tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50435366712624119012024-03-05T13:15:57.711-07:00Eating on Two Wheels(Reflections on Eating, Riding, and Occasional Other Matters. Oh, and a haphazard recipe or two.)Paulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13012777824807580267noreply@blogger.comBlogger228125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-63572497002714720322020-05-24T08:20:00.002-07:002020-12-16T09:27:37.171-07:00A Stay-at-Home Order: Sketches on Dining In<h2>
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<i><span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8;">(And Other Divertissements)</span></span></span><span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8;"> </span></span></span></i></h4>
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<i>I'm writing this post especially for <a href="https://www.trueconcord.org/">True Concord Voices & Orchestra</a>, one of the many organizations for which I perform. While musicians are grounded until further notice, arts organizations continue to connect with their concert goers in innovative ways. Introducing performers to deprived audience members in a more personal way, as in this post, is one such strategy. If you are able, consider supporting one of your beloved local organizations during this difficult time.</i><br />
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Happy, Healthy, and COVID-Unemployed! Let's Ride! Except...I'm not. Of all my pursuits, tearing around on a Ducati is the one most likely to result in medical intervention. So I've made the personal decision to remain out of the saddle while hospital beds are at a premium. All the time in the world. A fully operational Ducati. Those two states of being have not coincided in years. I won't lie. Some days, I'm tempted. But for now, we sit. And wait. And wait and sit. Just like everyone else. <br />
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My last ride, over two months ago, was, appropriately, to a ghost town. Yes, Fairbanks, AZ is an actual ghost town. Even in long ago early March, a picnic lunch was a sanitized and distantly social affair. It was with genuine sadness that I declined my friend's offer to pack my lunch for me. Is that allowed anymore? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhpJAnGs4z27a5IU-EJzqJzAv79GV6grATZsA7zU8-XTW29Yf0RLdLDSaRotBvL-FWp3-dOhhtcqqaiRzbXjTEvWQWCZwSJgt_Niz8uL9MFDY4gWz_mAyaU2oylxvT7l7pkOUu45I_X3g/s1600/Fairbanks+at+a+Distance+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhpJAnGs4z27a5IU-EJzqJzAv79GV6grATZsA7zU8-XTW29Yf0RLdLDSaRotBvL-FWp3-dOhhtcqqaiRzbXjTEvWQWCZwSJgt_Niz8uL9MFDY4gWz_mAyaU2oylxvT7l7pkOUu45I_X3g/s1600/Fairbanks+at+a+Distance+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Excellent Friend and Motorcyclist Missy Blair</td></tr>
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So what <i>have</i> I been doing? Some things, like hand washing and toilet paper usage data collection, have become nearly universal.<br />
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Other activities feel fairly unique. In an arguably questionable financial strategy, I bought a flute*. And a roof. In the same week. Most days, I run between the front yard, checking on Baby Hummerbird, who had his flight feathers removed by a cat-of-unknown-origin the day after <a href="https://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/Eating-on-Two-Wheels/E2W-Videos/n-76tmj8/i-PWSvPnf/A">he fledged</a>, and the back yard, assembling the contraption-of-the-day in an ongoing feud to keep a neighbor's cat from <a href="https://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/Eating-on-Two-Wheels/E2W-Videos/n-76tmj8/i-GHVgH7f/A">assaulting my Lucy's Warblers nestbox</a>. (If you read only one of my silly trademark footnotes, let it be this one**.) Mostly, the cat is winning, although Miss Lucy is still sitting on her three eggs. Time will tell if the eggs are viable.<br />
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Many mornings, I get a two-wheeled wildflower joy fix by bicycling on <a href="https://webcms.pima.gov/government/the_loop/">The Loop</a>. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9c6D-bMY8slT78UeSkwTb_gKtx52rAMCYRecK-2x2KMQIJywL2riBJqCkaw9fK6Vssfi5N9gBZu3d1-G7cW4UxqwcEUhQX5hyphenhyphenIV12oegSe_KYfwc1SIRHqfrhDyFmS-bXCNo5AbFa7sg/s1600/Loop+Wildflowers+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9c6D-bMY8slT78UeSkwTb_gKtx52rAMCYRecK-2x2KMQIJywL2riBJqCkaw9fK6Vssfi5N9gBZu3d1-G7cW4UxqwcEUhQX5hyphenhyphenIV12oegSe_KYfwc1SIRHqfrhDyFmS-bXCNo5AbFa7sg/s1600/Loop+Wildflowers+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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If you know where to look, you might find an abandoned trail side orchard.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsZW8PoojW5F1QKaoreQ1OBopoXWd_Xr2SsBhyphenhyphennRLwFZbAZ5AiQedODdOV1t75SXI0t0B82IJd6icvjQ8kFZsttmIPUFIDlUa0HdaUzJX9MMdNTtdmUKnyZP1bynEXMZxqJmZLdFs45pj/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsZW8PoojW5F1QKaoreQ1OBopoXWd_Xr2SsBhyphenhyphennRLwFZbAZ5AiQedODdOV1t75SXI0t0B82IJd6icvjQ8kFZsttmIPUFIDlUa0HdaUzJX9MMdNTtdmUKnyZP1bynEXMZxqJmZLdFs45pj/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop+2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_Weu0uJNhU2MsTFvCB7dXVMGtHAnzjaZlQm8m_GKDutlwa7kHXtMZ41qx5ihjH_p9q9xA4aWvvEUZBAbqhlJAsXfVVa4-deF9HKpxpU5SXkMy5IAZCHD3wRREQDhwjuqQCHZ8j7s23lD/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop+Pecans+2.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="407" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_Weu0uJNhU2MsTFvCB7dXVMGtHAnzjaZlQm8m_GKDutlwa7kHXtMZ41qx5ihjH_p9q9xA4aWvvEUZBAbqhlJAsXfVVa4-deF9HKpxpU5SXkMy5IAZCHD3wRREQDhwjuqQCHZ8j7s23lD/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop+Pecans+2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBJbg_k7TFC4Nb5LyUI78qI0AkLUsLYAWet6ga1bzv7PNcyatMrqFlThN52SGjYw5Sxj-OdAvzdSLXd4Gj8nj678gqLUxOU0pKmSGHWY52hugtGRx0GusPT2rMUXpa1nej3cLvBs-ud33/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop+4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBJbg_k7TFC4Nb5LyUI78qI0AkLUsLYAWet6ga1bzv7PNcyatMrqFlThN52SGjYw5Sxj-OdAvzdSLXd4Gj8nj678gqLUxOU0pKmSGHWY52hugtGRx0GusPT2rMUXpa1nej3cLvBs-ud33/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop+4.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bicycle lunchbox proves handy for roadside finds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccHPv71eMABCEVKa0YtiFJzUOBIfWbqNt27iRrQNQzHpxgfFzIDOkA8h7G3f9iZI1te9nibyewolBQ8XMYcl4byVXpsNkbusywSJ84VbYVThfvfpSQonz51mPthAQZBFVIpGdnq6MB4Cg/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccHPv71eMABCEVKa0YtiFJzUOBIfWbqNt27iRrQNQzHpxgfFzIDOkA8h7G3f9iZI1te9nibyewolBQ8XMYcl4byVXpsNkbusywSJ84VbYVThfvfpSQonz51mPthAQZBFVIpGdnq6MB4Cg/s1600/Bohemian+on+the+Loop.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My motorcycle/bicycle risk assessment may not have been entirely accurate.</td></tr>
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Empty grocery shelves***? Bring it! Cooking
with what's on hand is a daily creative opportunity for any budget minded eater, and the extra challenge of pandemic limitations
only has me - zing! - sharpening my knives with a gleam in my eye and
sly smile on my lips. Dosa, stuffed zucchini blossoms****, beet-walnut dip, okonomiyaki (of a sort), roasted red peppers, lemon frozen yogurt, lion's mane sopes, pickled mustard greens, Thai beef salad, homemade ricotta, "Ground Beet Gnocchi" (so named because the mixture of pureed red and golden beets makes for gnocchi the color of ground beef), lemon curd barquettes, and, in a nod to pandemic skill acquisition goals, hand patted tortillas - no tortilla press needed, thank you very much - have all hit my dinner plate in the past weeks*****. If I am so inspired, I snap a photo. Usually, I just settle down and eat. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXH1pehXKBMBS-bixLbOUqT_towlEYl3r298SvE_vY1jVFqtXqjsYBqcwW9P49nrj1wmPqEacSPNcoLIxbCkfIud3y2vL9EDi_lY-1QACGWjTid_pEQ8bYziwQC1i0JO99epF7jTi71hC/s1600/Beet+Dip+Pink+Glory+004.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXH1pehXKBMBS-bixLbOUqT_towlEYl3r298SvE_vY1jVFqtXqjsYBqcwW9P49nrj1wmPqEacSPNcoLIxbCkfIud3y2vL9EDi_lY-1QACGWjTid_pEQ8bYziwQC1i0JO99epF7jTi71hC/s1600/Beet+Dip+Pink+Glory+004.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add chives to your walnut beet dip, lest you mistake it for raspberry sorbet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGOG65ik1-ZdTUFvsQNtSW4p7NEHORaWOP82yGfw3e4cEx-OmPFqYVE7SThAn5uUznU0YBubzTVP5kTLiIJ4eQ8qE_2u98uQv0VdYHfBI7u1B4eHnvFWy1DuQqCs3F3wWfIz8H3ZcQ1az/s1600/GLorious+Peppers+%25286%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGOG65ik1-ZdTUFvsQNtSW4p7NEHORaWOP82yGfw3e4cEx-OmPFqYVE7SThAn5uUznU0YBubzTVP5kTLiIJ4eQ8qE_2u98uQv0VdYHfBI7u1B4eHnvFWy1DuQqCs3F3wWfIz8H3ZcQ1az/s1600/GLorious+Peppers+%25286%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red Pepper Acquisition Credit goes to Good Friend and True Concord Voices & Orchestra <a href="https://www.trueconcord.org/about/support-staff/">staff member</a> Shawn Campbell.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitRs1FBMJKf8WC1vZnF8uXPeLDCpBIIjqpzqC_2mOskgba8PmsxyZbW1DHMialW6fb24wGktviiKCZ91MMoxkh4y-zHpo_XxGBF3XC_m4lq9n5BCBo2y1y5oo4-PwDBLaM92j1Hibyw_sd/s1600/Lions+Mane+Windfall+013.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitRs1FBMJKf8WC1vZnF8uXPeLDCpBIIjqpzqC_2mOskgba8PmsxyZbW1DHMialW6fb24wGktviiKCZ91MMoxkh4y-zHpo_XxGBF3XC_m4lq9n5BCBo2y1y5oo4-PwDBLaM92j1Hibyw_sd/s1600/Lions+Mane+Windfall+013.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lion's mane mushrooms. Not foraged. This time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsko-Af1ZsLGwAfkmr4JWpPGaqRyG-BQkIpBjEhi5BQq2J2QZPV0Fs8iNVunITw2eaiCBuCJ4Dr5-KUv1BZovlr8MpwqBQIXe3jN9Z-6Czfmi2SmXvd7DKUUX4uQsg5aPYD6t0UiExQet/s1600/Pickled+Mustard+Greens.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsko-Af1ZsLGwAfkmr4JWpPGaqRyG-BQkIpBjEhi5BQq2J2QZPV0Fs8iNVunITw2eaiCBuCJ4Dr5-KUv1BZovlr8MpwqBQIXe3jN9Z-6Czfmi2SmXvd7DKUUX4uQsg5aPYD6t0UiExQet/s1600/Pickled+Mustard+Greens.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New favorite cross cultural snack: rice with pickled mustard greens and salsa macha</td></tr>
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During the heat of the day, I often turn off the stove and shelter in place with the Metropolitan Opera free Stream o' the Day, while firing running commentary back and forth with an ad hoc chat group. </div>
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But the real wild card of late? An <a href="https://academy.allaboutbirds.org/product/nature-journaling-and-field-sketching/">online nature sketching course</a>. Typically, my level of patience varies wildly by activity. Practicing the flute? I got this. (Even when I don't.) Motorcycle maintenance? Zero Zen. Sketching has been an unexpected new window into my labyrinthine mind. Each time I sit down to draw, I watch myself tracing a predictable emotional outline, from one point on the serenity scale to the other. The simplest shapes can be infuriating, and when I'm not consumed with the urge to throw my sketchbook across the yard, I am perplexed and curious why I can not replicate the uncomplicated contour of a heart shaped leaf. Like Mozart, seemingly straightforward lines are deceptive, and can take a lifetime to render with the grace they hold within. Each time I open my little pink thrift store art box and begin, I reach a pivotal moment. Do I give in to discouragement and frustration? Or enjoy the process of exploration and discovery? The choice - and it <i>is </i>a choice - which I must make anew each time I draw, is an undeniable struggle for me, the proportions of which I am a bit embarrassed to admit. I take a breath, employ the eraser, and start again. I got this. Even when I don't.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* Buyin' ain't practicin', it turns out.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">** <b>Important disclaimer</b>! PLEASE do not EVER "rescue" wildlife without immediate and direct consultation with a licensed wildlife center. It is not only illegal, but often harmful. See <a href="http://tucsonwildlife.com/rescue-faq/">here</a> for some preliminary advice. (Currently, Mama Hummerbird is still doing the work of tending Baby Hummerbird.) Readers will know I like birds, especially Lucy's Warblers. See <a href="https://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/03/hope-for-2017.html">here</a> for more information on our special little warbler, and, if you like, scroll down to see various updates on my own nestboxes. <b>UPDATE</b>: Mama Hummerbird is busy sitting on news eggs, so she has stopped visiting Baby Hummerbird. Baby Hummerbird has moved to a new temporary home: <a href="http://tucsonwildlife.com/">Tucson Wildlife Center</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*** Teensy tiny confession: Now that my evenings are free, I volunteer weekly at <a href="http://www.tucsoncsa.org/">my Tucson Community Supported Agriculture Group</a>. Who knew one day I'd be thanked for my service simply for handing out cabbages? In return, I come home with a bag full of beautiful, fresh,
and interesting seasonal produce. And? They have eggs, bread, meat, cheese, milk, and other items available for sale, too. So, in volunteering for the essential business of food distribution, I'm also, admittedly, cheating. Take, <i>that</i>, COVID.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****Don't be tempted by complicated fillings or batters. Pop a piece of
anchovy and a piece of cheese into each flower, and twist it closed. Dip them in a simple pastella (flour and water batter) and pop them into a
shallow bath of hot high smoke point oil until golden. Drain, sprinkle
with a bit of nice salt, and eat immediately. You'll be airing out your
kitchen afterwards, but <i>something </i>has to keep us from frying food every day, right? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*****Thatsalotta dish washing. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Paulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13012777824807580267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-1906787860181855182018-11-29T16:35:00.002-07:002018-11-30T22:23:27.129-07:00Eclosure<br />
Remember my little<a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2018/10/on-beagles-and-butterflies.html"> caterpillar friend</a>?<br />
<br />
