it's an incredible week at ALA in Chicago. it boils down to authors. i have got two new favs. Hannah Moskowitz is a talented young author i chanced upon at a reading. i thought i was there for another author. i am so glad i was early. she is incredible. i mean i feel like a fanboy (at my age). i am not in the YA demographic. not even close. yet her presence is magical--makes me remember when i was that age and i was so intent on living (i am not so earnest now just more relaxed i reckon). i heard her read from "Teeth" which i am now devouring. got an autographed copy in which she drew me a bow-tie (i'm easily amused). i even ate out in a restaurant by myself (really) and read her book while chowing down on deep dish pizza. it gave me strength to go out, get in the middle of an extremely uncomfortable situation, and be part of the maddening crowd. my agoraphobia be damned. that's something. i just had to go to another book signing of hers for "Gone, Gone, Gone." even got my picture taken with her. i know--pretty geeky. but what can i say.

and as if it couldn't happen again. i spent 45 minutes trying to find a meeting. never did. changed the room on me and never told me. after walking around in circles (i even passed the room the meeting was in four times) i said fuck it, not worth it. so i went up to the exhibition hall and meandered around. went by the reading stage and had to stop. the author was talking about how he came to write his book and i was hooked. there was just something that compelled me to hang around and listen. Samuel Park is his name. he wrote a book based on his mother and it sounded very good. about lost love, the chances we take, and what happens if the lost love comes back into your life. what do you do? "This Burns My Heart." immediately on my list after Hannah. he autographed the book and was so nice. he accepted my praise like he never heard it before and i know he has gotten so much. i appreciate that in an artist--humility. those musicians i have had the honor to play with that are my favorite people possess this humility regarding their gifts. so excellent!

    

My Liberal Identity

You are a    Reality-Based Intellectualist, also known as the liberal elite. You are a   proud member of what’s known as the reality-based  community, where science, reason, and non-Jesus-based thought reign supreme.

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About.com Political Humor

There is a hurricane ablowing and just by knowing what you know, you have an advantage to the blind morons that surround you everyday. However not everyone can be saved. Ancient proverb: don't bother telling the TRUTH to your friend because he already knows and don't bother telling the TRUTH to your enemy because he won't believe you. Civilize those you can and fuck the rest. There are too many people in this world. It is not our responsibility to be constantly cleaning up after the weak-minded. Nature will eventually run its course and those too stupid to live will fortunately be crushed beneath the wheels of our progress. Assume your individuality. Culture can rob you of your uniqueness. That's how stereotypes exist, and not without reason. Anyone too wrapped up in the sheep mentality of their ethnicity can never truely express themselves as individuals. READ, Watch, LISTEN, DO what you want. BUT BE WARNED! You cannot have this freedom at no cost. You must pay in responsibility. If you listen to MARILYN MANSON and MURDER your FAMILY then you will go to jail. That's reality. If you decide to commit suicide for a song-SO LONG SUCKER! That kind of thinking has no place in our movement. Right now as a Family, as an Army we are limited as a minority. Laws bind us. But it is important to remember the law is only what is popular. Not whats right or wrong. Marilyn Manson rejects conventional morality and societys self-serving standards. When WE become the majority, we will decide who doesn't belong. As misanthropes and throw-away lods we will not submit to the mainstream. You will become it. And America should be very, very afraid. I AM YOU.
Marilyn Manson

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver

Keeping Hope Alive

***Keeping Hope Alive***

The great Jewish mystic known as the Baal Shem Tov had
discovered four great holy secrets. In order to keep hope
alive in the world, he went to a sacred place in the
forest, built an ancient, special fire, said a holy prayer,
and spoke the long-forgotten true pronunciation of the most
holy name of God.

It was enough. Hope stayed alive for the next generation.

The Baal Shem Tov's successor, though, did not know the
true pronunciation of the most holy name of God. But, when
the time came, he went to the place in the forest, built
the fire, and spoke the prayer. It was enough. Hope stayed
alive for the next generation.

