John Wise - Photo of the Day from Phoenix Arizona

After a quiet day yesterday; there has to be some time to recover from jet lag, Jutta and I met my mother, Karen Goff, for lunch today. During Jutta's 2009 visit, between remaining busy with so many activities and travels and my mother's occasionally demanding work schedule, we missed the opportunity to meet up with my mom. That won't happen during this vacation, as we make sure that these two have plenty of chances to get together between now and February 18 when Jutta returns to Frankfurt, Germany.

Mom and daughter time makes way for me time. Dropped the girls at The Musical Instrument Museum at 10:00, wished them well and encouraged Caroline and Jutta to take their time, enjoy a nice lunch at the cafe, before calling me to pick them up. While they walked the halls of the museum and listened to just a fraction of the instruments on display, I took off to celebrate that the next hours would be all-about-me! I would need that time, as tomorrow Caroline will go to work and Jutta and I will have the entire day to spend together. From the smile Jutta wore while playing the Theramin, I can only guess these two were enjoying themselves. Sorry, but there are no photos of me having an equal day of fun. Hmmm, as I now write this, I do not have the faintest idea what I did to spend my time productively, if in fact it was in any way put to good use.

An obvious trend is developing as a potential hobby for Jutta – drumming. On a previous visit, Caroline suggested we take her mom to a drum class with an old friend of ours, Frank Thompson. Reluctant at first, Jutta fell into the rhythm and thoroughly enjoyed herself as Frank taught us some basics. Now here at The Mim, Jutta is again, getting her groove on. Maybe we should pick her up a set of bongo's to take back to Germany?

A picture worth a thousand memories. After more than seven hours the call came in, “We are ready to go.” If there is one regret during these visits between Caroline and her mom, it would be that there aren't more days like this with such happy photos and big smiles.

Our first visit was with Celia and Jimmie Petersen of Chile Acres Farm. Jimmie was at the downtown market, he directed us to head up north on Central Avenue to a new market where we would find Celia. After spending a bit of time with Jimmie, we found Celia and hugs ensued. Jutta has fond memories of her visits with the Petersen's, as it was at their farm where she first took lessons riding a horse, she bottle-fed baby goats, and was invited into their home more than once to enjoy a home cooked meal featuring Celia's homemade goat milk cheese, and goat milk ice cream for dessert. Over the past two years, Caroline calls her mom nearly every Sunday, and on every phone call, Jutta asks, “How are Celia and Jimmie doing?” Today, she was able to see for herself and passed on the hugs to show her affection for their warmth and sharing.

It was nearly two years ago that my mother-in-law last visited us, and what I thought might have been the last time she was going to fly over the Atlantic from Germany to visit us here in Phoenix, Arizona. Jutta's flight was late by a few hours, as customs in Denver was bogged down, forcing her onto another airline late in the day.

Knowing Jutta's routine of being the last to leave the plane, didn't make it any easier while we were waiting, waiting, and impatiently waiting for her to descend the ramp that would let us relax seeing she made the later flight. Finally, that old familiar gait started to move closer, and before we saw her face, we knew who was moving slowly towards us. When her face did become clear, it had a smile 10 feet wide and her pace started her pressing into a near jog, we let her know it was okay to slow down; we've had our fair share of her falling over her feet on previous visits.

Reaching Caroline, Jutta couldn't have been happier, not only was she in America after a day of traveling from Frankfurt, she had her arms wrapped snugly around her daughter. This is my mother-in-law's 9th trip to America in 15 years. It will be during this visit just five days from today that she will pass her 365th day in the United States. Of her 77 years of age, a full year of that has been spent here, with Caroline and I. Welcome back Jutta.

There's a good reason my favorite coffee shop is my favorite, it's because of things like this. Not only was Tori's finger on my coffee cup, it's still there stuck under the lid. What was a bit gross, is that it was dripping into my no-foam sugar-free soy latte. Interestingly, it tasted kind of lemony. What it smelled like? I'll leave that to your imagination, but I will tell you, it didn't smell like bacon. Where's Tori's finger going next? She wouldn't want to know.

Sometimes when we travel, the weather isn't perfect, or so it seems in the moment. Overcast, doesn't make for vibrant travel photos, but it does focus the eye on details in closer proximity to our path. From under the gray cloud cover it becomes difficult to grab an image of beauty that conveys to the viewer the delight had by the photographer. So, instead of trying to capture the elusive, it was in my best interest to fix on what I was going to get from this visit to Old Montreal. We started early with a walk on nearly empty streets from our hotel to the river's edge, then on into the historic district.

Experience has taught us that to feel a moment of the heartbeat of a city one should rise with the waking locals. Move within their routine. Take pause in their footsteps. See their domain across the timescape of the early morning through the late of night. Old Montreal has all the feel of many an old European city, save for these artistic reminders of the subarctic cultures that populate the northern climes of Canada.

All that's missing right now, is the fog in the late of night, the lamp flickering with the light of a gas flame, and the slow clip-clop sound of a horse pulling a carriage, as we walk along the dark alley. A tip of the hat and a bid for safe evening is offered; we scurry along, music and laughter from a local bar is heard in the distance. Mysteries hidden behind stone facades are better served on cobblestone streets. Our tour of the old town continues.

This is Notre-Dame Basilica Montreal, and it is stunning. The Canadian French take their Saints and religion seriously. Well, maybe they don't anymore, but the history of their ancestors belief in the Almighty can be witnessed across the landscape and on most of the major streets. For example, the basilica is on 424 Rue Saint Sulpice. After our gawking visit, we will collect a coffee and board the subway at Rue Saint-Urbain – Saints everywhere.

If you want to feel like you are in a real city, not just some spread-everywhere metropolis-of-conformity (like, say, Phoenix), a subway lends an air of authenticity that you are in a place that deserves a rapid means of transport to the far corners of its community. The idea being, there are places here worth visiting spread across the map – not just another shopping center down the road. Our destination is another of those bastions of local culture – the farmers market.

We are at the Jean-Talon Market in the Little Italy district of Montreal. The lady who was selling the cranberries in the photo above Caroline, also sold her own cranberry juice. Local markets are not always tourist destinations, so do not expect much of your tongue to be spoken, and forget about signage that will help you navigate. Do not, though, discount your own intuition. The big metal beverage dispenser with French words likely offers something yummy, I go for it. With my best pronunciation of the French word for 1 and a sharp pointing of my finger, I order "one of those." The lady, recognizing my incredible mastery of her language, throws a string of French words in my direction, obviously asking me something I am going to easily understand (not), my only response is, oui - I could be relatively certain she wasn't asking if I'd like a disease mixed into my drink. Good thing I'm Mr. International, not only are we surprised to find out that the cranberry juice is served hot, the vendor's question had been, “Would you like this with a dash of cinnamon?” Try it yourself, it's as perfect as a spiced cider on a chilly fall day.