Well, he ate..<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioRcwmNCft0zYGL0Jn5oFRM4QNyogvHcuXdlEvTDulvn023_c6sP93gU71p_IVhahrNBnTwPKZnXwITmR9oWii8hilamC21tB-DNV2Mt7_xoEQNn2WOMNoyvAtytb8FeKmt7Z2EWEREVnC/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+larva+eating+milkweed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioRcwmNCft0zYGL0Jn5oFRM4QNyogvHcuXdlEvTDulvn023_c6sP93gU71p_IVhahrNBnTwPKZnXwITmR9oWii8hilamC21tB-DNV2Mt7_xoEQNn2WOMNoyvAtytb8FeKmt7Z2EWEREVnC/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+larva+eating+milkweed.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
and molted...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiryNwj9lrYYOAu7K9igxPMuXCLnkFXgkViqW4KUnx2X3hFurh9PkTciSm2NwW0RSd4mwa7H-3BeNHjjWaXaxPmA7iK4UdD-W89n3cPYgLS9AQY0-t4Gq7dGsnGfqXYtwOYLmX3FO8ij0-t/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+after+molting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiryNwj9lrYYOAu7K9igxPMuXCLnkFXgkViqW4KUnx2X3hFurh9PkTciSm2NwW0RSd4mwa7H-3BeNHjjWaXaxPmA7iK4UdD-W89n3cPYgLS9AQY0-t4Gq7dGsnGfqXYtwOYLmX3FO8ij0-t/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+after+molting.jpg" /></a></div>
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and grew!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwuUyxPa2yxF8Kbr1gu5g0QOAldgLQEtcFCsFlKzsf2KgSrPPYzGdq5flWzTaBuXN1B7czLkdZ-6NQBuxDoZ57UPjAD3w1UJkXgazYI9SKCh6ZWH-w_si31LIrX7hyphenhyphenQzvwni8rMqtOGvh/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+larva+growing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwuUyxPa2yxF8Kbr1gu5g0QOAldgLQEtcFCsFlKzsf2KgSrPPYzGdq5flWzTaBuXN1B7czLkdZ-6NQBuxDoZ57UPjAD3w1UJkXgazYI9SKCh6ZWH-w_si31LIrX7hyphenhyphenQzvwni8rMqtOGvh/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+larva+growing.jpg" /></a></div>
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And then one day - before I could secure a proper butterfly enclosure, even! - I saw him hanging upside down in a very special "J" shape.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BUFic3FBBVzXR7GJzL-mlboVjHgFJXtBUj1cVePADvzhePmgvPD9PxeVEidkJj6CXN4H_T349IyqDozJGp7lRkKAZMY5M4njhq2emh43rkeNWBfoT8J-bagcPWXjBzYzH5EJHAn0HOZ-/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+hanging+in+J.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BUFic3FBBVzXR7GJzL-mlboVjHgFJXtBUj1cVePADvzhePmgvPD9PxeVEidkJj6CXN4H_T349IyqDozJGp7lRkKAZMY5M4njhq2emh43rkeNWBfoT8J-bagcPWXjBzYzH5EJHAn0HOZ-/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+hanging+in+J.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
When his antennae got very, very droopy, I knew something was about to happen. Now? Must it happen <i>right</i> now? I scrambled, I fumbled, I dropped kicked a lens cap, set up a camera, spilled a folder of music, packed up my things, stubbed my toe, shoved a hunk of bread and cheese in my mouth with one hand while pressing some buttons on the camera with the other, hoped for the best, and dashed out the door for work. Time lapse photography experiment <i>a la minute</i>!<br />
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When I returned, I was astonished to see exactly what I expected to see.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3n6Scsku2ZByBBFI1F9qHzLnjncNw20QB_LL6JCfTjBZwePHV2TDAZvHK3Y2YuOu-fbKXMBK3SL1lmyd4Mh79s1tdmVs0uHupy1evuUKWw-Ep-H3EIR2q8zzZY0AN6m1W2E1DGa2Z-JWv/s1600/Danuas+gilippus+New+Chrysalis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3n6Scsku2ZByBBFI1F9qHzLnjncNw20QB_LL6JCfTjBZwePHV2TDAZvHK3Y2YuOu-fbKXMBK3SL1lmyd4Mh79s1tdmVs0uHupy1evuUKWw-Ep-H3EIR2q8zzZY0AN6m1W2E1DGa2Z-JWv/s1600/Danuas+gilippus+New+Chrysalis.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danaus gilippus (Queen Butterfly) Chrysalis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
As far as my rough time lapse experiment went, I hoped I had made accurate calculations. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwyLERmGkxW1K9XZK5mCYKTL3hLaNU1APo_3wtsX5fp9yUhr9MwQHDeA4u7PCOLAtG6-1CabNqKPSmxLjD6bA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
Action captured! It may be wobbly, and a bit too fast, but that was far preferable to action undocumented, due to a lack of battery power or SD card space. I would now have plenty of time to metamorphize both my technique and gear. Perhaps I might even catch the next event on video! <br />
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My transformed friend was a beautiful leaf green color, studded with a gold so reflective I found it difficult to believe I was looking at animal rather than mineral.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKv7_zFa21LL7kqR96yG348tHj4GfJB133LaqU2n5gpSAMOCOcvcqNbV7Rhz9MmsJnFhZ5PagXa-LEyUfTTqmxEfbIMFu1OZkaUAJbY8bbebyJit7YgeZhTpfEQeGTh_4f1kP-VZm9Nyac/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Chrysalis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKv7_zFa21LL7kqR96yG348tHj4GfJB133LaqU2n5gpSAMOCOcvcqNbV7Rhz9MmsJnFhZ5PagXa-LEyUfTTqmxEfbIMFu1OZkaUAJbY8bbebyJit7YgeZhTpfEQeGTh_4f1kP-VZm9Nyac/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Chrysalis.jpg" /></a> </div>
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<br />
Later, with shaking hands, I clipped and secured his milkweed branch, maintaining his chosen angle, height, and orientation, and moved him - gently, so gently! - to the safety of a newly delivered butterfly enclosure.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUk1iDk88Wcc84O7bd_M2QPvGQmckm66f42xmdBRmtu1jNaCTQZtD4aQTn18-Iy6wpu3RxtGAi7Ds_n6HLo65M5cao7Yq_7cYsT6IXIcJBupPF6BGNgt47_JYiyFBkFAqXYSAjCNmNVNvM/s1600/Danaus+Gilippus+Safe+Haven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUk1iDk88Wcc84O7bd_M2QPvGQmckm66f42xmdBRmtu1jNaCTQZtD4aQTn18-Iy6wpu3RxtGAi7Ds_n6HLo65M5cao7Yq_7cYsT6IXIcJBupPF6BGNgt47_JYiyFBkFAqXYSAjCNmNVNvM/s1600/Danaus+Gilippus+Safe+Haven.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Safe Haven<br />
If you look very carefully, you will see my beagle, also in a different form, in the background!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
"Five to 15 days, unless overwintering," I read. How would he know if he
should "over-winter," if he was indoors? I tried to help him decide correctly by leaving the windows open as
often as possible. <br />
<br />
We waited. My anxiety over the welfare of this tiny (tiny???) gift eased, as we fell into a new rhythm. Each day, instead of coming home to a beagle, I came home to check on my little natural wonder. It was nice to have someone in the house with me, even if was just (just???) a chrysalis.<br />
<br />
We waited some more.<br />
<br />
It got cold. Please, not today. "Not today," I told him.<br />
<br />
It got warm. "Today would be a good day," I advised.<br />
<br />
One day, he looked a little different. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LOSdsPllHAU_JCSwMRbPDLswRvpcsyBkyPQ3HPeHQVLh3WJ42dp5Ros_9Hubnbe7Ljg-Vh8HvWpYtF9fJjGkbJa8appn1KBwKXzP6ZzX2qjPqB9k7Zo862AlUJcvKCQTVRZa_H3xRhxx/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Chrysalis+Changes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LOSdsPllHAU_JCSwMRbPDLswRvpcsyBkyPQ3HPeHQVLh3WJ42dp5Ros_9Hubnbe7Ljg-Vh8HvWpYtF9fJjGkbJa8appn1KBwKXzP6ZzX2qjPqB9k7Zo862AlUJcvKCQTVRZa_H3xRhxx/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Chrysalis+Changes.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wings! (Day 15)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
The next morning he was mostly black. A flash flood of worry scoured a path already worn with great waves of grief. Although <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2018/10/on-beagles-and-butterflies.html">the reasons were obvious</a>, I was far too emotionally attached to... a bug. The internet shared with me all that could go wrong.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXbtQ6cD7aKW0X2U3BUQFs9M7K1lfPSL0gF7jxPrvuv0IR5_fd6I0602NCLxUvbC9dZNj48Wfl4omVKs8QMrDVcdd8bo7M6NYkZeUv4CoqYSKFOoVsrn5JJ3zdhpsqO2fZaTulKqBNCmW/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+before+eclosure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXbtQ6cD7aKW0X2U3BUQFs9M7K1lfPSL0gF7jxPrvuv0IR5_fd6I0602NCLxUvbC9dZNj48Wfl4omVKs8QMrDVcdd8bo7M6NYkZeUv4CoqYSKFOoVsrn5JJ3zdhpsqO2fZaTulKqBNCmW/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+before+eclosure.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 16</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
But as the clock ticked away the morning hours, a form became more visible. Please, please, please...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWaa9dk-PUa49GA6i6-D4ACe2EY24Gtj4ZC1agBvewe3pftFX9-wjIkJEZ7y9Mz5XLNCf4882fKJ2B9Jx3q7FEH6278Q5tX2IwpStBZw6aH_lBE934593dA9gFWeQACLmJ-3G1glLP7c-/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+soon+to+eclose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWaa9dk-PUa49GA6i6-D4ACe2EY24Gtj4ZC1agBvewe3pftFX9-wjIkJEZ7y9Mz5XLNCf4882fKJ2B9Jx3q7FEH6278Q5tX2IwpStBZw6aH_lBE934593dA9gFWeQACLmJ-3G1glLP7c-/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+soon+to+eclose.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the final day, the chrysalis shell turns as transparent as plastic wrap.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
It was supposed to be a riding day, but instead, I paced like an expectant father in the waiting room. I swept the floor. I hacked up my <a href="http://www.tucsoncsa.org/">CSA</a> pie pumpkin with a machete. I fiddled with the GoPro: flying lessons had taught me the importance of equipment redundancy. I turned my head for a moment - merely turned my head! - as a technological glitch stole my atten...<br />
<br />
Gah! I missed it! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCO2SP1C3cRAlH_7hhfRK-p80pUvFq6fCOqPqTcBA3DAdkP25SI-GzJYWcLTBjv_jldUNQ9De4kRjocd0l71MxD9l4rtOvLglLae0K7oZLc5md0C9aTTTeMtofysL16x47R6uqa3Yzm-t/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+moment+of+eclosure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCO2SP1C3cRAlH_7hhfRK-p80pUvFq6fCOqPqTcBA3DAdkP25SI-GzJYWcLTBjv_jldUNQ9De4kRjocd0l71MxD9l4rtOvLglLae0K7oZLc5md0C9aTTTeMtofysL16x47R6uqa3Yzm-t/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+moment+of+eclosure.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eclosure! (That's butterfly speak for "hatching.")</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
My little friend - little only in stature! - <i>you did it</i>.<br />
<br />
"You did it," I whispered to him. <br />
<br />
Before my eyes, a great reversal happened: his fat body slimmed, and his crumpled wings expanded. Sometimes, he would swing back and forth on his branch. <br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6YqgspwDB4gHca8oGdWaDFV5qBUBTGLU4Yy8cj5jkIxhrUAmeAUdHM7Snd7ixNI-pVA6SOODRXk8WOjVWzWIAOzCSc6jdttV8XfAZcQrhcQXyMGMm48oDSLXkg8eBPqECoyIiqe6OhU_/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6YqgspwDB4gHca8oGdWaDFV5qBUBTGLU4Yy8cj5jkIxhrUAmeAUdHM7Snd7ixNI-pVA6SOODRXk8WOjVWzWIAOzCSc6jdttV8XfAZcQrhcQXyMGMm48oDSLXkg8eBPqECoyIiqe6OhU_/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://operaflute.blogspot.com/2011/08/final-journey-significant-other-matter.html">Having owned a Dalmatian in the past</a>, how could I <i>not </i>love his little polka-dotted body?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtF_Xya8Xh3ONhl4N7UuG-DWskYBJ0CaGBFWNNc24zq_ouFZ3HfOqnlJE3Ac2PhPPiAJxprcSLGUI_yV2dgzIIYqleHbYkoOFW9IbkNntcAVe8HYk5imTo-0v-CuFOJLQNdJeUj4E89Sa/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtF_Xya8Xh3ONhl4N7UuG-DWskYBJ0CaGBFWNNc24zq_ouFZ3HfOqnlJE3Ac2PhPPiAJxprcSLGUI_yV2dgzIIYqleHbYkoOFW9IbkNntcAVe8HYk5imTo-0v-CuFOJLQNdJeUj4E89Sa/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
He climbed up and up!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pedmaXHwzJA5XKf4JyIcgNjHXcTI8sPx7wEZGgZpjuWpFHqDCt_TxmHLoaPjyYHYK-mPZRaJ1n_neJELmPoXfXBGzxOfJ7oZUNy9RAHWumE0CnsmVcpN-ik-Ec__MEsOGig5V1wicXRx/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pedmaXHwzJA5XKf4JyIcgNjHXcTI8sPx7wEZGgZpjuWpFHqDCt_TxmHLoaPjyYHYK-mPZRaJ1n_neJELmPoXfXBGzxOfJ7oZUNy9RAHWumE0CnsmVcpN-ik-Ec__MEsOGig5V1wicXRx/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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I had given him a flower. Just in case. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwATi9dua2FcmnGNbKdPHaTQ55EOxtAeh02DC99fdS1mnuUeot3LOVGAUJ-EIsBMQD1NNFNM_F4lCkyOA8JoiVdJLdpvRRbPEk_mmbd85h5CcNmkPeyKYCx9GW39O70fvjniFO1jeomRg_/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwATi9dua2FcmnGNbKdPHaTQ55EOxtAeh02DC99fdS1mnuUeot3LOVGAUJ-EIsBMQD1NNFNM_F4lCkyOA8JoiVdJLdpvRRbPEk_mmbd85h5CcNmkPeyKYCx9GW39O70fvjniFO1jeomRg_/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+eclosure+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
But he was not hungry. He stayed very still for a very long time. When his wings were finally dry and ready, it was too late in the day to release him. It was true, he had every reason to be tired, but more worry - just a trickle - seeped coldly in. He was in the same place when I got back from work. Still and quiet. Quiet and still. Not that butterflies are all that noisy, as far as I have ever observed.<br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDbXQ4gexuCUJn-bw_psMf1yt0ye0uz53ZFo1vYI6nNBitkWPkTzfpu9HhGLAkJNPS2qEuAek5qnnbGA-jt9BGVUlhnmj3Z4kOsw0ATbRd-qcefCJqMCwkrcT_hHDtty92TmXv44TOQPl/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+resting+after+eclosure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDbXQ4gexuCUJn-bw_psMf1yt0ye0uz53ZFo1vYI6nNBitkWPkTzfpu9HhGLAkJNPS2qEuAek5qnnbGA-jt9BGVUlhnmj3Z4kOsw0ATbRd-qcefCJqMCwkrcT_hHDtty92TmXv44TOQPl/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+resting+after+eclosure.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He needs a good two hours of drying time. It's best to release him when there are still several hours of warm sunshine left in the day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
When I wake, he is still still. But I do believe he is in a slightly different location on the ceiling of his enclosure. I am not still. I am restless. I check the sky. I check the weather. Again and again. I check the temperature of my back yard with my digital instant read thermometer. Our moment has arrived. It's flying weather! He agrees, fluttering this way and that, as I move him in his little tent outdoors.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTf3ZeiRiUBVWELecNi07rbDDqUM-Fz39TtM3GzwsLe-0CC9mYixYRFv6anAHELSfkB1wg8SoyYMeRVj-6MHOoR0S2_KZzv2B90fsFDwz1Ao_YW0uh6d8CvX5t5PvJW8ixteUZAQKMZ-mU/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Release+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTf3ZeiRiUBVWELecNi07rbDDqUM-Fz39TtM3GzwsLe-0CC9mYixYRFv6anAHELSfkB1wg8SoyYMeRVj-6MHOoR0S2_KZzv2B90fsFDwz1Ao_YW0uh6d8CvX5t5PvJW8ixteUZAQKMZ-mU/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Release+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See those two black dots on his hind wings? They tell me what I knew in my heart all along - it's a boy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