In the next generation, the successor to the successor
only knew enough to go to the sacred place in the forest
and build the ancient fire. But it was enough; hope stayed
alive.

In the following generation, the next successor could only
go to the place in the forest and pray that this last,
single secret would be enough. It was! Hope stayed alive.

But in the next generation, the final secret was lost. So
the successor in this generation sat in his own armchair
and told the story.

Just telling the story was enough. Hope stayed alive in
the next generation - and the next and the next, as long as
the story is told.

from Doug Lipman

Saddle between St. Vrain and Meadow Mountains , 10-18-2010

It was a fairly straight forward hike to the saddle at 11,000 feet. This is a very nice trail. It only had patches of ice and a light dusting of snow. Unfortunately there were no waterfalls or water features along the way (except of the snow kind).

Again, I had something following me in the rocks and timber to the side of the path. Probably a clan of ground squirrels related to the bunch living near Pawnee Pass. They must have some kind of telegraph or satellite that let’s they pass messages that Jeff is around. ;-)

I took out my trekking pole in the event they decided to ambush me for my apple granola bars or my Sasquatch Beef Stick I brought for snacks. I’d give up the bars without a fight. But I’d get in a tussle for the beef stick.

I came upon some bobcat tracks. Looks like the kitty was following one of the ground squirrels. From the condition of the tracks it was pretty recent; missed the cat by an hour or two at the most.

I had to break trail about ten times or so due to the snowdrifts along the way. I wasn’t sure if my hikers were water repellent enough to stay dry. They got damp and cold but not soaked. And they dried out pretty fast that afternoon.

At the saddle I ran into my first snow field of the season. It was up to my calves and I didn’t want to scramble in this up to the top of the mountain. It was too risky for me being alone to attempt the climb either peak in the ice and snow.

On the way down I met a man in shorts with his dog climbing up the trail. He seemed pretty enthused, asked about the saddle, and said, “Far out man.” You get to meet all kinds of interesting people out on the trails.

Pretty much a hike up and down. It was nice to have an uneventful trip. Wish I could have made it up one of the peaks, but they’ll be there for me to try later. Better safe than sorry. Although one must always be vigilant for the hidden hoards or maybe a couple of critters that want your lunch.

Fern Lake (10-11-2010)

Rather strenuous climb but with four waterfalls.

The trail head for Fern Lake is in RMNP’s Moraine Park. As I headed to the TH I stopped to take a picture of the peaks in the area. I happened to look over to the side of the road across from me and saw three elk grazing. Kind of startling. I had brought my grandmother up to RMNP the night before and it was the first time in 50 years grandma hadn’t seen any.

Down the road was a herd of about 30. I rolled down the window and sure enough there was some bugling going on. Then I heard the clash of antlers. I actually saw two bucks going at it. They were circling around and hitting their racks together (not the butting of heads like Rocky Mountain Sheep). I’d seen it on TV but never in person. Awesome!

Then someone in a very loud 4WD truck pulled up on the tail of my car. They left the engine running and their lights on. That was the end of my elk watching the jerk. So off I went to the TH pretty ticked off.

I met a couple of ladies coming down the trail. They had been up photographing things. They were loaded down with lots of equipment.

One of these days I am going to get a beefier camera. But the one I have now works pretty well. It fits in my pocket and is easy to get to.

Up the trail you pass under some interesting orange-red granite rocks that lean towards each other above you. It’s wild to think these 30 foot plus boulders fell from the cliffs next to the trail and landed upright like this.

A short way further brings you to The Pool. Here three water courses come together—the Big Thompson River, Fern Creek, and Spruce Creek. Being low level this time of season it appears as any large pool on a river. During high water season it is described as having whirling eddies and rolling crests.

At The Pool the trail divides into two paths. One goes to Cub Lake while the other goes to Fern Lake. The marker is a little askew, not spot on, but fairly clear. I took the left branch and climbed up.

I got to see a delicate waterfall right next to the trail. It doesn’t appear on any map and thus has no name. But I’d have to say it ranks as one of my favorites. The form of its shape as it fell, almost dripped down its 20 foot watercourse was simply beautiful.

