Tom Lovering

A Ton of Food and Homeland Security… Rafting the Grand Canyon

/ Curt Mekemson / 4 Comments

Preparation for our 18-day raft trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon quickly taught me that eating was going to be a central part of our adventure. This is the back of my 22-foot travel van after a trip to Safeway in Flagstaff, Arizona.

Great adventures start with the mundane. For example, did you cancel the paper? Common sense (and probably your mother) admonish that devious burglars have nothing better to do than to cruise the streets looking for rolled newspapers in front of your home.

More importantly, what about the cat?

Once upon a time Peggy and I had a cat named Effie. Vacations meant I would carefully measure out twice as much food and water as she could possibly eat or drink and four times the kitty litter she might use. The likelihood of her pooping all over the house was much greater that the likelihood of her starving. As a reward for my thoughtfulness, she would shed enough fur in our absence to fill a dump truck.

Now we have food to worry about. Lots of it. Tom Lovering, the trip leader, his wife Beth and their friend Jamie Wilson arrived in Flagstaff three days in advance of our Colorado River trip. Their car was packed to the brim with empty ammo cans and other watertight boxes waiting to be filled with food and the miscellaneous paraphernalia of river trips.

The Department of Homeland Security delayed their journey at Hoover Dam. The Agency is paranoid about mad bombers. Its normally low sense of humor dropped to zero when the agents saw all the ammo cans. The whole car had to be unpacked.

Tom Lovering, our trip leader, has been running rivers since the 70s. I first met him in 1974 when I persuaded him that his outdoor/wilderness store, Alpine West, should sponsor a hundred mile backpack trip I was organizing for the American Lung Association in Sacramento.

Tom is even more paranoid about food than DHS is about terrorists. In addition to being a highly experienced rafter and trip leader, he’s an old restaurateur who had spent months planning the menu.  Each dish has been tested several times and quantities have been measured down to the teaspoon. Recipes are spelled out in minute detail. We will eat gourmet on the trip… or die. The options are clear.

Beth, Peggy and I are dispatched to Sam’s Club with marching orders. We fill seven large shopping carts with food. Think of it this way. There are 16 people going on an 18-day trip and eating three meals a day. This equals 864 individual meals.

When we arrive back at the motel, Tom and Jamie have set up a staging area. Food needs to be organized by meal and day and then stuffed in the appropriate containers. The containers will then be assigned to rafts. It’s important that we know where to find the beer.

We have yet to shop for perishables and more food is coming from Sacramento. Our room, we discover, is to be the recipient of most food. There is barely space to sleep.

Food purchase and storage for an 18-day river adventure depends upon numerous lists. First you have to plan out menus and quantities. Next the food needs to be purchased. Finally it has to be carefully stored so you will find the right food on the right day. Tom’s wife, Beth, was in charge of the lists. (Photo by Don Green)

One of our participants obviously felt that tequila and oranges needed to be stored together.

Our bedroom was packed with food. Personal gear is on the bed.

Food organization took place outside of our motel rooms.

The next day is more relaxed. Other trip members begin to arrive and Peggy and I assume airport shuttle duty. Tom takes time for a makeover into something resembling an English Punk Rocker from the 70s with green and purple hair. Homeland Security was right to be suspicious.

Tom is 50% businessman, 30% adventurer, and 20% character. Or maybe I have the percentages reversed. Here he is having his hair bleached for the trip. You will see the results in future posts.

Next blog: Three days and 39 miles: The Journey Begins.

The morning of the adventure has arrived. Everything we have packed… our food, personal gear and rafts are stuffed into this truck in preparation for our drive to the takeoff point, Lee’s Ferry.

A Grand Adventure… Exploring the Grand Canyon by Raft

/ Curt Mekemson / 6 Comments

With Steve at the oars, Peggy and I enter the infamous Lava Rapids on the Colorado River, a perfect ten… that’s 10 as in rapids don’t get any more serious. A few seconds later we disappear under the water. (Photo by Don Green)

Today I begin my series on rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. Since it happened a couple of years ago, I am traveling back in time. In fact I kicked off this blog with the trip, some 181 posts ago.