"Climb aboard," I say. He does!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTOo5ai9Q8_szGzr-5I7Cc1clWuj21nN3Oa9GdLvbgGMKHnnwVhsRGKNl-BdUS-8Eox1SfIFUJl1bodFM1tBYc6_T7fIa09LzT7Z-y_g2Q5JEbdsZnH2cuXB63vq57VLy59i_1nYoUOtL/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Release+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTOo5ai9Q8_szGzr-5I7Cc1clWuj21nN3Oa9GdLvbgGMKHnnwVhsRGKNl-BdUS-8Eox1SfIFUJl1bodFM1tBYc6_T7fIa09LzT7Z-y_g2Q5JEbdsZnH2cuXB63vq57VLy59i_1nYoUOtL/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Release+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
He waits a long time...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fexMR1R_OzNP2qM2EFa2vKAm70ZekpZMbvp8jTq54SbbSLzwyzEZx-BBS_xpTinv-zWn_IDgd11Zt7FXVUxFyZG2OuDeoe2-klK3k1UEr6BlBTJsINRaPPkmp7BIDXdnq8tIozND_Ngq/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Release+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1fexMR1R_OzNP2qM2EFa2vKAm70ZekpZMbvp8jTq54SbbSLzwyzEZx-BBS_xpTinv-zWn_IDgd11Zt7FXVUxFyZG2OuDeoe2-klK3k1UEr6BlBTJsINRaPPkmp7BIDXdnq8tIozND_Ngq/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Release+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
... and then - oh sweet tiny enormous miracle! - he launches! After a victory lap or two, he wisely departs my bird infested yard. When I can move again, breathe again, I go about my business, doing this and that, indoors and out. I am joyously, wondrously, gratefully, relievedly elated. And a little bit sad.<br />
<br />
Perhaps half an hour later I fall victim to a butterfly fly-by. He glides over my fence. Hello again! And then, a little later, he visits me one final time. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHWL3nhGNyb8RG2C0AgHyqVFhs1dXE6CGThqZt1N8Giz-BeuRF64d_JLKOWpL7VuRdJconVVJtvymwyVNoiyWQdPU-q67c53OmPDrHKycHrb9lXaXd1PBuHgWb4PVQWQtK6ijHAExd4sr/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Fly+By.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHWL3nhGNyb8RG2C0AgHyqVFhs1dXE6CGThqZt1N8Giz-BeuRF64d_JLKOWpL7VuRdJconVVJtvymwyVNoiyWQdPU-q67c53OmPDrHKycHrb9lXaXd1PBuHgWb4PVQWQtK6ijHAExd4sr/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Fly+By.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Could it be another male Danaus gilippus? Perhaps. But I choose to believe he's my former roommate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
And then? A little eclosure of my own.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0VsSA0wOTZeG_zuz4mQhvaOnoPoqjYm5FWJRxj06XTeTV8V7DA5qIF7XJ8beOR3zwOFcMwutrASnaMASZdase34mtCOa98Cy2YpL-BMofvyc82Bqujxh6YjZFwy8-ZM-J-8FMZtvljdc/s1600/Ducati+Eclosure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0VsSA0wOTZeG_zuz4mQhvaOnoPoqjYm5FWJRxj06XTeTV8V7DA5qIF7XJ8beOR3zwOFcMwutrASnaMASZdase34mtCOa98Cy2YpL-BMofvyc82Bqujxh6YjZFwy8-ZM-J-8FMZtvljdc/s1600/Ducati+Eclosure.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've had precious little seat time over the past few years. But I sense a change coming.<br />
In case you're wondering, <a href="https://operaflute.blogspot.com/2018/11/test-rides.html">the brakes are just fine</a>! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
P.S. Who knew you could miss a bug so much? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvOxGg4MMWOaKx30WecEuNGm62bHVabtNbW0HlNbbG2u-stnKILnZPw19BaSVVGVdHhTNIx3TJ4q0UD53O-6drQCb6GarJtrUAzL69dvfjiBh2Peweg2jyjf5daTC11jUK7eC2tRYMB2W/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+chrysalis+shell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvOxGg4MMWOaKx30WecEuNGm62bHVabtNbW0HlNbbG2u-stnKILnZPw19BaSVVGVdHhTNIx3TJ4q0UD53O-6drQCb6GarJtrUAzL69dvfjiBh2Peweg2jyjf5daTC11jUK7eC2tRYMB2W/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+chrysalis+shell.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Find a lady friend, little one, and begin it all again!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-52674336583327329332018-11-15T17:57:00.000-07:002018-11-15T17:57:03.726-07:00Test RidesSo, yeah. That little window in the your master cylinder? The one that allows you to check the brake fluid level during your pre-flight? Mine fell out. I mean, it just fell right on out. There it was, sitting on the ground. Weird! But <a href="https://operaflute.blogspot.com/2018/10/on-beagles-and-butterflies.html">I told you that already</a>.<br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gLW2V65I4Zs4XeYKTPTagsgeE4TNvCsayKLPdihq2RkDDY3j29Zhxm6FyopltexZojEVynf1gT3Y4n1Torrk8AtTtMzkVSKYppOmrt7HOxdbUvL64kk1Ga6A_rEdIp_K8G8Qz4A2DU-P/s1600/Sad+Master+Cylinder+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gLW2V65I4Zs4XeYKTPTagsgeE4TNvCsayKLPdihq2RkDDY3j29Zhxm6FyopltexZojEVynf1gT3Y4n1Torrk8AtTtMzkVSKYppOmrt7HOxdbUvL64kk1Ga6A_rEdIp_K8G8Qz4A2DU-P/s1600/Sad+Master+Cylinder+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Situation No Go</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqfK6lB6Ma2QaC61y6iljHf5qthY0wtUXLsQ-v_wmsaNGQlcEiLlgWZG5EzmK_4BOzGEHzeYV0Wb6NlTHnywswjIgk8yAmzlzRSDxFVRfz7q6SWROe2F1l1rPImZV3Z5BQ9mrH9y5el5w/s1600/Sad+Master+Cylinder+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqfK6lB6Ma2QaC61y6iljHf5qthY0wtUXLsQ-v_wmsaNGQlcEiLlgWZG5EzmK_4BOzGEHzeYV0Wb6NlTHnywswjIgk8yAmzlzRSDxFVRfz7q6SWROe2F1l1rPImZV3Z5BQ9mrH9y5el5w/s1600/Sad+Master+Cylinder+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks pretty clean?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
So last weekend after a fluid top off (the cylinder hadn't <i>completely</i> emptied out), I took it for a teeny tiny little test ride around the block. And around a few more times. Stop! Go! Stop! Go! Just to see if I could trust it enough to ride to a friend who has all these fancy tools that would make the just-in-case line bleeding super easy.* Yes, I hate trailering SO much, that I'd actually ride across town with a questionable front brake - hey, that's what the rear is for, right? - rather than load up my bike. In any case it, stopped on command every time.<br />
<br />
I also did some testing at the <a href="https://www.saaca.org/azfarmfoodfestival.html">AZ Farm & Food Fest</a>!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoizFsxCz2FtI5oK6uX5ZbwBZJ3KJNcQ01gP_Xkpr4WV-bFAk9Z_oggheWSbBPRKAKdAe7BwOq4tgSa0YIj8sBwQpOM21UuD-yODs8Iq_Ll1Zf09SLJ04NDwjngwU-Jog1suQAJjUhRDq-/s1600/AZ+Farm+and+Food+Festival.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoizFsxCz2FtI5oK6uX5ZbwBZJ3KJNcQ01gP_Xkpr4WV-bFAk9Z_oggheWSbBPRKAKdAe7BwOq4tgSa0YIj8sBwQpOM21UuD-yODs8Iq_Ll1Zf09SLJ04NDwjngwU-Jog1suQAJjUhRDq-/s1600/AZ+Farm+and+Food+Festival.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yummy apple-y thing. Didn't think to note chef OR menu details. Just ate it right up.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And? Just like that, I wrote a blog post. Baby steps, right?**<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Would NOT have done this if the cylinder had emptied out!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Big hopes 2019 is the year "life gets back to normal." Whatever that means.</span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-66381058335691275972018-10-30T17:35:00.001-07:002018-12-09T09:41:58.332-07:00On Beagles and Butterflies<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I was going to write this whole thing about how, when I was
very little, I had <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Playful-Puppy-Barbara-Shook-Hazen/dp/B0007EO67C">a book whose cover featured a beagle with a butterfly on its nose</a>, and from that moment on, my heart was on fire. I so desperately wanted a
beagle! Of course, you know I eventually got one.* Life dream realized! The apple
of my eye! Littlest Love, Littlest Only in Stature!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGoW-TSK-se4RODkdIoXD14m3y33wV_N1m2CAkbXfKSQy4nMmsjRXF6VneJP9_T0Tr27Jy5FUgLNnzm3dh-ITRF_a8EQFqnqIo5sMA1wmS9Pv82ZNOt2JX6FmtoJ0NAz-wnnFMvWRcHCf/s1600/Beagle+Wants+Her+Ball.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="508" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGoW-TSK-se4RODkdIoXD14m3y33wV_N1m2CAkbXfKSQy4nMmsjRXF6VneJP9_T0Tr27Jy5FUgLNnzm3dh-ITRF_a8EQFqnqIo5sMA1wmS9Pv82ZNOt2JX6FmtoJ0NAz-wnnFMvWRcHCf/s640/Beagle+Wants+Her+Ball.jpg" width="588" /></a> </div>
<br />
But when she died earlier
this month, the morning after my father died – on opposite sides of the country,
how cruel! – and when I got back<a href="https://operaflute.blogspot.com/2018/11/test-rides.html"> the viewing window had fallen out the Ducati's front master cylinder</a> (really!) – again, how cruel!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, the whole point of the thing was to be that soon thereafter,
this butterfly (Yes! A butterfly! Just like the book!) came into my life, by
way of a newly acquired milkweed plant – how strange! At least it will be a
butterfly soon, I’m told, and it lives here with me now, and I’m waiting,
waiting, waiting for it to happen.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPY8_1KfYR6wAQr9nwxl6NbauvMgo8hy6V2SPjgPYOKVx1xHo38naVKLJE53U24Hs3E3hOOUUG2nWRh18FG-e9zWWlR-bQA1CpN0qapwHGbE0tc66ckWeH2U-amo62nOyPaz9XyBtAj9U/s1600/Danaus+gilippus+Larva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="550" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPY8_1KfYR6wAQr9nwxl6NbauvMgo8hy6V2SPjgPYOKVx1xHo38naVKLJE53U24Hs3E3hOOUUG2nWRh18FG-e9zWWlR-bQA1CpN0qapwHGbE0tc66ckWeH2U-amo62nOyPaz9XyBtAj9U/s640/Danaus+gilippus+Larva.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Queen Butterfly larva (Danaus gilippus), currently in my safekeeping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I was going to write a whole long thing about it all,
but I can’t. I just can’t. What if it dies?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The Beagle Entries:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You met her <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2012/10/no-excuses-well-yeah-some-excuses.html">here</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You saw her briefly <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2013/03/i-just-thought-you-ought-to-know.html">here</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I worried and worried about her <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-daily-special-chinese-steamed-buns.html">here</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beagle in recovery <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-daily-special-dessert.html">here</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2018/05/a-reprieve-and-irish-cottage-pie.html">Here</a> I worried and worried, again.<br />
<a href="https://operaflute.blogspot.com/2018/11/eclosure.html">Caterpillar/Butterfly update. </a></div>
Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-42953864088917838372018-05-30T15:02:00.000-07:002018-10-30T17:37:30.162-07:00A Reprieve and an Irish Cottage PieI was sure she was going to die. In truth, she may still. For 10 days, she has done little more than sleep, taking in no food, and only the most delicate sips of water. I carry her to the sunny places in the morning, and to the shady places in the afternoon, where we sit together. I offer her tiny spoonfuls of her very favorite foods. I supplement her fluids. I carry her back to her soft, fleecy bed. Nothing. I had been treating her for a UTI, but aside from that, I have no real explanation.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldgoji2pwZFR8BmWyV_Efx4opN1G8aeRImQAARmc0Vmn0sY0ZS9yELOEVSPfdas5NXEfMiFTjGUvfktQYEJ2EmJlBOn80NRZoGrMv9ABFS1CwitFKzaNtKjfUAzCfB38Gl48VXdKrnMPx/s1600/Sick+Beagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldgoji2pwZFR8BmWyV_Efx4opN1G8aeRImQAARmc0Vmn0sY0ZS9yELOEVSPfdas5NXEfMiFTjGUvfktQYEJ2EmJlBOn80NRZoGrMv9ABFS1CwitFKzaNtKjfUAzCfB38Gl48VXdKrnMPx/s1600/Sick+Beagle.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
And then, yesterday, she barked. One solitary bark. "Where are you??"<br />
<br />
Have we turned a corner? It is still too risky to hope. Miss Molly is nearing her 15th birthday, and, having <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-daily-special-dessert.html">survived cancer</a> not once but twice, as well as currently sporting a heart murmur that can be heard across the room, early chronic kidney disease, and not one, but two ruptured ACLs,* I'd call her "One Tough Cookie.**" But still.<br />
<br />
For each meal, I cook something I hope she'll eat. Inevitably it becomes my own dinner. Roasted chicken, fish fillets, omelets, pizza bones, and on and on. Yesterday I browned some $8/lb beef***. She took a morsel, but no more. Inspired by a recent trip to Ireland, I made a <a href="https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/775643/cottage-pie">cottage pie</a> for myself. What luck that it was cold and rainy****! I offered her a tiny taste, onion hazard be damned*****. She wanted more! And this morning? More please! So today, I'm making her her own cottage pie, free of all alliums.<br />
<br />
And I hope.******<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sZTWo1-vz8lsGXZjuEJCOWtWaUejWF0ZoCWRyhlwCO5CVp4xWPj1bb7yuMX0nH6b0KhCGgLp1c2RZ3dEx0QzgbnUnEQEa3PXU-H6JYHLdijW2YggGPPGNFyyRSTkGJeZwhd72aTLBlql/s1600/Irish+Cottage+Pie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sZTWo1-vz8lsGXZjuEJCOWtWaUejWF0ZoCWRyhlwCO5CVp4xWPj1bb7yuMX0nH6b0KhCGgLp1c2RZ3dEx0QzgbnUnEQEa3PXU-H6JYHLdijW2YggGPPGNFyyRSTkGJeZwhd72aTLBlql/s1600/Irish+Cottage+Pie.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Those are her little knee ligaments. Surgically fixable, unless you have both heart and kidney disease. Still, tough little tractor that she is, she does what she wants, and is downright heroic during her underwater treadmill rehab sessions!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Meanwhile, a surgeon half way around the world has said the same about my father. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">No factory farmed meat for us, ho, ho!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****No, not in Tucson. I'm back at <a href="https://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/06/blessed-event.html">the farm in Utah</a>. The Ducati is soon to follow.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*****Heinz body hemolytic anemia, anyone? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">******Turns out that UTI is being caused by a resistant strain of bacteria, so the antibiotics I had been giving her have done nothing. Though I just got a different prescription for her, the only one both effective (albeit slowly) and safe for her little kidneys, I do believe my tough little cookie has already begun winning this battle on her own. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;">UPDATE:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">My girl did indeed recover, although it was quite a bit later than when I posted this. It was a tough road, but she was tougher.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Here she is, recuperating:</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHzofLR0eSrsDbT2HxuBnPF38vdPNSXaRlY3ApEKoAtAKB7EUGk7-1xMNTLVuzjVNM9ssd7l4-5l8Wzq8xqTZ1SyO0oMVBoSMj9kFo_TnPLMK0275nyFlWOWcLgOYjPuOXTvycHCo4PCN/s1600/Beagle+Recovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHzofLR0eSrsDbT2HxuBnPF38vdPNSXaRlY3ApEKoAtAKB7EUGk7-1xMNTLVuzjVNM9ssd7l4-5l8Wzq8xqTZ1SyO0oMVBoSMj9kFo_TnPLMK0275nyFlWOWcLgOYjPuOXTvycHCo4PCN/s640/Beagle+Recovers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-19981315220448274562018-03-02T21:03:00.001-07:002018-03-02T21:03:30.685-07:00Little Island, Little Wheels, and Danger on the High Seas<span style="font-size: small;"><em>Another tale from</em> <strong>The Back Burner <em>(April
