Steve’s Post from Moab with photos

Sitting in the front seat of ye old Econoline—Roosevelt—in the S.E. Idaho town of Lava Hot Springs—a popular stop off along the Oregon Trail for the trail worn pioneers of the 1870—1890’3.  What a mind spin to think about Callistoga wagon trains making their way west, coming through here  a little over a 100 years ago!   —–Listening to NPR as they discuss the new marijuana legalization movement—did you know that in Colorado 50,000 more people voted for the legalization, than voted for Obama for president?!

At any rate this is the town where Shann’s grandparents settled, homesteaded and became stalwarts (Superintendent of schools and grade school teacher) and where her dad was raised, up to the point he left to join the army in the waning years of the 2nd world war.  AS an aside, Bruce Weston never really did come back, as he made his way to Mexico on the heels of his discharge, and the adventures of a life time with Ms. Maria  Rosario Camerana  (Shanns mom).  There’s a lovely developed hot springs here which for $5 (senior citizen discount!) we soaked away the hours last night—delicious!   We went hog wild and spent an additional 10 bucks for a legal spot at an RV park across the street, which gave us 110 volts to power up our little portable electric heater for some added comfort.

So, a little over a week into our trip and here are the highlights from my perspective:Visits with Elena in seattle and then to Portland and important friends that we have stayed in touch with ever since our years of living there in the 90’s.  All are representative of the many turns in the road of my wonderful life with this Ms. Weston—in some ways this whole trip is all about that very subject !

The strain of traveling with this tech savvy gal that has every new gimmick ever created by human kind—which stretches me in some ways that I rail against; vis a vis Shann using her new I-phone to navigate with, and me trying to get her to navigate the old tried and true way with maps, asking for assistance from the cars next to us at the stop light or pedestrians along the sidewalks, and generally just looking out at the world instead of down at the screen.  O—and did I mention all the ‘stuff’ that scrunches us up for space, in our relatively small home on wheels?

The beauty of the countryside: The John Day  Country of East Central Oregon.  The Strawberry Mts.  The high prairie plateau, with sage filled vistas.  The Snake River canyon land and the geological wonder that caused it 12000 years ago, when Bonneville Lake (the size of present day Lake Michigan)  burst through its ice dam and in less than a week  a wall of water 350’ high and moving at 70+ mph scoured out all in its path.   It is said that the Great Salt Lake is the remnant of that great post glacial age natural  cataclysm.

Two days later:

An 8 mile hike into a lovely hot springs in west Utah, that we had visited  last April when we were down this way for our float on the Green River (except I think I also somehow managed to loose my danged digital camera—looks like I am back to my old throw away camera standard once again!).   Another hike on thanksgiving day with Shann and Jack, up Negro Bill Canyon  outside Moab, culminating  at  a 240 foot stone arch.

A lovely  turkey day community feed at the senior center in Moab and an opportunity to be a server for a couple hours, with loads of interesting exchanges;  like with my fellow server Ruth, aged 90, and a crusty WW II  navy vet and  an avowed ‘constitutional conservative’ who thinks Obama is a communist and who turned me onto a new term —-‘pink diaper communist’—meaning both parents are card carrying members of the communist party—vis a vis  In her mind, most of the leadership of the democratic party.

Ok that’s enough for me—-its scotch drinking time and I am hoping to lure a sweet young black headed she devil into our lair, soon.  Wish me luck!


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