The fall harvest is on display in abundance. At this point, Montreal becomes a truly livable city to Caroline and I. This is also the time we start to recognize one of the peculiar differences between the United States and Canada – the cost of food. Breakfast at the truck stop yesterday was expensive considering we all had your basic bacon and egg breakfast. Here at the market we find prices for fresh food we haven't seen in five years across the border. Four-pound cauliflower for $2, 2.5 pounds of creamer potatoes cost $3, a bushel of apples for $10, a basket of four eggplant – only $3. One could get the impression that there is a subtle encouragement for people to avoid the convenience of fast food, and invest their time in cooking at home – how weird is that?

But is Montreal perfect? We will have to verify this with visit to a bakery and a cheese monger. Being at a farmers market, and a French one at that, it should be obvious that a boulangerie and fromagerie would be nearby. I beg for an answer to the question, how did we Americans fall into Wonderbread and Kraft Slices? The bakery is big, busy, and full of a wide variety of crusty breads, treats, baguettes. Around the corner, on narrow aisles, cheeses of every sort and beautiful stench are available for sampling. If it weren't for all the incredible infinitely explorable landscape in the states, I do believe we would have to transplant ourselves to live amongst a people who appreciate a well satisfied palate with a good dose of art, music, or theater to round out a day. No, New York City does not fit this bill, as the bills for living there require herculean salaries.

From cranberry juice to hops juice. It's lunchtime and Caroline opts for a beer. Before we get to the beer though, we first begin what should have been a long walk back towards our hotel. While we enjoy the subway, underground we see little besides the stations, so we decide to walk and take in some more sightseeing. And we walk. By now our feet are getting sore, heck with all this walking. Plus, we had bought four train tickets anticipating that we would ride the 4-mile return, sparing our feet. Time to hop on the metro. The slight discomfort isn't the only thing pushing us to hurry.

We are returning to La Banquise for more poutine. I wanted to try some good French home-cooking but that wasn't easy to find, while the warm comfort of gravy laden fries with cheese beckoned like a lighthouse on the horizon. Yes, we feel guilty about taking the path of least resistance, of not being adventurous and dipping into the unknown – but we are talking about POUTINE! If you haven't had it, you cannot know, you cannot judge the measure of our sloth and simultaneous delight. Now excuse me while I indulge my senses in the memories of our mushroom, onion, green pepper, and cheese curd lunch.

Anyone who knows Caroline and I knows that we love nature. Continuing our compatibility test with Montreal, we head into the local wilds, Lafontaine Park. This 100-acre park is Mount Royal's (bet you hadn't considered Montreal's translation) largest park, it will serve as our basis for observing nature and wildlife that might be found in the city. Squirrels, this was as good as it got. Lots of squirrels are scampering up trees, across the grass, but these were fierce squirrels showing little concern for the multitude of dogs who might be interested in a quick game of chase. This carelessness is probably not good for these well-fed chunky specimens of squirreldom.

It's time to start moving away from Montreal, feeling that we have a good taste of what the city has to offer. One stop remains for our Intro To Montreal Tour, L'Oratoire Saint-Joseph du Mont-Royal. Construction began back in 1904, but from the inside, one feels as though this is one of the most modern Basilica to be found amongst churches of this type. So modern and open minded, that the signs within the facility let visitors know it's okay for their children to pick their noses.

Making our way up the steep climb, we are offered a terrific panoramic view of the city. This is where a beautiful sunny day would have paid off for taking a spectacular photo.

As I said earlier, if the overcast view doesn't offer up a great photo opp, better start looking for details. And what curious detail at St. Joseph's was it that arrested our attention? Saint Andre Bessette's heart. No longer pumping, but in apparent good shape after 74 years of resting outside his body. So we are religious noobs, but various body parts on display for worship strikes the two of us as a bit weird. I'm certain that upon my death, there are rules against my wife keeping parts of me.

The greatest display of candles I've seen yes is here in Montreal at St. Joseph's. Is this where the concept for Lite-Brite began? At first glance, I hadn't noticed the pattern between red and clear glass candle holders. I can make out Joseph and Patron, but the rest must be in French. A small gate allows followers to climb the narrow steps on left and right to ascend the heavens and light a candle. This would surely be illegal in America due to liability laws and the concern that someone might brush an article of clothing over the candles, immolating themselves before god and whatever children might be present. How long until this visual is used in a movie?

About to bring the day to a close, we drive out of Montreal and once clear of the city, start looking for a room. Dinner tonight was on the road  where we indulged on more of our stash of onion bread, cheese, and sausage - we bow down before Cathy for this little luxury. We find the small village of Lanoraie, 42 miles down the road, it offers up Motel Villa D'Autray. Our host doesn't speak English beyond hello, I offer back bon soir. Our French language mini-guidebook suggest I try “Combien s'il vous plait,” she understands and shows me a rate card. We're in business, I pay the $65 for a great little room right across the street from the St. Lawrence Seaway. The flannel sheets were awesome, the bed comfy, we were quick to sleep.

Others might not call this vacation. Four hours of sleep is hardly restful and relaxing, but we're committed and know that we'll have plenty of time to sleep in when we are home next week. Anyway, we made a date to meet Ian and Gayle Gordon this early a.m. Thankfully, Ian dragged his wife Gayle, who we've not met yet, out of bed hours before we woke, so they could make the long-haul from the London, Ontario area to the roadside truck stop restaurant where we're meeting. The Fifth Wheel is not much more than a couple of miles from our motel – lucky us. Across the dining room, I spot Ian. Fifteen years between seeing him and the only real difference I can easily find: he's got a lot of gray hair, don't most of us by this time. We are introduced to Gayle who is all smiles and seems as comfortable with us as if we had been life long friends. It's hard to compress what could be spoken of into 2 brief hours, but with a long drive ahead of us today that's all we'll get here at the Fifth Wheel.

We learned of how these two met, young girl digs hot bike messenger, but upon bike guy returning from Germany the long curly hair had been shorn slightly, diminishing his ravaging beauty. Gayle takes him anyway. Since his return to Canada, Ian has written a first draft of, “The Secrets of Being an International Bike Messenger God.” He threatens to tap me for publishing help; I press him to drag the dusty manuscript out of storage and let me have it for a once over so he can start moving forward on becoming a published writer. I'm left with the impression the art of welding and an obsession with cars stand between him and his inner-nerd. Before we know it, the time has flown by, we couldn't really fall into just hanging out. Nothing like a couple thousand miles between people to stop old friends from dropping in and keeping the relationship alive. Our driving away was bittersweet. We followed them up the highway for some miles, truly sad that the morning sped by in a flash. I wondered if they too were wishing we could just turn west and follow them to London instead of the right turn we were about to take that would bring us to Montreal.

With Ian and Gayle out of site, we are now heading northeast of Toronto to connect with road number 7, the Trans Canada Highway. Fingers are crossed that the weather report was as wrong as it is in the desert. Back home, 40% chance of rain means no chance of rain. Like all big cities, the traffic is heading into the downtown area in the morning, not out of, we miss out on the parking lot on the other side of the road. It seems to have taken a long time to finally get fully around Toronto and finding our way to the 7, but we are now away from the congestion and in the countryside.

