Vienna and a Strikingly Beautiful/Strange Cathedral… Great Rivers Series: Danube #1

November 18, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 21 Comments

I’ve put on some mood music for today’s post: *The Beautiful Blue Danube* by Johann Strauss. Appropriately, it’s being played by the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. This is the river and its beauty. Its blue green tint is caused by the time of day and clouds. Like all rivers, it has a variety of ever changing moods.

We leave the Colorado River as it flows through the Grand Canyon today and travel 6000 miles to the second river in our Great River Series, Europe’s Danube River. Peggy and I, along with her brother John and his wife Frances, cruised down the river from Vienna to the Black Sea for nine days in late September/early October this year while adding another 7 days with a pre-tour of Vienna in the beginning and a post-tour of Transylvania at the end.

Polar opposites come to mind when comparing the two experiences. The Colorado combined the world class natural beauty of the Grand Canyon with the high adventure experience of floating through roaring rapids in small rafts. Accommodations are best described as roughing it. We slept on the ground in our two person tent, prepared our own food, and took care of bathroom chores on the groover— which was hopefully hidden from public view by bushes and rocks. Whatever bathing took place was in the ice cold river or or side streams with our clothes on— might as well wash both at once, right? Side trips normally involved climbing up the steep, possibly dangerous sides of the Grand Canyon to enjoy the beauty or leap 10 to 20 feet off cliffs into small, hopefully deep, pools of water. As for weather, think up close and personal.

The Danube has a beauty of its own but lacks the incredible scenery of the Grand Canyon. Our ‘raft’ was a brand new river boat holding around 100 people, where we ate four course meals served to us by friendly, attentive staff. (Peggy had won them over on the first day. When we entered the dining room we’d hear, “Hi Peggy,” coming from all sides.) We slept on a king-sized bed, had large windows looking out on the river, enjoyed a hot shower every night, and had a toilet that, um, actually looked and behaved like a toilet. Our side trips were usually into major Eastern European cities known for their culture and stunning architecture. It wasn’t quite ‘roughing it.’

The primary difference, however, was on focus. On the Colorado, it was the river, the surrounding natural beauty, and the adventure. On the Danube, it was on history and the cities that border the river. The Danube had once served as the boundary for Rome. In the centuries since the region, known as the Balkans, had seen continuing invasions including the Mongols out of Asia and the Ottoman Turks from Turkey.

World War I started in Bosnia when Archduke Franz Ferdinand of the Austro-Hungarian Empire was assassinated by a Serbian nationalist. World War II ended with Russian tanks and troops rolling across the area and establishing the Communist Eastern Bloc nations. Ethnic rivalry, seen most recently in the bloody Kosovo conflict, has often been intense. The word Balkanization, which refers to a country or region breaking up into smaller, frequently hostile units as the result of ethnic, religious, or political differences, is actually based on what happened in the region.

We followed the Danube River traveling for about 1200 (1930 km) of its 1700 miles (2,730 km) in a southeast direction starting in Vienna and ending at the Black Sea. I’ll start this series in the classic city of Vienna. On today’s post, I am going to feature St. Stephan’s Cathedral which dominates Vienna’s skyline and is remarkably beautiful. And strange, in a medieval sort of way.

St. Stephan’s Church with its striking roof and its 446 feet (136 meters) tall south tower reaching for the sky. The roof is covered with some 230,000 glazed tiles. Note the birds flying between the tower and the roof. They had been disturbed by the ringing of the noon bell. It is said that Beethoven first realized how totally deaf he was when he saw the birds fly out of St. Stephan’s bell tower but couldn’t hear the bell ringing.

A front view of St.Stephan’s. The main entrance to the church is just below the overhang. It’s know as the Giant’s Door. The story behind the name is that the thighbone of a mammoth was found in 1443 while workers were digging the foundation for the North Tower and hung it over the door, where it apparently resided for decades. Did they see it as a unique decoration? Or maybe they thought of it as a message from God…

A view of the North Tower where the mastodon bone was found. Originally the tower was supposed to reach the height of the South Tower but the funding came to an end. It does, however house the Pummerin, or, as it is known locally, the Boomer, a 44,380 pound (20,130 kilogram) bell, which is the second largest swinging bell in Europe. The two eagles on the roof are the symbols of Austria and Vienna. Note the monument on the lower left…

The Capistran Chancel was once the main pulpit in St. Stephan’s. It’s named after St. John of Capistrano, a Franciscan, who is said to have preached a Holy Crusade from it against the Muslim Turks in the 1450s. It shows St. Francis tramping on a defeated Turk. From what I’ve read about St. Francis, that’s fake news. St. Francis was a man of peace who risked his life to establish peace between the Christians and Turks.

Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if you are thinking swallows when you hear Capistrano. And you’d be right. The Franciscans also named their early mission south of LA, California after the Saint, San Juan Capistrano. And that’s where the swallows return to each year. There is even a song about it. One final note: The door to the church’s catacombs is next to the monument. There are the skeletal remains of over 11,000 people in the catacombs. I wonder if the mammoth’s bone is there as well? Why not.

Most people think of beauty and vast size when they visit Europe’s great cathedrals. And yes, there is that. After checking out the beauty, however, I like to focus in on the details. I found this stone carving on the side of the church. Is it a bird; is it a plane (as they said about Superman)? No! It’s St. Francis, appearing as a bird carrying a tree. It’s much more like the usual portrayal of a good saint than his image of stomping Turks. He loved trees and was said to talk to animals. If you see an image of a saint from medieval times with animals, birds or trees, you can almost bet it will be St. Francis.

This is a photo of the inside of the Cathedral. It’s busy. I meant it to be. The number of statues and paintings of saints and important church personages was mind blowing. This is looking toward the high alter where a painting of St. Stephan is featured.

He’s being stoned. It would be hard to find a painting of the saint when he isn’t. Even Rembrandt painted one. Here’s the thing. Most people were illiterate in the Middle Ages and the church fathers wanted their parishioners to know their saints and understand the messages they carried. Like St. Francis and nature. And St. Stephan and stoning. A bit gruesome perhaps, but most martyred Christian saints are tied to their martyrdom.

There are several at St. Stephan’s including St. Sebastian with arrows sticking out, St. Barbara holding a castle tower and St. Catherine of Alexandria holding a spiked wheel. Their stories are all similar. Deep faith brings them into conflict with non-Christian authorities. They are tortured and God miraculously intervenes to save them. Finally, they are killed. Thus you have faith, suffering because of faith, the power of God to miraculously intervene, and ultimately their willingness to die because of their faith. I assume they are all pulled into heaven where they live happily ever after. A story with a happy ending…

The woman standing behind at least 10 other beings, including the weird angels/people peeking out from the clouds, is St. Barbara. Her daddy kept her hidden away in a castle until he discovered she had converted to Christianity. Then he took her to the local pagan priest who submitted her to various tortures, from which she would miraculously be cured by God each night. Finally out of frustration, Daddy chopped her head off. On the way home he was struck by lightning and burned to a crisp. There’s a message here. Anyway, the castle represents where she was held, the sword with which she died and the crown her martyrdom. BTW, because of the lightning, St. Barbara became the patron saint of artillerymen and miners— things that go boom.

I, for one, if I ever have need for a saint, will stick with St. Francis of Assisi, the man of peace and nature who died of a natural disease. I like a guy who can talk to an almond tree and it suddenly breaks out in blooms.