I never finished the series. Other things happened: like having grandbabies born, going to Burning Man, looking for long dead people (otherwise known as ancestors), etc. So I will start with reposting my early stories so everyone can begin, so to speak, on the same page. (Grin)

This series will encompass more than my trip down the river, however. It is meant to be a celebration of the Grand Canyon, possibly the greatest natural wonder in the world. I have been back to the Canyon repeatedly in a time span that dates back over forty years.

Peggy takes a photo looking down into the Grand Canyon. Three feet forward and she will have a thousand feet to learn to fly.

I have wandered the South and North Rim, camped in all of the Rim campgrounds, and stayed at the magnificent El Tovar Hotel. Once I spent Christmas week at Bright Angel Lodge with a view overlooking the Canyon. I’ve been into the Canyon by mule, on foot and helicopter… as well as raft.

Several times I have explored the inner Canyon on weeklong backpack trips. I will feature one in this series.

Our Grand Canyon river adventure started with a phone call. Tom Lovering left an urgent message. I had to immediately stop whatever I was doing (Peggy and my three-year road trip around North America) and climb on-line to sign up for the Grand Canyon Colorado River permit lottery.

Apparently the permits are hard to obtain, somewhat harder than walking out of a casino with a million dollars.

I am immune to Tom’s last minute schemes but the charming Peggy who loves water, loves rivers, and loves sunshine immediately jumped on-line and did the necessary clicking. Early the next morning we received an Email from the National Park Service saying we had won. It took me a lot longer to persuade Tom than it did for the NPS people to inform us.

I am not, by nature, a white water man. I put running rapids right up there with dangling on rock cliffs, playing Kamikaze on ski slopes, and riding the latest death-defying roller coaster at Four Flags.  My approach to outdoor adventure is more in the nature of planned risk taking than thrill seeking. Consequently, I had only been on two real white water rafting trips.

The first was with Tom on the Mokelumne River in California in the 70s. Within five minutes he had dumped us into something known as Dead Man’s Hole. “Paddle!” he screamed. River rats love to give their favorite rapids scary names such as Satan’s Pool and Suicide Bend. They can wax eloquently for hours over the qualities of these death-dealing anomalies. Our detour “was a learning experience,” Tom explained as we emptied the water out of the raft and lungs. “Next time you’ll paddle harder.” Yeah, yeah.

My second white water trip was on the Middle Fork of the American River. This time I was travelling with Mark Dubois, his wife Sharon Negri and a friend, Bonnie Holmes.

Mark, sometimes known as the Gentle Giant, once chained himself to a rock in the bottom of the Stanislaus River to stop the Army Corps of Engineers from flooding the canyon with water. He also co-founded Friends of the River, an organization dedicated to saving the wild rivers of the west.

Our trip was rather mellow up until we came to a large rapid. Mark was having us do such things as close our eyes and lean backwards out of the raft with our hair touching the water so we could ‘listen’ to the river. He’s a spiritual type guy, one with nature. Apparently Nature had rejected me.

“Now, Curt,” he directed as we approached the rapid known as Guaranteed to Drown or some other similar name, “I want you to climb out of the raft and float down it.”

“I know, I know,” I groused as I rolled out of the raft into the icy waters. “It’s a learning experience.”

And that’s how I classify our trip down the Colorado, a learning experience. But I know it will be more. Every time I have visited the Grand Canyon over the years, I have come away with a feeling of awe and reverence. How could a trip through the Canyon’s inner core be any different?

So please join my friends and me over the next few weeks. I think you’ll enjoy the ride.

Here I am. They actually let me row. It had something to do with the lack of any nearby rapids.

This is how Jamie, one of our experienced boatmen, handled that section of the river.

Here are some of the folks that travelled with us on our 18 day trip down the Canyon. In this photo they have reversed their life preservers to look like giant diapers and are floating down the beautiful little Colorado River, one of many scenic stops along the way. They are about ten feet away from going over a waterfall.

You will meet some interesting characters on the trip, such as Steve…

And our fearless leader Tom Lovering. Are you brave enough to spend 21 days on the river with this man?

Even this Grand Canyon fish was amazed by our choice of leader.

We had 21 days on the Colorado River and 21 days of incredible scenery. Views such as…

Scenes along the River…

Magnificent cliffs…

Plunging waterfalls…

And beautiful wild flowers.

You will learn how to poop in the woods…

Dance in a line with too much wine…

Take refreshing baths…

And leap from high places.

