Refreshing "eye candy": #isthatanoasis?

It's NOT a mirage!  I can even smell the dusty rain!!!  We're located in the 

"Middle of Nowhere, Nevada", which is "Everywhere Nevada". The rain lasted 45 seconds, at most....now, dust billows into the air casting a haze over the mountains in the distance. (Battle Mountain...three hours NE of Reno.)

One of the three trains we've seen in as many hours, traversing the country.  I've read that settlers and Native People could see and hear the trains for  10s of miles.

I'm munching organic baby carrots, a few that I picked up off the floor 2 SECONDS after they'd fallen.  Actually, they didn't hit the floor, but rather landed on my Keen boots stuffed and intertwined with white, size 13 (girls), Wal Mart sneakers... I've kicked off my Chacos and shoved them under the front seat in hopes they don't fall out at the next stop in 3 hours.

The kids, Ben included, sing "Jar of Hearts" behind me....quite out of tune, and perhaps on purpose he keeps croaking, "catch a cold", "who do you think  you areeeeeee...".  Grace, chirps no echos, a second behind the speakers, "catching hearts, storing them in your jar of hearts..."  Now come the ABCs belted out while some nameless College boy's nameless tune intones...it's not obnoxious.  Just vanilla.

....only 290 miles to Elko, then 150 more, TODAY, and it's only 1:02...and I've eaten two day's worth of calories!  John decides NOW is lunch time.  He eats the turkey, salami, and provolone sandwich I made an hour ago, and searches for his Camelbak (while driving 80mph on Cruise control)  He could look awhile since I passed it back to Ben earlier.  He  never drank it, preferring to hurl it forward, well, he actually batted it back at Kirsten:  65 mph.  (For the sake of accuracy, and so that you never think I'm writing fiction, I stand corrected on the previous Camelbak story.  Apparently Ben not only didn't hurl or bat it back, but sucked it dry.  It must've been another object: say the blueberry muffin, that went flying, probably faster, but it wouldn't hurt as bad when it landed on your cheek.....now I'm told the metal baseball bat, meant to protect us from bears and cougars, became a projectile in his hands.  The javelin now sits at Kirsten's feet.)

Kirsten returned the now-empty water bottle to her father, via a convoy of hands, from the back of the car to the front.  I refilled it with water from a sterilized milk jug so that John could take 4 Motrin for HIS headache:  from the glare, the altitude, too many peanut m and m's?  The spare water source reminds me of ED, the Lassen Parks Cafe owner?/manager? who kindly offered, not only to refill it, but to sterilize it, from the milk residue remaining after we chugged it minutes after returning from our snowy 

"swunter" (summer/winter) hike down to sulphur pits.  Pits  that continue to boil for centuries, consuming the surrounding dry-scape daily. (A boardwalk collapsed into the cauldron  last year.)  The lukewarm milk hit the "dry spot" generated after several hours on the trail, under an altitude intensified sun.  

Very soon, however, we needed water!  The gracious German immigrant, Ed, willingly accommodated.  He loved Rebekah's "Raised Right!" tee shirt with the elephant on it!  He admired our family, and after a few minutes of conversation, where I told him I was giving my children "America", he reached out, asking, if he could shake my hand! He then asked to take our picture to put on the Lassen Facebook page!   These integral "people-to-people" encounters, act as a liaison   connecting me to the place and the experience.  I believe we graft a bit of their goodness, borne of life experiences, onto ourselves, slowing become one people, connected across time and space.  He will live in more than my blog, and I know our family gave him hope and brought a smile to his face as he shared a bit of himself over the serving of swirl, soft-serve ice-cream to weary,sunburned hikers.

A dust storm swirls around the dessert to my right/south.  Dry mountains stand guard, against what or whom I can't imagine: Kit Carson? (about an hour NE of Reno, at this point)

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In the pictures below I tried to capture an Oasis, just a tad North-east of Reno. Very few water sources exist here, which isn't a bad thing if you're a rattlesnake.  However, I noticed a lush line of grass and trees skirting the base of a small mountain. At some vistas I saw a fairly quick-flowing brook bringing the green Midas touch to the desert.  All of this could become a spiritual meditation, so let your heart turn to those Bible stories if you're so moved.  I think of Jonah sitting in the desert, and God causing a tree to grow up over him, shading him, reinvigorating his wearied, fearful soul.  What river has God allowed to run through my life?...that musing is for another blog......but I do perceive the sacred out here.  I do understand America's aboriginal people's unity with themselves, and each other, as an extension of their unity with nature's own life-nurturing harmony.  