Here’s another symbol, Baby Jesus and his apple. It refers to him as the New Adam who will redeem humankind. I couldn’t help thinking, “Here Mom, your really should try this apple. Snake says it’s great.”

The church’s pulpit is quite impressive. it includes realistic stone sculptures of the Four Fathers of the Catholic Church: Augustine, Jerome, Ambrose, and Gregory. The pulpit is found in the central part of the church rather than in the front. In the era before microphones, this was necessary for the priest to be heard. Note the balustrade on the right…

It was covered with frogs and lizards biting each other, which, according to our guide, was to remind the priest/bishop/cardinal mounting the stairs of his many sins. A stone dog stood guard at the top of the steps to protect the speaker while he gave his sermon. Even then, it appears that dogs were considered man’s best friend. Cats, associated with women, were considered evil. Hmmm. An impressive organ can be seen beyond the stairs.

Every cathedral we visited on our journey down the Danube had one. Looking at this one, I was reminded of the first massive organ I ever saw. I was on an Episcopal Church related trip in the early 60s and we stopped off at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. At the time, Grace was one of the most progressive churches in America. It still is. My minister, Father Baskin, grinned at me and sat down at the keyboard. The sound was incredible, echoing throughout the church. He played an old ditty that I was familiar with, “The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinnacle on your snout.” Father Baskin was one of the best men I have ever known. He was my kind of priest.

There were many other strange sights that caught my attention as I wandered around the church, including this knight with his codpiece, meant to protect his vitals during battle. They were quite the fashion statement of the time and kept getting longer and longer. And don’t you wonder how his helmet (on the left) could ever fit over his hair.

It’s time to move on, however. (Did I just hear, past time!) Next up is Vienna’s Summer Palace.

Through the Heart of the Grand Canyon by Raft: Miles 181-280… The Great River Series #5

November 15, 2024November 14, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 25 Comments

I’m going to wrap up our Colorado River posts on the Great River Series today. We will start just below Lava Falls Rapid where we ended our last post and journey to the beginning of Lake Mead where we finish our trip. I chose this photo from near the end to make a point: There never was anywhere in our trip down the Colorado that lacked in beauty.

Much of this post will focus on the scenic views as we made our way from the Grand Canyon to Lake Mead. (Photo by Don Green.)

I’ll also feature interesting rock formations such as this lava flow. This one was appropriately near Lava Falls Rapids. The columns are formed when a lava flow has turned solid but is still hot.

And of course we will continue to feature the fun folks we had along on our trip and their interesting antics. Spontaneous dancing took place at camp after we had successfully made it through Lava Falls. Tom is in the background…

Admiring the performance and supporting a new ‘do.’

As expected, Bone would continue to find ways to get into mischief and amuse us.

Now this would be a great place to row a boat!

With most of the rapids behind us, I finally took a turn.

Dave saw it as an opportunity to nap until we reached a minor rapid and I insisted he wake up to guide me through it.

Peggy also was willing to take an oar. With Jame’s help…

You can probably guess the name of this rock. It’s called Pumpkin Springs. The color is caused by minerals flowing out of the hot springs above it that include high levels of arsenic , as well as zinc, lead, and copper. Bathing in the hot springs is discouraged. Drinking the water is not an option!

The cooking crew was getting a little rowdy in Camp.

A convenient ledge gave those not working at the moment front row seats.

Bone decided he had something in common with Steve Van Dore’s boat, Thing 2.

This pyramid-like structure in the background, Diamond Peak, reminded me of our trip up the Nile River. We will be returning there as part of our Great River Series. The dark rocks are volcanic.

Tom had a final adventure planned for us that I mentioned above. it involved climbing this step/rope ladder near Diamond Creek. The Hualapai Tribe built series of ladders to help people access a ‘bathhouse’ on the creek.

Beth climbing the ladder. (Photo by Don Green.)

A cold shower was one of the options of the bathhouse. I decided Bone, me and my clothes would all benefit.

A more civilized approach was a few feet away.

I was attracted to a colorful set of rocks found in the area.

Our ‘bathhouse’ provided creative frames.

One of the most unusual sites we saw along the Colorado was this hundred foot waterfall made out of Travertine Rock.

I caught this close-up of travertine framed by the sky at a stop nearby.

While Bone found a barrel cactus to perch on. Tough butt.

And the scenery kept being spectacular as the miles rolled (rowed) by.

A combination of the river’s edge and far away.

And a final view of the beauty that had awed us on our 280 mile journey through the Grand Canyon to Lake Mead.

We were privileged to see several big horn sheep in our last hundred miles. I think these may have been lined up for their turn at a natural salt lick. It came as a big surprise when we spotted a different type of animal with horns…

That convinced us that our journey was nearing its end! (Photo by Don Green.)

Peggy struck her Titanic pose. I saw her do the same thing once over the piranha infested water of the Amazon River. At least, if she fell off here, the only thing that would happen to her is she’d get wet.

Jame introduced us to a new way of rowing…

And the women, for a reason I couldn’t quite fathom, decided to do a fingernail check. It’s possible that Jame felt as perplexed as I did. Or is that a semi-thumbs up?

We woke up on our last morning with our campsite flooded. Go figure. Everyone good-naturedly went about his or her business of doing morning chores.

A few miles down river we reached the take-out point. Our journey was over. It was time to pack up one last time. It may look like everyone was ‘laying down on the job’ here. Actually we were squishing the air out of one of the rafts.

A final photo of Tom. He looked tired— but it was well earned tired. We all owed him a great debt of gratitude for the incredible adventure he had taken us on: For all of the planning and organizing, and for doing everything in his power to assure that we experienced everything the Colorado River and the Grand Canyon had to offer, and doing so in a safe manner— while having loads of fun along the way. While thanking Tom, I also want to thank the boatmen (plus Megan) whose hard work and skills meant so much to our successful journey.

Don, I think, represented us all, while looking a bit scruffy, looked off into the distance one last time, contemplating the wonder of what we had just been through.

Looking equally scruffy, I had added another whole layer of appreciation for the Canyon I had loved and explored over the years on foot, by mule, by car and by helicopter. And now by raft.

And Peggy, who had loved every minute of the adventure, looked just about like she always does. How in the heck does she do it? (Photo by Don Green.)

And finally: Bone. No-one had more fun than he did. Virtually everyone spent time with him. As a final gesture, he made sure that everybody initialed his PFD.

Next post: It’s on to the Danube River and Vienna!

Through the Heart of the Grand Canyon by Raft: Miles 136-180… The Great River Series # 4

November 11, 2024November 6, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 28 Comments

Deer Creek Falls was at mile 136, less than a mile below Christmas Tree Cave where I finished our last post. Here, Peggy enjoys the roar and the mist.

Today will take us another 44 miles down the river, which is short on miles but filled with both beauty and adventure. The beauty will be provided by Deer Creek Falls combined with a hike that takes us high above the river, and Havasu Creek that feature sparkling aqua blue water. Lava Falls Rapid will provide much of the adventure. Its #10 rating in difficulty recognizes it as one of the most challenging rapids in the world. We looked forward to it with excitement, and I might add, more than a little trepidation.

Getting up to Deer Creek above the falls involved a substantial climb. You can see the trail as it makes its steep, windy way up.

Don caught a photo of us high above the Colorado. (Photo by Don Green.)