Join us.

From a Sinking Ship to a Huge EGO… Burning Man 2012 Art

/ Curt Mekemson / 13 Comments

Whimsical always wins me over. This is one cool cat… or is that cat woman. I had to travel far out on the Playa to find the cat sculptures.

Face it; I am frustrated. It is impossible to cover all of the art featured at Burning Man. In fact with over 300 works of art scattered over the seven square miles that constitutes Black Rock City, it was impossible for me to even get around and admire each piece. Maybe if I had devoted 24/7… but Burning man provides many distractions.

All I can offer is a tantalizing sample… and a recommendation: if you enjoy this art and you have never been to Burning Man, put the event on your schedule for the future.

A final note before I jump into photographs: this year featured regional art from groups that are organizing local Burning Man activities from around the US and world. I will cover this art, and its fiery demise, in my next blog.

Another photo of the denizens of the outer Playa at Burning Man. One gets a sense of how far out they are by the lack of people in the background.

Imagine cycling across the desert and seeing in the distance a partially sunken 16th Century Spanish galleon. It’s almost unbelievable but at Burning Man you learn to expect the unusual. Artist Matthew Schultz headed up this project.

What amazed me even more was the attention to detail, right down to the masthead. The story behind the sunken ship is that it crashed into the pier.

Further attention to detail, plus a sense of humor, was found below decks. Note the long fingers and the modern coffee cup.

The pier, without the ship, was a very popular sculpture in 2011.

It is difficult to be an artist, or a writer… or even a blogger for that matter, without a little ego. This is a big one.

Since the artist, Laura Kimpton, and I are both somewhat dyslexic, I thought I would reverse the E.

Replicas of 10,000 trophies went into creating EGO.

Wall Street, photographed here from the Man, was another major installation at Burning Man 2012. Otto Von Danger is the artist.

Buildings were given such names as the Bank of UnAmerica and Chaos Manhattan. The Greek front is a replica of the NYSE.

Like in many urban settings, graffiti was rampant. But we can all dream our financial institutions will become a little less greedy and a little more responsible. Wall Street was burned but not the American flag.

“It takes a village…” (Photo by Tom Lovering)

I found this large Praying Mantis and several buggy companions out on the far Playa. My bike, Horse with No Name, waits patiently. (I trust you will recognize the song “I rode through the desert on a horse with no name.”)

This sculpture by artist Kate Radenbush is called Star Seed. I thought of it as ‘fantasy arising from the dust.’ And why not. Participants are expected to put their own twist on Burning Man art.

I did wonder whether we are seeding the stars or they are seeding us.

If you look closely, you will note that this man’s skin is made completely of watch parts. I also liked the see through quality as you look up at the sky over Black Rock City.

Another of the wonderfully quirky works of art found out on the Playa at Burning Man 2012. (Photo by Tom Lovering.)

One sculpture featured a series of quotes. I found these two by Albert Einstein and Danny Kaye particularly appropriate for closing my blog on Burning Man 2012 art.

The Temple at Black Rock City… Burning Man 2012

/ Curt Mekemson / 22 Comments

The 2012 Temple at Burning Man captured in the early morning light by my friend Tom Lovering. The courtyard and Temple are already filled with visitors.

My first trip to Burning Man in 2004 became a quest. A neighbor of mine, a veteran Burner, suggested I would enjoy the event. He was a strange fellow. I guess he thought I was too.

His description of Black Rock City reminded me of the Mos Eisley on the planet Tatooine, the Spaceport where Luke Skywalker began his journey to the outer worlds. Strange creatures resided there. Adventure beckoned.

Most quests involve a similar location, a jumping off place between the world you know and wherever it is you are headed. Your challenge, if you accept it, is to go out into the beyond, do battle with the bad guys, and come back with something good for your community.

I didn’t find any bad guys at Black Rock City but I did have a wonderful time. And the journey expanded my perception of reality, which is always a good thing. I returned to Sacramento and immediately begin recruiting friends to go with me the next year. Today I regard my treks to Burning Man as exotic, art-filled vacations with a dash of pilgrimage thrown in.

The pilgrimage part involves visiting the Man and the Temple. Today’s blog will feature the Temple, Burning Man’s spiritual center. It is the place on the Playa where Burners go to say goodbye to loved ones who have passed on or to simply give thanks. Visiting is a moving experience that I believe people of all faiths, or none, can relate to.