The natural world, fires and floods included, serve to create, and recreate God's Garden.  Each event serves a good, over time; and,  even a rock cannot cling to its past, for given a cataclysmic event, a volcano eruption, or, over time, the forces of pressure and the heat it generates, must succumb to a newness: igneous, metamorphic rocks.  But this progression is God's will.  The "progressives" of today, fail to understand that progress in the natural world makes sense, for instance wild flowers bloom in the ashes  left from a lightening-hit sparked wild fire. 

 For post-modern progressives,  "progress" leads to regression...

life literally dies:  eg abortion kills; 

 fails to thrive:  through divorce, which is also a death. 

withers away: through enmity, petty grievances left unchecked or unaddressed. 

suffocates:  through the busyness of life, which allows no time to sit and appreciate the stark contrast of a smooth, azure sky, juxtaposed with barren mountain crags.  The oasis mediates between the two, allowing hope to flow between the worlds.

The first Americans understood this innately.  So did a German man I met along the road in Lassen as we prepared to hike down to Bumpass Hell sulphur pits.  He had worked hard, saved his money, quit his job and has been traveling America for over a month on his functional, slender wheeled motorcycle.  I noticed spartan belongings folded into the metal cases suspended from his bike, as his sole companions.  He hunched alone,securing the thick straps of his boots, his lanky frame covered in an over-all of dusty, element-proof material.  In this way, he shielded himself from  harsher weather, keeping his own counsel, while not detached from his world.  For, while my family scoured, first our van and then the trail head for water, he silently listened, letting our situation:  a three mile hike with limited water, unfold.  I finally spoke to him, "Where ya headed today?"  Reply, "On my way to Alaska."  "Oh, very neat! We're headed over to Yellowstone tomorrow..."  After a few minutes, and a few revelations (he needed to live, not work), he offered us a gallon of water for the trail!  He had a substantial stash apparently.  I declined, saying we'd make do...and we did...remember the Coke Zero?  I shook his gravelly hand, telling him,  "It makes me feel good to know that you're out there!  Thanks!!"  And off he zoomed.  And down the trail we trooped, Ben swaying on John's unbalanced frame in his backpack intended for a baby.  Not MY baby who is almost three!!

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I believe the stream below must be fed by winter snow melt.  There's no other source!  Also, as you can tell, the barren surrounding bares witness to a harsh, dry climate.  No wonder Nevada tourism relies on gambling and prostitution as licit revenue sources, a point which calls to mind the axiom:  you may ever do evil to achieve a licit end!

No more buffalo

Still in Shoshone Country, 7 hours into the drive, and 4--at least-- to go!!

I've spotted a few small ponds:water holes for the buffalo our ancestors shot down, in cold blood, from the train-tracks that criss-cross the range?

Who drinks from the waters now?  Will they all become dry wetlands, a type of "wash"?

Who drinks the water He yearns to draw and ladle today?  Does  the Life-Giving water sit, growing stale, sour, for lack souls; souls killed by the encroachment of uncivilized civilization? 

Thank God we know His love will never be a "wash", although our souls may be. 

Absorb His grace raining down on you!  Bloom!

What the heck?: #theremustbeariverhere

How do people know a river runs through me?  Or is it an illusion? 

We went through, other side went around....everybody journey's the road God designed for them.

Elko: In and Out!

This, gambling town is aptly named.  It's on the Idaho border!  Let's take advantage of human weakness here too!!  I suppose they'll have good luck today, we just spotted a full rainbow!!!  (It'sprinkling)

The mountains that surround the "Valley of Hellacious Heat", in which Elko is located, rise dramatically and sharply, challenging us to cross them.  Fortunately, we are not turning south attempting to traverse their snow capped peaks!  A greenish, dry-wetland stretches out toward them, (as we have seen since and an hour outside of Lassen.) 

On my left, the North side of I 80, a vast "wasteland" rolls along.  So far I haven't seen any farmers here scratching out a living--only a lone Highway Patrolman pulling some unfortunate victim.   Argh!!  can you EVER escape the long arm of the law!!!  I mean this is NOWHERE!!!  I've decided that I am more of a Libertarian than anything else.  Stick to principles 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness", combined with, "That government governs best, which governs least."  Who said that?

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Okay, so we refilled our hungry gas tank (12-13 mpg) in Elko, a town with a TJ Max, Wal Mart, and a few other box stores, along with a McDs.. We  let the kids including, only-diapered Ben, play on the indoor playground, while we bought, what else, coffee and a few ice cream cones!

Elko, Nevada is a blistering place that is supported by gold mining, in part.  I spoke with a retired mine worker.  He hailed from Wyoming 22 years ago, but stayed on here for the work: he drove dump trucks.  He spoke with deep fondness for the state of his birth and suggested we hit Thermopolous for its hot baths.  It is unfortunate that work drives so much of our lives.  I need to think about this. 