2014)</em></strong></span><br />
<br />
“HOLY JESUS, DO YOU THINK THEY DRIVE ON THE <em>LEFT</em> THERE???”<br />
<br />
It took a surprisingly long time for that realization to hit me when planning
a scooter day-trip on Grand Bahama with Pilot Guy <strike>last month</strike> four years ago. As it turns out, they do.<br />
<br />
When you’re exiled in <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/04/when-in-rome-grab-paddle.html">Flatistan</a>, it’s actually an attainable feat,
both financially and logistically, to go to the Bahamas for the day. So we
did. One must make the best of one’s exile.<br />
<br />
We crept through the Port Everglades security checkpoint on foot in the
darkness before dawn (kinda weird, since it’s not designed for pedestrians,
which is par for the course in Florida), fumbled our way, slightly lost, through
a dank parking garage, navigated wholly unimpressive security, and clambered up
a broken escalator to board the Pinar del Rio*, our super flashy, double hulled,
fast ferry to Paradise. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_U-KRrk6NBr4-BzmFLHigeTaAqsbLJTPoqZrqBl_MqFaMMkgFyQzTcpAi_vDUdKI_J8s4-1TQERTITvRf7wGlPb_kHhAW1l88i0SJK3Px_5R7St_nFDvkWbs2ZMiJYHD6Zt0MORx0tjTi/s1600/Pinar+del+Rio+Balearia+Bahamas+Express.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_U-KRrk6NBr4-BzmFLHigeTaAqsbLJTPoqZrqBl_MqFaMMkgFyQzTcpAi_vDUdKI_J8s4-1TQERTITvRf7wGlPb_kHhAW1l88i0SJK3Px_5R7St_nFDvkWbs2ZMiJYHD6Zt0MORx0tjTi/s1600/Pinar+del+Rio+Balearia+Bahamas+Express.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pro Tip for Best Seats: Up and Back</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div align="center">
</div>
For the record, Harbor Pilots are the bad-ass stuff of James Bond. They leap then climb on and off the boat as it is underway, after chasing it down with a little speed boat. I so regret not capturing the action.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UjhiEG8HSUhCsIQxdbUgfXBUpdEybt_egWAqCKF5VhjCr-EenPMNR6xsS0oaz3YNfGnL7XKGqBNiR8s8-fSXpmGjcCZq945FUnuCbqXlQenc_spdxgywW85wuZNlHEz4K5SNA7zqHDCZ/s1600/Harbor+Pilot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UjhiEG8HSUhCsIQxdbUgfXBUpdEybt_egWAqCKF5VhjCr-EenPMNR6xsS0oaz3YNfGnL7XKGqBNiR8s8-fSXpmGjcCZq945FUnuCbqXlQenc_spdxgywW85wuZNlHEz4K5SNA7zqHDCZ/s1600/Harbor+Pilot.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
Some of us have to go through Hell to get to Heaven. Thankfully, <em>we</em>
are not those people**. But our boat was rocking enough to make even us, who grew up
on boats of one kind or another, scratch our heads and wonder, “This can’t be
normal, can it?” When equipment such as fire extinguishers came flying off the
walls, when passengers were ordered back to their seats, but admonished not to run,
(we weren’t running, we were literally being thrown across the deck by the
tossing of the boat), and when staff started circulating with pre-emptive barf bags,
the answer to our question was made obvious. No. It wasn’t. Normal. I nearly
got on bended knee to thank God neither of us was prone to sea-sickness, even in
these conditions. Except I was too tired and hungry from not having had
breakfast yet. If it’s bad enough, it’s quite clear that seasickness isn’t just a
bout of nausea and vomiting. It’s fully incapacitating. The staff started shuffling off the incapacitated.... somewhere. We never did see them again and wondered aloud if they had been thrown overboard. The only discomfort we sustained from the rough crossing was
that the concessions line was closed before we managed to secure some very
expensive and very bad coffee with sticky sweet (not in a good way) muffins. I
did talk a staff member into that bad coffee and muffin a bit
later. Tip: Ferry Food falls into the category of Zoo Pizza, and makes you yearn for the haute cuisine of your corner convenience store. Your best bet? A mini box of cheerios. <br />
<br />
Upon our safe (yay!) but delayed due to rough seas (boo!) arrival, I had a very specific food goal in mind. Reminiscent of the
clam cakes we ate every summer as children, but spicier, and possibly even more
oily…<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKlHGnkNlHuwp2K4AzvNWMOcALEH3jHUreOAhVWfR7SmlIaKmrB-9T99cQ8ImGe49dI5KrRy56c4UbYhy9HhyNwvyUdLmux89YFCB8NgJWJ0hqKju9jRmGkeyWcOCyH1jt85d2OM9mbY6/s1600/Lucaya+Beach+Conch+Fritters.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKlHGnkNlHuwp2K4AzvNWMOcALEH3jHUreOAhVWfR7SmlIaKmrB-9T99cQ8ImGe49dI5KrRy56c4UbYhy9HhyNwvyUdLmux89YFCB8NgJWJ0hqKju9jRmGkeyWcOCyH1jt85d2OM9mbY6/s1600/Lucaya+Beach+Conch+Fritters.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
…conch fritters courtesy of “Billy Joe, the Conch Man!”<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8ALHEVBCxpsigz96ZcU1-MhFwG0tEWc2418zojf6Fu74lhkWN7tWxjjTR0RcLorpBJDp5Vv9t9IKKqqCoIIn00nNo84EjeREcy2vECJwVscXVb4iKwYFXDjJtihfRqux9HG9cOGOM0b7/s1600/Lucaya+Beach+Coco+Frio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8ALHEVBCxpsigz96ZcU1-MhFwG0tEWc2418zojf6Fu74lhkWN7tWxjjTR0RcLorpBJDp5Vv9t9IKKqqCoIIn00nNo84EjeREcy2vECJwVscXVb4iKwYFXDjJtihfRqux9HG9cOGOM0b7/s1600/Lucaya+Beach+Coco+Frio.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> “Coco Frio” recipe: whack open green coconut with machete. Insert
straw.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now on to the business of scooter renting. Only an experienced motorcyclist
would comprehend just how ridiculously dangerous this little adventure really
was. Scooter Rental Guy remarked, “It’s the ones who know what they’re doing –
those are the ones you gotta worry about.” Here I am, on an underpowered
scooter, lacking any ability to accelerate out of the way of anything faster
than an earthworm, riding on the left-hand side of the road, navigating
unfamiliar routes, trying to keep myself from squeezing the imaginary clutch
lever (which on a scooter is a brake lever – oopsy-oof!), all while wearing
little more safety gear than a Ducati bikini and an ill fitting three-quarter
helmet. Insanity. I could have used a touch of blissful ignorance at that
moment. Deep breath, ready, and… Activate Supersonic Defensive Driving
Skills!<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYcfAX8BOR-o5R9M0tEMqcpBxi1XkwYV-RREb-5jmjTnEFQ8yc1z7ekGLYZ462EpCnN-UZo3Mv2BB956LHY34SDbg_IOgd0FSuaqijOQZU3U_KocAUUDdrr6FqZO_tp0td6Ta3_Wv4KFw/s1600/Lucaya+Watersports+Scooter+Rental+Taino+Beach+Grand+Bahama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYcfAX8BOR-o5R9M0tEMqcpBxi1XkwYV-RREb-5jmjTnEFQ8yc1z7ekGLYZ462EpCnN-UZo3Mv2BB956LHY34SDbg_IOgd0FSuaqijOQZU3U_KocAUUDdrr6FqZO_tp0td6Ta3_Wv4KFw/s1600/Lucaya+Watersports+Scooter+Rental+Taino+Beach+Grand+Bahama.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Island Safety Gear: Ducati Bikini, (of course I’m wearing a
cover-up!), flip flops, 3/4 helmet that doesn’t fit. Scooter Instructions:
“Don’t fall off, Mon!” Really.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
</div>
<br />
<br />
For comparison’s sake, here’s my usual 16.5 (“feels like 30”) pounds of
safety gear:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSnIYHtKMZ21-NbfXKQ00NLqXfIhGK3nChcTuK57w4AQFeabCViDao6SsxTObMieR-JjlMeg_yExxALMu013OFWOxT3fyJF5RsDtOGHzr0BMQe8GlhUyO0YoxzXhvpfIjQLYRqM6Wh5Ji/s1600/Motorcycle+Safety+Gear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSnIYHtKMZ21-NbfXKQ00NLqXfIhGK3nChcTuK57w4AQFeabCViDao6SsxTObMieR-JjlMeg_yExxALMu013OFWOxT3fyJF5RsDtOGHzr0BMQe8GlhUyO0YoxzXhvpfIjQLYRqM6Wh5Ji/s1600/Motorcycle+Safety+Gear.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motoport Monroe Kevlar Jacket, leather Alpinestars Stella Bat Pants,
Shoei TZ-R full face helmet, wimpy hiking boots because I was touring (I usually
wear my <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2011/04/shoe-shopping.html">Sidi
Vertigo Lei</a>), and Racer High End kangaroo leather gloves. (Oh, wait, those
aren’t in the photo either, but I can tell you they are as good as their name is
dorky.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
So. You see what I’m saying.<br />
<br />
Riding on the left hand side of the road is equal parts terror and hilarity.
Each individual situation needs to be carefully recalculated on the fly: left
turns, right turns, passing, being passed, pulling out, round-abouts (ooh,
tricky!), all while following the spidery pen line scratched on the map by
Scooter Rental Guy. Miraculously, we were wildly successful!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Destination Achieved: Lucayan National Park! </div>
<br />
Should you begin your park visit by descending the little spiral staircase to view the caves, you’ll find bats,
fish, the palest aqua water, and that you wish you had a tripod.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3d-QNK2gqTnpgWU-6C05U2gB3hhBKepkuy30Y0fqIZFFzYwlbPq2OvnW2-7E7JtIWa07xU8gV1sQmNl7nx6gMp-WvBsH69GWUoYup_pAIxgBK6yoSD8qqiyahI50kCTXzFMdGpVgsPNm/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Burial+Mound+Cave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3d-QNK2gqTnpgWU-6C05U2gB3hhBKepkuy30Y0fqIZFFzYwlbPq2OvnW2-7E7JtIWa07xU8gV1sQmNl7nx6gMp-WvBsH69GWUoYup_pAIxgBK6yoSD8qqiyahI50kCTXzFMdGpVgsPNm/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Burial+Mound+Cave.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Burial Mound Cave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDt5UvsQ0-vZC_FBkvhMtRRGiU01_cAJKj6-8aFpFL8rY47nAp4Zpm0_CyuUOjB32BqnsN-vSDN93Ry0j6CMEfO2CjFyNYuQdFMGNe9dXD_HOk8mrpHuYD81Xc5HWbzRVDN13E5-miWaS/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Ben%2527s+Cave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDt5UvsQ0-vZC_FBkvhMtRRGiU01_cAJKj6-8aFpFL8rY47nAp4Zpm0_CyuUOjB32BqnsN-vSDN93Ry0j6CMEfO2CjFyNYuQdFMGNe9dXD_HOk8mrpHuYD81Xc5HWbzRVDN13E5-miWaS/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Ben%2527s+Cave.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben's Cave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
After that little diversion, you would, of course, approach the beach. That is the whole point of it all, right?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CiWLi8aJmq59DIu1t4wbNZuvDu7IGAW2JNhb3HnZ1-kqoNDODiDK89bIN6ViUvpqtiFL0XL_Q9_znCM_5MYVRTSpOTq11f1SYEVWhKlLqbj6AfXZSZdUVXTCiOALSwdo5ty2Sc3tTGgQ/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Gold+Rock+Beach+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CiWLi8aJmq59DIu1t4wbNZuvDu7IGAW2JNhb3HnZ1-kqoNDODiDK89bIN6ViUvpqtiFL0XL_Q9_znCM_5MYVRTSpOTq11f1SYEVWhKlLqbj6AfXZSZdUVXTCiOALSwdo5ty2Sc3tTGgQ/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Gold+Rock+Beach+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Lovely, no?</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90Pyjm9w8ljJxP_CYUHz16vvXC4RLvVeym-HPxAK1Pnn1VPFKBhI3btxqJYLRKBQQPvSAbWFUA7PGiXTpiy_R2nJ9sAfN7m_wmUpDHBhIWapj8z2fpRR2J6Ht7qocfgkkM47drOpFcpbz/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Gold+Rock+Beach+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90Pyjm9w8ljJxP_CYUHz16vvXC4RLvVeym-HPxAK1Pnn1VPFKBhI3btxqJYLRKBQQPvSAbWFUA7PGiXTpiy_R2nJ9sAfN7m_wmUpDHBhIWapj8z2fpRR2J6Ht7qocfgkkM47drOpFcpbz/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Gold+Rock+Beach+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Yes, actually. I never imagined a beach could make me gasp with wonder the way the enormity of the Great American West can, but...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3pBULi762L9kllA4uny_WGlZdUFS2U8F-OjNYrIzx9ZPcJ-qq77P_jryEeWu6gAMwfVeHLphtTBQ4zoerl2mmGNgx1WA1NzG1sKeZhxdMnO2QjtdV4qWex-vjbTtxre7qWIboDU7t6l0/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Gold+Rock+Beach+%252879%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3pBULi762L9kllA4uny_WGlZdUFS2U8F-OjNYrIzx9ZPcJ-qq77P_jryEeWu6gAMwfVeHLphtTBQ4zoerl2mmGNgx1WA1NzG1sKeZhxdMnO2QjtdV4qWex-vjbTtxre7qWIboDU7t6l0/s1600/Lucayan+National+Park+Gold+Rock+Beach+%252879%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
... evidently a very <i>nice</i> beach, along the lines of Gold Rock Beach on Grand Bahama, can. Gasp, I did. And then sweetly bathed in the warmest of waters with my Pilot Guy.<br />
<br />
The trips back to the scooter rental place and mainland were both, thankfully, equally tranquil.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Owned by the Spanish company Balearia</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">** <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/02/to-hell-and-back-again-hells-canyon.html">Usually, anyway. </a></span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-86469069067337348512017-11-02T18:40:00.001-07:002017-11-03T16:12:29.654-07:00Tricks and Treats 2017Finding autumn in southern Arizona is quite a trick, especially this year, when the temperatures only dropped from the mid-nineties (95 itself was a blessing, really) a few days ago. But it can be done.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4MfAO8DdyTcEZiHTfAkW4Oyym431A3hXmgvSWgVNJ2z3-6WBmUcNrMQJUL_GxjGR7iaUi6tdERs6qHrsDwOR6xZ7gLiSKt86ROOPjGiktais5kFbH7KmAhK29fW0SLjenUcovbitBYCi/s1600/Bear+Wallow+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4MfAO8DdyTcEZiHTfAkW4Oyym431A3hXmgvSWgVNJ2z3-6WBmUcNrMQJUL_GxjGR7iaUi6tdERs6qHrsDwOR6xZ7gLiSKt86ROOPjGiktais5kFbH7KmAhK29fW0SLjenUcovbitBYCi/s1600/Bear+Wallow+008.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9csWmT5JdSujZ0mIm30_NOn8O0-e-ehH9508NnoiK_ZQwfkfN4RdNF8Q_YFKfxDXu50pm5GDPoTWT0EqjcUGteU8lLWhD1mbes65npRhGoiJ_0E9WY3ZvX7T2WZpRcwJOMiY6BzQdkdcb/s1600/Bear+Wallow+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9csWmT5JdSujZ0mIm30_NOn8O0-e-ehH9508NnoiK_ZQwfkfN4RdNF8Q_YFKfxDXu50pm5GDPoTWT0EqjcUGteU8lLWhD1mbes65npRhGoiJ_0E9WY3ZvX7T2WZpRcwJOMiY6BzQdkdcb/s1600/Bear+Wallow+014.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoWGJgomTIUcDegT10hvB6w0O9947-r_7sBsqNig-o1gw5lgBKogZNKqxbAgHONz8EwDg2twc2fpUW9HNnNyscP9AjpLmbUIBm78ryvuLBL-u9vRhKzST_7BbB94LX8rY-OEp_RPPnVgH/s1600/Bear+Wallow+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoWGJgomTIUcDegT10hvB6w0O9947-r_7sBsqNig-o1gw5lgBKogZNKqxbAgHONz8EwDg2twc2fpUW9HNnNyscP9AjpLmbUIBm78ryvuLBL-u9vRhKzST_7BbB94LX8rY-OEp_RPPnVgH/s1600/Bear+Wallow+015.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5kb5b1TrZXSxx9NZwM46SS2ErDdWlQi7A2gPwtDtwQRlk5lk2To5LmFMP12DOe7cPVWJZHtGzSQDRdpYt0_XGeEchllMwkfZ-_nLSeb7KF36tpWkUKgyzMZsrYAtR9vophtpjoQtUbyS/s1600/Bear+Wallow+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5kb5b1TrZXSxx9NZwM46SS2ErDdWlQi7A2gPwtDtwQRlk5lk2To5LmFMP12DOe7cPVWJZHtGzSQDRdpYt0_XGeEchllMwkfZ-_nLSeb7KF36tpWkUKgyzMZsrYAtR9vophtpjoQtUbyS/s1600/Bear+Wallow+017.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