The 2012 Temple at Burning Man was exceptionally beautiful. Reflecting an oriental theme, its spire reached for the sky while its large courtyard opened to the desert and welcomed visitors. Intricately carved wood invited thousands of messages and photos about parents, friends, lovers, children, husbands, wives, other relatives and even cherished pets.

Normally raucous Burners become quiet when they enter the Temple Grounds. While it isn’t a place of formal worship, it is a place of quiet meditation, reverence and respect. People sit quietly, post messages, or wander around and read what has been written.

The following photo essay is designed to capture the essence and beauty of the Temple in a way that words can’t. My friend and fellow Horse-Bone Camp member, Tom Lovering of Davis California, got up at 5:30 AM on Wednesday to catch the sunrise pictures. My wife Peggy and I took the day, night and burn photos.

The sun greets a new day at Black Rock City and gently bathes the courtyard of the 2012 Temple. (Photo by Tom Lovering.)

Early morning sunlight provides a golden glow and captures the intricate woodwork inside the 2012 Temple at Burning Man. (Photo by Tom Lovering)

Music is found everywhere at Burning Man, including the Temple. I love the obvious joy of these performers caught on camera by Tom Lovering. I also think this photo provides a good perspective on the size of the 2012 Temple’s courtyard.

This daytime photo provides an overview of the 2012 Temple at Burning Man and the courtyard, which extends an equal distance on the other side. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

Peggy captured a fun perspective here of the 2012 Temple at Black Rock City. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson)

I took this photo of the 2012 Temple at Burning Man to show the intricate wood work. Much to my delight, the light shining through created a sense of eyes creating a cat-like face.

Speaking of kitties, the people owned by this cat memorialized her in the Temple with this picture. Thousands of Burners use the Temple to say goodbye to relatives, friends and pets who have passed on with messages of love and gratitude.

I took this photo to provide an idea of the number of messages Burners leave for loved ones. Previous photos have shown the size of the 2012 Temple of Burning Man and its courtyard. By Sunday, when the Temple was burned, close to every inch of reachable space on the inside and outside of the Temple plus structures in the courtyard had been covered with messages.

The 2012 Burning Man Temple at night.

A night-time view from the inside of Burning Man’s 2012 Temple.

Things burn at Burning Man including the Man and numerous works of art. Impermanence, deconstruction and celebration are all involved. The Temple has these elements, but it also includes the burning of the thousands of messages,  sending them skyward, or Heavenward if you prefer, and providing closure to those left behind.

Silence accompanies the burning of the Temple. No mutant vehicles spout fire, no music is played, no Burners dance. Only the sound of crying or the shouted “I’ll miss you,” breaks the stillness. We too have honored those who have passed on. This year we remembered my sister’s Mother-in-Law Betty, a woman full of life who had adopted us all as family and who had passed away shortly before Burning Man 2012 began. Go in peace, Betty.

Eventually, all that is left of the Temple and the courtyard is the structure… and then, it too collapses, returning to ash and dust. A very special thanks to David Best from Petaluma California, the architect and builder of the 2012 Temple at Burning Man, and to the Temple Crew that devoted thousands of hours to putting the magnificent building together.

The Man at Burning Man

/ Curt Mekemson / Leave a comment

Since the beginning of Burning Man, the Man has dominated the event, providing a convenient meeting place, landmark, and viewing platform for six days and burning on the six night.

The Man goes to his fiery death in 11 days.  Drummers will drum, fire dancers twirl, mutant vehicles gather, fireworks go off, and some 60,000 people witness the event. It is the highlight of the week, the one must-do event… and almost everyone participates.

But the Man is more than one final, fire-filled happening. For six days he will tower over the Playa and Black Rock City serving as a meeting place for friends and as a guide for misplaced Burners. Major events will start and end at his feet. He is the dominating figure at Burning Man both during the day and during the night.

With thousands of people wandering around in the dark, mutant vehicles lit up like Christmas trees roaming the playa, and dozens of events happening simultaneously, it is easy to become disoriented at Burning Man. Unless there is a whiteout and zero visibility, the Man is always there to provide a landmark. (Photo by Don Green)

Each year the Man is given a new base that reflects the annual theme. Burners are invited to explore the structure, check out the art, and climb up to high platforms that look out over Black Rock City. The following pictures are taken from five of the six years I have visited Burning Man.

