Enjoy the unexpected at Christmas

 

The Christmas Season is rapidly approaching with lighting speed. Time to get out and shop, or more likely, to sit on the sofa and order online.

It is still 2020, after all. And remember, no more than zero guests are allowed for any planned holiday festivities. In fact, rumor has it that a new guideline may be out about soon which will outlaw eating alone, so you don’t spread COVID-19 to yourself.

Which brings me to a point I want to share.

One of the most thoughtful and handsome characters is that Yuletide favorite, the Grinch. He who cares so much for the townsfolk of Whoville, that he takes away all their gifts. It’s a teachable moment for those residing in that whacky little town, and the Grinch wants to show them that gifts are not what makes the season. It is what is in the heart that truly matters.

Let me dare – I must, I must – to share what the Grinch is thinking when he looks down at the citizens of Whoville, and sees everyone happy, smiling, and singing (frowned upon now), even though he had snatched all their gifts, including the Christmas trees.

‘Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.’

                            Probably, the nicest guy during the Christmas Holidays!

A gift is fine, but a smile, or nod behind a mask may mean more. Someone offering you their parking spot at the mall may mean more. Holding a door open for a stranger may mean more. Tipping a bit higher than usual at an outdoor eating establishment (aren’t they all now?), may mean more. In other words, being polite to each other may mean more.

A gift is fine, but giving or receiving isn’t just about pretty packages wrapped up tightly with ribbons or bows – or arriving in a light brown Amazon box.

It’s those unexpected moments and experiences that truly warm the heart.

What is the point of this article? A moral lesson of the true meaning of Christmas? Nope, but just a gentle reminder that sometimes the best gifts are not always expected, or perhaps not even thought of as gifts.

For example – and yes, we are getting to the article now -- Laureen and I planned a fifteen-mile off-road trip across Christmas Tree Pass in Nevada. It’s an easy off-paved road drive, but you don’t really need a four-wheel drive vehicle, if you keep abreast of weather reports. Being just northwest of Laughlin, the weather is pretty predictable: it will be clear and dry the majority of the year.

The pass is between Nevada Highway 163 and US Highway 93. It wriggle-waggles through some very picturesque scenery in the Newberry Mountains, with views of the Colorado River valley to the east.

Why is it called Christmas Tree Pass? Well, it is a pass through the mountains, but as far as Christmas trees – not so much.

There are lots of tall Juniper bushes, which from a distance, sort of look like Christmas trees. But when pulling up to one, nope, it’s a Juniper bush. Now, some clever people have decided to decorate the bushes with tinsel, ornaments, and such – so, that’s why the pass is known as the Christmas Tree Pass. It’s sort of a kitschy thing to do, drive by a Juniper bush and disguise it as a Christmas tree. No one will notice the difference – that’s the kitschy part.

We drove in from the Highway 163, south of Searchlight, and headed out on the pass toward Highway 93 and Laughlin.

“Looks like a Christmas tree,” Laureen stated, as we drove down a rather steep incline, and saw the first decorated bush.

“It’s a Juniper bush,” I replied. “Where’s the Blue Spruce, or the Noble Fir trees?”

“You know your trees.” She was stating the obvious.

“Not even a Concolor Fir, to be seen,” I replied. Yeah, I know my trees.

Nothing but Juniper bushes pretending to be Christmas trees. Imposters, all of them.

 

An imposter Juniper, disguised as a Christmas Tree

We continued down the dirt road, taking a photo here and there of some pretty amazing rock formations.

“Well, at least it’s a pretty drive.”

I nodded. “Would have nice to see a Christmas tree, since that’s how it is advertised.” Fake news.

And, here comes the part of the joy of an unexpected gift.

About two miles or so from the end of the pass road, we came upon a sign pointing down another dirt road to the west - Grapevine Canyon, Spirit Mountain.

“And what do we have here?” I asked.

Turns out, there is a trail heading into Grapevine Canyon in Spirit Mountain contains over seven hundred petroglyphs. These drawings were created by Native Americans between the years of 1100 and 1900 AD.

The number and intricacy of the designs are so impressive, that the area is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is one of the most pristine areas in which to view such petroglyphs, and also rock shelters used by the artists.

The hike was only a quarter of mile across a dry, sandy riverbed and is easily accessible for pretty much anyone. And as the trail narrows on the approach to the canyon, the first sight of the dozens and dozens of petroglyphs is amazing.

                                 The wonderful art of a hunting party.