To be honest, by now, most of fall has... fallen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0r_bbae70sjBVFHV-aNHgFvVeeB80AvNI1T1mYaSrTRbdY4tKn6vjcKED99js_DAx9wYx4381YFrODKW2lM1PUL9hOLQ1o0jyr-la8XZbX8HPwESJUkwI19HpU-Tp5lW1DrwLDwXgB7h/s1600/Bear+Wallow+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0r_bbae70sjBVFHV-aNHgFvVeeB80AvNI1T1mYaSrTRbdY4tKn6vjcKED99js_DAx9wYx4381YFrODKW2lM1PUL9hOLQ1o0jyr-la8XZbX8HPwESJUkwI19HpU-Tp5lW1DrwLDwXgB7h/s1600/Bear+Wallow+013.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
If one had a leaf rake aboard one's Ducati, one could have a bit of fun in those leaves!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMyg9MDUbv_xCgWHY11-yeLKkyEsETrv7JkWAzrQDmJbPnhYpxPKM-6jG1wG6hxhKyLJZAj9hKllBIfyqnTrRhk0eVw4Xh6wX1h1BHEIgJtYzIeFC1aHbUwB9YZq2sEJsk2LTS5VIC1Yx/s1600/Skeleton+in+Leaves+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMyg9MDUbv_xCgWHY11-yeLKkyEsETrv7JkWAzrQDmJbPnhYpxPKM-6jG1wG6hxhKyLJZAj9hKllBIfyqnTrRhk0eVw4Xh6wX1h1BHEIgJtYzIeFC1aHbUwB9YZq2sEJsk2LTS5VIC1Yx/s1600/Skeleton+in+Leaves+006.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
But there is a pumpkin to carve, and little ones to greet. Big ones, too!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YWKQ-l6h4io-FNauTrathCEs3GNfbP0BkXvGNdXwErgaULct9p3JoY9E7eGzWrV7eWz0GfMhEEO4lk81c1qNjzwgGsJdZu3QF9JlJQcz7MffLL2C_QcOqSAJlzDrN3D-w_6TQDU5-Z88/s1600/Pumpkin+Under+Attack+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YWKQ-l6h4io-FNauTrathCEs3GNfbP0BkXvGNdXwErgaULct9p3JoY9E7eGzWrV7eWz0GfMhEEO4lk81c1qNjzwgGsJdZu3QF9JlJQcz7MffLL2C_QcOqSAJlzDrN3D-w_6TQDU5-Z88/s1600/Pumpkin+Under+Attack+018.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
After the successful completion of the tricks, one deserves a treat! Why not settle in with the traditional freshly made doughnuts* and popcorn? Pour yourself a mug of hot cider, too. And add a splash of whisky...<br />
<i>...if you dare!</i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP2fYla0KgB6Zeg0-xsRByyneNtE63BDh3a6r5LszP19vQxe7hu3_LH5WjTJl18nPAEaXUe1d_hmNU4ip67IbsL8LJ4uaikRgHLyyp1Tyh5i6ijbt6TIsP4MdKcdxEheXZkRgU71Dv69FC/s1600/Skeleton+After+Hours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP2fYla0KgB6Zeg0-xsRByyneNtE63BDh3a6r5LszP19vQxe7hu3_LH5WjTJl18nPAEaXUe1d_hmNU4ip67IbsL8LJ4uaikRgHLyyp1Tyh5i6ijbt6TIsP4MdKcdxEheXZkRgU71Dv69FC/s1600/Skeleton+After+Hours.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*The only doughnut worth eating is a just-been-made-still-warm doughnut. And if you go through the trouble of making them, I give you permission to eat as many as you like.</span><br />
<br />
<br />Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-77798788110922910672017-07-06T10:31:00.000-07:002017-07-06T10:31:29.145-07:00Farm Fun and Associated "Recipe"<div dir="ltr">
When the <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/06/blessed-event.html">calfs</a> are fed, dinner plates cleared, and the Alpenglow* shines on the mountains, what's a
farm girl to do?**</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHDpqgghIoRzVLf8k-MDzafSfAdiqwOopigDuL0sG4uxcVCGpQgitZAB6NLjAEzNx-qqNpPWRIdS1idP4u-MEEXyxQrMjjOA86KztAH8uPLurDu-Y_yJbnr9QTcWiBgDqjsfCMxZwoKBD/s1600/Trials+Bike+and+Heifer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHDpqgghIoRzVLf8k-MDzafSfAdiqwOopigDuL0sG4uxcVCGpQgitZAB6NLjAEzNx-qqNpPWRIdS1idP4u-MEEXyxQrMjjOA86KztAH8uPLurDu-Y_yJbnr9QTcWiBgDqjsfCMxZwoKBD/s1600/Trials+Bike+and+Heifer.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div dir="ltr">
Ride around the pasture, that's what!</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Flutists always wear full face helmets, even if they are not quite as stylish on this particular motorcycle.</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<br /><div dir="ltr">
There's no need to rush home before dark when home and riding ground are one in the same<i>. </i>Why not have a cool drink and enjoy the sunset, instead? It's
easy to push the bike through the gate and into the shop. The safety of
my summer "tiny house" is only a little footbridge away.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32J6yCWjf4-_W2i9Rn0NMRjoQaaTL-CJowfnwbBX_yVgK3yigsbxDkFdH2C3xVMPRmDLxsH64wII2WO2PqiXrzJaslAXaWOlYfrvm-N6JFQs_k8E8wCMjOh27zQ3Pb8yldTGmOz4vPyP-/s1600/Trials+Bike+Beverage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="411" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32J6yCWjf4-_W2i9Rn0NMRjoQaaTL-CJowfnwbBX_yVgK3yigsbxDkFdH2C3xVMPRmDLxsH64wII2WO2PqiXrzJaslAXaWOlYfrvm-N6JFQs_k8E8wCMjOh27zQ3Pb8yldTGmOz4vPyP-/s1600/Trials+Bike+Beverage.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PBR: The choice of farmhands everywhere? Certain activities DO pair well with certain drinks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtFZHSpz9TYd5elfa3txXEoOp2hA1Poj92b0_K3ohiVc-sgKMI4aBMyZBu28xKHfV2-CEsslpLm2uFYW-TLrsKgPLZwghHZtx-lpDnKuo7qCi1DHy81dmGjp698GoWm6mrDkMFFi5GDxm/s1600/Rockhill+Calf+Barn+Sunset.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtFZHSpz9TYd5elfa3txXEoOp2hA1Poj92b0_K3ohiVc-sgKMI4aBMyZBu28xKHfV2-CEsslpLm2uFYW-TLrsKgPLZwghHZtx-lpDnKuo7qCi1DHy81dmGjp698GoWm6mrDkMFFi5GDxm/s1600/Rockhill+Calf+Barn+Sunset.jpg" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<i><b>Recipe</b>: Stroll over to the garden, and select the vegetable
most in need of harvesting (in my case, kale). Chop it into
rather small pieces and saute/blanch/cook as appropriate. Toss your
result in olive oil, garlic, and chile flakes. Maybe add a touch of
mashed anchovy (just enough to make one wonder), or a squeeze of lemon,
or both. Take a slice or two of day old <a href="http://www.crumbbrothers.com/">baguette</a>, and fry it in
butter or oil - both sides! - until golden. Voila! You have a big, crispy crouton. Top that crouton with your vegetable,
a fried farm fresh egg (thanks, neighbors!), and a bit of cheese. In the case of kale, might I recommend the <a href="http://rockhillcheese.com/cheese.htm">Desert Red Feta</a>? Of
course, if it's a lovely spring leek you have returned with, don't be
ridiculous. Saute it in butter, toss in a splash of that lovely Alpine
white*** you've recently become enamored with, and finish with a
generous spoonful of the fresh cream you've skimmed from yesterday
evening's milking. Oh, and do trade the <a href="http://rockhillcheese.com/cheese.htm">Desert Red Feta</a> for some
<a href="http://rockhillcheese.com/cheese.htm">Wasatch Mountain Reserve</a>. Pop a dried date and a slice of <a href="http://rockhillcheese.com/cheese.htm">Zwitser Gouda Reserve</a> in your mouth for dessert. Of course, if there are fresh
market cherries in the house, have a few with the <a href="http://rockhillcheese.com/cheese.htm">Farmhouse Gouda</a>,
instead.</i></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">* Technically, it's not actually Alpenglow, but the warm low light on the moutainsides is beautiful enough to deserve a romantic name. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Let us, today, look beyond the obvious answer of "practice her flute."</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Yes, you CAN drink white wine with cheese. Alpine wine with alpine cheese: if it grows together, it goes together. (I found the 2016 Les Rocailles Apremont Vin de Savoie at our little wine shop, and it's been my go-to drink with cheese all summer.)</span></div>
Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-3756380078004822652017-06-29T13:47:00.003-07:002017-06-29T22:41:09.912-07:00Baja: One Taco at a Time<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Days One and Two: Tucson to Ensenada</b> </span></i></div>
<a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/04/baja-prelude-third-times-charm.html">I
really didn’t think I’d actually be in Baja</a> today, but here we are,
climbing slowly, slowly up the switchbacks that comprise the Rumarosa
Grade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only yesterday, as I rode away from
home, I tried to muster up a little self-doubt, to imagine a suspect engine
noise or two, but I could not. I was as steady and even as Li’l Burro himself, no different than if I was just heading for a short jaunt over Gates Pass.<br />
<br />
But like three slowly blinking GPS arrows set on a collision
course, Adrian, Pilot Guy*, and I all pointed ourselves towards Calexico, CA, and met with our toes touching the international border. When I crossed into Mexico earlier this morning, the reality of my actual destination became suddenly present. I was so surprised at it, to tell the truth, that I nearly allowed myself to be squashed by a bus while simultaneously negotiating a traffic circle and deciding that Mexicali is a bit nicer than Calexico, if only because it lacks a Wal-Mart. Turns out I was wrong on that point. But at least I was able to dodge the bus.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRE1-2SvXHE-8ykuD_CKse05jOm_dBp5GfFlhv46sw2pFqkyqdTV9q9HwVRNvuNBIx2Oznb9j8Io3vF2orKkVNSlXZEKhTJ9twcL7ZrjAsV23Cg1U86Qg_NVtvokgJaAyD-RwNE-Mb6DiM/s1600/XT+225+Ready+to+Go+Baja.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRE1-2SvXHE-8ykuD_CKse05jOm_dBp5GfFlhv46sw2pFqkyqdTV9q9HwVRNvuNBIx2Oznb9j8Io3vF2orKkVNSlXZEKhTJ9twcL7ZrjAsV23Cg1U86Qg_NVtvokgJaAyD-RwNE-Mb6DiM/s1600/XT+225+Ready+to+Go+Baja.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even before leaving, I find a challenge. My
new-to-me-hand-me-down-camera doesn’t have live view, and I can’t quite see
through the viewfinder when I’m wearing my helmet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My pervasive photographic theme for the trip
will be… “guess.” </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Even though the Rumarosa Grade is a toll highway, it’s as
fine as a twisty mountain pass as you’d ever want to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Li’l Burro and his 225cc engine, laden with
bags, mount the hill slowly, though, and I’m perfectly okay with that. I had
forgotten what it feels like to corner on aggressively knobby tires.**<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going to have to get used to this. And so
is Li’l Burro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before we even finish
celebrating our ascent with a war cry of “Clippity Clop!,” we ride smack into a
cloud of bees. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adrian and I pull over
and take our helmets off in record time. I’m stung at least twice, Adrian once
or twice as well.*** I’ll take it as a good sign: it’s our token injury for the trip,
and we’ve gotten it out of the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
all we need is a sacrificial-yet-inconsequential mechanical mishap to protect
us completely. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvbQKjLSZ1_2JU9UuZyQt2RcArpPzUKc2IhOzV3p8E6wSSHCTMWVrC1OiZwHidQ9iOYGWwgdL5j0RatoXdsQKm7fyenCJHjp2iVnfguI4bxIDjIeCppMQExf_8dW7y6nw_Q7CyuQEGVJV/s1600/Rumarosa+Grade+Baja.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvbQKjLSZ1_2JU9UuZyQt2RcArpPzUKc2IhOzV3p8E6wSSHCTMWVrC1OiZwHidQ9iOYGWwgdL5j0RatoXdsQKm7fyenCJHjp2iVnfguI4bxIDjIeCppMQExf_8dW7y6nw_Q7CyuQEGVJV/s1600/Rumarosa+Grade+Baja.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rumarosa Grade Viewpoint</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It’s strange to be on the frontera, a place that has been so
much in the national eye of late. I consider the stretches of wall, built
following the contours of the steep hills in the area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all seems just a bit ridiculous to my eye. But when we turn south onto MX-3, there's much to distract. The northernmost section meanders in and around
steep hillsides covered with big splashes of fragrant yellow wildflowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> But now</span> I notice something else. We
are, without question, in wine country. Wine country? Wine country!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Count this as “Baja: Who Knew?” Moment Number
One.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are row upon row of grapes growing
along the road, and olives, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns
out, Baja is Mexico’s primary wine making region, and this portion of MX-3 is
designated as “<a href="http://descubrebajacalifornia.com/index.php/transporte-y-recorridos-guiados">La
Ruta del Vino</a>.****” Judging by the Santo Tomas Tempranillo I would have
later that night, I’d say it churns out some good drink. And won’t I be surprised to find <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/25/travel/travel-mexico-baja-california-wine-country.html?_r=0">the
area featured in the New York Times</a> only a few days after my return. </div>
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Ensenada is fish taco ground zero, and I’ve got some intel