The Man viewed through a metallic flower sculpture in 2009.

A close up and side view of the above photo at Burning Man.

The structure for the Man is always designed to burn. The site is closed down on Saturday while preparations are made. Art is removed and fireworks are inserted.

The 2006 Man provides a good example of how dramatically different each year’s structure is at Burning Man.

The Burning Man structure in 2010 provided great platforms for viewing the surrounding mountains and Black Rock City. Finishing touches are being put on the structure here.

A telephoto view looking into  Black Rock City from the Burning Man tower in 2010.

Another view from the Burning Man tower. In this one I emphasized the surrounding mountains of the Black Rock Desert. Note the bank of porta-potties on the left: not scenic but essential.

In 2007 the unimaginable happened and a misguided prankster lit the Man on fire Thursday night. By Saturday, Burning Man had replaced the structure. In this photo by Horse-Bone Tribe member Ken Lake, the Man (without his head) is being placed on the replacement structure.

A final view of the MAN in Burning Man.

 

 

The Burning Man Wedding of Bone and Bonetta… Not

/ Curt Mekemson / 4 Comments

Best Donkey Eeyore, Bone in his kilt, and Bonetta with her tiara of roses at their Victorian home on the Upper Applegate River in Oregon.

“I’d recommend that you not go to Burning Man,” Dr. V. of the Medford Medical Clinic had urged. Since I was facing acute kidney failure, we had complied… reluctantly.

The tickets had cost $700.

More importantly, Bone and Bonetta were getting married. Ever since Bonetta rescued Bone from a bone-eating alligator in a Florida swamp last fall, the two have been inseparable companions.

Burning Man was the perfect place for their wedding. Several members of the International Society of the Bone would be present including Tom Lovering. (Tom and I had ‘discovered’ Bone hiding out in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in 1977 and launched him on his worldwide travels.)

The retired Judge Don of the Horse-Bone Tribe was prepared to officiate. Punkin Beth, owner of B&L Bike Shop in Davis, offered to make Bonetta’s wedding dress. Bone would wear his finest kilt, made for him by Ann Baughman of Kansas. Eeyore the donkey was to serve as Best Man. Peggy and I were taking care of the Champaign and cake. It promised to be quite the wedding.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Bone and Bonetta were depending on us to take them to Burning Man. The nuptials would have to be postponed to a future date.

Peggy put our tickets on the Medford Craig’s list and offered them for $600. Within ten minutes Miss Blossom called wanting the tickets. She had just returned from a Hemp Festival and had more or less accepted she would miss Burning Man. Our tickets showing up on Craig’s list at a bargain rate was a message from the forest spirits… she was meant to go in our place.

By Friday morning we were glad she did. I woke up with a blood pressure of 206/112. “You need to come in immediately,” the Medford Medical Clinic directed.

Dr. M met with me. Dr. V had taken me off of my old blood pressure medicine because of its impact on my kidneys. Dr. M put me on a new one. “You will need to monitor its impact,” he warned.

We live in a world of designer based drugs where the negative side effects often outweigh the positive benefits. It’s in the fine print.

Drug companies don’t want us to read the “Oh, by the way, this drug may kill you.” It’s couched between glowing recommendations on their TV ads. Without government regulations and the fear of lawsuits, it wouldn’t be there at all. Billions are spent working to convince us that brand name drugs costing big bucks will make us happy, healthy and sexy. “Ask your doctor,” the ads recommend.

Drug reps then pummel physicians with goodies to ensure sure they make the right recommendations. Sadly, many doctors succumb to the wining and dining. But not Dr. M.

“I saw Dr. M run a drug rep out of his office,” one of the nurses confided in me. “Why should I prescribe your expensive brand name drug to my patients, when the much less expensive generic drug works equally as well,” the good doctor had said

The man deserves a medal.

I had more on my mind than high blood pressure, however. My urinary system was shutting down. This had happened to me once before when I came off of the 360-mile backpack trek from Lake Tahoe to Mt. Whitney I did to celebrate my 60th birthday. It was scary.

