watch our home.  The key is to go and stay for a while, a long while.  It cuts down on painful frantic travel and maximizes feelings of 'being there'.  Rent for more than a month and you get to know a place and its people, tempo and rhythms, and there are no rental taxes in most states.  A change is as good as a rest and it is good to go to different places where you don't know every trail and road, river and stream, where exploration is the game and everything is new.  It is refreshing, revival, restoring.

Ass in Chair

 OK, so much for writing every day.  That takes a lot of discipline, the discipline of Hemmingway or Jack London, to write every morning when it is clear and cool, when your thoughts are fresh and your pencil is sharp.  Or as a famous writer friend of mine tells me that the secret to writing is; 'Ass in Chair'.

Well I've spent two months with my ass in a chair, not writing much, since my writing desk makes my new Achilles tendon swell up and turn purple.  I've been recovering slowly so I can start rehab.  To be honest, it has been brutal and sad and without the love and support of my wife I would be sunk.  Family and good friends helped too.  And Hockey.

But we have made slow progress and made it thru to the other side.  From the second day after surgery when I fell opening a broken door, to yesterday when I took my first bike ride, it has been a journey of pain and frustration, doubt and resolution.

I took baby steps and found hope in slow progress.  From losing one crutch to becoming partially weight bearing, from beginning PT (Pain and Torture) to losing my boot and cast, from picking up marbles with my toes to going riding and swimming, I patiently took the steps required.  Patience is the key but we have everything but time.  Therein lies the dilemma.

These setbacks bring new resolution, for the things I took for granted, for the things I thought I had left behind, for the things that will shape the future.  Things like walking, swimming, riding, hiking and  skiing.  All  in due time.  Who knew I would love returning to the gym - I hate the gym.  

And slipping into a cool pool on a hot day never felt so good, walking, treading, swimming laps - slowly at first but then returning to form and flying.  And soon I will be driving again, feel the independence I have lost and expand my world to what it once was.

We are trying to take this as an opportunity, to appreciate where we are and our mobility, to resolve to live life to the fullest and to do the best we can, every day, every year.  To defining what a sustainable lifestyle looks like at our age.  We resolve to renew our travel but not to flit around as we have in the past, from city to city, beach to beach - If it is Tuesday it must be Belgium.  Mobility isn't everything.

Staying in Arizona a few extra weeks has improved our appreciation of the place, the people and the heat.  So we plan to visit less places and stay longer, for weeks and months at a time, so we can really get to know a place and its people, its tempo and seasons, its climate and weather.  It's like it's better to have a few good lovers or friends or conversations, than many surficial ones.

We have miraculously endured The Covid peak unscathed, the Insurrection, the Inauguration, and multiple mass shootings while enduring our own trivial trials and tribulations.  Winter has come and gone, unnoticed in this desert climate, and it must be springtime for it is getting hot and the Cacti are blooming.  We have enjoyed our time in AZ  but now we have had our two vaccine shots and are ready to put this bad year behind us once and for all. It's time to go home.  If that is possible.

So now am up early with my ass in my chair writing away, but now I hear a higher calling.  I think I might have heard the highway call.  Its time to get out of the safe end of the swimming pool and back on the bike again, while it is clear and cool, the wind is down and the trails are empty.  Ten, twenty, thirty, forty mile rides, one hundred miles this week so far.  Independence, Freedom. Liberty.  The pursuit of happiness. It's go time.  Ass on seat.  

.  

You Don''t Know What You You've Got Till Its Gone

 I hobble out to the garage filled with motorcycles and bicycles, golf clubs and hiking packs, and now knee and electric scooters.  Life was so full of fun and adventure when it all came to a screeching halt with a simple tendon tear.  Now I either mount my knee scooter and push around the block or unplug the sitting electric scooter and to tool around the neighborhood for endless, mindless miles at a time.  You don't know what you've got till its gone.

I can ride to my PT appointments around the corner and I can even take the dog with me for off road tours of the washes, drainages and bike paths.  She pulls like a sled dog, extending my battery range and gaining a new kind of strength every day   She has one goal in mind; to catch frisbees to her unending delight and to my unending puerile.  

Arizona is not a dog friendly state with rampant, random leash laws, especially in the retirement communities.  Every patch of grass has a 'No Dogs' sign prominently displayed along with pooping dog icons and a fun loving dog icon with a strike out over it.  There are steep fines and people police it like their lives depend upon it.  Its such a negative vibe and bad Karma but we comply reluctantly.

There are countless sour puss, mal-contents stalking the streets, towed by untrained and undisciplined fi-fi dogs tugging mindlessly on sequined chains.  These protective owners vociferously insist that my highly trained work/show dog be tied down like a wild untamed beast.  I silently comply when busted but not before showing Eva's effortless come and heal commands and flashing them my evil-stink eye.  

Eva hates Arizona because of this chain rule and the fact that everything is gravel and thorns, cactus and prickly pears. We routinely pull thorns out of her nose and feet while she patiently rolls the whites of her eyes at us in disappointment and disgust.  She cant wait to get back to the land of snow banks and endless grass fields or sandy beaches with soft waves for swimming.  Me too.

It Is What It Is

           So after they carried me off the Pickle-ball court and put me on the IR - Group W Bench with my torn Achilles, shock began to creep in with the realization of what lay ahead.  I hobbled off before I got too Shockey-sad and told everyone in my best Forrest Gump voice 'sorry I ruined your white old guy Pickleball Tournament'.  

Tracey found an ER clinic our insurance might accept and the Doc-in-the-box there told me it was just an old tendon in my calf that we don't use anymore, so it was not a problem.  Although it still felt like a problem, there was some dubious rejoicing.  He did recommend a specialist Podiatrist and when we saw him the next day he confirmed a total Achilles tear almost immediately.  Our new man Dr. Joe Baker did the numbers and said I could get an MRI but he was 97% sure and he cold get me back to 85% within one year.  'It is what it is' said my dog Eva, knowingly and we scheduled surgery to get it fixed.  Listen to the pros but be your own health advocate.

We researched our good PEHP - IHC insurance coverage frantically for our out-of-state coverage and then gave them a call.  Several calls.  They told us that emergency work is covered while we were traveling but for repair work we had to come home to Utah.  We thought of our grim alternatives and how we might pack up and drive home but we kept plugging with the insurance company for the $50,000 answer we wanted.  

Finally one pleasant young insurance woman asked us if we were 'traveling' thru Arizona or actually 'living' there.  We told her we were 'living' there for 3-4 months.  She told us to change our address on our personal insurance web page, so we did, and then they told us that everything would be covered completely.  Sometimes you have to check the right box.

So a few days later, there I was alone at 6:00 AM on a Monday morning, counting back from 100, bummed and embarrassed to be in a cold, sterile operating room once again, covering my ass and cursing my fate, hoping I would wake up when this was all over.  I did wake up, all alone in the Covid isolation recovery room and after I stopped babbling incoherently about what a profitable assembly line of human carnage the hospital was, they let me go.

I hobbled out to the parking lot where Tracey was waiting patiently with warm poppy seed bagels and some OxyContin, one of which I was able to avoided life-long addiction to.  I still can't say no to a warm bagel.  Tracey took me home and we started our long rehab and recovery with a shmear of cream cheese and some blackberry jam.  You can't do anything without a great support team.  Thanks to Tracey and Eva, my family and good friends.