The colors of all are fading, we are late in the season. Patches of autumn pop up here and there, but large stands of trees have given up their leaves as branches ready themselves for the first snow. Much of the drive is under gray sky with the rain keeping to itself high overhead. Around mid-day, hunger pangs remind us that we have a bag full of delights from Cathy. Time to to christen the cutting board, break bread, carve the cheese, pour the mustard, and start to enjoy our in-car catered feast. Our gratitude produces this rainbow – we are happy.

We continue our drive eastward. For moments here and there, the sky finds a way around the clouds to tease us with hints of its beauty. We don't much mind the overcast, it's a nice reminder that seasons change. Back home in the desert, we left temperatures that were still in the 90's – the transition from summer to not-summer was in full swing. Our drive is a long one and we've been up and traveling quite some time by now.

Finally, Montreal. This is the first of two of our major stops on this vacation. Traffic is heavier than I might have thought, after all, we are entering the city when everyone else should be getting off work and leaving town. The signs are now all in French, bilingual traffic info is well behind us. Sitting in a stop-and-go parking lot called a freeway, as opposed to a fluidly moving highway, something that should not be seen, can be seen far too clearly. Montreal's roads are falling apart. No little cracks or rust, we're seeing chunks of girders and support columns have fallen off. Rebar is exposed and one is left wondering, how often do slabs of highway overpasses fall off into traffic below? We escape the potential death trap of the road leading into Montreal and are soon trying to negotiate one-way streets to our hotel.

Tonight we'll sleep at Hotel Quartier Latin, you guessed it, in the Latin Quarter. It's the cheapest place in downtown Montreal, we only paid $67 for the night, and the room was great. Almost more important than the room was the question, where do we park in this congested area? The answer; at the public library underground garage – great. Back around some one-way streets and soon we are trying to read French to the best of our ability in order to be certain we are parking in the right area of the garage. The street we are staying on, Rue Saint Denis, pronounced Saun Dannee, is alive with throngs of people. Shops are open, the smell of inebriants waft through the air, it feels like we are in Amsterdam.

The trilingual Indian desk attendant at the hotel pointed out on the map where we would find Rue Rachel, about 2.5km from the hotel. I had it in mind prior to leaving for Canada, that we were going to try poutine, the fast food staple originating from Quebec, but now nearly a national dish. With our umbrella, we got underway for the 1.5 mile walk up St. Denis. Our destination is a small place called La Banquise. After arriving, Caroline orders a Mystique, a hard cider, and I opt for city water.

What is poutine? It is a dish that sounds extraordinarily simple, bland even. French fries, cheese curds, and gravy. But it is far from bland, it is the composite whole that works together to make a great dish. We will share two small orders, the first is regular poutine, we need to know the baseline. The second order has bacon, onions, and Merquez sausage – the grilled onions make a poutine perfect. La Banquise is full, every table is occupied, the place is open 24 hours a day and poutine is the main dish. Caroline and I are in agreement, this is one of the perfect comfort foods – of course this could never work back home, we would ruin it with nacho cheese sauce.

Walking to Rue Rachel was a race, we didn't know what time La Banquise closed. Walking back down the street, we took our time and investigated many a shop window, by now the shops were mostly closed. The streets were still wet from the occasional light rain that drifts over the city. Montreal is beautiful, or so it looks at night. The glistening streets reflecting neon, headlights, and the various signs with short 3 story apartment homes above shops, lend a cozy intimacy to the feeling of the neighborhood. Brisk walks to grab a coffee on a chilly evening or a jaunt to a small theater for a movie, create dreams of living here, Montreal is growing on us fast.

Bikes are everywhere. There are bike parking meters, yes, in some places one has to pay for locking up a bike. On some corners, bike lockup facilities take up a couple of car parking spots, giving preference to bikers. And then there is this: Bixi. The bikes above are available all over the city, they are for rent. With a credit card, anyone can take a Bixi out on the town for only $5 for 1 day of use. A 1 month subscription costs $28, while a 1 year contract is only $78. With more than 100 Bixi docks around the city, you can pick up a bike in one location, drop it at another, jump on the subway and nab another bike as you enter another corner of Montreal. I wonder how this could work in America where bikes are so frequently stolen, or vandalized?

We are falling in love with Montreal. Parks and green spaces are everywhere. This quiet well-lit park is off Rue du Square Saint Louis and offers a perfect picture of fall. Along the main street, there are no boarded up spaces, what there is, are tons of small independent proprietors offering unique shops, not a dollar store to be found. We pass more than one Couche-Tard shop and for the remainder of the trip, we'll be wondering what a Couche-Tard is. At home we found out it is French for Night Owl. We could happily be night owls in this great city.

This is our first trip to Canada, which is also our first trek outside the United States since we moved here back in April 1995. That doesn't roll off the tongue very easily. It feels awkward to admit that we have not ventured beyond these borders in over 16 years. Not that we have been lax about travels, this was our 173rd excursion away from home since August 1999, when I started tracking our journeys into the North American countryside.

After landing in Buffalo, the town of my birth, we go to collect our rental car, certainly one of the crappiest ever; no power-windows, no power-locks, and no cruise-control, we are full-on analog. No time to waste, we exit the Detroit of New York, and drive immediately to the Lake Trail Motel in Stoney Creek, Ontario, Canada – in the pouring rain. The reason we were in such a hurry? We were meeting Cathy McGill at midnight.

Cathy is a dear friend who I met back in the late 1980's at a small nightclub in the Frankfurt Airport called Dorian Gray. Cathy was traveling with her then-husband, Patrick Codenys, of the band Front 242. I had met Patrick in 1985 or 1986 while they were performing in Wiesbaden, West Germany – Deutschland wasn't unified back then. It was on a subsequent meeting at yet another Front 242 concert, this time in Offenbach, that Cathy and I would become friends. Shortly there-after, I met Caroline, after coming up for air, and following Cathy and Patrick having a son, Stephan, we all got together at their home near Brussels, Belgium, and have somehow been able to stay in touch, except for some 14 years without any contact.

Seeing Cathy again was nothing less than terrific. Her smile hadn't changed a bit since last we saw her over a decade ago. The strangest part of this meeting was that just two days earlier, after a long silence between us, Cathy signed up for Facebook, then emailed me  with the message that she was living in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. This city sounded awfully familiar to me, I googled it, and sure enough, it was one of the towns I had looked at for a motel back when I was planning our Canada trip. My first message to Cathy was, “I have news for you that you won't believe!” Next morning I get an email and a phone number to call, so I can share the news. No, Caroline is not pregnant. “We will be in Stoney Creek tomorrow night, just 11 miles from you!” We agree to meet at midnight.