This Shangri-La with its welcome shade, magnificently carved rocks and cool water, made the trip up more than worthwhile.

Or maybe I should say cold water. Susan obviously thought so.

Beth Annon found another way to enjoy the coolness of Deer Creek. (Photo by Don Green)

Bone wants to jump into the waterfall. Peggy is providing him with advice, “If you do that, it will be bye-bye Bone.”

She also warned him to watch out for Tom and Don, the very definition of trouble.

After people got though playing in the waterfall, we all had time for R and R. Dave took it seriously. I’m convinced he can nap anywhere. The rope provided a rather unique pillow. Nice rubber band bracelet, too.

Peggy and I took advantage of the time to capture some of the areas unique beauty.

Deer Creek had cut an impressive canyon of its own.

The colorful carved rocks and crystal clear creek made for fun photos.

Our trip back down provided more views of the Colorado River…

Our continuing trip down the Colorado provided more views of the magnificent Grand Canyon.

When we reached Havasu Creek at mile 156.8, we weren’t alone. It’s a popular area and a commercial group was exploring the creek. They were wrapping up their visit, however, and we soon had the creek to ourselves. (Photo by Don Green.)

The creek is known for its vibrant blue color and unique travertine formations, both of which are caused by large amounts of calcium carbonate in the water.

The beauty of the area is jaw dropping. (Photo by Don Green.)

Water flowing over a travertine formation.

Or through a carved canyon, it captured us.

Even Bone found himself on edge over its beauty.

We hiked up the creek along a narrow path. (Photo by Don Green.)

While some continued to hike up the creek toward the Havasupai Village… (Havasu Creek is on the Havasupai land.)

Others chose to luxuriate…..with a mud bath for example.

Or seeking bliss. Peggy and I stayed behind because we had been to the Havasupai Village a few years earlier when our son Tony had flown us in by helicopter.

While this looks weird, it’s a rafter tradition. The crew here is forming a butt dam. (Note Tom. I sometimes wondered if he had a hidden stash of magic mushrooms along.) When the ‘dam’ had created a lake…

The crew dashed off to the side, creating a mini flood.

Once again, we are floating down a beautiful calm river. That’s about to end. Lava Falls Rapid is waiting for us.

First we camp, however. Don demonstrates how to be a pack animal. Was he planning to give up his day job as a probate judge and apply for a position as a Grand Canyon mule?

You can hear the roar of Lava Falls Rapids long before you get there. Here we were floating down a calm river, came around a bend and there it was— churning! Waiting to eat our boats. We had been living in anticipation of this moment the whole 180 miles of our journey.

Extremely careful scouting is called for.

We look on in awe as our boatmen plotted out the best route. There was huge hole waiting to suck our boats in and a narrow pathway around it.

Dave stood there for a long time, staring at the river, planning his route. He had been waiting for years for this opportunity, applying again and again for a permit. Don took this photo. I wish to thank him again for his superb job of capturing Peggy and me as we went through the rapids with Steve. Otherwise we wouldn’t have the record we do.

This is Megan kayaking through the rapids. Can you imagine yourself being there? Shortly afterwards, she rolled. (Photo by Don Green.)

And we begin one of the most intense experiences we have ever had. It’s the journey of a lifetime that lasts forever and takes approximately 20 seconds.

I still get the jitters when I see this photo. Peggy and I were hanging on to special ties with all of the strength we had. Steve was rowing like a madman, using all of his considerable skills, trying to keep control of his boat. (Photo by Don Green.)

Five seconds later we had disappeared under a wall of water on the edge of the massive hole. (Photo by Don Green.)

And then emerged out the other side! Check out Peggy. I think she was hanging on with her teeth as well as her hands. (Photo By Don Green.)

Even then our ride wasn’t over. Wait! Where’s Peggy? UH-OH. (Just kidding, she’s hidden on the other side of me.) Photo by Don Green.

We made it to Tequila Point just below the rapids. The tequila was waiting!

Folks helped Megan gather her equipment. She was fine, but definitely ready for a shot.

Next post: The final hundred miles of our trip down the Colorado River.

Through the Heart of the Grand Canyon by Raft: Miles 60-135… The Great River Series #3

November 8, 2024November 8, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 24 Comments

This photo at mile 68.5 has a special meaning to me.

When I left Alaska in 1986 after three years of working as an executive director of a non-profit focused on health and environmental issues, I took six months off to solo backpack various locations in the West. My first stop was the Grand Canyon, perhaps not the best location to kick off a season of backpacking. Day one was spent hiking down the Tanner Trail from the high peaks on the rim to the scrawny tree on the right. I started with a 70 pound pack, including a generous amount of water. It was a steep, unmaintained, rocky and somewhat dangerous trail of 8-9 miles that dropped 4700 feet with the first source of water being the Colorado River.

Not surprising, I didn’t see another soul along the way and was exhausted when I arrived. I had just enough energy to pump some water, eat a handful of gorp, and throw out my tarp and sleeping bag. I buried my food bag in the sand next to me and crawled into my sleeping bag. That’s when the mouse chose to go dashing across my chest from its home at the base of the tree to my food sack. “Go away Mousey!” I yelled as I dropped into oblivion.

When I woke up in the morning, the first thing I checked was my food bag. Other than helping itself to some peanuts, Mousey hadn’t done much damage. I looked over at the tree to see if I could spot its home. Nope, but I did see something round, grey and skinny on the side of my tarp. “What the” I thought, and then it dawned on me. It was Mousey’s tail! Something had sat on the edge of my tarp and eaten the mouse during the night!

Heading on down the river, we continued our drop through time until we left the layered look of the canyon behind and and entered the dark metamorphic and granitic Vishnu Basement rocks of the inner canyon. That told us that we had passed the billion year mark in the Earth’s history.

Just past mile 84, after a long day, we stopped for the night at the Zoroaster camp site. An intense game of bocce ball entertained the troops. There seems to be some question over whose ball was the closest. I think Peggy’s stare was meant to persuade her ball to move closer via telekinesis. Steve seemed to be involved in a similar activity. Either that or he was wringing someone’s neck.

Sunset that night provided a dramatic contrast to the dark canyon walls and river. (Photo by Don Green.)

Three miles down the river the next morning brought us to the Kaibab Trail bridge that hikers and mules use traveling from the South Rim to Phantom Ranch. Tom had camped us near since one of our rafters, Nancy Pape, would be leaving us to hike up to the South Rim, and another, Jonas Minton, would be hiking down to join us.

Hamburgers and TV news occupied us while we waited for Jonas to arrive from his hike down the South Rim. I slipped outside…

And ponder a bee as it worked a flower on a prickly pear.

Eventually Jonas, who was older than I, arrived exhausted from his hike down. I’d known Jonas since the 70s when he and Tom and I had been environmentalists in Sacramento fighting for clean water and air in California. He was known for his quirky sense of humor. Like Tom, Jonas was a longtime boatman. He would take over for Megan who was shifting to her kayak. We rode with Jonas to our next campground. Given how tired he was, the ride was a bit on the wild side with us bouncing off rocks twice. His experience and adrenaline kept us right side up, however, or as boatmen like to say, the messy side up. The smooth side is the bottom of the boat.

Things got strange in camp that night as Tom struggled for a new look… (Photo by Don Green.)