Also along the trail was a fascinating row of boulders covered by moss. Pretty cool formation.

I hiked the almost vertical mile to the top of the trail and encountered the trail marker broken and on the ground. I lifted it up and it said Cub Lake. Cub Lake? I wanted Fern Lake. Cub was in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. Crap. Somehow I took the wrong trail. So I trudged back down the hill to The Pool.

On the way down I met two anglers on the way to Fern Lake. One of them said he had been to Fern and said that had been on the right trail. Had someone put the sign up at the top as a prank? The guy was so sure this was the trail that I followed him and his buddy back up the hill.

We got to the top and he thought the sign was odd. And it just wasn’t looking like the Fern Lake he remembered. He took out his trail map and decided he was wrong. Oops, this was Cub Lake.

It’s a small pretty lake at 8600 feet. It has water plants floating near its edges all around its circumference. At this time in the year, the plants have turned a golden color.

I wish I could have enjoyed it better, but I had climbed 3 extra miles, gained 1080 foot in elevation, and lost a couple of hours of hiking time. Timing would have been OK, but I had a Longmont Symphony rehearsal that night. Looking at the pictures I took of Cub Lake the next day, I found the lake to be simply beautiful. My mistake was worth the extra miles. To Cub Lake I could add the waterfall and row of moss covered rocks; it was worth the effort.

I left the guys at Cub Lake and got back down to The Pool. I discovered how I screwed up on which trail to take. Oh well. This one got past me.

I started up the right trail which was again very steep. Since I had read a book on Colorado waterfalls, I knew there was a falls kind of hidden on the north of the path. Since a lot of leaves had fallen, it was easier to find it. The books’ authors named it the Overlooked Falls and I could see why. If you didn’t know it was there and made the effort to see it, you couldn’t find it. It’s a 20 foot hoursetail surrounded by cascades.

En route to Fern Lake is Fern Falls. There was a young couple there so I tried to be scarce. The falls are 60 foot high and full of washed down boulders and trees. It looks kind of rough compared to others I’ve seen. It looks like the little brother or cousin of Ousel or Alberta Falls. In fact, the book said the type of rock under the water is the same for all three falls. I wish the author had noted what kind. I think it’s granite.

I continued up (and it was up) the trail to Fern Lake. I lost my pace and got winded. Eventually, I found my stride and plugged along to the lake.

Fern Lake is at 9530 foot in elevation and still below timberline. So the locale isn’t as stark as other high lakes I’ve been to. The Little Matterhorn and Notchtop Mountain rise above the lake to the southwest.

The lake was OK but my true objective was to find Marguerite Falls. The problem was I had to bushwack down Fern Creek. I’m not a particularly bushwacking kind of guy. I prefer trails even if they are steep and going in the wrong direction. I had a general idea where to go so I followed a game trail for a bit then pushed my way through underbrush and fallen trees till I heard the falls, maybe a third of a mile off the beaten path.

And it was so worth it. The falls lie in a stretch of cascades about 50 yards long or so. It was a tad bit difficult to find the two parts of the falls. Yet cascades are a form of waterfall imho—water falling over a downward pitch of rocks or other natural obstruction. On the other hand, a waterfall may be a form of cascade. Maybe that’s a better angle. Anyway, the falls were a beautiful patch of water – in form and sound - nestled in a private nook.

I sat down and relaxed by the lower falls. I had some trail mix (don’t get the “tropical” kind unless you like dried bananas) and water. [I now have a hydration bladder for my daypack. I still like the gallon jug better, but the bladder takes up less space which I’ll need for winter climbing gear like clothes and snowshoes.]

The trip back to the car was uneventful—took some pictures and said howdy to a few people. I didn’t hurt myself or get mobbed over my Chick-fil-A t-shirt like last week [see Sky Pond and Fall].

Overall, this was a nice hike even going up to Cub Lake twice. And seeing four waterfalls—who could ask for more?