Circle K #2709874, 135 West Garden of the Gods Boulevard
3.475 gallons
$2.689/gallon
$9.34

Retreat from the high country, back to urban centers. Drop by at Jim and Dona’s place on the way back to Boulder.

A short drive and hike with Karen on West Fourmile Creek to Guffey Falls where we find some teenagers cliff-jumping into the very cold water. We then drive to a development built on the huge granitic batholith exposed below Cripple Creek. Place becomes, as seems usual, the backdrop for ongoing conversations, even the stars from the trampoline in the cold.

Morning starts when the hydrocarbon warriors fire up their mounts! Otherwise, for the rest of us, it is a slow and sunny day, and for me, a day of portraits. A longish bush-whack hike with mostly the ladies and gals in the late morning. I end up following my nose at the same time as leading a group with Natalie and a few others youngsters back to camp. When dead-reckoning brings us out of the woods about 50 meters from camp, they are surprised as, in the mean time, not following any trail, they have been a bit unsure about where they were and where I suggest we head. It’s high altitude, too. The maximum we hit was over 3200 meters — I can feel it in my lungs going up a steep incline across from Limestone Ridge to the south.

Pack up and head out in mid-afternoon. Head east towards the Puma Hills and Pikes Peak, tracking a road I’ve actually never driven in Colorado, CR 24 through Hartsel and over Wilkerson Pass, on to Florissant where I turn south to get to Karen and Ron’s place.

J.V. Food Shop, 12900 Highway 285
8.326 gallons
$2.799/gallon
$23.30

Up into the mountains, near Buena Vista to rendezvous with a sizable crowd of friends and friends-of-friends. Plenty of hydrocarbon expenditure, plenty of food. Too tired to stay up around the fire with the hardcores, go to sleep under a huge Ponderosa.

Public transport to the airport in the rain. Portland has a close-to-German system running between trams, buses, streetcars, and suchlike. A change of planes in Salt Lake gives a view of the Great Salt Lake Desert and the Wendover stomping grounds on the way in, along with the nasty and turbulent winds. The next hop to Denver goes right over Echo Park. Weather on the Front Range delays us in a holding pattern over Rocky Mountain National Park. Those peaks are all too close! On the ground, full-blown summer afternoon thunderstorm patterns are in play. With the full moon rising over the eastern plains. Look at those clouds!

What does the law of maximum entropy production have to do with order production? Given the foregoing, the reader may have already jumped to the correct conclusion, namely, if ordered flow produces entropy faster than disordered flow (as required by the balance equation of the second law), and if the world acts to minimize potentials at the fastest rate given the constraints (the law of maximum entropy production), then the world can be expected to produce order whenever it gets the chance — Rod Swenson

Gathering many sonic samples and no images along the riverfront, the gray weather recalls Iceland without the chill. But the recollection isn’t so welcome.

Around the house, the rain continues. Heavily.

Working on paperwork, online most the day, take a wander towards downtown. Erica and Greg working all day and out for a dinner party at the university.

Borrow one of Erica’s car (not the Boxster!) and make a day-trip up the Columbia River Gorge to the area around Multnomah Falls and the Bonneville Dam. It’s raining and I don’t quite have enough gear, but do some hiking. Immersed in green-ness. Dinner with Erica, late.

Downtown psycho-geographic meander catching sounds, few images, espresso and books, catch a small Donald Judd exhibition, late dinner with Greg and Erica. They routinely have 16-hour days. It’s a hyper-competitive world.

Brunch with Homare, years have passed since we crossed paths, how that goes. He and his wife have moved into a really nice place right off of CR 36 in Denver. Then back to Boulder to catch the airport bus to DIA and on to Portland. Erica picks me up in her scrubs, straight from the hospital. I haven’t seen her for, what, a decade? Back to her place where she makes dinner for her boyfriend Greg, and myself. I had forgotten she had a catering business in the long-ago past. Between geology and cardio-vascular surgery. Sheesh, have some more wine.

Loaf N Jug, 102 West Ruby Drive
8.354 gallons
$2.639/gallon
$22.05

Western Convenience, 2525 South Broadway
6.621 gallons
$3.029/gallon
$20.06

Up early on a gorgeous late spring day to finish preparations on the yurt platform which overlooks a beautiful slice of one of the two canyons on the east and west sides of their lot. The actual raising of the yurt won’t be until next month (stay tuned!), but Collin and Marisa will be away on one of their guided flights to Alaska in the interim. Friends, including their neighbor, Bob, lend a hand for the long, hard day of work, but it’s all relaxed and with lots of good humor. PBR’s temper the late afternoon heat. Work continues until after dark with a quick polyurethaning of the all the lower bender boards while Bob and his wife make a hearty hamburger dinner. Good times!

at Collin and Marisa’s up on Glade Park above the Colorado National Monument — sleep in a bit while those folks get down to the airport to prep for their Learn to Fly event that their company, the Colorado Flight Center, is putting on. The drive down is in a deep and moist fog which gives the Monument extra dimension. At the airport, the F/A-18s inject their presence with after-burner roars on flyovers and take-offs. After the flight training sales-briefing, the awarding of the door prizes (free flights!) and barbecue, Collin takes me over to another hangar to see the Grumman TBF Avenger torpedo bomber that is being restored. It’s the heaviest single-engine aircraft in WWII. Wow, it’s huge!