And decided to wear Bone. Bone told me afterwards: “You know Curt, I have had some strange experiences in my life. Like the time 50 Japanese tourists got off a bus and insisted on having selfies with me! But nothing has been weirder than this.” (Photo by Don Green.)

We learned it’s always valuable to have a dentist along when someone’s foot needs attention. This is Bradley Yee, Tom’s dentist.

And Megan demonstrated how to get the best out of a yummy dessert by licking her plate clean.

All of which led Peggy to assume a bandida look and go incognito.

There was another magnificent sunset that night.

Crystal Rapids at mile 89, the next morning, presented a challenge. The water flow was high and dangerous. There was a long discussion between Steve and Tom whether to chance it or wait for the river to drop in a couple of hours. That’s possible because flows each day are determined by the amount of water released from Lake Powell, and the timing of the release. It was decided to wait, which meant more time to goof off.

The Dread Pirate Steve assumed his pirate persona…

And threatened to cut off Bone’s head if he didn’t tell Steve where he hid his gold.

A commercial boat went flying past us, providing a contrast with our private trip.

Working our way down the river, we passed a bighorn sheep.

And came upon the attractive Shinumo Creek at mile 108.5…

And hiked up it to see its 12 foot waterfall. The current was swift and the rocks were slippery. Thus the help. (Photo by Don Green.)

A few miles farther along, Tom had us stop at this charming grotto: Elves Chasm at mile 116.5.

And Tom, being Tom, had us leap 15 feet into an icy pool. Looks like Jamie was trying to fly. (Photo by Don Green.)

Here I am looking much warmer and relaxed.

A view from our campsite in the evening. Gorgeous, isn’t it!

Moving on (because this post is already too long), another river view.

And another campsite. It was getting hot and we were hanging out under a tarp and flying a Jimmy Buffet flag. Tom’s a fan. I went searching on Google for the date when Tom and I had attended a Buffet concert at Lake Tahoe in the early 80s. AI responded that Buffet had never had a concert at the Lake. Scrolling down to his tours, I learned Buffet had been there in 1981 and 82. I think we attended the Coconut Telegraph Tour in 1981. The moral of the story here is… don’t trust AI, at least not yet. If it can screw up Jimmy Buffet, imagine what it can do with medical information.

Our final stop for this post was at Christmas Tree Cave ay Mile 135.5.

And inhabited by strange creatures. Run! Next post: Two incredibly beautiful streams that flow into the Colorado River: Deer Creek and Havasu Creek. Plus the world famous Lava Falls Rapids.

Through the Heart of the Grand Canyon by Raft: Mile 0-80… The Great River Series #2

November 4, 2024November 2, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 14 Comments

Megan rows toward Navajo Bridge at mile 4. It was our first notable landmark. Actually there are two bridges: an old one competed in 1929 to replace Lee’s Ferry and a new one finished in 1995 to accommodate modern traffic. The old one now serves as a a foot bridge. Crossing the bridge is how you get to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon from the South Rim. Or vice-versa. (Photo by Don Green.)

For those of you who like facts, here are a few about the river: The Colorado is 1,440 miles long from its headwaters in the Rocky Mountains to its mouth in the Gulf of California. I’ve backpacked through the area where it originates and kayaked in the Gulf of California. It ranks 6th in length among U.S. rivers. At its widest point it reaches 750 feet. At its deepest, 90. It flows along at 3-4 miles per hour but may reach 15 miles per hour in rapids. Given that the water comes out of the base of Glen Canyon Dam, it’s cold— an icy 46 degrees Fahrenheit during the upper part of our trip. Washing off in it usually elicited screams. Over the course of our adventure, it dropped 1700 feet in altitude, an average 8 feet per mile. That’s 25 times the average of the Mississippi River! Thus, the 250 rapids in the Grand Canyon.

As we floated down the river, we were awed over and over by the surrounding beauty! The pontoon boat, BTW, is rowed by Steve Vandoor. Steve’s boat is rigged to carry groovers (honey buckets), which is something of a specialty of Steve’s. While it might seem strange, it guarantees that he is invited to join river trips on a regular basis. Does this mean Steve is groovy? More on groovers later.

This huge slab of Coconino sandstone at mile 10 once stood hundreds of feet above the river before it came tumbling down and stuck— standing up. It’s a reminder of the constant geological forces involved in creating the canyon. As the river digs deeper, erosion brings rocks crashing down, widening the canyon. It’s also a reminder that one wouldn’t want to be anywhere near when it fell!

This was one of our first rapids. It’s where Tom lost an oar and ended up rowing heroically to get us out. Afterwards was one of the first times I ever heard him be totally silent. (Photo by Don Green.)

Major rapids like House Rock were always scouted by the most experienced boatmen. Peggy is obviously quite excited. “Listen to the roar, Curt!” I was thinking more about the ‘hole’ that we might be sucked into. The boatmen plot out the best way to avoid such obstacles. They were amazingly good.

In addition to our raft trip down the river and camping, Tom had planned several excursions. This is in Silver Grotto, which was quite beautiful. I’d chosen to stay in camp for photography and a little ‘Curt Time.’ See the slot canyon. Tom had them hike to the upper rim and then slide down some 20 feet to a small pond in what was close to a straight drop. The rocks were wetted to assure a smoother slide. Everyone survived and had fun, but it did make me wonder about the ‘safety’ part of my responsibilities.

I discussed the ‘thrill ride’ with a raven that came to visit me and perched on a boatman’s seat. It told me she would share her opinion for food. I declined. I’m pretty sure she would have said, “It’s easy. Just fly.”

While the major rapids provided for a minute or two of pure adrenaline rush for both boatmen and passengers, floating on calm waters was a much more common experience for us.

Every corner brought a new marvel such as this towering cliff. Check out our boats at the bottom for perspective.

Vasey’s Paradise at mile 32 is one of the most beautiful waterfalls we saw on our journey. It flows out of what is known as the Redwall, one of the Grand Canyon’s most prominent features.

As you might imagine, we all took photos. This is Leland Lee, who, in addition to being a talented photographer, is a periodontist.

While we relaxed and enjoyed the falls, Jamie gathered the cold fresh water for our drinking and cooking needs. Gathering and pumping water through filters to purify it was one of our daily chores.

Redwall Cavern, a mile or so beyond Vasey’s Paradise, is one impressive cave! We headed in for lunch.

Some of our rafters and the lunch kitchen provide perspective on the cavern’s size. When John Wesley Powell, the one armed veteran of the Civil War and first dedicated explorer of the river, came on the cavern in 1869, he estimated it could hold 50,000 people. Modern estimates are closer to 5,000, but that is still a bunch!

This is a view looking out from the Redwall Cavern at the surrounding canyon walls.

I thought this was a great people shot by Don…

Colorado means red, which is the color of the river after rainstorms (reddish brown). Obviously it hadn’t rained recently, and, as I recall, it didn’t rain at all during our trip.

Theresa provides perspective on the ancient Anasazi Granary we hiked up to visit high above the Colorado River near mile 53. (Photo by Don Green.)

Looking down the Colorado River from the Anasazi Granary. One of us is making our way back toward the river in the shadows on the right. (Photo by Don Green.)

A view looking up, downriver from the granary.

Food is quite important to river runners as I mentioned in my first post on the river. And why not, since the boats can carry massive amounts. It’s not like backpacking where every ounce matters. Here, Peggy is working on a carrot salad. Each of us was expected to do kitchen duty. Tom, who owned a popular Mexican restaurant in Davis at the time, the Cantina, was proud of what he had brought along to eat— and quite particular on how it was prepared. He hovered providing directions. Like a chef.