                                       Laureen pointing out some of her favorite glyphs

Since the time span was so long, no one is certain who carved the petroglyphs exactly. According to many sources, the Mojave tribe may be the one responsible for most of the drawings. Though, the area is considered sacred – thus the name Spirit Mountain – or Avi Kwa’ Ame (pronounced as it spelled), by those tribes who spoke Yuman or Numic dialogues. These would include, but not be limited to the Mojave, the Hualapai, and the Maricopa tribes.

The area is actually considered the center of creation for all those tribes who speak Yuman or Numic. It is a sacred locale which is listed as a Traditional Cultural Property – this would be areas that are connected through traditional religious or cultural importance to specific groups, Native Americans, being only one such group.

As we walked through the canyon, marveling at the beauty of the glyphs (that’s what we researchers refer to petroglyphs as), there was sense of awe just standing there. Being in the presence of messages written so long ago, reminded me that we were in a very special place indeed.

  These are ancient peoples, or aliens visiting the desert

There were glyphs portraying people hunting, animals hunting, people sitting, animals sitting, animals running, people running, and some Laureen swore looked like aliens with helmets on.

“I must agree,” I stated. “Saw that one on the Discovery Channel, Ancient Aliens series.”

We met a lone traveler, not space alien, as he claimed to be from Montana.

“I’m on a road trip, and read about this place from the app, AllTrails. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I have the same app, but didn’t mention it. Let him believe he was the only one with it, my gift to him. Probably made his day.

Jim, I think that was his name, but it could have been Steve, asked us questions about the place. How old were the drawings? Who made them? And, and so on.

I explained what I knew, and he was impressed. We bade Jim, or Steve a safe journey and explored all the drawings for an hour or more.

A short drive with a great ending.

It’s like that unexpected gift – didn’t know it was coming, but when it did, it was truly appreciated.

As with anywhere, care must be taken not to disturb or destroy these wonderful and priceless memories of past peoples. Go in, look around, take photos, and leave everything as it was.

It is sacred to many people – and should be treated as such.

In 2010, an idiot (can I say that?), decided to use a paintball gun and defaced over thirty petroglyphs. He was caught, spent time in federal prison, and paid ten thousand dollars in restitution. An idiot and criminal too boot. But the damage was done.

I believe, he will always receive coal in his stocking – and rightfully so.

Use a Brain while camping

 

According to the 2017 American Camper Report, nearly 41 million Americans went camping in 2016. That’s about fourteen percent of the population venturing out into nature, having a great time – the other eighty-six percent didn’t have any good times in 2016.

Anyone who has spent time enjoying the great outdoors camping and staring up into the endless, inky dark night sky, knows what I am writing about.

It’s awesome. Being out in nature, which is one of the few pleasures we can indulge in at this time, is a wonderful experience. Fresh air. Sunshine or moonshine (I mean looking up at the moon – not the stuff my uncle used to make in his bathtub). Time with family and friends. Just an overall quiet, good time.

And obviously, with the numbers reported by the American Camper Report, a lot of people enjoy camping on their time off.

We do, and we did recently. Never having spent much time in the Hualapai Mountains, just outside of the city of Kingman, Arizona – we decided to do some rough camping. Rough camping is defined as, not having room service, or any service at all for creature comforts.

No calling down for a bottle of cold bubbly at ten in the evening. No sheets turned down with a little mint waiting on the pillow. No tiny bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body lotion that seem to disappear at check-out time.

Nope, simply a tent, sleeping bags, propane stove, foldable chairs, and your own personal toiletries. That’s rough camping, baby!

The mountain range in Mohave County, was named after the Hualapai people who once lived there. Their name actually means, people of the tall pines – and there is an abundance of tall pines in these mountains.

If one wants to be an expert, the Hualapai Mountains in the Mohave language is – Amat ‘Avii Kahuwaaly (pronounced as it is spelled). These mountains have five tall peaks which overlook the valley to the north of the city of Kingman.

“You know, the mountains are going to be chilly in the evening,” Laureen noted, as I packed up our vehicle for the trek.

“I’ll build a fire.”

The look, only she can give, had me rethink that last comment. “It’ll be a propane fire.”

In this year, 2020 – yeah, the one we’d like to forget – has seen, according to the National Interagency Fire Center, over 47,277 wild fires in ten states. Arizona alone, had seen more than 1,600 itself as of November 1^st.

With a quick call to the Mohave County Parks Department, I spoke with a very informative person who informed me that no fires of any type were allowed.

“So, my thought of a log fire the size of Kentucky is a no-go,” I mentioned.

 “That would be a no.”

“Understood, how about a self-contained propane fire – a small one?”

“That’s the only type allowed.”

We chit-chatted for a few minutes on how destructive the forest fires have been in Arizona and the rest of the Southwest, as well as the Northwest.