It's raining when we pull in to the motel. Cathy must know it's us, she jumps out of her car before we open the door of our car to stand with us in the rain for a group hug. Our faces could have been damaged by all the smiling at one another. Disbelief that we were once again face-to-face had the three of us doing a reality check, asking out loud, can you believe this? It was as though time stopped in the mid 90's when our paths went in different directions, and then years later, we materialized in the same dimension, and wham, friends step back into each others world.

After checking into our room, we three are in the car and driving to someplace dry for Caroline and I to have dinner. Cathy brings us to Jack Astor, it could have been Taco Bell for all we cared, not that we would at any other time eat at Taco Bell, but tonight, that didn't matter. We asked for a table away from the noisy bar, and the entire empty side of the restaurant is ours. I don't know how we heard one another, or if I even remember much of what was spoken in the 94,000 mile per hour exchange, but I do know, we smiled so much that my cheeks would feel the strain for the next days.

In the hours prior to our departure from Phoenix, I had received another email from Cathy. She told me of a famous German deli that she was going to on our behalf and that I should simply roll-over and accept her generosity as “resistance is futile.” Not one to be shy, I put in my list of potential items that we would be interested in. Cathy delivers, changing one of the dynamics of our stay in Canada. Effectively, Cathy would now be with us the remainder of our journey. A bag stuffed with onion potato bread, a loaf of rye, Gouda cheese both young and aged, German sausage, pretzels, spicy German mustard – great for dipping pretzels in, two knives, a small cutting board, paper towels, and special for Caroline; Pfeffermüsse – the sweet taste of home.

We talk until shortly after 2:00 a.m., Caroline and I have to wake around 6:30 to meet another old friend we haven't seen since leaving Germany. I wish we could have brought Cathy along. In some way we did, as the next day for lunch when we opened our care package, Cathy's wonderful gift had us pinching ourselves at our great fortune. And every day following we thanked Cathy for her big heart in helping load up our vacation with these tastes of Germany, and an extra few hundred smiles.

Four months of life with the box fan. One-hundred twenty days of whirring white noise. Summer ended 72 hours ago, just like that. One day it is 103 degrees, the next it is only 90 and you know the long bake has come to an end. Three days later, it's in the 70's and confidence begins to grow that summer will not surprise us with a curtain call. In a moment the whir of the fan reaches a crescendo of unbearable screeching. Out of the laziness of LCD bathed hypnosis I leave my chair to quiet the fan. But I am reluctant to stow it in its winter quarters. I live in the desert, the sun is deceitful.

And it is quiet now. The windows are open, a 75 degree breeze feels chilly. I listen intently for the noise of the quiet to make its self heard. Static has not yet been replaced with the sound of the wind, or the clouds streaming by my city. My ears buzz with echoes of fans and air-conditioners long after the summer is gone. Can wool be far away?

Caroline and I were at the downtown Phoenix Public Market yesterday when she noticed a girl walking by wearing what she thought were shoes by Sou.Sou. I walked over to the girl, whose name is Rei, and explained that my wife was curious if her shoes were from Sou.Sou. The look of astonishment on her face that someone here in Phoenix recognized her rather exotic and typically never seen in Arizona shoes had been identified. Turns out that she had bought them recently in San Francisco: after researching Sou.Sou in the Bay Area, Rei picked up her shoes at New People 1746 Post Street. This shopping 'center' is now on our list of places to visit, New People includes a 143-seat underground cinema, a cafe, an art gallery, the New People store for pop culture items, a fashion store area that includes Sou.Sou Black Peace Now, and Baby, The Stars Shine Bright - watch Kamikaze Girls! The designers of Sou.Sou are out of Kyoto, Japan and so far, their work hasn't been picked up for cheap imitation by Wal Mart, keep your fingers crossed - now go to San Francisco and play.

No, I didn't drive to Texas for lunch, I had lunch at the Texaz Grill at Bethany Home Rd and 16th St. in Phoenix, Arizona. It was after the lunch crowds had departed that I sat down for my meal. There were some folks at the bar laughing it up and a couple of other tables occupied, but Mondays through Fridays by 3:00 p.m. things are pretty quiet at most restaurants around the valley. The Texaz Grill is the place you want to go for Chicken Fried Steak. On the other hand, Texaz Grill is not the place to go if you are trying to eat healthy, hence I come here alone as I have not rebelled yet against my obesity, while everyone else I know seems to have found dietary enlightenment.

Had lunch with Daniel Billotte today. Not the lunch we had planned, the Pho joint wasn't open so we scrambled to find something nearby. We ended up at a small urban bistro. The story here is that Daniel and I from time to time make an effort to stay in contact. He and I met some 15 years ago while working at the Marion Foundation. During the intervening years, Daniel has often gone nomad finding himself living in New Zealand, Australia, and Fiji for close to half a year, working at an apple orchard to support his scuba adventures on the Great Barrier Reef. For a time he lived in Santa Cruz where I was never sure if he was a programmer, a graphic designer, or a surfer. A year or more goes by and I get an email from the guy, he's in India, still haven't found out the specifics about that trip. Then about a year ago, he announces that he's getting married in Sedona, Arizona. I'm not big on weddings, no matter how good a friend someone is, so I cannot offer details about that event either. Today we got together to talk about travels, discuss some technology threads, touch on politics, evolution, taxes, and just shoot the poop.

Meet Patou Cheval, I did at Starbucks today. But this wasn't simply meeting someone for the first time, I have known Patou for about 8 years. Not that you could call us friends, our meetings have all been in the realm of chance encounters. Today though, this became downright strange. You see, I first met Patou with her husband, she was pregnant. I was watching my friend Sonal's Indian grocery when this couple came in and the 3 of us spent some time talking. It is on rare occasion that Sonal asks me to step in to watch the store for a few hours, or maybe a day. It was again on one of those days that Patou came in with her mom with her new born daughter.

Some years would pass before on some random day when I was picking up lunch for Caroline that I see Patou in the  vitamin shop, where she was working. I stopped to say hi and was quickly off. Again a year or 2 passes and I'm in Whole Foods shopping and guess who is working in the non-foods section? Yep, Patou. I saw here again another couple of times and then a couple of years of nothing. A little more than a year or there abouts, Caroline and I were leaving Paradise Valley Mall and guess who should be walking into the mall at the same entry / exit we are using? Right, it was Patou, but this time with her two daughters. We talked a while and said goodbye.

Now here we are a year later and maybe 8 miles from our last chance encounter. I had just sat down to work on my book and over my shoulder I think I am recognizing someone's voice - sure enough, it is Patou. We were both astounded and agreed there was something peculiar about how this has now happened nearly half-a-dozen times since our first hello of 8 years ago. Caroline, Patou, and I have sent tentative plans to meet for dinner, how much you want to bet the best made plans never come to fruition and 2 years down the road, we'll run into each other while on vacation is another state?