For example, the correct way to cut romaine lettuce. Susan Gishi holds up the lettuce like rabbit ears on an old fashioned TV set. She is about to demonstrate how to cut it and looking much more serious than the rabbit ears would suggest.

Tom discovered me tearing it up instead of cutting it and got quite excited.

Being allergic to taking directions from Tom about cutting lettuce, I made a trade with Peggy. I would handle her groover duty if she would take my kitchen duty. Here’s the thing about groovers, you are required to carry your poop out. Peeing is done in the river. My duty was to work with Steve in finding a suitable private place for the men’s and women’s groovers when we landed in the evening and then loading them back on his boat in the morning. BTW, the reasons these large ammo cans are called groovers is because people sat on them directly until someone figured out how to attach toilet seats. Duh. They left grooves on your butt! (Photo by Don Green.)

Our next great stop was at the Little Colorado River where it flows into the Colorado at mile 61. Its beautiful color is due to mineral content. The minerals settle out to form the rocks you are seeing. There is a cave a few miles up the river where Hopi mythology claims they made their entrance into this world.

I suspect the Hopi would have seen these reeds as weaving material.

Not a thong bikini. Bobbi Allen was busy taking photos as well, but more to the point, she is wearing her PFD upside down per Tom’s direction. The purpose was to enhance our floating down the Little Colorado. They seemed strange and looked like bloated diapers. I’m not sure Bobbi meant to serve as a model but I wasn’t up for a selfie. That would have been scary.

People floated down as individuals or in groups. I couldn’t tell which one this was for sure, but If she looks a little out of control, you should have seen me. My PFD slipped down around my feet and I bounced down the river with my head removing rocks along the way. I think it was Jamie who waded in and pulled me out. My guess is that others thought of it as a Kodak moment, and Tom thought it might pound some sense into my head.

Here’s a Conga Line with Tim Spann, Bobbi, and Don plus others.

Even Bone gave it a try, but he preferred the calmer part of the river.

Nancy Pape praised him for being so brave. Nancy and I go way back to the early 1980s when she joined me on one of the hundred mile backpack treks I led. And many more after that. She has also gone to Burning Man with Peggy and me, as have Tom, Don and Bone.

And Jamie decided to teach Bone how to row.

In fact Bone became so confidant in his rafting skills, he decided he could serve as a scout checking out rapids.

Fortunately, no one drowned. That does it for today. Next Friday we will continue our trip down the river with its great beauty and wild adventures. (Photo by Don Green.)

Welcome to Dracula’s Castle in Transylvania… Happy Halloween

October 31, 2024October 30, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 27 Comments

Peggy and I never expected to visit Dracula’s Castle in Transylvania but there it was on our Danube River trip itinerary. How could we resist? Halloween was only 2 1/2 weeks away.

There was a danger of being tied up, however.

And ghosts. This scary fellow was floating back and forth in a dark room, like a caged wild animal. Optical illusion? Perhaps…

A wild lion with vampire sharp teeth peered out from a table…

A lioness with frightening sliced eyes was hidden among scroll-like decorations.

Looking closely, other evil creatures seemingly appeared out of nowhere, like this satan goat with dead eyes and his companion, a horned dragon.

Even door knockers were threatening. “Beware!” rather than “Welcome” was the message. Monsters’ heads peered out from the medallion. Two snakes slithered out, wound around the knocker, and became a second set of massive horns on a cruel face with pursed lips.

Strange metal doors invited opening. Dare we? What dark secrets does the room hide? Eyes stared out from the top panel. Halloween scary for sure.

Peggy entered a dark room and came out screaming. Had her hair fallen out? (Our guide had hidden behind a curtain and jumped out yelling.)

And there were lots of dark, narrow, ancient stairs to climb that led to mysterious heights. Was this damsel in distress wearing a nervous smile about to become Dracula’s latest victim? (We were traveling with Peggy’s brother John and his wife Frances. This is Frances negotiating the ‘dark, narrow stairs,’ with a smile.)

Even the castle’s no-smoking sign had a bit of Halloween-type humor, which brings me to something much more scary than Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the real, historical Dracula, son of Dracul…

Stoker never visited Dracula’s Castle but he based his book partially on folk tales, legends, and the actual historical Dracula/Vlad the Impaler. Compared to him, Stoker’s Dracula was a wimp, a woozy, a rank amateur. Born in 1431, Vlad would be responsible for some 80,000 deaths throughout his 45 years of life, utilizing various means including torture— the worst of which was impaling. Not to get too graphic, but imagine sitting down on a yard long, pointed, narrow pole. Ouch. He once did in 20,000 Ottoman Turks using that method. The rest of the army turned and ran home. Even Pope Pius II was impressed. The gruesome chair and standing tomb above are other examples of torture implements he might have used. Once a delegation of diplomats visited Vlad and refused to take off their hats in respect. He had their heads cut off and their hats nailed to their heads. So, if you want scary, Vlad is your man.

These were violent times throughout Europe and Vlad was among the most violent. No wonder ghosts roam about his castle, virtual, or otherwise.

At one point, Vlad was imprisoned in this tower for a couple of years, a part of his own castle.

And now, to lighten things up, a leap forward to Halloween 2024…

If you’ve been around this blog for a while, you know Bone, Eeyore, Bonetta, and George, the African Bush Devil. Bone has been wandering the world for 47 years, ever since Tom Lovering and I found him while backpacking south of Lake Tahoe; Eeyore has been his traveling companion for 25 of those years; Bone found Bonetta in a Florida swamp and married her at Burning Man; George came home with me from Africa in 1967 and is on the front of my book about my Peace Corps experience: *The Bush Devil Ate Sam*. They dressed up for Halloween— and you— using their Burning Man costumes.

Eeyore and Bone have been wandering around North America together for 25 years. Bone gets Eeyore into trouble and Eeyore gets Bone out of trouble. Eeyore is wearing his leopard mask. Bone, BTW, is naked, which is his Burning Man costume. If Eeyore appears a bit bedraggled, it may be because he served as an elementary school mascot before joining Bone.

The gorgeous Bonetta put on her Burning Man wedding dress to appear as the Bride of Frankenstein. (Baby Bone was sleeping in his coffin and no one wanted to hear him scream if he woke up.)

George is wearing his dramatic Red Hawk mask. He was carved by a leper in Ganta, Liberia.

And finally, the Mekemson and Cox Family Pumpkins. Clay’s lurks threatening in the background. Tasha’s is a First Grade Monster with eyes peeking out on the side. Ethan’s is an AI Robot (scary as a category five hurricane). Cody’s large mouth pumpkin is throwing up his innards. Peggy’s is the Castle of Dracula, and mine is Dracula’s Teeth. (I have a dental appointment this week and all I could think of was teeth. How much scarier can it get than trip to the dentist?)

Actually, my dentist, Dr. Tim Smith, and his staff at Purcellville Dental are excellent. And have a great sense of humor! Their annual “Decorate for Halloween Contest” was underway. Each staff member creates a ‘Jack-o-lantern’ and patients are invited to vote for their favorite. This was mine.

Peggy and I, along with Clay, Tasha, Ethan and Cody and, of course, Bone, Eeyore, Bonetta and George would all like to wish you and your family a Happy and Safe Halloween filled with laughter, goodies, and slightly scary things.

