Camping in Cotez Colorado

I camped at a KOA in Cortez Colorado. It was a comfortable little place, mostly filled with RV’s, with two Teepees, some camping spots with water and electric, and a set of “primitive” campgrounds down a hill. They were peaceful and quiet with no electric, water, or fire pits (due to recent fire hazards.) There was also no shade and the bathroom was up that hill and across that campground. The first morning I got up to go pee I actually got lost coming back. I spent twenty minutes circling the campground like a vulture, trying each little road and winding close to a river. I knew I wasn’t camped next to a river, I were next to a big fence with cow patties on the other side, why couldn’t I find them? It was hot, I wasn’t dressed as properly as I normally am, having figured, “I’m just going to the bathroom, I’ll be back in a jiffy, no one will see me.” Eventually I came across a woman walking her three little dogs. One was off the lead and came charging at my ankles yapping ferociously. I cooed at it, “I’m not that scary!” The woman laughed, I bent down to pet the two who were behaving themselves. Then I asked her where the primitive campgrounds were. I was on the right path, for once! I found the hill and then almost tripped when a little lizard darted out from the bushes and scared the bejesus out of me. When I arrived at the tent I felt like I’d accomplished some great harrowing mission.

The campground was full of friendly people for the most part, and one German woman who seemed to always be scowling at me. Someone said she probably thought I was a gypsy with my bandana. I crimpled my nose. Whatever, not my problem. Later I saw one of her kids sunbathing by the pool. It didn’t take me long to notice someone had painted the bottom of his feet neon orange. I never got an explanation as to why this was – why anyone would want to paint the bottom of their feet neon orange. I chalked it up to the random antics children often get into like that time in second grade I had a male classmate show me his big toe. “My mother painted it red. I don’t know why. She told me not to tell.” Why do I even remember that?! And why am I still laughing?!

Later that day I saw two big elk buck near the tent and watched for twenty minutes as two tiny little wild bunnies chased each other around a field, kicking their wee furry feet in the air as hard as they could. I also witnessed a bald eagle fly by. It lived at the end of a nearby nature trail. I feel spoiled in the amount of wildlife I’ve been able to witness on this trip. It’s been a great experience.

I swam in their heated pool. I want one now… and it was great to get out of the scorching sun for a bit. I did laundry, took showers, cooked a little bit, all under the constant threat of thunderstorms which never came. It was a good rest.

 

Sturgis Montana

Sturgis was completely unplanned. We just happened to be nearby so we stopped to check it out for a bathroom break. I knew it was the location of the notorious Sturgis Bike Rallies and some of the history of that but that was really all… If I had known we were stopping in today I might not have chosen to wear full hippie regalia, tie-dye Haight-Ashbury T-shirt included. A bunch of old people in the packed McDonald’s gave me a look that could kill. I proceeded to the bathroom anyway. Ruud followed saying, “Good point, straight to the bathroom. I don’t like this place.”

We stopped at a little gift store to get a couple post cards. Just because Sturgis wasn’t really my thing didn’t mean I didn’t know someone who wouldn’t appreciate it. This place was filled with the usual biker stuff, the slutty t-shirts, the angry little jacket patches, lots of Harley Davidson memorabilia and skulls, nothing I hadn’t seen before. I chose my postcards and paid at the counter which was being tended by a young heavily pierced and tattood woman who actually knew how to smile. I liked her. We left after this.

***I apologize for any missing photos and galleries as I continue to work getting Catching Marbles fully migrated to a new host. Please come back soon for restored photos and thank you for your patience!***

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

Cody Wyoming

I was told by someone that I had to go through Cody after exiting Yellowstone, in fact I think two or three different people mentioned this but none of them let me know what Cody was. It wasn’t until I was at the ice cream parlor in Yellowstone, staring at the old advertisement for Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show, that I realized Cody was probably one of those tacky Wild West tourist traps. I was right. Statues of old Western heros, white buffalo, and various other animals lined the streets. Everything was made to look like an old saloon. There were hotels and inns everywhere as well as huge clothing stores loaded with the most garish of clothing articles, enormous glittering purses, baby pink cowgirl hats, ten pound shiny belt buckles, rattlesnake boots, and cowboy hats of every kind imaginable. Of course the best part of the town was the dubious and probably offensive depictions of “Indians” which were everywhere. The second best part of the town was the Dug Up Gun Museum. I didn’t go in but I expect these are just firearms people found buried in their back yards. How weird and freaky is that?