My blog has been greatly neglected over the previous nine or so months, reason being, I have been writing a book. I thought I would have been done by now, but here on my third draft I start to wonder if I'll ever finish. Well, I will, and it should now be sooner rather than later. After this reworking I will hand the manuscript over to one person and from her suggestions and corrections, I will take one more "final" pass and then it is out of my hands.

Today's photo shows what I stared at the first seven months of 2011, papers spread out before me with passages yet to be written, or a page getting a rewrite. Now I am trying to bring closure so I can move on to new projects. When this process does come to an end, I will miss more than a few baristas from my local Starbucks. As an aside between crafting words, I would eavesdrop on customers. If only I was a fiction writer, these folks can break the worst case of writer's block with their nutty characters and dramatic issues.

I don't know if I'll ever attempt to write a book for the general public again, this is time-consuming and often frustrating. On the other hand, it is with amazement that from time to time I come back upon a passage that delights me and I am in near disbelief that the words captured on the paper fell out of my head and into my hand.

Take a good look at these locally grown fruits and veggies, they may soon be one of the last looks you'll be able to take - outside of marketing materials that will recall a different age. Unless you are into that old fashioned stuff.

Don't believe me? Consider this: as recently as 1955 a majority of households had a woman or girl who could sew. Back then, 63% of women and girls knew how to sew, many still knew how to darn socks, spin fiber into yarn, quilt, and weave. By 2006, only 22% of American women and girls knew how to sew. Now I don't mean to imply this is necessarily a negative, but the fact is, a family is less independent when they are dependent upon larger systems where the local skills for taking care of one's self are long gone. Us humans have a very long history of making textiles, around 20,000 years worth according to some evidence.

Farming is in a similar situation, 140 years ago between 70 and 80 percent of our population was employed in agriculture. Today only 2 to 3 percent of the population is employed in agriculture and less than 1 percent of the population claim farming as an occupation. Point being, individuals are now far removed from growing their own food. True, they have greater access to a wider variety of foods, but they are dependent upon the viability of industrial farms, the price of fuel to distribute food across great distances, and if the corporate model decides that a type of produce is no longer a worthy seller, it can simply disappear those items. The good thing is that we no longer have to toil in the back breaking labor of working the earth. Then again, we don't know how anymore either.

This brings me to today's thought. A couple of hundred years ago, people would not have believed that within a relatively short number of generations, humans in Kansas  would be buying fresh kiwis that were flown in from New Zealand. A hundred years ago, I doubt many people would have accepted that the majority of their clothes should be disposable, made in India or China, and would wear out in a year with nobody complaining. Modernization has taken much of the drudgery and responsibility for the mundane out of our lives.

The next step is to remove cooking from our lives. Why do we need to cook our own meals? Wouldn't life be yet another degree better if we could get rid of food that might spoil, be contaminated with e-coli or salmonella, or require all the time of buying cookbooks, finding ingredients, preparing lengthy recipes, with all of the uncertainty of not knowing if our preparation is as good as the chow mein we had in New York City?

So here's the next big internet idea, the next Amazon, or NetFlix. We'll call our company, International Frozen Food Incorporated - IFFI for short. Our line of frozen meals will feature recipes from around the globe, made in kitchens from Mumbai to Hong Kong, from Senegal to the Philippines. The customers set their likes and dislikes in a preference file, choose if they are vegetarian, vegan, lactose intolerant, non pork eater, ground nut allergic, reduced calorie, diabetic, etc. Then they choose what country's meals they want to try and as with Netflix, they build a queue of ethnic delights they want to sample and in what order. As with Amazon, meals will feature reviews and ratings. Every week, a new box arrives with the post containing your frozen meals for the week.

Just imagine, IFFI Dim Sum or maybe you'd prefer our IFFI Fish from Malaysia, and what could be better than IFFI Jambalaya direct from New Orleans? Every meal is standardized with a caloric count related to your weight, height, and age. Prices are $3.99 per meal - across the globe!

Some people reading this might think, Wow, sounds great. Personally, I don't think this sounds like a great idea. We humans are more and more dependent upon monolithic corporate structures that take care of most of our needs in exchange for our brand loyalty. We in-turn give up our independence. We have become helpless and would prove useless to ourselves if we needed to grow our own food, make our own clothes, or find clean water. Soon, we will no longer know how to cook for ourselves as we won't need to.

And what do we get for our reliance on forces and services outside of ourselves? More time to toil at work, play video games, watch TV, and shop as we entertain ourselves to death within the climate controlled walls of a safe place. Do we really no longer need reality?

Today's entry should feature much larger images. While they are as wide as I can fit in the frame, this is one entry in which visitors should click the images to see the larger captures.

The image on display above, one of eight, is the first screen one sees when starting up the menu system of the Magic Lantern software for a number of Canon HDSLR cameras. After the release of the first DSLR that was able to record HD 1080p video, there was a rush to see just what the camera was capable of. Trammell Hudson was the first to throw his programming skills at writing "enhancement" software on top of Canon's firmware. The capabilities that were uncovered and offered to professionals and amateurs alike, were nothing less than astounding.

Back to the Audio screen above. We are no longer saddled with the limitations of the Canon software regarding audio. There are audio meters for monitoring what is being recorded in the camera. Many people have now started recording a secondary audio on something like the Zoom H1 microphone/recorder or they bypass the internal microphone entirely and instead are using the Rode VideoMic. Should one decide to record an external audio track, there is a piece of software called Plural Eyes that allows the audio to be synced to the internal audio track - great for shooting music video's where lip syncing is required.

Live View settings, these are the settings that affect the Live View monitor when a Canon HDSLR is in Movie record mode. Magic Lantern adds a Histogram or Waveform view of the video signal for measuring exposure values. Zebras are also a usefull tool for evaluating exposure, and a personal favorite. False Color is one more method for checking exposure.

Cropmarks are are another of my favorite additions to my camera. With them, I'm able to have an overlay on my video screen that identifies the title safe frame and the action safe frame. Stay within those boundaries and your video framing should capture all of the details you require. Ghost Image creates a transparent layer of a photo just taken, I believe this aids in creating panoramas but I could see it also being helpful in shooting stop-motion animation.

Magic Zoom is another tool I love from ML (Magic Lantern). Using the Magic Zoom when you are in manual zoom, preferred when shooting video, a center pop-up image is displayed on your Live View screen that magnifies an area of the video. This area can be moved to focus in on a particular item, say a face that you are recording, using the arrow keys. Split Screen and Focus Peak are tools that aid in focusing.

The Movie preferences screen. The most amazing part of the capability represented here is the Bit Rate selection. Users are able to select a higher bit rate for recording video. The standard bit rate from Canon is about 45mbit per second. Setting the Constant Bit Rate to a factor as high as 2.0x (recently limited to this speed as it has proven the safest in pushing the bandwidth higher) and disabling audio while using a fast memory card, I have read of some users achieving an almost 50% improvement with recording bandwidth. This increase in bit rate affects the spatial quality of the image you are recording which, if the shot is a green screen clip destined for compositing in post-production, can give the filmmaker much greater quality in his or her workflow.