Through the Grand Canyon by Raft: Preparation… The Great River Series #1

October 28, 2024October 28, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 21 Comments

Over one billion years of the earth’s history, great beauty, and adventure await those who are lucky enough to raft through the Grand Canyon on the Colorado River.

Most of our adventures start with a fair amount of forethought. Our 18-day raft trip through the Grand Canyon was an exception. It started with a phone call from our friend Tom Lovering.

“Curt, you need to jump online right now and sign up for a chance to win a lottery permit to raft the Grand Canyon.” It was more in the nature of a command than a request. Tom was plotting. There are relatively few private permits granted every year in comparison to the ton of rafters who want them. Floating down the Colorado through the Canyon is one of the world’s premier raft trips, providing a combination of beauty and adventure that are rarely matched. Tom figured that the more people he persuaded to sign up for the lottery, the better the chances of getting a permit. He’d made the request to several friends.

I would have probably skipped the opportunity. We were in the midst of wrapping up a three year exploration of North America and were seriously looking for a place to light— a semi-wilderness home. We were closed to settling on Southern Oregon. We had an hour to meet the filing deadline and the chances of winning, as I mentioned, were close to zilch. Plus I was woefully out of shape and 67 years old. I wasn’t sure that my body would have a sense of humor about the journey. Floating down the river on a private trip actually involves a substantial amount of work and everyone is expected to do their share. Rightfully so.

My child bride Peggy, however, who is seven years younger than I am and loves everything related to water, went straight to the site, filled out the required information in my name, filled out another in hers, and hit send. Fine, I thought to myself. That’s that. We can go merrily on our way and report back to Tom that we tried.

What I wasn’t expecting, as those of you have read my blogs about the trip know, was waking up the next morning and finding an email from the National Park Service announcing that I had won a permit. “Woohoo!” Peggy yelled. “Oh crap,” my fat cells responded. Tom didn’t believe me when I called him from somewhere in Nebraska. It took several minutes to convince him. And then he got excited. Here’s the actual permit:

My first task was to make sure that Tom would do the majority of the work in setting up the adventure. We didn’t have the time and I didn’t have the expertise for a white water raft trip. My experience was in organizing and leading long distance backpack and bicycle adventures. Tom, on the other hand, was an experienced white water enthusiast who had run the river several times and had boundless energy. Plus, he had volunteered. “There is a fair amount of paper work for you and certain responsibilities,” he mentioned in passing. Paper work, as I recall was a 40 page document, maybe it was 400. The responsibility, I learned was daunting. If we screwed up in some way by breaking the Park’s environmental or safety rules, I was accountable and subject to a large fine.

The raft trip in 2010 was the first blog series I ever did. I reposted it in 2018. Since I have already blogged extensively about the journey, I am going to use this and my next two posts as a summary of the trip and include many photos I didn’t use before.

I will note here that while the trip was even more physically challenging than I expected— and there were times I could have strangled Tom (and vice-versa, I’m sure)— I owe him a debt of gratitude for the opportunity. I love the Canyon and have explored it in many ways over the years including five backpacking trips into it. The river trip provided a whole new way to experience the beauty. Traveling with a great group was icing on the cake.

Tom had plenty to keep him busy in preparation for the trip. Finding qualified raftsmen and women was first up. The Park insists. Running the river is no joke. There are world-class rapids to negotiate. Food was another major item. River runners have a tradition of eating well, if not gourmet. He had a total of 54 meals to plan. Tom and his partner bought the nonperishables before coming. We bought the rest when we joined him in Flagstaff, Arizona, our base for the trip. Between Costco and Safeway, we packed our 22 foot Pleasure Way Van, twice.

Tom and I in Flagstaff getting ready to go on the trip in 2010. Do I appear a little dubious?

Large, specialized containers were required for the food. Each was labeled for what it would contain.

Huge ice chests were necessary to keep perishable food cold for the 18 day journey. Our room had been the central storage point for food. Minus the Kettle Corn, the bed was covered with our camping gear for the trip. It would soon find its way into a large, waterproof dry sack. Things we would need during the day went into ammo cans like the yellow one on the right.

Tom had other responsibilities as well. He’s getting his new “do” here, coloring his hair for the trip. Roald Dahl is one of his favorite authors. Tom likes weird, a trait I share. But coloring my hair isn’t one of them. Neither is painting my toenails.

One thing we were required to do was paint our toenails. River lore is it protects you from flipping your raft in rapids. “I won’t let you on my boat unless they are painted,” Tom warned ominously. I painted two of mine on each foot. We didn’t roll over in Tom’s boat when we went through a major rapid. But he did lose an oar. I might have felt guilty but it’s rumored that Tom travels through life without an oar.

We had one more major responsibility: Get Bone ready for the trip. Tom and I had discovered him hanging out in the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in 1977 and he has been wandering around with us and others ever since. He had to have a life vest.

Finally everything was packed and the participants had arrived. We loaded the truck to the brim with what seemed like a ton of equipment, drove over to our starting point at Lee’s Ferry and unloaded the truck, all in 100° (38°C) plus weather. My body had some unpleasant, unprintable things to say to me about being out of shape. (Photo by Don Green, one of the participants and a long time friend of ours.)

Next we had a quick lesson in rigging boats and went to work. (Photo by Don Green.)

Dave Stalheim and Peggy pose on Dave’s boat. Dave was to be the first boatman that we traveled with. Dave came from the state of Washington where he worked as a county planner. The plan was to ride with different boatmen each day. Protocol involved that we ask for a ride and help in loading and unloading the boat.

A bottle of tequila was slipped in among the oranges. It would be saved for drinking at Tequila Point, just below Lava Falls, where it would be needed! (Photo by Don Green.)

That night we moved a couple of hundred yards down from where we had rigged and loaded the boats to a campground I had found. We went out for dinner and came back to a major wind and dust storm that was whipping our tents around and making them difficult to find. With the heat, wind, and dust, I was reminded of our trips to Burning Man. Here we are, ready to begin our adventure. Ranger Annie is down on the end. She’d been by the day before to check our gear. When Tom introduced me as the ticket holder, I commented, “We have an excellent leader in Tom.” She had looked at me steely eyed and said, “You are responsible.” My muttered response was, “I’ll try to keep Tom in line.” Yeah, like that’s possible. She came back that morning to remind us of all the safety and environmental rules.

That’s it for the preparations. Now the ‘fun’ begins. The wind was back! We spent our first day fighting headwinds with gusts up to 60 miles per hour. If my dreams of a leisurely float down the river hadn’t already been demolished, they were now. We actually took turns with our boatmen rowing double. All of the photos were taken by either Don, Peggy, or me. I’ll note which ones are Don’s.

This map, which I took from the book *The Colorado River in the Grand Canyon*, an excellent guide by Larry Stevens, isn’t as clear in reproduction as I would like but still serves as a good reference for this and my next two posts. Our journey over 18 days would take us 280 miles down the Colorado River from mile 0 at Lee’s Ferry to mile 280 at Pierce Ferry, just this side of mile 300 at the beginning of Lake Mead. We finished putting the trip together in Flagstaff (lower right) and then followed Highway 89 up to Lee’s Ferry (upper right).