I couldn’t resist stopping to pick up a post card for my cousin who happens to be named Cody. I hope he gets a laugh out of it but I really don’t know.

I stopped at a McDonald’s there for quite awhile and I got to watch the local teenagers while pretending to be focused on other things. There were a couple chicks there, maybe 15 or so in age, with make-up covered faces and tight clothing. One of them was trying to pick up a boy, one in a group of four, all dressed up to the hilt looking like they’d just walked off a set for a 1940’s Western, hats, boots, flannel shirts, and belt buckles included. When all four came over to sit down she was still smiling and flirty. Eventually her chick friend grew annoyed, not wanting to have a part in this, and left. The remaining chicka soon found her devious plans were to backfire. Somehow the topic of conversation wound around to some friend of theirs, not present, who had recently been “almost caught fucking a girl real good at the bus station. Cop came rollin’ by and he just had enough time to pull up his pants!” This story went around getting more outrageous, the girl’s smile now turning to an intensely uncomfortable grimace. Fifteen minutes later when the gaggle got up from the table she took tail and headed for the hills. ‘Course now I had lost my entertainment. Damn.

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Grand Teton National Park – Wyoming

From the fossil fish dig I went straight to Grand Teton National Park. It was exceptionally cloudy and I stopped to take some rather mystical looking photos of the snow-topped mountains. I also walked a little ways around Jenny Lake which, for a lake, was beautiful. The water was crystal clear and the mountains overlooking it gave it a wonderful vibe. I dipped my hands in the water, which was so soft and cool. It was starting to rain and I needed to get to our campground before it closed. I’d already made reservations at Madison in Yellowstone.

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Ulrich’s Fossil Gallery, Kemmerer Wyoming

After Fossil Butte I passed this sign that said, “Fossil Fish Gallery” and of course had to stop. It was someone’s house, granted it was a large one. Out front there was a huge set of dinosaur footprints and some petrified wood. This promised to be interesting.

Going in there was a huge slab on the wall with dozens of fish on it. I climbed the stairs into the shop and saw a teenage girl tending counter. There were fish everywhere, big ones, little ones, delicate ones, all beautifully displayed. There was an absolutely enormous gar, its scales still visible. Not long after entering another woman appeared and started talking with us. She had the brash fast-talking ways of a Yankee, but claimed to be homegrown here in Kemmerer. She told us that she grew up near here on a ranch and that she never knew what treasures she was sitting on top of, stating as children she would lob the fossils like Frisbees at each other’s heads. She claimed many thousands of dollars of fossils got ruined in this fashion. Now she made a living off them, saying her husband was part and partial to setting up Butte National Monument Park itself, and that is why they were allowed to keep the massive gar. (State legislations require all “rare” fossils to be surrendered to scientific institutions.) She was a funny woman, showing us around, and showing us the difference between the fossils in the “18 inch layer” and the surrounding layers. Then she told us she took people up to the quarry seven days a week, from 9am to noon to dig, for a fee slightly higher than that of Fossil Safari. She had nothing good to say about Fossil Safari. She brought us to her basement where she had a number of fossils dug up at fossil safari. Apparently a couple people had come in the day before with these uncut, mediocre fossils they had dug up at Fossil Safari. She said she wasn’t even sure if they provided tools for these people but they didn’t provide any means of cutting them down to size. The fish dug up here were in better condition, they were at the dead center of the ancient lake, and preserved by petroleum seepage. They did not look like the silhouettes of fish that were sitting sad and neglected in this basement, donated for the young children to find in the rubble pile out back.