The only other function I utilize under this menu is the Movie REC Key. There is an option to use the shutter as the record trigger with a half-press. This is great if you have mounted your camera on a shoulder rig and your hand is holding the grip of the rig. Simply plug in Canon's cheap wired remote, attach it within easy reach, give the shutter button a half press and you are recording.

One other thing, if you are using Zebras to verify exposure, it is nice to "Hide" the Zebras when recording so they don't disturb your view while following the action.

If you are serious about photography, there are a few things on the Shoot menu that are of super value. First is HDR Bracketing. The photographer is now able to choose to shoot between 2 and 9 shots using between 0.5 and 5 exposure values (EV).

Built-in Intervalometer, yeah, we can shoot timelapse. LCD Remote shot allows the camera to be setup and with a wave of the hand near the back of the camera, we can trigger the shutter. Audio RemoteShot allows for the triggering of the shutter using a loud sound, say a hand clap. Motion Detect, try using this on a stormy night while trying to shoot lightening! Bulb Timer is what every nightsky star photographer needs.

* Added August 24: There has been a recent update that allows timelapse photographers to shoot from day into night, with ML software calculating the change in light to adjust shutter speed and aperature - for those of you who understand this, it is AMAZING!

Greater control of ISO settings, especially important with video where it has been shown that multiples of 160 ISO are the sweet spots for capturing video with less noise artifacts. Being able to use a shutter speed of 1/48 is also one of the techniques that give videos, that filmy look we people enjoy when watching movies. Recently Alex, one of the Magic Lantern programmers, added the ability to press the "Flash" button on the front of the camera while in Movie mode, that brings up an overlay on the Live View screen allowing for the easy changing of ISO and White Balance. It is a wow feature for convenience.

The Picture Style selection is not unique to ML, but it is still very important. My User Defined style is the Technicolor flat profile. This profile removes much contrast and deep saturated colors, for the average consumer, this ability might only be frustrating. But for the aspiring filmmaker, this allows for the recording of details that are lost in consumer color profiles. This also requires that the artist understand that they will have to learn a little something about color correction in their editing software or in their workflow while working in Adobe After Effects.

* Added August 24: Another fantastic update, there is a new menu item that has been added to the above screen. This new function allows you to shoot in one picture style, but while setting up your shot you can preview using a different style so you can best judge what final colors you will be color correcting to should you be shooting in a flat style, such as the Technicolor picture style.

Much attention is paid to focus. How can one make a good movie if the shots are out of focus? With the HDSLR filmmaking environment taking off, there are accessories helping with focus such as attachable view finders that magnify your LCD and shade it for easier viewing. There are those who opt for external HDMI enabled monitors that are two or three times larger than the screen on the back of our cameras. But these are not necessary to getting right to work. Using the magnification tools already on the camera and the assistance of ML enhancements, I am able to find perfect focus using the screen just as it is.

Trap Focus will snap a photo when an object in a scene comes into focus, say a tiger in the wild passing your camera while you have Motion Detect enabled!

Follow Focus uses the arrow keys to move the lens in and out of focus.

The big but still under development feature here is Rack Focus. Using a combination of selections including Follow Focus, Focus Speed, Focus Delay, Focus Direction, and Focus A Point, the filmmaker is able to shoot a scene with two objects or people, starting with a focus on the person in the foreground and then bring the focus on to the other person who is in the background, or the other way around. Rack Focus allows you to set the focal points and with the push of a button, the focus moves between the two points. Press it again, and you return to the starting focus point.

Hey you macro photographers, need to take a bunch of photos of an object but want a long depth of field with everything in focus? Try using Stack Focus. A series of photographs will be taken that you can stack into a single photograph - with everything in focus.

The Tweak menu. Not much to change here, it has been set up by the programmers to be the most functional right after install. Good idea to read the User Guide and learn about this stuff, especially before asking busy programmers who are donating their time for this project, about things probably answered in the User Guide.

Not a lot here in the Debug menu for the casual user, but there are two new functions that are very helpful. The first is the Dim Display item. If it is not important for you to monitor what you are recording on the LCD monitor of your camera, this will allow the display to dim and thus saves your battery. You can also decide to turn the display clean off using the Turn Off Display function - selectable with times of 5 seconds to 15 minutes before the diplay turns off.

The second to last screen is the Config screen, which I'm obviously not including. With that minor screen with but a few selections, one controls the config files. We are offered up to four different configurations. You may decide to have a configuration with menu items that only pertain to filming using tools that help you when shooting on a tripod or dolly, while another config file is best suited to handheld shots. A third config can be created for night shots and a forth regular photography.

The final screen is the Information menu. Here you will find helpful hints, an FAQ, and other stuff. Another very useful recent addition to ML was the inclusion of onboard help files. When in the ML menus, if you press DISP while hovering over a function item, a help file will be displayed for those times you forgot how something works.

There is much more to this software than I have written about. I cannot truly convey the convenience and opportunity offered an aspiring or even professional filmmaker that ML is giving us. When you consider that 1920x1080 HD video is effectively 2k video that can easily be scaled for broadcast in a movie theater, you start to realize that amazing things are happening in the film and story telling industries.

Why use an HDSLR and Magic Lantern? Because a Canon T2i, also known as the 550d only costs about $700 without a lens. Combine this with the great depth-of-field that can be had with SLR lenses and you have a powerful tool that in many instances can compete with cameras costing more than $10,000.

If you find yourself intrigued and own a Canon T1i, T2i, T3i, 50D, 60D, 7D, or 5D, there is a good chance you will fall in love with the capability given to you for free to explore more of the art you are learning and practicing.

If you own a 5D, check this LINK to find Magic Lantern for your camera. If you own one of the other camera's, check out this LINK to find a new Unified Branch of the Magic Lantern.

When a restaurant gets things consistently right, you know that you have found the place that deserves extra merit and respect. Well, that's what I have found at Sabas Mediterranean Restaurant on the corners of Bell Rd and Tatum Blvd. Today, I ordered a salad and asked my server, George, to kill the cucumbers. For my appetizer he delivered the proof that he had, in fact, honored my request. Dead and bleeding from its nose and mouth, the lifeless cuke-corpse was served to me on a platter. To taste the sweet victory over this ugly vegetable that is of little use to the likes of me, George poked a toothpick into its eye allowing any of my table mates a clean grab and devouring of its now lifeless bitter wretchednes. Before our very eyes, this pathetic member of the gourd family started turning green, rotting right there on the table.

Little did I know that the best was yet to come. A filthy little cucumber cousin of the dead guy above tried to hide in a nearby salad, probably thinking it would find revenge by jumping into my dish. George was right there on top of things. With all the professionalism I would expect from such a reputable establishment, in a flourish of stealthy action, George moved in and with frontier justice, dispatched this errant cylindrical menace with a quick fork through the eye and into the feeble brain of Mr. Pickle Head. Score two for George!