Don Green and boatwoman Megan Stalheim double rowing to counter the strong head wind. Megan is David’s niece and, like me, was a former Peace Corps Volunteer in Africa. While rowing a raft was a new sport for Megan, her experience as an Olympic level white water kayaker gave her excellent knowledge of how to read and run a river.

This photo of boatman Jame Wilson is a good example of what our fully loaded rafts looked like.

My post next Monday will take us from Lees Ferry to just below Phantom Ranch. Thursday is Halloween, however, and Peggy and I have a special treat for you, a tour of Dracula’s castle in Transylvania that we visited 2 1/2 weeks ago on our Danube River trip.

The Great River Series… Introduction

October 18, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 17 Comments

Clouds roll in threatening rain along the Danube River. Fortunately, the weather gods were kind to us. The river had flooded the week before our arrival due to heavy downpours upriver.

Today marks the beginning of our Great River series. The inspiration for it is our trip down the Danube from Vienna to the Black Sea that we just finished while traveling with Peggy’s brother John and his wife Frances.

Along the way, we traveled through Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria and Romania, all countries that I had never visited except Croatia. (Peggy had been to Austria, as well: Way back in BC…As in before Curt.) Other than the Romanian apple that got us in trouble with US Customs and a cold I picked up and undoubtedly shared along the way, our trip in a riverboat with the GoHagan travel company was quite good.

Knowledgeable (and often humorous) local guides led us on tours through cities, towns, churches, castles, and palaces while providing historical background that ranged from Mongol and Turkish invasions, to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, to the Russian Communist occupation following World War II.

We watched horses prance, people dance, and consumed at least three times as much food as we usually do. An ancient village with roots going back 5-6 thousand years and the beauty of the Carpathian Mountains of Romania/Transylvania wowed us.

Dracula/Vlad the Impaler called the Carpathians home. While we found the Impaler’s castle fascinating, I think Peggy was more excited to discover that the Cantacuzino Castle (where we stopped for lunch) serves as the site for the Nevermore Academy of the Netflix series Wednesday, a take-off on the TV series, The Addams Family, of yore. How much does she like the series? Well, she has binged on it. More than once. Her scream of delight when she saw a sign promoting the castle as the series’ location led everyone on the bus to turn and look at her. I felt like I was married to a smitten teenager.

The Cantacuzino Castle that serves as the as the location for the Nevermore Academy of the Netflix series *Wednesday* with a view of the Carpathian Mountains of Transylvania in the background. The leaves were just beginning to turn as we made our way through Romania.

The castle of Vlad the Impaler, aka Dracula, in Transylvania.

One great river doesn’t constitute a series, however. And we’ve promised a series which brings up what our criteria are for defining a great river. There are the normal factors, i.e. length and volume, but I would also add history and in beauty. The Nile is a great example for history, while the Colorado River on its run through the Grand Canyon is one for beauty. Both are mind-blowing.

There is one criterion that is strictly ours: We have to have floated on the river. For example, Peggy and I have crossed the Mississippi, Missouri, and Columbia Rivers numerous times from their headwaters to where they flow into the ocean. But our only personal experience has been to take photos and explore their history, with folks like Mark Twain and Lewis and Clark serving as our teachers. Peggy is known to stick a finger or toe in on occasion, however, “to test the water.”

In addition to the Danube, the series will include the Colorado, Amazon, Rhine, Nile, Zambezi, and England’s Trent and Mercy Canal— not a Great River perhaps, but Peggy and I had a blast navigating it in a 60’ long 10’ wide narrow boat, stopping at pubs along the way.

Our private 21 day trip through Grand Canyon National Park by raft was filled with beauty, adventure and fun.

We explored the Amazon River out of Manaus, Brazil for a week on the Amazon Clipper, a small boat that we shared with four other couples plus crew. We dined on piranhas for dinner that night, the ones we had caught in the afternoon (carefully).

Our trip up the Rhine River had it all: Charming towns, Medieval castles, towering cathedrals, bucolic countryside and history. Plus, we took our son, daughter, spouses and grandkids with us.

Horus, the Falcon God of ancient Egypt in the Valley of Kings. The Nile is lined with such treasures.

The Zambezi River of southern Africa brings its own magic ranging from water buffalo, to hippos, to crocodiles, to lions and numerous species of birds.

An underpass on England’s Trent and Mercy Canal. “Low bridge, everybody down.” —Erie Canal song

Since we have already blogged about these experiences (other than the Danube) in the past, I’ll simply do a summary post or two on each one that focuses on photos. The Nile may include more since there were several blogs that I ran out of time to do after the trip last year.

Next week, a quick look at the incredible beauty of the Colorado River through Grand Canyon National Park. After that, we will start on the Danube.

Dangerous Romanian Apple Is Caught Slipping into US without Passport… With Us. We’re Back!

October 14, 2024October 14, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 30 Comments

This apple is a dangerous criminal, an illegal alien attempting to slip into the US from Bucharest without a passport. I am using it here to hide my identity as it is interrogated under the bright lights of the law in a US Customs Detention Center at Dulles Airport. I can still hear the questions, over and over: “Are you or are you not an apple? Did you or did you not come from a former Communist Country? Where is your passport? Is it your intention to destroy America’s apple crop and replace it with foreign apples? What about oranges, grapes, turnips, and petunias?” Petunias?

Peggy and I were innocent victims. The apple was using us for its nefarious purposes. The staff at our hotel in Bucharest had slipped apples into breakfast paper bags when Peggy and I, along with her brother John and wife Frances, checked out at 2 AM. They had included a sandwich made up a slice of cheese and a slice of ham on white bread without any condiments, plus— the piece de resistance— a two-bite muffin. I’d eaten the sandwich and muffin on our ride out to the Bucharest Henri Coandă International Airport. I was suspicious of my apple, however. It had a not-right feeling. I tossed it into a trash can. Let the Romanian authorities deal with it.

Peggy, on the other hand, had visions of eating the apple somewhere along the way on our seemingly endless journey as a defense against starvation. She slipped it into an extra bag she was carrying for gifts and the apple immediately burrowed itself into the bottom of the bag, where it hoped to be forgotten. I can’t blame it for not wanting to be eaten, but apparently it had other motives as well. I don’t know what John and Frances did with theirs. I’d watched Frances cut up lots of them on our trip down the Danube, however. As for John, it probably depended on his political assessment of the apple. Had he thought of it as liberal, or radical, he would have consumed it on the spot, down to its very seeds. Had it been Libertarian, he would have coddled it, possibly even slipping it into Texas where the laws are different (not really, when it comes to US Customs).

We had a 4 hour layover in Zurich where the apple would have been consumed except we were traveling business class and could hang out at the Swiss Air lounge where all sorts of goodies were available for eating. Likewise, we were fed two full meals on our flight from Switzerland to Virginia. The apple continued its happy and secretive existence in the bottom of the gift bag— until we were in the middle of a massive crowd of people slowly making our way toward the passport check stations. It was then that Peggy saw the sign: “All travelers entering the United States are Required to Declare meats, fruits, vegetables, plants, seeds, soil, animals, as well as plant and animal products (including soup or soup products) they may be carrying. The declaration must cover all items carried in checked baggage, carry-on luggage, or in a vehicle.” The food might contain dangerous pests. Not declaring it is a crime subject to fines up to $10,000!