Penny, the woman answering all the questions, turned to me and inquired if I was always this quiet. Pretty much. This should be taken as a compliment, I found the conversation hat fascinating. Before I knew it I was booking an appointment with “the boys” to go to their quarry. It was slightly more expensive but way more personal, with only four people going up with each guide. And to add to the charm I was put in a group without children as, “There must be a reason you don’t have children!” What a funny comment.

I had to wait two days for the appointment and after the dig I bought a little “grade A” kit from them. It contains a fish fossil so deeply embedded in a piece of rock from the 18 inch layer that it has to be neatly and carefully chiseled and scratched out to see it. This sort of tedious work has always relaxed me. I very much wanted to try it.

Fossil Butte National Monument – Wyoming

I’d wanted to go to Fossil Butte National Monument since I was eight or ten but I couldn’t really remember why… or even what it was… I drove in and there was all sorts of markers aside the road reading which era of history I was driving into as I drove ever downwards. It was really neat and then I went to the visitor center and all along their walkway there was a strip reading when various animals have been found on the fossil record. Can you believe starfish are over 400 million years old? Creepy, I know.

The visitor center was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. They had fossils everywhere they found in the local area from the world’s oldest bat to a perfect little Eohippus, a huge alligator, lots of fish, insects, and plants. If you ever want to make me happy just drop me off at a place like that… I marveled at everything. There was a woman working behind glass to clean up one of the fossils and make it visible. I couldn’t tell what it was but she was using a tiny little sandblaster and said a friendly hello. There were three blonde women and a large gaggle of children filing out of an RV. It looks as if their family had outgrown their SUV. Probably polygamists by the looks – where the husband? I couldn’t see him.

The park itself is free and it was a cool 70 degrees. I had time to kill and I wanted to know what was up with this place so I walked up the historic quarry trail. They said it was strenuous but most of these parks use “strenuous” to describe paths that are merely wheelchair inaccessible. They weren’t lying this time… this path was a good mile straight up and then another mile and a half across and back down. I’d gone up in the opposite direction I was supposed to so that this upward part would be shorter… I came across an old camp house used for processing the fossils. It looked like it was built almost out of scrap material but who knows what was considered new building material in the 1930’s, which was when it was put up. It aged remarkably well. You could see parts of an old car rusted into the ground and a small mountain stream I was tempted to jump into. My legs were KILLING me and I was sweating my ass off. I sipped rations of water as I took breaks here and there.

Eventually I walked up to the quarry part of the trail only to find it was another straight up detour. I could see the place but I hurt so bad. I somehow bulldogged it up there, knowing I’d pay for this. There were markers telling me which layers of the rock were what and a little information. It was neat. I looked around the rubble to see if I could find anything. I found a tiny fragment of something, it had piece of a body and a claw… perhaps a crayfish or something? No one was going to miss a half a centimeter fragment of something so I pocketed it. I also found a rock shaped like a fish, laughing I decided it was a fossil fish. I had to bring that one home too…

There was a register up there. I signed it, realizing I was the only person to attempt the trail today and that since the year began less than 300 people had been up there… I wrote in the comments, “Lots of poop, no animals.” And it was true. There was so much elk and deer poop up there someone should have started a garden…

By the time I got back down to the car I was happy I’d made it but I was exhausted, hot, and know I’d probably pay for this little adventure dearly.

 

U-Dig Trilobite Quarry – Utah

U-Dig is a quarry loaded with trilobites that anyone with a wad of cash and four hours to spare can go liberate from the rocks. Of course I’d been to a number of rock shops and had already spent a quite a few hours fawning over the Madagascan specimens, but I knew the little buggars you find in the US are a little less fancy. According to their website most people came home with over a dozen trilobites when visiting.

The twelve year old tending the admission stand was only somewhat helpful in giving instructions so I took over. I grasped a rock in my hand, which I saw already had a weakness in it, and popped it open with the little rock hammer I was given. Immediately two trilobites could be seen inside, though they were wee ones, very wee ones. My scavenging of the rocks was finding dozens of little trilobites and impressions and pieces scattered everywhere that people had missed and I was only going for rocks that already had visible weaknesses in them.