on where to find the best. We are not disappointed.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qjhDrXf5Hx8HG7MvxVNLZcmT_OChUPbysJ0pp85kDGlTR8d-b8vd8pn9Omb1RQzGCfbmAsiTXaFE-3qKq9Rzo1zTaCBhTvKnIJ-HJ5inlcJ0A-PSnVz5rCHugqwQqAZUmYc5kwMBAmTY/s1600/Fish+Tacos+Ensenada+Juarez+aka+Quinta+and+Gastelum+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qjhDrXf5Hx8HG7MvxVNLZcmT_OChUPbysJ0pp85kDGlTR8d-b8vd8pn9Omb1RQzGCfbmAsiTXaFE-3qKq9Rzo1zTaCBhTvKnIJ-HJ5inlcJ0A-PSnVz5rCHugqwQqAZUmYc5kwMBAmTY/s1600/Fish+Tacos+Ensenada+Juarez+aka+Quinta+and+Gastelum+%25287%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Is there a bit of mustard in the batter?" Adrian asked. I think he's spot on. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwqOGvF3s6I7zkTmbKCv2dfbpt2bzGCY_lTDZzilzNI39knJTsjzyyDgaz2fvndOtx-_jRKBqC4T4t1gh88VpGTNksi-Iq4hbWq5fUWYP2ir5RmIegkalOKLJbBINm2wEK0BzMJVzhPCk/s1600/Fish+Tacos+Ensenada+Juarez+aka+Quinta+and+Gastelum+%252810%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwqOGvF3s6I7zkTmbKCv2dfbpt2bzGCY_lTDZzilzNI39knJTsjzyyDgaz2fvndOtx-_jRKBqC4T4t1gh88VpGTNksi-Iq4hbWq5fUWYP2ir5RmIegkalOKLJbBINm2wEK0BzMJVzhPCk/s1600/Fish+Tacos+Ensenada+Juarez+aka+Quinta+and+Gastelum+%252810%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our fine and happy hosts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-ehrFt4nf3SyABhfV8-cTHoI3UE978RskELIsjEmGkHzBfDWb3GfsUPi95zhT3hoZQoF3mnkw2FjAg-6HfwPj0e57sHkSa44WzRwrpB5osmlH6z8UjFjS58ZHtoUN8CbPk2YlIhk2Jg6/s1600/Fish+Tacos+Ensenada+Juarez+aka+Quinta+and+Gastelum+%252811%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="491" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-ehrFt4nf3SyABhfV8-cTHoI3UE978RskELIsjEmGkHzBfDWb3GfsUPi95zhT3hoZQoF3mnkw2FjAg-6HfwPj0e57sHkSa44WzRwrpB5osmlH6z8UjFjS58ZHtoUN8CbPk2YlIhk2Jg6/s1600/Fish+Tacos+Ensenada+Juarez+aka+Quinta+and+Gastelum+%252811%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freshly made to order. It makes a difference.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We're back at our hotel in time for the sunset. A sea lion appears. The tide rushes in, reminding me of the dramatic bore tides of Alaska. A moth feeds like a hummingbird in the petunias. It is, in a word, lovely.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWIkwYHH47kLKfvSXNplMptvrCG4gx139NPFvizNESIt0vpB7Eh7QLxRMl2pn6ws227qhxjP_3fTSOgzoUI79gR-Ib7UOQ_v1lUh-nLTzVfWCbivDNfdzwdtQJtzHUtC0rF09iXV5YaIEw/s1600/Ensenada+Estero+Beach+Resort+Sunset.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWIkwYHH47kLKfvSXNplMptvrCG4gx139NPFvizNESIt0vpB7Eh7QLxRMl2pn6ws227qhxjP_3fTSOgzoUI79gR-Ib7UOQ_v1lUh-nLTzVfWCbivDNfdzwdtQJtzHUtC0rF09iXV5YaIEw/s1600/Ensenada+Estero+Beach+Resort+Sunset.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6B3ZRnPgAyJMU_e1zkx-Myqge9wEc_GS-70LEf051_DVD8yUaQmYfunhe65J8HbI-LFaH0pAf1shK8Iy6sbKnJf-zuiK366DXWvcEDFQ_GOJckcSr6zbekRFADFeCqDCWep0zZkNhEtrh/s1600/Ensenada+Estero+Beach+Resort+Feeding+Moth+%252821%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6B3ZRnPgAyJMU_e1zkx-Myqge9wEc_GS-70LEf051_DVD8yUaQmYfunhe65J8HbI-LFaH0pAf1shK8Iy6sbKnJf-zuiK366DXWvcEDFQ_GOJckcSr6zbekRFADFeCqDCWep0zZkNhEtrh/s1600/Ensenada+Estero+Beach+Resort+Feeding+Moth+%252821%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sphinx moth, I think. In any case, in the low light, catching a photo of this flittering fluttering darting wonder is quite a trick!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<i><b>Day Three: Ensenada to Cataviña</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next morning my prayers are answered. Adrian’s disc lock
is spontaneous shrieking, and the gas cap to my new Clarke fuel tank is
cracking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sacrificial-yet-inconsequential mechanical mishap? Check! We’re good for
the trip. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSr_U3MSva3LLKl6YjD5H6kOrJAn9nvSI6zSXrOe5Ln8au8fdAMP2ZLvtseUbGzB0iRIRw36pmLu-49XvsjpII5e57ZN3eVjenCZSeh-S_L6NLBhjtaYhAtvyG1A4syNmqT_TNNSG9xD51/s1600/Clarke+Tank+Splitting+Gas+Cap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSr_U3MSva3LLKl6YjD5H6kOrJAn9nvSI6zSXrOe5Ln8au8fdAMP2ZLvtseUbGzB0iRIRw36pmLu-49XvsjpII5e57ZN3eVjenCZSeh-S_L6NLBhjtaYhAtvyG1A4syNmqT_TNNSG9xD51/s1600/Clarke+Tank+Splitting+Gas+Cap.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hm. Gonna have to keep an eye on this. (Clarke has a new one, on the way. Thank you, warranty!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijpVHkLqXBuBTZuDG-V4s28zNfblfeMUUsxFPTDg1JF9i73n3laOem4QaPdMfFxTTk0umBM1Mm13s5P3MXUdH7arcD5VhUzyDyOnn8yC9XYlf8cMMzKUvtwYh0NJow52ul55x2qLdSU22/s1600/Xena+Lock+repair+session.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijpVHkLqXBuBTZuDG-V4s28zNfblfeMUUsxFPTDg1JF9i73n3laOem4QaPdMfFxTTk0umBM1Mm13s5P3MXUdH7arcD5VhUzyDyOnn8yC9XYlf8cMMzKUvtwYh0NJow52ul55x2qLdSU22/s1600/Xena+Lock+repair+session.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zena lock repair session. The Allegra is for my bee stung face, which, in a few days time will be so swollen that my left eye will consider taking the day off. As far as the lock goes, little tape, a little plastic stolen from unrelated packaging... voila!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’d opted for <a href="http://www.esterobeachresort.com/">deluxe
accommodations</a> last night, and all deluxe accommodations offer over-priced
under-tasty Sunday buffets. But it’s the simplest option today, so I grumble
inwardly and shell out the pesos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
the sort that insists on breakfast food for my first meal of the day, no matter
what time of day it happens to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
sure I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i> have fulfilled the
prophesy of $30 bad French toast, but somehow… my mind opens. I hop from
station to station considering my options. I take a taco, with its warm corn
tortilla patted and grilled before my eyes and intriguing fish and octopus filling, a little bowl of puerco colorado, a bit of fresh fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for the first time in my life, in “Baja:
Who Knew?” Moment Number Two, I am weak in the knees and nearly weeping over a
hotel buffet brunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The flat crispy buñuelo,
with its delightfully gritty cinnamon sugar adornment is just as good, as are
the syrupy sweet potatoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always knew
sweet potatoes belonged on the dessert table, and, finally, I found someone who
agreed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I text Pilot Guy: “We. Are.
Flying. Here. For. Brunch.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still get
teary eyes at the thought of it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Tummies full and palates rejoicing, Adrian and I ride
south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little towns fall away behind
us. The briny ocean scent wafts into one side of my helmet, a flowery fragrance
into the other. The yellow wild flowers give way to a tightly woven brilliant
red and white carpet that stretches all the way to the sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a beautiful thing, this ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A beautiful thing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm too mesmerized to stop for photos, but on another day, I'll grab a few under-representations.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyFPe8mrSNdp3PP6E0ig-xWyCn8rdj5CC51_sxtb8LIf8cilhZpbwrqEYFvnpGuzsRedCHljTD9QBuc-5ylzaQY7C-4E9g9mR7T4MajqKGvkKAjkGQdDQVcXnKTOgjoU2cmqChdjTtVnt/s1600/Succulent+Carpet+north+of+Villa+Jesus+Maria+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyFPe8mrSNdp3PP6E0ig-xWyCn8rdj5CC51_sxtb8LIf8cilhZpbwrqEYFvnpGuzsRedCHljTD9QBuc-5ylzaQY7C-4E9g9mR7T4MajqKGvkKAjkGQdDQVcXnKTOgjoU2cmqChdjTtVnt/s1600/Succulent+Carpet+north+of+Villa+Jesus+Maria+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-T1eREt2tyn5KFt54Ih0htxFK0HV2AyTagt-8NqDkOwtMlC5tHovTxpfdeXHDh4PCSRRROVp65MvnkGHNx-GYy38EpONlduPcHybJAgA0s0yR04blXBG8nDOrHoquP8EP7PbrgPGRDSmj/s1600/Succulent+Carpet+north+of+Villa+Jesus+Maria+%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-T1eREt2tyn5KFt54Ih0htxFK0HV2AyTagt-8NqDkOwtMlC5tHovTxpfdeXHDh4PCSRRROVp65MvnkGHNx-GYy38EpONlduPcHybJAgA0s0yR04blXBG8nDOrHoquP8EP7PbrgPGRDSmj/s1600/Succulent+Carpet+north+of+Villa+Jesus+Maria+%25289%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
As we approach <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valle_de_los_Cirios">El Valle de los Cirios</a>,
the road turns inland, narrows, and twists tightly left and right, up and down.
No one ever describes Baja, epicenter of off-road racing, as spectacular asphalt
sport touring territory, but so far, it has been exactly that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knew, Baja, who knew? But Li'l Burro
hesitates.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"What is it, friend?" I inquire.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"My heart will explode if I run up these steep hills,
carrying all these things!" he cries. "And if I run down, how will I ever
stop in time? My hooves are not made to grip this hard surface, and all this
leaning to and fro addles my brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
wind is blowing me this way and that, and I can't see the road ahead of me, it twists
so tightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are great beasts
lurking around every corner. Why, I counted as many as 18 wheels on some of
them! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why rush, only to brake hard just a
few meters later? Besides, there is much to look at in the valley."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While the Ducati generally has a different philosophy, Li’l
Burro is right on that point. The cardon cactuses seem to dwarf even our aptly
named <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Carnegiea gigantea</i>, and they
branch and flower more enthusiastically. The bizarre stick-like<a href="https://duckduckgo.com/?q=boojum+trees&t=ffsb&iax=1&ia=images">
Boojum</a> trees are just as tall, and the familiar ocotillos grow twice as
high as those at home. Conversely, there are trees that resemble giant
cottonwoods, except they are a tenth the size.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Don't fret, my friend," I say. "You shall
see."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I let Li'l Burro climb the steep hills at a modest trot,
downshifting whenever he asks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I allow
him to nose around corners and over the crest of hills cautiously, giving his
tiny brakes ample time to stop, should something unexpected in his path
frighten him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even give ourselves a
moment or two here and there to admire the strangeness all around.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Good boy," I say when we reach easier terrain.
"See?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A day or two later,
when we reach the wider, flatter curves outside Loreto, I catch him leaning a
bit this way and that.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"If it's not too steep, and if I can see further ahead,
and if we're going a bit downhill - not too much, mind you - perhaps, just
perhaps... well, I can see why another motorcycle might think this fun,"
he says with a twinkle in his headlamp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxayQ8p6xpd0y3HadAs36R7dmbFm3qkOAtCFb2VbVlUooT4CvlKB7Mpx-yp7WFKKkkT3wC6WEbMjkXE93Hx8Bpq0bFf3fIjhsFpkeJMCNK3MmxZRTtEYd5eOQCDCkkyaHUCkGE8ywSw5hr/s1600/Boojum+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxayQ8p6xpd0y3HadAs36R7dmbFm3qkOAtCFb2VbVlUooT4CvlKB7Mpx-yp7WFKKkkT3wC6WEbMjkXE93Hx8Bpq0bFf3fIjhsFpkeJMCNK3MmxZRTtEYd5eOQCDCkkyaHUCkGE8ywSw5hr/s1600/Boojum+Tree.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It pains me greatly when I don't stop to take actual photos of th glorious places I pass through. Although I hold in many in my mind, I did at least digitally record this Boojum Tree, near the parking lot of our hotel in Cataviña.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0tqRE25oPM2i4fpkstyISTKXPDwQ6Z41IESNUsrnvmuYm2Nx3-auIn-KXsTPOtlmQ_5n5wGfASBileFgHyb5J8HJfCiOQK5qh-SuR2dNvpgNWft7-TTixmk2PXr253fAb0HJVECeMsEr/s1600/Valle+de+los+Cirios.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0tqRE25oPM2i4fpkstyISTKXPDwQ6Z41IESNUsrnvmuYm2Nx3-auIn-KXsTPOtlmQ_5n5wGfASBileFgHyb5J8HJfCiOQK5qh-SuR2dNvpgNWft7-TTixmk2PXr253fAb0HJVECeMsEr/s1600/Valle+de+los+Cirios.jpg" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFYVuiZADk5herjjBPie0gmbsEwK43ETBjgrfXDF8vOvdYOTUs1cqcF6inPX0PMICx4DNGAhdmUPoBHGTunGniQZ61BsTHVY4HUljWTR5rXSTCvB3UgdoI5pgoOOGuUKSNK38uqj9gQo9/s1600/Hotel+Misi%25C3%25B3n+Catavi%25C3%25B1a+Valle+de+los+Cirios+%252813%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFYVuiZADk5herjjBPie0gmbsEwK43ETBjgrfXDF8vOvdYOTUs1cqcF6inPX0PMICx4DNGAhdmUPoBHGTunGniQZ61BsTHVY4HUljWTR5rXSTCvB3UgdoI5pgoOOGuUKSNK38uqj9gQo9/s1600/Hotel+Misi%25C3%25B3n+Catavi%25C3%25B1a+Valle+de+los+Cirios+%252813%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The art at Hotel Misión Cataviña capitalizes on the nearby petroglyphs and cave paintings.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i><b>Day Four: Cataviña to San Ignacio</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm counting on a serviceable, if not memorable breakfast, at what seems to be the only hotel on a nearly 200 mile stretch of road, but
my omelet, expertly and delicately rolled in the French style, and filled with salty
satisfying ham, appeals immensely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Expectations are exceeded again. I nod to myself in approval as we roll southward. What a delight you are, lovely Baja!<br />
<br />
From the moment I departed Tucson, I've been cautiously testing Li'l Burro's newly expanded fuel capacity:
130 miles, 145
miles, and now, a number so unthinkable it seems important
to document my safe arrival at the PEMEX at Villa Jesus-Maria. 232 miles!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrXDFvOy6vZRiPohUyyHzjHRuUY1fmW0eaxjsqRBsRsnc3nuvZdnrHri2g57ZEPoI7g0NBdDBJL7ORVqvKGyLu79iStN4i-LJGLbEDMniNmUDj7XeZz7hX9IZCjfrSsNKU91i45ast-Fa/s1600/PeMex+Villa+Jesus+Maria+Baja.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrXDFvOy6vZRiPohUyyHzjHRuUY1fmW0eaxjsqRBsRsnc3nuvZdnrHri2g57ZEPoI7g0NBdDBJL7ORVqvKGyLu79iStN4i-LJGLbEDMniNmUDj7XeZz7hX9IZCjfrSsNKU91i45ast-Fa/s1600/PeMex+Villa+Jesus+Maria+Baja.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">232 miles between El Rosario and aptly named Villa Jesús María, all without touching reserve!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Li'l Burro is sated, but I am not. Hunger must be driving my punchy demeanor. One can't deny that I haven't sampled a taco in what must be over 24 hours. Plus, I'm feeling a bit giddy, having just crossed the border into Baja Sur (B.C.S., for those in the know) without incident. When Adrian and I reach Guerrero Negro, I ride directly up to the window of a taco truck, clearly marked, in English, "Fish Tacos." Still mounted, I sit up tall and snap open my visor dramatically, addressing him in a tone so stately,
self-important, and formal, I could be a modern day XT riding Don Quixote. "Hola, Señor, hay tacos hoy día?" (Of course there are. It's a taco
stand.)<br />
<br />
Tony, the proprietor, rewards my silliness with a big wide smile, and joins me in the charade while taking my order. I roll my r's ridiculously for effect and Tony laughs. But suddenly, I'm confused. Tony's smile has disappeared. "Is your motorcycle okay?"<br />
