<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n Getting\nout of New Mexico was tougher than I thought it would be. But I did\nit. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n After\nspending six months bouncing between Storrie Lake State Park\nCampground, Vegas RV Park and the side lot of a 10-bedroom house\nbeing renovated in East Las Vegas I finally hooked and hauled my\nlittle, vintage camper behind my recently acquired Ford F-250 pickup\ntruck \u2013 The\nBeast\n\u2013 and throttled over Raton Pass and into Colorado, dropping down to\nTrinidad and passing all the billboards for legal weed dispensaries\nbefore heading off onto the prairie, following the Old Santa Fe Trail\ntoward La Junta, beside the Pinon Canyon Maneuver Site \u2013 nearly a\nquarter-million acre Army training ground for Fort Carson in Colorado\nSprings – along the Purgatoire River and across the Comanche National\nGrasslands, just balling that rig north by northeast through ghost\ntowns and past prisons, the setting sun glistening off razor wire\nparapets of the Arkansas Valley Correctional Facility near Ordway,\nthen a restless streetside sleep before the final blast due north\ntoward Wyoming \u2013 muscling the burly V-8 engine over roads that\nfroze me cold in fear on the trip down a half year earlier. But now,\nbehold: A new Lord of the Plains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, we made it here to Crow Valley Campground in the Pawnee National Grasslands outside of Briggsdale, CO. Beautiful, green and full of birdsong. Rambeaux is running amok. In an hour or so we\u2019ll head to Red Feather [Lakes Village] where I have a site reserved for a day or two at Dowdy [Lake Campground], so CJ and I can drop Gus [a tall tree on the verge of falling] before putting the camper on the property. FEELS GREAT!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \n–Journal\nentry: Tuesday; June 4th, 2019; 9:56 am. Absorbing the quietude of\ncottonwood trees in tall green grass before heading up the mountain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s so peaceful here that I want to find an angle of repose and recharge my body before climbing the final peak, to ponder the journey behind me, thankful that I made it over the barren plains on elevated roads with no shoulders, just as I hesitated here last year after making it down the mountain before going out to face the unknown dangers of the prairie, heading south. But the land was holding brown then, and now it has the release of green – and green, dear reader, means go! <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \n I\ncan\u2019t help but wonder what it was like for the earlier pioneers in\ntheir ox-drawn Conestoga wagons navigating the Oregon Trail, whose\nruts are still visible just a few miles north, the bleached bones of\nanimals and humans who fell along the way scattered into the loamy\nsoil, regenerating the prairie. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n But the sun is shining and the wind is stilled. This is no moment for delay. There will be ample time to look back once I make it up the mountain to Red Feather Lakes. So, I lock and load Cochise for the last leg and head west, off the flatland, through the foothills and up toward my homestead in the forest, over a mile and a half above sea level in the northern Colorado Rockies. Bring it! <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBeautiful morning at Dowdy Lake, as I drink my coffee at the picnic table looking out over the flat, mirrored surface of the water, kayaks and belly-boats dotting the view. CJ should be on his way up here. We\u2019re going to drop Gus (the tree) and hopefully put the camper on the property. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s been \u2013 to me \u2013 a long couple days of travel to get here, but we\u2019re almost home, Rambeaux and I. It feels somewhat surreal being back up here, everything so lush and beautiful. No wind. No mean, loud streets. I feel in my place here. At peace. It\u2019s been a while\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \n–Journal\nentry: Saturday; June 5th, 2019; 8:27 am. Back on the mountain at\nDowdy Lake Campground, Red Feather Lakes Village, Colorado.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n I\nlingered, longer than I planned. Snow still held its ground in the\nhigher elevations, and my property was not spared. I was fortunate\nthat a camping spot opened up when someone left their reservation\nearly. The camp host told me I could have it if I payed the remainder\nof fees, otherwise he would list it as available on the website that\nservices national park campgrounds and it would be snapped up\nquickly. I knew he was probably right and paid $24\/day for a couple\nmore nights, hoping that would allow enough time for the roads to dry\nout heading back to my land and giving me a few more mornings waking\nup to sunrises over this breathtaking lake. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n National\npark campgrounds are not cheap during \u201cthe season\u201d, and\nreservations are taken only online. New Mexico state parks were much\nless expensive (especially with an annual pass), but were switching\nto online reservations for the summer as well. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n Supply struggles to meet demand for those wanting to spend time in the serenity of wild places, away from the madness of cities and the Rat Race – what Edward Abbey referred to as Rattus Urbanus<\/em>. I can understand that. I just wish there was more public getaway space for the average Joe(anne). Not everyone has the ability to build or buy their mountain retreat up here, which can easily cost several hundred thousand dollars \u2013 and more. Henry David Thoreau wouldn\u2019t be able to afford his spot on Walden Pond in the 21st<\/sup> Century. He\u2019d probably be living under a bridge, and eating out of dumpsters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m more fortunate. I have my secluded piece of dirt in the woods, a cozy, little camper to park on it, and a shed with a desk, workbench and storage lofts that\u2019s wired with electricity \u2013 a hack-shack with studio and shop: the Shtudiop<\/em>. My getaway hideaway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n CJ, my son, comes up and we drop Gus, the leaning lodgepole pine overshadowing the flat spot on my property. I safely park Cochise, leveling him up as best I can to grant a well-deserved rest. He\u2019s earned it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n I\nmelt back quickly into a state of tranquility, wind flowing through\nthe canopy of trees, an invisible river \u2013 a hum \u2013 as though the\nspirited force that sculpted this land now blew its mantra upon it,\nbearing the quiet for me alone, no neighbors within the reach of\nsound, and I find myself surrounded with nothing that doesn\u2019t grow\nwild. Silence is free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n I\nfall back into a regimen of sunrise walks with Rambeaux looking for\nmoose tracks, coffee in a camp chair facing the wooded rise as grey\njays and pine squirrels come squawking and barking to life, and\nreading and writing at my desk, still struggling to get a solid\ninternet signal through my cell service signal booster and mobile\nWiFi hotspot – the dichotomy of getting away from it all but trying\nto take a connection with you in the Digital Age, looking for answers\nfrom algorithms, often ending empty handed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n When\nthe head work is done, my body looks for labor, most often it will be\ncutting branches and brush, thinning the forest around me for better\ncritter visibility and wildfire mitigation, trying to hold the\nthreatening forces of nature at bay as best I can. Or I\u2019ll move\ndirt and rocks in 5-gallon buckets from upslope benches to downslope\nembankments as I endeavor to level a livable space on a mountainside.\nBut if I\u2019m just feeling particularly decadent \u2013 I\u2019ll go\nfishing. Water flowing of its own volition is one of the reasons I\nmoved to this place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n The\nPanhandle Creek streams east out of the Laramie Mountain Range and\nfills the Crystal Lakes below my property, joining in confluence with\nthe North Fork of the Cache la Poudre River as it wends its way\nnorth, then south through various draws to create Seaman Reservoir\nbefore branching into the Poudre and joining the trunk of its larger\nnamesake – given by French trappers for \u201cHide the Powder\u201d when\nthey found themselves stuck in a snowstorm in the 1820s and cached\ntheir gunpowder in a cave at the mouth of the canyon. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m back on the property, and have been for over two weeks. I don\u2019t want to leave. So, I won\u2019t. Now I\u2019m a mountain man, and my rubber tramp days are over for the moment. That\u2019s fine with me. Hauling my home over prairie roads and mountain passes was not a relaxing undertaking \u2013 I must say. I love this part of Colorado, it\u2019s scenery, and these wonderful mountain folk.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Soon, CJ will be here and we\u2019ll fish. The rivers and creeks are running high, moose calves are out in abundance, and I sit here at my desk with a hardwired overhead light for the first time. This is where I now belong, where I believe I was meant to be. So many other things that needed to happen first, but now this \u2013 forever, I hope. I\u2019m back in a routine I can\u2019t imagine leaving. I\u2019ll do whatever it takes to keep it. Whatever it takes\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n –Journal entry: Thursday; June 27th, 2019; 6:58 am. Sitting at my desk in the Shtudiop<\/em>, envisioning the embrace of the River. Happy. Not yet wet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n We\ncatch more fish than we\u2019ve ever caught before. Bigger. More\ncolorful. Fat, healthy Rainbows and Palomino Trout the color of the\nsun. We see moose along the water\u2019s edge and step over coyote scat\nto get to the primo fishing spots \u2013 the honey holes. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n New\nMexico seems so distant now\u2026The air smells different here. Not\nbetter necessarily, just different. Alpine forest as opposed to high\ndesert, each with its uniqueness and reason. One to make the other\nstand out more, but both to be enjoyed, in equal measure. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n The\nscents of the West, under pillowed blue skies as wide as can be\nimagined and beyond, going back unspoiled into time past and forward\nto times unknown – so grab it now, dear reader, and take nothing for\ngranted. The adventure is in the moment. I truly believe that. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n And\u2026I\nbelieve this is the moment, my friends and fellow vagabonds, that I\nfeel we must leave this rubber tramp adventure, here beside the\nmountain stream. And dream of what great things there are to come\u2026 \n \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n \n From\nthe Land of Enchantment to the northern Colorado Rockies, and further\nin all directions at once\u2026 \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n Orale, Amigos!<\/em> And Hoka Hey!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p> <\/ul><\/div>\n