I wandered around a lot, picking here and there. I found at least two species. Some great specimens came out of the rock after several hundred million years only to say hi and dissolve in my hands. That happened a lot. An old man came by that said he was down here three times a week. He asked if we were finding good specimens. I said yes. His ancient border collie Australian Sheppard mix wandered around the rocks sniffing something out.

Meanwhile more people arrived, with small children… who brings their children to a rock quarry?? Of course these children were just as unmanaged as the rest of the country’s that I’d seen. One little boy climbed up to the very top of the top of the quarry and peered down at all the chipped rock, throwing stones down to hear them thunk. “Get down from there!” his mother yelled, repeatedly, for twenty minutes, until the child got bored of being up there and came down on his own. I was so irritated by this I nearly climbed up there myself and dragged him down by the ear. If you’re going to yell at your children then back it up with some action! Then maybe next time he’ll listen! Of course once one kid goes up so must the rest… within twenty minutes the other boy, from a different party, was prancing up there as the first boy whined, “Why can he be up there when I can’t?” No one did anything for that kid, not even a yell. And as we were leaving the last small child, a girl, fell on the rocks and cut her knee open.

I was getting tired of the kids but my time was running out anyway… I was very very tired and unbeknownst to me the sun had cooked a piece of my back because sitting on the rocks made my pants slip down a little bit and my T-shirt slipped up a little bit. UGH. On the good hand I found the biggest trilobite just fifteen minutes before leaving. I found it in an untouched piece of rock I pulled out of the cliff. It was maybe two inches long, but also wedged in a giant rock. It had both negative and positive sides, but how could I drag this huge heavy rock home? I asked the boy if they ever cut rocks down, he called up his grandfather, the old man, and he came up and chipped the rock away until it was a manageable specimen showing the 2ish inch trilobite I’d found. Unfortunately the imprint couldn’t be saved, though he tried. I left with a bucket full of rocks.. I don’t know how many specimens, some great, others not so much. It was a lot of fun.

After U-dig I drove out of there and past a strange quasi-ghost town. It had a main street much like any little town does, filled with shops, and all the essential places a small population needs. It was somewhat recent structures but they were all boarded up or abandoned. Windows were missing, the buildings were cracking, and one shop really creeped me out. It was a framery or something and whoever owned it appeared to have just left one day, leaving all the frames still on the walls… They were decayed by time and age but otherwise were sitting there as eerie little testaments of a town that once was. Around the outskirts of main street you could see dilapidated houses reading, “for sale” and “prime property!” I saw one soul there, a teenage boy with his two dogs, the female trotted out into the street with huge milk-filled teats. I nearly hit her. The kid seemed to take no notice. It was all very strange… I was happy to be out of there.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


Salt Lake City Utah

I am pretty sure I would have skipped Salt Lake City had there not been familiar faces there. It was a strange place all together. Every street had a number, and there were no names to be seen anywhere. It was a city on a perfect grid, with perfect blocks, all numbered in perfect chronological order. The houses bothered me more… All the little outskirts and well into the city all you could see was neighborhood after neighborhood of big-family mansions, all looking eerily similar to the next, and every one of them painted tan, with an occasional brown or off-white one thrown in. This was not only a city without personality it was a city without color. I knew there were people around but all the houses seemed dark, and although many had children’s play gyms and toys in the yard and it was the dead of summer there wasn’t a child to be seen. You could see lots and lots of churches though, one for every neighborhood. I wasn’t sure what to expect of the people I was about to meet, I had hoped they weren’t as bland as the city itself.

Chris and Brandy lived on one of only two streets I saw with a name. Their neighborhood had regular sized houses and seemed a bit cheerier. I was greeted at the door by two fantastically friendly little mongrels, a Chihuahua mix (I think with a shibu inu or some other unusual breed..) and a rat terrier mix. Already I was set a little to ease.