“People-made or nature produced?” I wanted to know.

I knew that in Northern California in August, a rare dry lightning storm had caused over one thousand separate ground fires. I hadn’t heard of any event of that magnitude in the state of Arizona, but was curious.

“People caused.”

“Dumb people?” I asked.

“Who else would start fires when the forest is as dry as it is?”

So, we packed up and drove off to the Hualapais for a little rough camping. I did bring some little mints for the sleeping bags though. That’s just the thoughtful kind of guy I am. I hope my wife appreciates how lucky she is. Maybe one of my readers will write in and tell her how good she’s got it. But I digress.

Hualapai Mountain Park, where the campground is located, was actually constructed in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps for the crews working on the Davis Dam, located near the town of Bullhead City, Arizona.

                                                  Beautiful area to spend some time

It seemed that while the huge construction project was under way, the workers felt a little overwhelmed, after sweltering in summer temperatures that rivaled that of the surface of the sun.

“It’s really hot, boss.”

“Hey, it’s not that hot. Only my nose melted off today, not my whole face. Now get back to work!”

So, the camp was built in the Hualapai Mountains, where the summer average temperature is quite cool compared to where the dam was being built, perhaps by thirty degrees. Here, the workers could cool off in the mountain air, while listening to the soft breezes whistling through the tall pines, instead of the constant cacophony of construction equipment.

It was a peaceful setting, and only about 45 miles from the construction site. The park still has rock cabins from those days, that visitors can rent by the day, the week, or the month. Right near the campsite we stayed, there is a rock bridge over a creek built by those same workers who constructed the Davis Dam.

                                           John standing on original 1930's rock bridge

History permeates the park. It is truly fascinating, and shows the determination of those who built the dam, to make a nice, comfortable, and soothing place to escape when not working in the heat of the desert by the Colorado River.

We pitched camp around two in the afternoon and just sat in a couple of chairs, enjoying the coolness of the mountains.

“This is lovely,” Laureen observed.

“I can’t hear you over the soft breeze through the pine trees,” I replied.

                               Laureen, enjoying a warm dinner, cold wine and propane fire

At that moment, a Park Ranger’s truck pulled up in front of our campsite. Ranger Gino stepped out and advised us that no wood fires were allowed.

“Got the propane one ready,” I replied.

He was, as many people I meet along the byways – a fount of knowledge. It was actually he, who informed us of how the campground was created back in the 1930s. Ranger Gino was just a guy who loved his job and stopped by each campsite explaining the do’s and don’ts that would be accepted on his turf.

“You know, where you’re camped is the highway for our elk.”

He then explained that all sorts of wildlife visit the campground, depending on the season. There were the elk, he had mentioned, as well as bear, mountain lions, deer, and other animals. “Just don’t feed them.”

“I only brought enough food for the two of us,” I reassured Ranger Gino.

It seems, like many parks through-out the nation have witnessed, visitors believe it’s kind to feed the wildlife, which then don’t behave like wildlife. The animals become dependent on hand-outs from human visitors, and when they don’t receive a freebie snack, they often become demanding and aggressive.

“We’re all actually trying to retrain guests how to interact with the wildlife. They are, after all, wild animals.”

Ranger Gino left and fifteen minutes later a six-foot-tall elk walked by our camp. It stopped, looked at us and then moseyed on her way into the forest to bed down for the evening.

It was a beautifully majestic sight within a few feet of us.

Then it happened.

New campers came and started to set up camp two spots down from us. I say, started to since within minutes of being there, one of the campers decided that starting a huge bonfire was a great idea in a dry forest.

Ranger Gino, arrived like a superhero with radar, and leaped from his truck.

“Oh, no – no – no,” he yelled, as the female fire starter looked at him in surprise.

“You can’t have an open fire,” he stated. “There’re signs everywhere forbidding it.”

“It’s not an open fire; it’s on the ground,” she responded.

Ranger Gino looked a bit perplexed at that statement.

I smiled at Laureen, “She is a dumb human, I think.”

She was, and our big ears picked up that she and her friends were being booted from camping here for the remainder of the year. Ranger Gino didn’t even issue a fine as he could have – gave them a break. What a nice guy!

Other than that, the camping was wonderful and peaceful – but one thing to remember is to always follow the rules when out in the great outdoors.

And don’t be dumb. It’s embarrassing for the rest of us who have to share this Earth.

 

 

 

 

Orphan Trains

 

It's that time of year for the Hallmark Chanel, and all their sappy holiday love stories. Turn on the television, grab some popcorn, and don't forget the tissues. Oh yes, if you happen to watch one of these movies, primarily filmed in Canada, by the way, you will usually shed a tear or two.