<br />
Looking down, I see a stream of gasoline leaking from my steed. "Oopsy!" I
squeak, falling out of character, and rushing to shut off the fuel valve. ***** Another inconsequential mishap solved, just in case.<br />
<br />
The
tacos at El Muelle are fantastic, rivaling those sampled in Ensenada
yesterday. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFSdc4JiaSqV2f9rCtvPcZHmIPWbgEjaORY91lCJyNRZoL5oXlSE8ORTAa4XR1fp15RdKPhzVzB1UHipRenYCljF1QMzifM6ZjxSvBHw8CQbEJEE2quotY0FiIsaEY8VRObfQK4gUnl8h/s1600/Tacos+El+Muelle+Guerrero+Negro+Tony+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFSdc4JiaSqV2f9rCtvPcZHmIPWbgEjaORY91lCJyNRZoL5oXlSE8ORTAa4XR1fp15RdKPhzVzB1UHipRenYCljF1QMzifM6ZjxSvBHw8CQbEJEE2quotY0FiIsaEY8VRObfQK4gUnl8h/s1600/Tacos+El+Muelle+Guerrero+Negro+Tony+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They seem so simple, especially before crowning to taste with a tantalizing selection of salsas, cremas, tangy pickled things, and crisp cool vegetables... But the devil is, as always, in the details: the freshest of the fresh seafood, coated with perfectly seasoned batter, cooked to order at just the right temperature, yielding succulent flavorful shrimp or fish, in a shatteringly crisp and light coating. I can feel my tastebuds contract as I type this. The tortilla holds up to equally high standards. Nothing else will do.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1b5VfawNRXHFf1XvFQfh6g2T4X6WOBSdqsm8NBWdfpsd43Gwi49JApMOkK7Wzwt5uxS5G3J71H_lo2cp-tiOoD2KhbNRLdLJhVh1LCi_4KKY1EGvr94NCbKqmkHvJ3DnjYppPqQ4SWhM/s1600/Tacos+El+Muelle+Guerrero+Negro+Tony+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1b5VfawNRXHFf1XvFQfh6g2T4X6WOBSdqsm8NBWdfpsd43Gwi49JApMOkK7Wzwt5uxS5G3J71H_lo2cp-tiOoD2KhbNRLdLJhVh1LCi_4KKY1EGvr94NCbKqmkHvJ3DnjYppPqQ4SWhM/s1600/Tacos+El+Muelle+Guerrero+Negro+Tony+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adrian's sticker "snownut," as well as many others, are displayed, but, after years of saying I need an E2W logo, I still do not have one to share. Anyone?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The desert landscape between Guerrero Negro and San Ignacio
is not the sort that one imagines recreating in so much as one imagines dying
in. It's bleak, hot, and as unforgiving as it gets. But if you survive the 90 mile trek,
you’ll have arrived at an actual oasis. Date palms grow as thickly as blades of
grass, and a spring fed pond and river can be found not far from the main
square of town. Water in the desert is miraculous enough that one can't help but contemplate religion. The Jesuits must have felt the same: behold the Misión San Ignacio Kadakaamán! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTnriAZ2KevteQvP_7Jq2XYQg20Aj_UYgbe2Cxvb4sC6LDoPJOFXraWQRLsOY4RXrdCe2nCC9zgMpulPUheavDEU32UmyGihFFp91E4DbTM1Xmlcl97o34Z-W-8x-ZRK21PZnZ016RH8q/s1600/San+Ignacio+Cathedral+and+Palm+Trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTnriAZ2KevteQvP_7Jq2XYQg20Aj_UYgbe2Cxvb4sC6LDoPJOFXraWQRLsOY4RXrdCe2nCC9zgMpulPUheavDEU32UmyGihFFp91E4DbTM1Xmlcl97o34Z-W-8x-ZRK21PZnZ016RH8q/s1600/San+Ignacio+Cathedral+and+Palm+Trees.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You may recognize this from <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/02/baja-reprise-seeking-cetaceans.html">the last time I passed through San Ignacio</a>, via an altogether different means of transportation.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
But, you know, it's probably been, oh, two hours since we've had a taco?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NUm586iUTlyygOfOkwRGIFqN3PzZRBuvot7w_3tHigWnXQdpe0K4rJMtg7VsQB3rAifD8Aa8a6hv-fItnxL1TWmk7AuAWop_quYAzt448bY4g8Qr6_CeLkrosKmZGBinqxjcbcbVUirt/s1600/San+Ignacio+Loncheria+La+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Kadakaaman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="313" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NUm586iUTlyygOfOkwRGIFqN3PzZRBuvot7w_3tHigWnXQdpe0K4rJMtg7VsQB3rAifD8Aa8a6hv-fItnxL1TWmk7AuAWop_quYAzt448bY4g8Qr6_CeLkrosKmZGBinqxjcbcbVUirt/s1600/San+Ignacio+Loncheria+La+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Kadakaaman.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, look! It's Adrian's favorite taco stand!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
In the main square, we just can’t help ourselves. It’s taco
time! (Not really, but who’s counting?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At first glance, I’m not impressed with the offerings of “Lonchería La
Misión de Kadakaaman.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beef tacos seemed
appropriate, since we were no longer within sight of the sea, but the star attraction is hidden by too much of the same pallid shredded cabbage and tomatoes one sees
on bad tacos ‘round the world. When I get to the meat, however, my dinner’s
shredded, tender, and flavorful core comes to light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh my! I’m glad I’m sitting down. The
tortillas themselves are done beautifully as well. These crispy, crunchy shells
– an unusual method of preparation for the area - bear no resemblance to
the stale tasting factory made "Old El Paso" taco kit variety I knew
as a child. We just can't stop winning!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Day Five: San Ignacio to Loreto</b></i></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next morning we take a breath and dive back into the dry desert, towards the opposite coast, the Sea of Cortez. Adrian checks off an item on the Baja Ride Must Do List by hitting one of the hundreds of stealthily concealed and fearsome "topes" (speedbumps) unexpectedly. A watery rocket launches from his motorcycle. I hope it's not an omen, that loss of a water bottle. But we reach descend the final steep twisting slopes and reach the sparkling ocean side of Santa Rosalia without incident.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIaDXyoMv0XFChDdC_WA4Wvx1VTGNZyebjfLbIUDMBoNeiRyJQSqAOg1EQNnCu9KUb78LEIJaO6u7LOp6w8XOfFv_90kfhp5JWfhDlboKo7L5AyNJbh0ngE3g_COsAe8Xlk3oszUfbaPq/s1600/Malec%25C3%25B3n+Santa+Rosal%25C3%25ADa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIaDXyoMv0XFChDdC_WA4Wvx1VTGNZyebjfLbIUDMBoNeiRyJQSqAOg1EQNnCu9KUb78LEIJaO6u7LOp6w8XOfFv_90kfhp5JWfhDlboKo7L5AyNJbh0ngE3g_COsAe8Xlk3oszUfbaPq/s1600/Malec%25C3%25B3n+Santa+Rosal%25C3%25ADa.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's obvious Adrian gets the credit for this photo, right?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I track down some much needed pesos and celebrate my fattened
wallet with an ice cream cone. Thousands of any monetary unit are so exciting!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9vRcZisVNwWK1inzt2C2yEguINNmeW8L2D_ptXMaIEAjxR-b68u2ag9pUxZKv_AfrKS2PLXPxfLmhc5VG6TBo6S1tHXDvi39vRsNcR0eCNn5UQJar_vIp8PC5b8VylYFMWuNuvYhiJ3L/s1600/Santa+Rosalia+Splash+Neveria+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9vRcZisVNwWK1inzt2C2yEguINNmeW8L2D_ptXMaIEAjxR-b68u2ag9pUxZKv_AfrKS2PLXPxfLmhc5VG6TBo6S1tHXDvi39vRsNcR0eCNn5UQJar_vIp8PC5b8VylYFMWuNuvYhiJ3L/s1600/Santa+Rosalia+Splash+Neveria+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neveria "Splash," while not purveyors of the very best ice cream I've ever had, offers a colorful and fun treat to the overheated rider.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10rmqf7xeGuDJqOGNEeN901iFksn1Eo64LLSYun_YFg6BRY-EQ9DlXJdnqT_H6gbgB6qME0UFhFmY2MZRhMcQ9qp4ZLFqc6gI1mVze4H8JneaGSGp9iUkxsqHYMPfqEThi1wfSNozwu2I/s1600/Santa+Rosalia+Splash+Neveria+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10rmqf7xeGuDJqOGNEeN901iFksn1Eo64LLSYun_YFg6BRY-EQ9DlXJdnqT_H6gbgB6qME0UFhFmY2MZRhMcQ9qp4ZLFqc6gI1mVze4H8JneaGSGp9iUkxsqHYMPfqEThi1wfSNozwu2I/s1600/Santa+Rosalia+Splash+Neveria+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pistachio</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Perhaps more unexpectedly than a cheerful ice cream parlor, Santa Rosalia boasts a building designed by Gustav Eiffel himself. (Yes, Paris. The tower. That guy.) It was purportedly shown at that very same World's Fair in 1889, and later acquired by Carlos La Frogue (nothing to do with frogs, depending on how you see it), owner of French mining company, Companie du Boleo, which mined copper in Santa Rosalia for some 70 odd years, beginning in 1885. The steel constructed church was transported here by sailboat (sailboat!?), perhaps to console the homesick French. Further down the road, I remember that excellent French bread is also to be found in Santa Rosalia. I kick myself for not tracking it down.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZRc33DgmN2FTukxeIMabV0qb-gxHoVltYJAg7Rk5aH9_0KZhTwPZPDWfXW2_LiWKVMy4pAa-b5hI4E2ImezkUYZt_w3AqB5yfVD46wYxyKmnC5VbegvI7qU38lvrZ5sXV1gxK8UJWTyj/s1600/Santa+Rosalia+Iglesia+de+Santa+B%25C3%25A1rbara+by+Eiffel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZRc33DgmN2FTukxeIMabV0qb-gxHoVltYJAg7Rk5aH9_0KZhTwPZPDWfXW2_LiWKVMy4pAa-b5hI4E2ImezkUYZt_w3AqB5yfVD46wYxyKmnC5VbegvI7qU38lvrZ5sXV1gxK8UJWTyj/s1600/Santa+Rosalia+Iglesia+de+Santa+B%25C3%25A1rbara+by+Eiffel.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
Our good riding fortune continues. I manage, this trip, to keep Li'l Burro upright on the beach at Mulejé.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVzq_hbu99DWS2rm8G_lgrcSyXK5FRRHpBvwApw5s9UyttE2lrK2Z7_3Qv9CzY90ydy19j4hLVplxAC8y8qBMKBh09iOYCX8vLWJFnWFrvU8JDWT4npfNwbCHcuxIk5197LxdGv6WC7Hc/s1600/Muleg%25C3%25A9+Beach+and+XT225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVzq_hbu99DWS2rm8G_lgrcSyXK5FRRHpBvwApw5s9UyttE2lrK2Z7_3Qv9CzY90ydy19j4hLVplxAC8y8qBMKBh09iOYCX8vLWJFnWFrvU8JDWT4npfNwbCHcuxIk5197LxdGv6WC7Hc/s1600/Muleg%25C3%25A9+Beach+and+XT225.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To be fair, I wasn't wallowing in deep sand like <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-baja-unadventure.html">last time</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br /></div>
We wander about the beach for a short time, Adrian collecting shells for his wife, Cyndi, I collecting photos of pelicans and the sinister silhouettes of frigate birds.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguTvTIg4OZyFkgsAZaqBn8DPFf0uYF5Tc8Kre2nZNC6_XA9bowShnLwhaCAE4_WEXLcBD3I153XIJNxATBTgGkbklNapaNHpqQGJ3LymB3cp-ETXbiC0yDHj_IJynKSa24VICT5v3YPtM0/s1600/Muleg%25C3%25A9+Beach+Pelicans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguTvTIg4OZyFkgsAZaqBn8DPFf0uYF5Tc8Kre2nZNC6_XA9bowShnLwhaCAE4_WEXLcBD3I153XIJNxATBTgGkbklNapaNHpqQGJ3LymB3cp-ETXbiC0yDHj_IJynKSa24VICT5v3YPtM0/s1600/Muleg%25C3%25A9+Beach+Pelicans.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3IsloRYMuYN4JwgqcGbA0OdWqBoFAcH-rtys4jrJ5r-KuwR6irxqL6a-OHZXZHubEuZ7ZGbhqycIBMeD9cOMJ85CxDEmldiFyJHkkLQAdpBUixq_w-RoBQfDqVGBGeGzZgYW-Hi5FgXqK/s1600/Muleg%25C3%25A9+Beach+Shells.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3IsloRYMuYN4JwgqcGbA0OdWqBoFAcH-rtys4jrJ5r-KuwR6irxqL6a-OHZXZHubEuZ7ZGbhqycIBMeD9cOMJ85CxDEmldiFyJHkkLQAdpBUixq_w-RoBQfDqVGBGeGzZgYW-Hi5FgXqK/s1600/Muleg%25C3%25A9+Beach+Shells.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggT8EaTaMUTvFgJD6NyXiyLJ4Vtfuxy-zf72wNVrzahaekKlkbAJlgQ4-HDz27iu3XvrGfUL-cvAjwXSWCtw1w9NkrO0DoiWPz5-gZsfPZx2UO5GmI0YxtCzCsvEFxZKRrXgW_5VUOxqhZ/s1600/Frigate+Birds+Muleg%25C3%25A9+Baja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggT8EaTaMUTvFgJD6NyXiyLJ4Vtfuxy-zf72wNVrzahaekKlkbAJlgQ4-HDz27iu3XvrGfUL-cvAjwXSWCtw1w9NkrO0DoiWPz5-gZsfPZx2UO5GmI0YxtCzCsvEFxZKRrXgW_5VUOxqhZ/s1600/Frigate+Birds+Muleg%25C3%25A9+Baja.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<br />
We somewhat reluctantly move on, but rewards await us. There's more fine sporting asphalt near Conception Bay, but
the views are killer - literally, if you're not careful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The road demands my attention, but the view
laid out before and below me makes it difficult to focus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The aquamarine water and rugged cliff-lined
coastline, interspersed with cloistered sandy half moon beaches, call to mind travel
brochures of the Adriatic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If only there
was a safe place to stop to capture the scene at its best! But there is one photo that can not be missed...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOolD0p9JcXCwngiCeIXwFPtfhyphenhyphenXdnc02C27UL9DSqxuR142AIUmQnqyN-7ijLPZl6Uf_eUFs6lIE83a9JimUdfyB-QH9-bBdJyQWc0X4g1wqRQsIEd3PT6ZwC3Rz3rNlYvpAm2LAC-F-/s1600/Li%2527l+Burro+Eating+on+Two+Wheels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOolD0p9JcXCwngiCeIXwFPtfhyphenhyphenXdnc02C27UL9DSqxuR142AIUmQnqyN-7ijLPZl6Uf_eUFs6lIE83a9JimUdfyB-QH9-bBdJyQWc0X4g1wqRQsIEd3PT6ZwC3Rz3rNlYvpAm2LAC-F-/s1600/Li%2527l+Burro+Eating+on+Two+Wheels.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Li'l Burro, Eating on Two Wheels!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We stop for a cool drink at a colorful vacation spot full of happily tipsy beach vacationers, who have taken the long walk across the street for refreshment.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmyPxLb7oC0jHeqKBF3UBfadHk9p6Pu0nx6AmEYn1vXnyVYaZ4ucSge23hTDnYiaDU7oDtaYzFy9n4_blTU-3L-JpFk6p-nrzshmp0rfHmn22ATvr2hE7mnr5ZPVLxE99TaanLuR5N7Yn/s1600/El+Burro+Beach+Conception+Bay+%252815%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmyPxLb7oC0jHeqKBF3UBfadHk9p6Pu0nx6AmEYn1vXnyVYaZ4ucSge23hTDnYiaDU7oDtaYzFy9n4_blTU-3L-JpFk6p-nrzshmp0rfHmn22ATvr2hE7mnr5ZPVLxE99TaanLuR5N7Yn/s1600/El+Burro+Beach+Conception+Bay+%252815%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tipsy vacationers not shown. Everyone was, of course, crowded at the tables closer to the bar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-T452VTbEU8pnXdIM4j_VLE3XnK3W5iWfPZOygJgz3MBWHdhhR3daotvXAYWAUpFARYcArSXBJOMoXvxjGQpKtiNZ3D71593tmWM1bPI_LY8IjOTyK5VrfBWH5geVGX3ox_jH2nEcP5I/s1600/El+Burro+Beach+Conception+Bay+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-T452VTbEU8pnXdIM4j_VLE3XnK3W5iWfPZOygJgz3MBWHdhhR3daotvXAYWAUpFARYcArSXBJOMoXvxjGQpKtiNZ3D71593tmWM1bPI_LY8IjOTyK5VrfBWH5geVGX3ox_jH2nEcP5I/s1600/El+Burro+Beach+Conception+Bay+%25285%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playa "El Burro"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
By the time we reach Loreto, find a room at the Santa Fe Hotel, discover
that one needs to know to remove the photo on the wall and activate the
hidden circuit
breaker in order to have any sort of climate control at all******, we’re more than a little hungry. A seafood
bonanza of clams, two types of fish, a lobster tail, crabs, and scallops seems
like the only dinner that will satisfy us. Tasty without being amazing, La Palapa