It was Father’s Day so my visit was short but pleasant. Chris and Brandy were both very laid back and seemingly happy people with a sense of humor. They were very easy to get along with. Brandy and myself just sat quietly. Though she did joke we should check out their lake whose salinity was like the dead sea, making people float. The idea intrigued me but the area kind of scared me off trying this…

The next day I visited a guy named Mike. I stopped in at their place and was greeted immediately by three cheerful talkative children, two of which hugged me within the first five minutes of being there. The eldest chatted off my ear for awhile while her brother looked at me with big adoring eyes. Their mother was sick so we only met her for a moment when they woke her up. It was later in the day, she had a migraine, and everything was bothering her. I know what that’s like! Mike himself seemed a very laid back guy, though he did seem quite tired. I can’t blame him though, three kids, all close in age… ouch. They in turn spent a lot of time dragging around two kittens who I’m sure will be amazingly tolerant cats someday. They had two cats and two kittens in the household and Mike told us they were probably not going to keep both or either of the kittens. I enjoyed the little black and white kitten who reminded me of my mother’s cat, Tobey. It reminded me of the Wal-Mart I went into before Salt Lake City. There were two kids outside with a box of free kittens, each hugging a kitten as tight as they could like, “Our mom sent us out here to get rid of these but don’t take our kittens! We love them!” I don’t think they were very successful… And yesterday I saw a guy in an old Volkswagen Bus taking his cat for a walk at a truck stop.

Anyway, Mike told me of his recent artistic ventures making some sci-fi shorts for online and he told us about his prior job as a truck driver, stating he’d been to all the lower 48, save for the New England states. My visit was short and sweet as the children had to be off to bed. I left Salt Lake, again.

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Jeep Breaks Down – Plymouth Indiana

 

I was on my way to Michigan, to a Dutch store, when the Jeep finally decided to give me trouble. It was really only a matter of time before something had to go wrong. Today was exceptionally hot, in the high 80’s, and the Jeep decided to throw off it’s serpentine belt like a string of Mardi Gras beads, leaving aside the highway before overheating and dumping some sort of metal wheel from the engine. The steering went whack and the Jeep was no longer functional.

It was a Sunday in mid summer so although AAA was called it would be a more than two hour wait standing aside a cornfield dying of the heat before someone showed up.

He was a big guy and sweating profusely. I was worried he might have a heart attack or something. He looked so uncomfortable! But once he was in the truck he seemed to be doing better. He talked to us and we told him what we were up to. He was sweet enough to call around to find a place that was likely to have the part I needed so I wouldn’t end up stranded for a week. The mechanic that AAA had initially told him to go to wasn’t even open on the weekends. So it was a 30 minute drive to a bigger city. He told me about Notre Dame and pointed out Touch Down Jesus as we drove by. He said he had two kids and that football here was huge. I thanked him as I walked into Sears.

I was set to deal with an old man who had taken the call earlier. He looked gloomily at the engine, three others did the same. They were all quiet, too quiet, and no one would really tell me what was going on. I got the distinct feeling that the Jeep was on some sort of life support and I was about to be asked to pull the plug. Eventually he said that it was an easy fix but he didn’t have the part, and that he couldn’t find anyone who did. He insisted it might be Tuesday or Wednesday before the car was fixed which was not an option I had. I was already just scraping by with the few pennies I had left. I had no money for a hotel or a rental or anything of the sort. Perhaps I’d be sleeping in the park tonight.