It was an “Oh poop,” moment. Oh well. Having lived in California for many years, we were used to border checks for fruit. We either got rid of it before entering the state or declared it if we hadn’t. I’d stopped being overly concerned when the border checks were frequently unmanned. If we declared fruits, the guards told us to throw it into a nearby trash can, or eat it. So much for the dangerous pests.

When we reached passport control, Peggy bravely pulled the offending apple out of her bag and explained why she had forgotten it. “Here, you can have it,” Peggy offered with one of her dazzling, disarming smiles. “Or is there a place I can toss it?” The agent reacted like Peggy was offering her a dead rat with the bubonic plague. She grabbed Peggy’s passport and locked it up in a plastic box for Peggy to carry. “Follow that red line to Custom detention,” she told her. Suffering from guilt by association, I was directed to go with her.

We opened the door and a very stern looking fellow took Peggy’s passport and glared at the apple. We were told to go sit on the side with a lot of other people. We would be allowed to go when and If the agents found no more apples in our luggage, which, at the time, was going around and around on the Swiss Air’s luggage carousel. “Can I go pick up the bags and bring them back here?” Peggy asked. “No” was the terse reply. “You will not bring fruit into the country,” we were reminded again. We were very close to being criminals. Agents would go collect our luggage so we wouldn’t try to escape.

A sign declared we were to take no photos or record any conversations. I understood why. Four agents were standing in the back of the room sorting through a pile of garbage four feet high and four feet across, carefully pulling out each piece and examining it. I certainly wouldn’t want my photo taken doing that. I hoped that they were well paid. As for the no photos, I wasn’t going to take any photos of their secretive activities, but I really did want a photo of the apple.

I pulled out my MacBook Pro and opened Photo Booth. Positioning my apple where I wanted, I pushed the red cameral symbol. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP the computer went as it counted down. The wasn’t an ‘Oh poop’ moment. It was an “Oh shit” moment. I imagined guys with guns rushing over to grab me. I quickly closed my laptop and waited. Nobody seemed to have noticed. The problem was, I wasn’t happy with the photo.

Out came my laptop again, this time with the sound turned off. I positioned the apple just so (as you see it above) and snapped another photo. The only thing I could see in the photo that might be considered in the no-take area was a TV that featured Mr. Potato Head on the left and an orangish looking guy with horns on the right. Satisfied, I put the laptop away and we waited. And waited. Another family of four was in the same strait we were. The daughter had brought a closed package of beef jerky to give to her brother, which was apparently a crime even more serious than ours. Her father was roaming around like an angry bee.

A half hour passed, and then an hour, and then an hour and a half. Each time the agents brought in luggage, Peggy and the dad would jump up to see if ours was included. Nada. Once the agents brought in 20 pieces from a French airline. Who knows what that was about. Maybe the French were trying to smuggle in a hundred pounds of Foie gras. The French fellow they were holding couldn’t (or wouldn’t) identify any of the luggage. I felt for all of the passengers who were wondering where in the heck their luggage had disappeared to.

Finally, the dad went over to talk to the “Big Guy,” who stood about five feet tall, and asked if he could go out with an agent and identify his luggage. Maybe the fellow was feeling a little guilty about the dad’s long wait with children. He said yes. Peggy, who knows an opportunity when it knocks, ran over and requested the same privilege. Five minutes later Peggy and the dad showed up with the luggage that the agents hadn’t been able to find in two hours. Ten minutes later our luggage had been scanned, Peggy had her passport back, and we were free to go. It was one AM in Bucharest. We had been traveling for close to 24 hours. All’s well that ends well. We had been worried that the following photo may have shown our fate.

Peggy is threatened with having her head cut off at Vlad the Impaler/Dracula’s castle in Transylvania. Our guide, whose name was also Vlad, was wielding the ax. That’s it for the day. Next up, we will start our Great River Series, including our adventure down the Danube River.

Theodore Roosevelt National Park Where the Buffalo Wallow and the Scenery Is Out of this World… The National Park Series Conclusion

September 16, 2024September 16, 2024 / Curt Mekemson / 29 Comments

Multi-colored layers of sandstone, clay and shale infused with seams of black coal— all easily eroded rocks— are what give Theodore Roosevelt National Park its unique, otherworldly look. They put the Bad in badlands in the sense of teen slang, like really great, like wow!

TRNP is located in North Dakota close to the border of Montana. Canada is to the north.

The park is divided into a north and south section. Peggy and I spend the majority of our time in the north section, which has far fewer visitors and, in my opinion, is more scenic.

Visitors will find numerous multi-colored hills, like this…

And this— an example of earth slump where a whole portion of one of the cliffs came sliding down intact. Note the coal seam. Lightning can actually set these seams on fire. They can burn for years.

A close up. Coal was formed some 300 million years in large swamps where dead plant materials settled to the bottom and were eventually compressed into rock. Petrified wood from redwoods, cypress and cedar can also be found in the park.

The strangest rocks, however, are these cannon ball shaped concretions that are formed when minerals settle out of water in sandstone and shale, around a pebble or fossil in layers.

How much more unworldly can you get than this scene where the mud-like rock seemingly melts.

And appears to have flowed out of holes and cracks.

In addition to its cannonball look, the concretions also took other forms.

There seems to be no end to erosion carved features at TRNP. BTW, I think this is the way to Rock Hill, not the hill. A park information sign informed us that the grass on Rock Hill has never been plowed, making it one of the rare examples of pure native grass found in North America.

The eroded hill here had a beautiful setting.

Capstones, made up of harder rocks, help create the layered look.

I felt that this example had a jumbled mass of erosion that had a dark, post-apocalyptic feel to it…

On a brighter note, we loved this massive hill with its trees on top.

A side view. Like a massive vessel rising out of the earth.

A distant view of the Little Missouri River that flows through TRNP. Note the small blip on top of the ridge.

I promised buffalo, right? There are lots of them in TRNP. But I promised more: Buffalo wallowing.

That’s what this big fellow is about to do.

Wallowing is all about stirring up dust. Buffalo do it to to discourage biting flies and shed fur. The males also do it during mating season to leave behind a scent and demonstrate what big, strong fellas they are.

It’s important to get dust all over their bodies.

That’s a wrap on Theodore Roosevelt National Park, but even more it’s a wrap on our national park series. Peggy and I hope you’ve enjoyed it. In addition to the six I have featured here, there were the four others I included in our trip up the coast this spring and Everglades National Park we visited in February for a total of 11 in 2022.

But (isn’t there always a but), Peggy and I are going to bring you one more national park as part of our next series: Great Rivers. We will return to the Grand Canyon with a twist: Instead of looking down, we will be looking up— floating down the Colorado River on a 20 day private trip by raft through the park. I’ve blogged about the trip before, so I know several of you are familiar with it. This will be different, however, a photo essay stretched out over 6 posts with lots of new photos that Peggy and I haven’t included before.

First, however, Peggy and I are taking a vacation. (Do I hear a snort in the background. Isn’t that what you always do?) Actually, it will be a vacation from blogging as we float down the Danube River. Think of it as a vacation from a vocation, to the degree blogging is a vocation/work. I’m sure fellow bloggers will agree, it certainly feels like it at times. 😳We will be missing from the blogosphere for five weeks: This week in preparation for the trip, three weeks in Europe, and one week in recovery. I’ll check in from time to time to respond to comments. Beyond that, we will see you in mid-October!

Wandering through Time and Place

Exploring the world with Curtis and Peggy Mekemson

photography