Hate to admit, but John has been seen reaching for the box of Kleenex, once or twice during these holiday films.

The plots are all the same. Woman meets man of her dreams, they fall in love, and then something comes between them, leaving her to wonder if he is truly the man of her dreams. Finally, the last ten minutes of the show - the couple realizes that they are meant to be together.

Of course, the plot can vary. It can be a man who meets the woman of his dreams - same scenario and same results. Just didn't want to be gender biased here.

So, we were watching one of these tissue grabbing films not long ago - this being the season and all, when suddenly the phrase orphan train was used.

The film, actually a series, was called 'Love Comes Softly.' It was sappy, but at the same time pretty entertaining and had a great moral. Don't all Hallmark films - as well as their cards?

The setting was the old west and the phrase was something neither one of us had heard before.

"Orphan train?" Laureen questioned.

"I could make something up, but never heard the term."

Obviously, research was afoot - thanks, Sherlock.

Turns out that the term was not widely used during this time, but caught on later. It seems around 1830, the numbers of homeless children in the eastern part of the United States were growing at an alarming rate.

Typhus, yellow fever, and the flu were running rapidly through neighborhoods, taking parents and grandparents in its path. Medicine wasn't what it is today, so the children were often left to fend for themselves when their entire households would succumb to whatever disease landed on their doorstep.

Also, many children were deserted due to poverty or perhaps a parent's addiction. In other words, no one was looking out for the most vulnerable in society.

Stealing from Dickens' term street urchin, as an explanation for these hordes of children wandering the streets in search of sustenance. 

The Children's Aid Society was founded in 1853, by Charles Loring Brace. Room and board was offered to homeless boys as a way to provide temporary housing. The plan was to find jobs for these homeless youth but soon, the society was overwhelmed with the unfortunate children with nowhere to turn.

With the nation developing westward, Brace came up with the idea of perhaps offering these boys, and girls up for adoption. He had hopes that with the country expanding, families may be interested in adopting a healthy young child to help around the farm. Brace's hope was that good solid families would jump at the chance to embrace a child as their very own. This way, the children would be able to leave the crowded cities that left them often as victims of terrible and immoral crimes - they would have the chance of a better life with families who loved them.

The system worked in Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and rural New York. Now, Brace decided to expand to the Midwest which was flourishing with pioneers heading out to make their own destiny.

In 1854, the plan expanded with the use of trains, to transport children across the nation. Brace felt that 'his' children would find the nurturing they would need to grow into independent and useful citizens for a growing nation.

The actual term, Orphan Train, wasn't actually used until after the program ended in 1929. Terms like, Mercy Trains, Baby Trains and the like were the more common description of these trains heading west with their precious cargoes.

In fact, less that half of the children who ever rode one of these trains were actually orphans. Twenty-five percent were just children abandoned by their parents on the streets of New York, New Jersey, and other eastern cities. The others, were boys and girls who just wanted a life away from the crime and sadness of those same cities, believing there may be a brighter life awaiting them out west.

Some of the children found a better life, but some were no better off than slaves. People would come to local courthouses, and the children would be paraded up the steps of the courthouse so those interested could get a good look at them.

In fact, the phrase 'up for adoption' is derived from this practice of having the children up on the steps of the courthouses.

Some interested parties would come up to the children, check their teeth to ensure there wasn't gum disease, pinch their cheeks to see if a healthy color would return, and other degrading physical intrusions.

The idea seemed like a wonderful way for children to escape the horrors of life on the streets, but there were many detractors who believed it was a perverted way to exploit these children.

Babies were easy to place in homes, but when a child was in their teens, many potential 'parents' thought they would be too set in their ways and be more than a handful.

So, the jury is still out if this practice served its purpose of helping those children in need. In her best selling novel, orphan train, Christina Baker Kline weaves a fictional tale about one of these children who lived this life. There were good times, as well as bad times for these children of the trains.

The last train left New York City on May 31st, 1929 for the state of Texas. This was during the Great Depression and the horrendous Dust Bowl, overtaking the Midwest.  After a seventy-six year run, the trains were finally halted for this venture. Public opinion had changed about orphans, and poor people in the United States. Families, no matter how poor, should stay intact, and there were other government avenues for these folks to approach, instead of just abandoning their child to the streets or crowded trains.

An interesting fact - according to the New England Historical Society, one out of every twenty-five Americans has a personal connection to an Orphan Train rider. 

So, next time you settle in for the evening with a Hallmark film, look for those things that are new and get to researching. It's great when we learn something new - especially for the old grey matter.