Eventually he asked if the guy had tried calling Advanced Auto Parts which we had already driven by. The guy said he did but they weren’t answering and must be closed. He said most of the places around here closed at 2:30. What? I had never heard of such a thing, mechanics having the same hours as a high school… and I grew up in a family of mechanics! All of them stopped working when the sun went down, only because of the dark, otherwise they’d be open even later.  One of his coworkers heard the conversation and said, “They should be open! They’re usually open until 8 or 10 PM.” By now it was 4PM. He called again. This time they picked up and he proceeded to order an $85 serpentine belt which I knew should cost $35. He got a cheaper one. In the end it cost $230 and took an hour and a half to fix. I was soon on my way and driving towards Michigan, a state I had no real desire to experience — you see every person I have met in my life from Michigan has been a total bastard, people who are out to just fuck with you for no reason. I have talked to others who said the same thing – everyone they met from Michigan was someone to be avoided like the plague. Now maybe I just had a bum deal and met all the bad apples fleeing the state but I was more concerned I hadn’t and that there was something about Michigan that made the souls of many of its citizens rot at the core.

I ended up in Kalamazoo. I skipped the Dutch store and settled for a gas station where everyone was rude and odd. I left as soon as I could.

***I apologize for any missing photos and galleries as I continue to work getting Catching Marbles fully migrated to a new host. Please come back soon for restored photos and thank you for your patience!***

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

 

 

Seattle Washington

I was asked what Seattle was like and I didn’t really have an answer. It always struck me as a sort of yuppie city, famous for coffee and sour dough bread. Also I heard it rained a lot. So what’s in Seattle to see? I don’t know, the Space Needle?

The Space Needle is one thing but what else is there? I had no idea so I asked my phone. It told me of a troll living under a bridge… so I went to check that out. I don’t think I expected a giant troll grasping a real Volkswagen Bug in its hands. I had some teenagers take a photo and then I wandered off to see what else was in the area (besides the overwhelming stench of a local tomcat.)

I ended up in front of a bunch of eateries. Before coming here today I realized the budget could no longer stand up to eating out every few days and I decided to stop this and go back to the PB&J sandwiches, which by the way do not fill you up and after awhile instead train your belly on a constant grumbly aching for real food. However there was a place here selling shawarma, and the idea of something I normally cook at home being served here was doubly tempting… Shawarma is a dish usually made of lamb or pork, shoved in a pita pocket and drowned in garlic sauce. It’s a Turkish/Dutch dish and I had made it a few times using turkey as a substitute. It’s pub food, what can I say? Filling and delicious. I walked by but not with much conviction.

This place must have been the artsy neighborhood. It was filled with weird art everywhere including unexplained works in the making and a crazy bum wielding a guitar while talk-singing to himself and telling the Laundromat off. So that’s where people get their chips installed these days… I always thought that was the dentist…

There were college students everywhere here, in every eatery, even the Vietnamese hot noodle place. I walked back to the car only to have my hunger hit again. I wandered around the neighborhood looking for a place to park but there was absolutely nothing. Now I was starting to see why everyone here seemed to be riding a bike or jogging. Even the middle aged people, potbellies and all, were seen jogging down the streets with an I-Pod and a step-o-meter on their hip with an expression of, “Why am I doing this to myself??” I failed at finding a parking space and left, ending up at Green Lake.

Green Lake is a nice little lake with a two and a half mile track around it which cyclists, joggers, and dog walkers go around and around on. It was flat, perfect for this sort of activity I wasn’t feeling all that great and was hungry to boot. I walked back to the car after finding the lake had nothing particularly interesting in or around it. I made one final note about the people here… they all seemed to have dogs… old muttly dogs which looked like they’d been in the family for twenty years… now that’s some dedication!

I left the city hungry and found a grocer’s nearby. I had gotten there a little after the deli counter had started to get ready to close shop. The woman there was not in any mood to deal with me and despite her name being Angel she was far from one. She pretended I wasn’t there… for ten minutes… and when I didn’t leave she yelled, “WHAT YOU WANT?!” I cleared my throat and answered as best I could which caused a great deal of muttering. She was either reciting a hex or cursing me out in a foreign tongue. Either way… little weird. I had to dodge the turkey and cheese as she threw it full force across the counter, continuing to curse. WOW. Paying for these choices took another twenty minutes at the counter as most of the registers were completely abandoned and the one that was open for some reason only wanted to deal with everyone but me despite the fact I was in the queue….?? Yup. One of those days.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


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