Back up on the Glade in the early evening, we take a hike down the canyon that their land borders, hiking down to the Colorado National Monument boundary. Yet another wow! Yeah, jealous at the fruits of their significant labors! An intense piece of land with a house and several out-buildings — the land consists of the wedge of highland between two slick-rock canyons. The land seems relatively untouched with (perhaps) first-growth piñon, small prickly-pear cactus, with a thin sandy soil — I can imagine because of the steep drop on either side, anyone ranching the land would fence it off from cattle from the get-go. Collin tells the story of not having walked the entire piece of land before buying it, and then, when wandering out to the point of the wedge only to see a nice set of big slick-rock hoodoos stepping down into the canyon head. After that he wanders back and gets Marisa who is also oblivious of the sight as well. Nice surprise. And it’s not far from that point that the yurt is to be erected. Thunderheads build over Grand Mesa.

Leaving when done with breakfast and cleaning and packing. A couple rituals yet — gathering some sage and some yellow Weber sandstone powder. A beautiful sojourn. The place is so rich, so un-circumscribable, no matter how many dances of words one would make around it. Best is the ability to press into the body the power of be-ing and the power of life. And Light. And the gravity of the earth. Fundamentals to the heart. The drift of cloud and shift of wider weather patterns, leaving Light on upturned face, changing all the time.

Maybe put out a call next spring to have others join. Then again, maybe not…

What changes flow into the ongoing process of life during solo retreats to power-full places? I think a lot about all the others who I know, and do wish that there were folks who would be able to join me in these places. Some folks I would like to have join me and others, I know, wouldn’t appreciate it. Everything would be different, especially the bushwhacks and the rambles; the cooking and eating, sharing meals, and just hanging out together would recall so many prior times, and the deep and satisfying fun that was had by all.

The hikes: while most attention has to go to the movement itself, as there are considerable risks to walking solo in such places, mind may drift from immediate situation and the larger questions of what has become, what does become of life. It’s more of a noisy mess, but it is easier under these circumstances to do the yogic step away and allow the chitta vritti, the thought-noise, to simply happen, knowing that being in the moment is far more important and has deeper implications than any projections onto future (and very much theoretical) situations or into re-living historical situations. The pull of the un-fettered mind into both those spaces is strong, and the best tonic for that is the risk of solo bushwhacking where there is a steep penalty for not paying attention. I do catch myself every so often, verbally, aloud, slow-down slow-down slow-down, after I make a mis-step or blunder. The most common is when traversing some slick-rock face and stepping on a small pebble. That’s all it takes, send you 10 feet or 100 feet to the next ledge down, or to the canyon floor. Doesn’t make much difference how far, an injury would be immediate life-threatening even if it was a minor sprain — if immobilized, you would have to deal with at least one night out, maybe more, with hypothermia, then dehydration being the most problematic, then the problem of becoming predator food, the problem of attracting help could be very difficult, if in a slot canyon or off the normal known trails. I carry a loud whistle, and do leave small notes in my car which would direct search parties to general areas, but the terrain is vast, and there is much topography that would make searching difficult. I think they would wait a day at least before even checking the car anyway. Unless you told someone specifically that you would be in touch. There is no phone access, and so on, uff. Well, the point is, focus and caution have to be taken very seriously when soloing. I would do things rather differently if with one other or a small group. There is immediately a sizeable extra safety factor. Not that it would suddenly make risk disappear, but an innocuous stumble on the rocks wouldn’t immediately become a life-and-death situation.

What about these time-lapse movies? What are they about? I don’t know what to make of them, but have spent numerous hours making them — 2 minutes per hour is the rate that I’ve been using — a frame every 3 or 4 seconds to make a PAL 24 fps film. I guess I’ll make a dvd or maybe a single work, but have to think of the sound-track for them, that’s difficult.

Anyway, head out, south through Rangely, down the Book Cliffs, through Loma and meet Collin and Marisa at the airport office of their business, the Colorado Flight Center, get pizza and beer, and drive up the hill to Glade Park to have dinner with Bob, their next door neighbor.

Loaf N Jug, 783 West Highway 64
5.944 gallons
$2.999/gallon
$17.83