Dr. M pulled up the ultra-sounds the technician had done of my bladder on Monday. A look of irritation crossed his face. “This should have been caught.”  You’ve probably heard the statement ‘full of piss and vinegar.’ Well I was full of the former.

“It may be the cause of both your kidney problem and high blood pressure,” the doctor noted and then drew me a diagram. Sung to the tune of the old bone song, “The kidneys are connected to the bladder, the bladder is connected to the prostate, and they’re all connected to the…” well, you get the picture. Apparently the logjam ran all the way to my kidneys.

Doctors have a solution. I won’t go into the details other than to say it involves a long rubber tube and I am convinced spymasters could use it to get whatever confessions they need. “Not only did I do it sir, but here are the names, addresses and phone numbers of every one who helped me.”

Let’s say I had a draining experience and leave it at that.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” the nurse said as I filled my second liter container and started working on the third. I had more pee in reserve than he had ever seen.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Dr. M confirmed when he came in. He wanted me to ask the urologist if I had set some kind record.

“I prefer to impress people in other ways,” I primly told both of them. I am sure by the time I left everyone in the clinic knew about my performance. So much for patient confidentiality.

So the saga continues. I have at least resolved the issue of acute kidney failure. They are back to normal. I will keep you posted… not so much because I want to write about my health, but more so because I want to use my experience as a platform to editorialize on our medical care delivery system. In case you haven’t noted, it needs help.

Next I want to turn to the second big event my health forced me to miss: the 50th Reunion of my high school class and the world of teenage angst.

Eating Dust

/ Curt Mekemson / 2 Comments

Two acres of paved boat ramp greet us when we arrive at Lee’s Fairy. The transport van disgorges us as the gear truck makes a quick turn and backs down the ramp. Another private party is busy rigging boats.

The dreaded pirate Steve threatens Bone with a knife and demands to know where he has buried his treasure.

From off to the right a long-haired 50-something man emerges. I think 60’s hippie or possibly the model for a Harlequin Romance cover. The pirate flag on his boat suggests otherwise. A ‘roll your own’ cigarette dangles from his lips. It’s Steve Van Dore, the last member of our group and a boatman out of Colorado.  No one in our group has met him but he comes highly recommended.

“Please let this be the truck driver,” Steve later admits is his first thought when he meets our green and purple haired trip leader, Tom Lovering.

He also confides that Tom hadn’t told him we were a smoke-free group. “On the other hand,” Steve confesses, “I didn’t tell him I am on probation.” Somehow this balances out in Steve’s mind. There is no time to become acquainted; we have work to do.

The truck we just loaded demands unloading. Everybody does everything. There are no assignments. Peggy and I become stevedores, dock workers. Piles of beer and soda and wine and food and personal gear and ammo cans and hefty ice chests quickly accumulate around the truck.

There is no shade and the desert sun beats down ferociously. It is sucked up by the black asphalt and thrown back at us. We slather on sun block and gulp down water.

The rafts are unloaded last. Pro gives a quick lesson on rigging and then escapes. We have bought their minimum support package to keep costs down and Tom has done a good job. Our outlay for the 18 day adventure is approximately $1,000 per person. The cost for a similar commercial outing can edge up to $7,000 and beyond!

Rigging our five rafts is technical but relatively easy, assuming of course one is mechanically oriented. I make no such claims. Steve’s Cat (catamaran) is already set up and in the water, its pirate flag flapping in the breeze. Our other four boats are self-bailing Sotar Rafts with aluminum frames. Tom owns his own, a blue 14 footer named Peanut. The three we have rented from Pro are yellow, 16 feet long and nameless.

If the technical aspects about rafts and raft rigging make you drool, check the excellent PRO and Sotar websites: http://www.proriver.com    http://www.sotar.com .

Tom is the last to rig his boat and it is approaching dusk. I hike down the river to find a campsite for our group while the rest boat down. Peggy and I are totally exhausted. We struggle to set up our new tent in 30 MPH winds. A van is coming to pick us up for dinner and we are late, again. The walls of the restaurant are covered with photos of rafts and rafters being trashed by rapids.

The wind storm has changed to a dust storm as we crawl into out tents. It covers everything and gets into my eyes, ears, nose and mouth. I pull out a handkerchief to cover my face. I am far too tired to make notes for Bone’s blog. I finally fall asleep with the wind ripping at our tent.