Three guys at the next table, obviously impressed with the special service I was receiving enquired if I were a celebrity or famous writer; I had to tell them the truth, "This is the honor all customers of Sabas receive when placing special orders, we are all celebrities here." The guys handed me their card, they were working undercover as investigators for their website; Sammich.es - that's right, just the way it sounds Sammich.es, skip the dot com, they are dot es, as in Sammiches. Not to be confused with Sandwiches. They told me how by day they work as mild mannered graphic something or others, but I didn't buy that, they all looked like foodies to me, professional full-time kind of foodies. Anyway, they said, visit our site, we know all the great stacked dead veggie restaurants. Next stop, Sammich.es.

This is Maria and Nelson, they are the new owners of a local fast food Mexican restaurant as of today. Yesterday they were workers at this place, now they are living the American dream. Not that this was their big dream, but it is an opportunity to work hard, put some money away, and maybe have a better chance and making something that speaks to their creativity. Nelson and Maria have been friends of ours for over five years now and over that time Nelson has made great progress as a photographer and the occasional graphic designer. Maria has ventured into short video tutorials about makeup and flirted with some photography too. I know their real interests are in the arts and technology, not in working a grill and doing dishes, but we all start somewhere. I wish the two of them much luck.

Here she is, my fiber addicted wife Caroline Wise. Metamucil you ask, maybe oatmeal or whole wheat bread is her fiber of choice? Heck no, all that would be cheap compared to someone who has joined the flock of weavers, spinners, basket makers, dyers, knitters, and other assorted people who enjoy the hobby that takes over all of your space. Fiber artists don't have anything like Knitters Anonymous, they have the exact opposite, Fiber Guilds.

And what do guilds do? They organize workshops, retreats, and classes. They write books, magazine articles, and produce videos. Bands of merchants selling the hot wares follow this tribe around to encourage further consumption and great new projects yet to be spun, frogged, carded, and strewn about as dozens of UFO's – Un-Finished Objects.

Ever heard of dyeing fabric with mud? Forget your Dolce & Gabbana, we're going stone age and wearing mud again, I'm not even sure then why we must first put it on fabric instead of just rolling around in the stuff. To be fair, this method of dyeing with mud is called Bogolanfini, a traditional African method – albeit one modified by one Judy Dominic. Judy particularly enjoys the inspiration of the designs used by the people of Mali.

Try pronouncing Katazome or Shibori. Katazome is a paste resist dyeing method using rice paste, soy milk, various pigments, and a lot of indigo. It was this class given by John Marshall here in Durango, Colorado at the campus of Fort Lewis that brought us to the Intermountain Weavers Conference. Every other year, IWC hosts a fiber hoedown that attracts members and non-members alike to spend three days trying new fiber drugs. Trust me, it is not uncommon to hear someone asking to borrow a needle.

John Marshall teaches his students this old Japanese art of Katazome that is quickly disappearing as modern manufacturing processes and the desire for inexpensive clothing makes this a dieing craft. After the students applied pigments and paste resist materials and probably some other processes in an order I have no clue about, they would dip their work into a vat of indigo. As the cloth is pulled from the indigo, it is still green, as were the leaves that went into the vat that makes indigo.

The magic of indigo happens as the materials are exposed to the air; they begin to oxidize. This oxidation process is what turns the fabric that familiar blue we are all aware of. Depending on what is being dyed, the fabric can turn deep shades of blue, as do fingers, and even the hair of one of the ladies in Caroline's class. Hey Nancy, not sure what I think of blue bangs on white hair, though it wasn't bad. Maybe this will inspire this grandmother-aged sweet-lady to now consider a tattoo of an alpaca with crossed shears. Argh.

The other word I introduced you to was Shibori. Shibori is an ancient Japanese fiber art similar to the Rajashtahni and Gujarati craft of Bandhani. These two styles of dyeing can involve an incredible amount of handwork. Small or even larger segments of cloth are wrapped, stitched, folded, twisted, and bound with string, at times hundreds even thousands of the wrapped bundles are applied to a piece of cloth. This slows down and can stop the dye from reaching all of the cloth as it is dipped in dye to produce beautiful patterns. Now think of where you may have seen or heard of a cloth that is a descendent of this process. It sounds a bit like Bandhani, how about the good old Bandana? Bet you didn't know that it wasn't the hippies of the 1960's who invented Tie Dye.

After much work and a ton of international coordination, the board members of IWC were able to convince the renowned Scholar, Curator, and Artist Yoshiko Iwamoto Wada to lead a workshop teaching this art form known as Shibori. Ms. Wada not only taught an overflowing class of enthusiastic students, she was also the Keynote Speaker of the conference. With nothing else going on that night, I stuck around to listen, good thing I did. While fiber arts may not be my specialty, I can certainly appreciate the craft and skill that goes into this work. During the presentation we learned of the work of a number of artists working in Japan that elicited the oohs and aahs of the overheated theater that reached its seating capacity. Some of the artists who truly made an impression on me were Jurgen Lehl, Christina Kim and the guys behind Sou.Sou; Tsuyoshi Wakabayashi, Katsuji Wakisaka, and Hisanobu Tsujimura.

The grounds of Fort Lewis are spread out, although it may have only felt that way because Durango sits at 6,512 feet above sea level (1984m). On one end of the campus was the Student Union building where check-in, the cafeteria, and merchants were located. In a nearby building, five or six classes were being held, next door to that was the theater. On the way north across campus was another building where a few classes were taking place, followed by the Arts building where Caroline's class and five others were going on. At the far north, a juried fiber exhibit was taking place.

Vegetarian trophy heads. I didn't see this one coming. For those who enjoy a little stuffed head taxidermy of a trophy kill but would like to be animal cruelty free while admiring the beast mounted on the wall, try knitting your own. That's just what this young 22-year old woman Syndi Roberts did. I wonder if I found a dead bear someday out on the trail that died of natural causes and I shorn that old bear to bring the fiber home to Caroline. Could she spin my bear fur into yarn and knit me up bear head, I'd imagine that I would be the envy of all my tree-hugging buddies.

From furry heads, to hot bodies. What kind of fibery workshop / festival event would be complete without a fashion show? A bad one, the Intermountain Weavers didn't disappoint. This 80 something year old babe stole the show with her soon to be trendy again swim suit that dragged out the wolf whistles. Betty relished the attention strutting her figure while notching up the temperature in the theater another few degrees. She pranced left, sashayed right and flaunted every bit of sexy she could muster.

From the bodacious to the lascivious. This show had it all including this kinky master/slave display featuring elements of domination and bestiality from two bad-ass grannies who knew how to get the kink on. Sure, they wrapped it in some innocuous Mary Had A Little Lamb skit, but I knew the sub-context, nothing is lost on me, or my vivid imagination.