 I read once that subsistence hunters and gatherers have substantially more free time than we cultivated folk. I do wonder.......what is this life for???  I know, of course: to know God, to love God, to serve God, and to be happy with him here and in heaven for eternity.  But, Is this modern world like the plug in Lassen volcano?  Could our spirits soar in magnificent eruptions of love, if we divested ourselves of the "necessities" of life?  Racing from activity to activity seems like it's important in order to raise well-rounded children, who glorify God with their lives, by maximizing their talents and gifts.  However, this trip reminds me of the vastness of God and His eternity, and the smallness of myself and my little life and worries. 

 Perspective, is a reality that must light my path.  So while I have experienced some small troubles, mountains explode and new ones take their place, while their rubble tumbles and flows to the sea....People play along the banks of rivers paved with smooth "egg rocks" millions of years old.  Little boys find the perfect pebble to skip across the river, while critters peer,unseen, unable to wonder what we're doing:  not actively hunting, or hiding. Mother, like mothers and mothers for eons, finds a stone to place in her fire, a  radiator for cooking.  

The challenge, the tension:  living in the place God plants you.  Escaping reality leads to delusion and creates a different set of troubles.  For instance, much of the southwest is irrigated.  California in reality, as a dessert, in much of its "bread basket", yet it and Arizona, produce a multitude of agricultural products:  flowers, fruit, vegetables, livestock. 

Water!!!!  From whence does it flow?  Winners and losers abound.  I see the pros and cons of this issue, which is central to the feeding of many around the world, the livelihood of farmers, the ecosystems dependent on the water.  The fights over water, all streamed from one place to hundreds of miles away, involves the development of cities too.  People want water for LA or Phoenix, or Sacramento.  They DEMAND it.  It's THEIRS!!!  

Sojourn in our Land for a time and realize NONE of it is yours.  It is all a gift!  Cities in the desert, are an illusion!!  

I look at my children, knowing they'll never reject society, nor do I desire it.  However, I hope that after living on a long road, finally returning them to the Carolinas, instructs them in authentic diversity.  The road, and the people along it inculcate one in the brotherhood of man!

As the young Navajo  transplanted from New Mexico 12 years ago, an interloper in Shoshone Land, told me, "I consider, we are all brothers, children of the same Father."  He then said actually, two fathers, our biological one and God.  Sadly he explained that racisim against Indians is growing.  We in the south, which is not Indian country have no experience of this.  he told me that people complaind about the indians and their land, and he says, "Go back,  We didn't ask you to come here 500 years ago."  

That said, he did not hold animosity toward the present for the crimes of the past.  I told him that I felt a deep sadness and wished I could do something....Then he told me the Shoshone were "beggers", always asking for government hand outs.  He said, "We pay taxes like regular people."  Interesting.

I can say that the reservations in the southwest, both New Mexico and Arizona, mainly Navajo, were pathetic!  Something is not right in "Indian policy" still.  

I believe that this brotherhood of man, our stewardship and love of the gift of the natural world, this unity of people with nature, can be lived anyplace, IF it is learned by modern man, remembered, and rejuvenated periodically. (Perhaps this is why some hunt and fish.)  A journey has a destination, even if its home, for that is the place we're meant to be.  And in the end, He has prepared the perfect mansion, really!

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Just outside Elko.  A rainstorm obscures the distant mountains to the north.

To the south, A magnificent mountain looms over a valley, a farm, and a train going, going.....

PS  We're on US 93, a two-lane road now, heading north towards Idaho.  It still looks a lot like NM, without the mesas.  Gotten rocky, rocky over the mountains.  Like they've crumbled in place!  Boulders that have rolled down from some long forgotten Behemoth.  Perhaps the rubble below the mesa is it's life blood shattered in a heap below it....What does this mean?

PPS, why do I have 4G in the middle of "Jackpot", NV at 5300 altitude?  

Just passed a junk pile in the desert.  Is it my back yard??

g

Shoshone Country!

In Nevada, along I 80:  these aer teh Cortez mountains (elevaton 6100 ft, ave.  One of the taller ones, way back, is 9100 ft high.  Some a tad farther south are over 10,000 ft up! We don't notice the height since we're up at 5000 ft or more ourselves.)

Along the way, a few lone cattle lie, reposing among the scrub, in the blistering sun.  They stand in contrast to Va Tech's bovine who wallowed in muddy creek banks, if my memory serves me.... 

Tuscarora Mountains (below) Farther north, just over the mountains is a place called Owyhee Desert...all Showshone Country.  I bet it looks the same.  I wish the native peoples still lived here with dignity.  I know I'll come upon Wounded Knee in a few days.  I don't know how overcome the blood guilt, or am too afraid of the necessary price that must be paid, to atone for the crimes against these people. 

New landscape outside of Elko, PS the valley disappeared.

Unique eroded landforms....didn't see them in New Mexico or Arizona.  Erosion must've weathered down the mountains.  Stark beauty.