The next day, things went back to normal and the attendees got back to serious craft. Caroline was now ready to start dyeing her designs on hemp cloth. With her rubber gloves and apron there would be no turning her skin, or hair blue. John Marshall was pushing his students to complete half a dozen projects teaching them this art of Katazome.

During my relatively short stay on campus, I took some time to visit all of the classrooms to see what else was on offer. In this class, maybe a dozen people were working on improving their tapestry loom skills. It was also possible this was the first time on such a loom, I didn't want to disturb the instructors, so I simply stuck my head in, snapped a few photos and left.

This weaving workshop was specializing at creating stripes. The patterns and techniques that have been developed over the previous 20,000 years by the hands of countless human beings across all geographical regions of our planet is as diverse as there are sunrises in ones life. If we are fortunate, these women who are keeping these arts alive will inspire a new generation to pick up the craft and with any luck, some of the history, skills, and methods will find their way on to video to be shared with future generations. You see, I have this hope that at some point in our evolution, we humans will become enlightened and through the work of the many minds who are creating ever greater efficiencies, humans will learn to enjoy their time where learning and crafts lead the day as opposed to rushing around responding to non-sensical information and the demands of work.

Advancing ones skills or learning new ones, this is goal of these workshops. Here these two women are working to expand their knowledge of sewing. Maybe, this is also an opportunity to rub shoulders with like minded individuals and get away from spouses who may not be exactly supportive of these hobby crafts. The most striking aspect of my short  visits to these events, is the camaraderie exhibited between attendies. There is no hesitation to share tips and tricks, there is no bragging about statistics that put one person in a bragging position where their expertise creates celebrity - most of the time!

This is an example of the final outcome. Spend years perfecting the techniques that broaden the ability to discern the beauty in patterns and then deploy those skills to inspire your fellow artists.This handwoven shawl was on display in the non-juried Intermountain Spirit exhibit that attending members are encouraged to submit their best work to.

My vote for best of show would have been this handwoven basket. The irregular shape and southwest mountain colors with a fine band of green glass beads really worked for me. And people think basket weaving is a boring chore for retirees with nothing better to do, as though staring at a small screen tapping out messages in 140 characters or less is a statement of the pinnacle of sophistication people have attained. Do I sound bitter about the neglect of our skills, intellect, and respect for those who learn? Well, I guess I am - oh how I wish humanity would find its next renaissance.

The culmination of Caroline's efforts at the Intermountain Weavers Conference 2011 event in Durango, Colorado. Next year, she will likely attend Fibers Through Time 2012 to be held in Phoenix, Arizona. If we are still living in the southwest the following year, I wouldn't imagine it as being too far a stretch that she will once again find herself in Durango attending IWC 2013.

That sweet little cabin over on the dock was our home away from home for the past five days while we stayed at Five Branches Camper Park on Vallecito Reservoir. Our lakeside view, the beautiful forest, and the ride through the woods every day is hard to leave behind. Lucky for us, we leave with fond memories. The two bears that had been visiting the camp nearly every night, didn't have the chance to eat us or any of our neighbors. The sun rose, it set, and inbetween we saw the sun, unless the stars were out. This place could easily stay on our list of places to return to someday. Sadly, we never had the opportunity to go out kayaking or canoeing. The problem here is that no one can take a boat out before 8:00 a.m. by which time we were already gone, and boats had to be returned by 5:00, we never got back much before 6:00. No matter though, we enjoyed our stay.

Today Caroline was sporting her eagle eye as while we were driving along the narrow lakeside road she spotted two large birds sitting atop a barren tree. I turned around so we could inspect (and verify her rare find - think myopic), sure enough, she had seen two osprey, also known as sea hawks. The bird coming in for a landing is carrying a branch that we watched it snatch off a nearby tree with a pronounced snap. It circled around and was about to deliver the beginnings of a new nest for momma and poppa bird.

The next hours we drove through the Ute Reservation and their town of Ignacio. Next was Aztec, New Mexico and the first and one of the last Starbucks we would find before passing through Flagstaff, Arizona later in the day. So, I'm addicted. It is a long drive from Durango, Colorado to Phoenix, Arizona. After Aztec and nearly the same town, we drive through Farmington. It was in Farmington back on October 19, 2000 that we had the chance to spend a night at Kokopelli Cave while my mother in-law Jutta was visiting. The cave is one of the most unique places in all of America to stay at. But today, we are going home.

We have left the Redrock Highway with some great views and beautiful red sandstone bluffs but quality photos were not in the cards this trip. Back down on flat land we were afforded some tremendous vistas, even a little rain was spotted way off in the distance left of the centerline. No rivers, no trees, not much of anything out here, can you guess why this made perfect Indian Reservation land? The answer is easy, there was nothing our forefathers wanted from this land. Caroline and I find it infinitely gorgeous, sadly, most tourists do not. The casual observer gets distracted by the poverty, desolation, and inane stereotypes that have been propagated over the years regarding the indigenous people of North America.

Two dead calves lie in front of the gate that leads to Keams, Arizona - they are a warning to white people to not trespass on Indian lands. Black magic as used by drunken Indians on welfare is a fashion on the Rez, it's like white trash girls wearing big framed sunglasses sporting slutty clothes or some dufus guy wearing his white baseball cap backwards with his pants hanging off his ass so we can read what size boxers he wears - it's just a fashion, nothing more - but it is effective in keeping others away. Or I'm full of cow-poop, yep, that's more like it, but these two cows wasting away, who could-have-been-steaks, are probably clean out of poop or any other fluid. Even if one were to want to open the gate to take a shortcut to Keams, how would you maneuver the carcasses?

This is the new face of Native American rock-art, also known as pictographs. Out with Kokopelli, the sun, water, dear, or other tired old-fashioned symbols from the previous thousands of years. Modern Indians are putting down new icons, like Mickey Freakin Mouse. Strangely, Mickey is almost across the street from the two dead calves, could this be some mysterious signal to passing native motorists that running down animals to leave subversive and superstitious looking roadside messages is right on? Then they throw out Disney characters to disorient us tourists into fearing the red man. Maybe the tide is turning and the Indian is getting wise to our wacky rightwing belief systems and are starting to toy with our heads. Native America, rise up and takeover the media landscape, it's time for revenge against what was taken from you. First step, corrupt our icons.

With the aerosol bombardment of peyote starting to wear off, a curve in the road returns me to my senses and out of the hallucinations I was obviously having back there deep on the Rez. I'm sure that later when I look back at those photos, the dead calves and Mickey will have proven to be a figment of my imagination. You can bet I'm happy to be returning to normal.

In front of the camera is Rez land, behind me is America where I feel like a white guy. Soon, we will approach gas stations with hordes of hot tourists driving down Interstate 40 clogging some the grimiest bathrooms your nose wants to experience in the summer. Flushed of their overflowing bladders, they will flock to the freezer for ice-creams and coke - good old American food, no more of that sinewy old mutton and fry bread cooked in lard for me. Just me and my America, going home. Makes me well up and think about listening to this when I get home. Click here to listen and watch.