clearly caters to excess seeking tourists. But it's so fun, it doesn't matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We demolish the entire dish.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZJ_nTUQsuMclieeG8tT72FPmGMimocREf-WBfdfsNE7eZGmYUttQ_XsIOWz1d9RBXsdmolOtGoJFe8uB2ASM1i962Bh2_jiJH6FnIYq6UOu0JnYywbZRfocbMYHiPwluCz1O8BjmcAfV/s1600/La+Palapa+Loreto+BCS+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZJ_nTUQsuMclieeG8tT72FPmGMimocREf-WBfdfsNE7eZGmYUttQ_XsIOWz1d9RBXsdmolOtGoJFe8uB2ASM1i962Bh2_jiJH6FnIYq6UOu0JnYywbZRfocbMYHiPwluCz1O8BjmcAfV/s1600/La+Palapa+Loreto+BCS+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's dark, the photos are grainy, but at this point, I'm too hungry to care!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtvfjAwnrSVXqABYMcG05qS7WheM4HHQ_fo27Ugx8mP4ssd2-w2W_KxFk_8U95FvskVv52U6Hl10RXk5GThxOPBhRRVtiitTt2QLj5SfoypjvoP1hmiSg8Jqa2QrwMHQiDaEaDuTGtuTk/s1600/La+Palapa+Loreto+BCS+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtvfjAwnrSVXqABYMcG05qS7WheM4HHQ_fo27Ugx8mP4ssd2-w2W_KxFk_8U95FvskVv52U6Hl10RXk5GThxOPBhRRVtiitTt2QLj5SfoypjvoP1hmiSg8Jqa2QrwMHQiDaEaDuTGtuTk/s1600/La+Palapa+Loreto+BCS+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The one time not being able to ride at night pays off. Dark = I ride pillion to dinner = cold beer for me! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggcF-yd9ZGpEqfBGAITozd8MyTc3iJDT1Q6IruTVArguyEYyOizaswBUJbhUciuXhkv-7kBdeyL2eN6TnZuY0GrTahfxOznVD8Ssdg_t1RMe7nFOlLa37V7w-V-zwZm8WJRzmxyDuVlyvl/s1600/La+Palapa+Loreto+BCS+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggcF-yd9ZGpEqfBGAITozd8MyTc3iJDT1Q6IruTVArguyEYyOizaswBUJbhUciuXhkv-7kBdeyL2eN6TnZuY0GrTahfxOznVD8Ssdg_t1RMe7nFOlLa37V7w-V-zwZm8WJRzmxyDuVlyvl/s1600/La+Palapa+Loreto+BCS+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More impressive looking than tasting, truth be told, but that didn't stop us from eating every last bite.</td></tr>
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<i><b>Day Six: Loreto Wanderings, Loreto to San Ignacio (Day Five in Reverse)</b></i> </div>
It's not just the restaurant that caters to tourists. Loreto itself has all the trappings, both good and bad, of a town thriving on out-of-towners. A paper map of the sort often found free at information booths costs $8 dollars. (Yes, dollars.) The streets are spotless, and lined with beautiful flowers and topiary. Hotels are $100 and up a night, some of which, admittedly, would be two or three times that price back home. There are, in theory, cheaper rooms to be had, but all are marked with disappointing "No Vacancy" signs.<br />
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The Posada de las Flores Hotel, and its captivating courtyard filled with palm trees, flowering vines, wooden doors, wrought iron accents, a fountain, stone arches, and - look up! I can see up through the bottom of the roof top pool! - precipitated another text to Pilot Guy. "We must stay here after we stay at that other place in Ensenada!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnj6pih9qI3TrcI_lgRZu4mrXEVfLi1WETBjj3dfs0haL1OFZvtxVfQofFG1PZBAWNB2UCzAoi-Qok_um5CYuKVm8hceZz2WchQ8V6PA6buoSDws-J6nrvFwda-HcKQ4BaVoOZEEqE-ye0/s1600/Posada+de+las+Flores+Loreto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnj6pih9qI3TrcI_lgRZu4mrXEVfLi1WETBjj3dfs0haL1OFZvtxVfQofFG1PZBAWNB2UCzAoi-Qok_um5CYuKVm8hceZz2WchQ8V6PA6buoSDws-J6nrvFwda-HcKQ4BaVoOZEEqE-ye0/s1600/Posada+de+las+Flores+Loreto.jpg" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69Imb8vDyw1h9_s-R44V1DkSb9-_FhigTrbDgA9PFk8ukzP6OySI6O6fJrZa1nAq4xFbbHS0i55_YcHzLH4mnzkqZLgjFtxmSFRf74yrNRDNQk84S4D4ZK-iRXSgHcZOi0EPijOQ4jVt5/s1600/Loreto+Topiary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69Imb8vDyw1h9_s-R44V1DkSb9-_FhigTrbDgA9PFk8ukzP6OySI6O6fJrZa1nAq4xFbbHS0i55_YcHzLH4mnzkqZLgjFtxmSFRf74yrNRDNQk84S4D4ZK-iRXSgHcZOi0EPijOQ4jVt5/s1600/Loreto+Topiary.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, that's Adrian.</td></tr>
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The Misión de Nuestra Señora de Loreto Conchó was "the first mission and capital of the Californias," according to the nearby descriptive plaque.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3JSqD2QWuKkapD9t8RFFJjc-zdT9dWi_0QeuqtSwoWIDqJAYvOB-PMnvHW4PXTRsIiJdBHnuX_Oaxw5G9x_fVtQlQ4FIMhfSi6TjmYvgRUYrNh4cELHOuyZNunUxUn7eqaAJn4OxckEs/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3JSqD2QWuKkapD9t8RFFJjc-zdT9dWi_0QeuqtSwoWIDqJAYvOB-PMnvHW4PXTRsIiJdBHnuX_Oaxw5G9x_fVtQlQ4FIMhfSi6TjmYvgRUYrNh4cELHOuyZNunUxUn7eqaAJn4OxckEs/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's a corner of the mission, at least.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7glGdFV9_apDdjnDE3Xt-tMlN5tfCj5vGqNMWjdsdYXOBz6nxYa3qcReWlyNFOIRYTRXiUfc0sBSkSJppPKvuDx98aECFeOuVdL4QpunhL3TDikJA0KmjmLV5-bMten6FFOC1SQhg5Lhg/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3+Altar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7glGdFV9_apDdjnDE3Xt-tMlN5tfCj5vGqNMWjdsdYXOBz6nxYa3qcReWlyNFOIRYTRXiUfc0sBSkSJppPKvuDx98aECFeOuVdL4QpunhL3TDikJA0KmjmLV5-bMten6FFOC1SQhg5Lhg/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3+Altar.jpg" /></a></div>
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There is a rope hanging down from the bell tower. Do I dare? (I didn't, but oh how I wanted to!) <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzMEFuaCNU92f00Gq33Uk_rmBRhh56TRMmnOAVPMZJW38AhkHvCRflfVRY-ccuaPniXJK0bRr5RMzVf1sHYu6xzSeY0ZxXid2I3yba95pnaGl3iL7KtuGKdTXqhjTINDV7rk0bBTDhImR/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3+Bell+Rope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzMEFuaCNU92f00Gq33Uk_rmBRhh56TRMmnOAVPMZJW38AhkHvCRflfVRY-ccuaPniXJK0bRr5RMzVf1sHYu6xzSeY0ZxXid2I3yba95pnaGl3iL7KtuGKdTXqhjTINDV7rk0bBTDhImR/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3+Bell+Rope.jpg" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsys6fKfxlE_nbZm8NzoiGyV5gRIYp3VdlXcRXVcLeOPFEoWPerQdI5wYCq8tvzpCyFhQJH-Wmg2tPUZQV_xJjdgu5LjrK6uCsNOJWP1ck8TUBwVRcOywlRe4H2fwKd0ufzcwspE7uPSss/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3+Garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsys6fKfxlE_nbZm8NzoiGyV5gRIYp3VdlXcRXVcLeOPFEoWPerQdI5wYCq8tvzpCyFhQJH-Wmg2tPUZQV_xJjdgu5LjrK6uCsNOJWP1ck8TUBwVRcOywlRe4H2fwKd0ufzcwspE7uPSss/s1600/Loreto+Misi%25C3%25B3n+de+Nuestra+Se%25C3%25B1ora+de+Loreto+Conch%25C3%25B3+Garden.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mission gardens</td></tr>
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A walk on the malecón had me considering the crabs on our dinner plate last night.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiDr5ulieez46xQgOr3p_0LeYMkK6g9710yJLTbTNfbCKVQMaBJk-OFg8TPVtI6dba01GoV9Y5Nt2qFboUAdZaexO4QqNTSxxeH9sGBRFeZeqNh5pdkArQ3Y_rvi1zl1iHWpwYF2jS9Ft/s1600/Loreto+Malec%25C3%25B3n+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiDr5ulieez46xQgOr3p_0LeYMkK6g9710yJLTbTNfbCKVQMaBJk-OFg8TPVtI6dba01GoV9Y5Nt2qFboUAdZaexO4QqNTSxxeH9sGBRFeZeqNh5pdkArQ3Y_rvi1zl1iHWpwYF2jS9Ft/s1600/Loreto+Malec%25C3%25B3n+%25287%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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No matter how many times Adrian and I rework the math, if we want to return home by the appointed hour, we must turn northward today. La Paz and Cabo beckon, so it's difficult to wrest my front wheel in the other direction. Adrian consoles me. "I've heard that the rest of the ride isn't that great, anyway." I nod in agreement, but I don't really buy into it. Either does he. Obediently, bergrudingly, we acquiesce.<br />
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As we begin our return, we capture a few under-serving photos of Conception Bay...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlp-1kNelzrr-JlK1pYLtBlLEjmWDWhfqQWtNQtkqKePadsj73kKmnQuc3AAgp66axGVif0WDs5bbCBI42J5XLwhEozU1QY7Oc4tiJa2IZRh9Nlu4bXyqd4NrqcPSDK9Za7e-1Av__zT2/s1600/Conception+Bay+and+Cactus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlp-1kNelzrr-JlK1pYLtBlLEjmWDWhfqQWtNQtkqKePadsj73kKmnQuc3AAgp66axGVif0WDs5bbCBI42J5XLwhEozU1QY7Oc4tiJa2IZRh9Nlu4bXyqd4NrqcPSDK9Za7e-1Av__zT2/s1600/Conception+Bay+and+Cactus.jpg" /></a> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO19y8ez2OQ338k9Wk5dKmvDEl0WrIivvm2BtD_erVK3aS4ftbCLWmQdytFrhDqwdmFZxt5jTBGdRYMwSG4_Sxr3YqIYgrB0ljiQBNp3S7qFoFBgC93yjUeUWImoTmh9L1wgQPjjylJG_C/s1600/Conception+Bay+by+Adrian.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="257" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO19y8ez2OQ338k9Wk5dKmvDEl0WrIivvm2BtD_erVK3aS4ftbCLWmQdytFrhDqwdmFZxt5jTBGdRYMwSG4_Sxr3YqIYgrB0ljiQBNp3S7qFoFBgC93yjUeUWImoTmh9L1wgQPjjylJG_C/s1600/Conception+Bay+by+Adrian.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one is Adrian's work.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWS07MUuOPTuevN67mCR_TQSliCsaOx5RKbV1uIRRMD_DHYd0TYfb2LCGMzM_-BLDoj5hL1cGIb-5c_1OphFM82wRu4iriF0CQ-gDRQf1gUxkbiw61TOjBk1Q2PhreyZPY3yISf-mqeLr/s1600/Conception+Bay+Views+Return+Pass+%252810%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWS07MUuOPTuevN67mCR_TQSliCsaOx5RKbV1uIRRMD_DHYd0TYfb2LCGMzM_-BLDoj5hL1cGIb-5c_1OphFM82wRu4iriF0CQ-gDRQf1gUxkbiw61TOjBk1Q2PhreyZPY3yISf-mqeLr/s1600/Conception+Bay+Views+Return+Pass+%252810%2529.jpg" /></a> </div>
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... and stop at El Candil, in Mulegé proper, for - yes - a taco. The little town is a adorable, but the meal is not quite up to the standards to which we've become accustomed. Still, the cheerful hopping sparrows and enormous bougainvillea in the courtyard almost make up for it. I'm intrigued by the signs advertising "date bread," here and there, but somehow, the acquisition of the curiosity eludes us.<br />
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Our hotel two nights ago at San Ignacio, casa de that wonderful ham omelet*******, was reasonable and pleasant, so it makes sense to revisit it again tonight. I can not believe I am ordering an actual quesadilla for dinner (What, no taco?), but it, too, is elevated here. It's cheesier, stretchier, smokier, somehow. And the salsa has definitely never seen a jar. After dinner, Adrian and I independently come to the same realization. While we may not have had time for La Paz and Cabo, we do have time for a short side trip to Bahía de los Ángeles. Victory triumphs over disappointment: we'll check off one of our <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-baja-unadventure.html">destinations-never-reached of 2013!</a></div>
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<i><b>Day Seven: San Ignacio to </b><b>Bahía de los Ángeles</b></i> </div>
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I'd been told that Bahía de los Ángeles is beautiful, and it's true. The road leads us through more of the curious Valle de los Cirios, made possibly even more bizzare by an oncoming pick up truck toting a horse in the bed, and the approach to the ocean is yet one more astonishing moment after another of the unlikely partnership of desert and sea. But the town itself is dreary and empty. When we find ourselves booking a room at the nearly vacant and unquestionbly run down Villa Vitta Resort, our host, Mario, looks at his computer for an absurdly long time before announcing that, yes indeed, he does have some rooms available. The hotel is... well, not quite what we had been getting used to. We hear an unpleasant altercation in the only other occupied room, there are large beetles crawling into my room through the large gap under the door faster than I can evict them, and my window A/C unit is making such a noise that I, after I hear the quiet hum of the unit in Adrian's room, uncharacteristically decide to inquire about my options. There are, of course, plenty of other rooms, and Mario quickly accommodates me. Indeed, there are upsides to our stay, as well. We have a canine companion for the evening, there are adorable murals painted in the rooms, and there is table side whale watching over dinner. Plus Mario has piqued our appetites with promises of a "special breakfast" tomorrow.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJNaLQaxBqtZF9JaWRq1BViHnhnJmaxu0q2yyvjJEdc7oWAvPfNj8BEXtEVUZ4krf-hRjVTiImJjjz8yyWx689woypuScLxMkZoUYigz4RfOhvKAcV3FD0gDbUbsmcdfAfQcOfGoNq0Oa/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Canine+Companion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJNaLQaxBqtZF9JaWRq1BViHnhnJmaxu0q2yyvjJEdc7oWAvPfNj8BEXtEVUZ4krf-hRjVTiImJjjz8yyWx689woypuScLxMkZoUYigz4RfOhvKAcV3FD0gDbUbsmcdfAfQcOfGoNq0Oa/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Canine+Companion.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sad face after "No, no! Muddy paws off my bed!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5IJ6I3ribcf4PF9SBK8h4LGyvaL6pxXTnjR7QVrDcAdjn3gLREVMWOSOLyoEDvune5nLIpkpJCNYp9VNESBi7tczA2CWqSvUXJZygebdJ5HD99LjW6HndvXVqP8FZ-xZjk5IvD2c20gZa/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Hotel+Room+Murals+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5IJ6I3ribcf4PF9SBK8h4LGyvaL6pxXTnjR7QVrDcAdjn3gLREVMWOSOLyoEDvune5nLIpkpJCNYp9VNESBi7tczA2CWqSvUXJZygebdJ5HD99LjW6HndvXVqP8FZ-xZjk5IvD2c20gZa/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Hotel+Room+Murals+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Room Number One</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kY_03zp6N3b3TgoqTyB6-WkUTVdm25hYtWrreVqkLGbtU-6JqzNZKnfvwr-TccyBtBXuOB_xB2XoGoH8qMs8tzymnn4vtkhoZe1iEJ43qH6pNAqMLFcq66gZrgy_HP6iXdoMVjr76G6p/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Hotel+Room+Murals+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kY_03zp6N3b3TgoqTyB6-WkUTVdm25hYtWrreVqkLGbtU-6JqzNZKnfvwr-TccyBtBXuOB_xB2XoGoH8qMs8tzymnn4vtkhoZe1iEJ43qH6pNAqMLFcq66gZrgy_HP6iXdoMVjr76G6p/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Hotel+Room+Murals+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Room Number Two. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKs5f4r8yD8nODph4_TJKr_4O4cHbgUSrqtU4JT8Mm-CfoWaUR6pOIP1RfMrcsNmB_ZO3fdm0KD5jIMBZLBEXxLccvF8fEt7BFLKvZHC_jfTR_PyxjgQaIOlOE2GYcHsDAItUSk-i93bDn/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Whale+Watching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKs5f4r8yD8nODph4_TJKr_4O4cHbgUSrqtU4JT8Mm-CfoWaUR6pOIP1RfMrcsNmB_ZO3fdm0KD5jIMBZLBEXxLccvF8fEt7BFLKvZHC_jfTR_PyxjgQaIOlOE2GYcHsDAItUSk-i93bDn/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Whale+Watching.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I laughed maybe a little too hard at this than was necessary.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttw7DMtIDIC6rnfFNB9HKccUfkRxvKQ1Q2C3W9SKYEJVIJCapo5Xxqkw2VInFPtgdzFgUWPeu7spmjvb8LZt6FZibbAd0PkA7gXHAX4fiu3fJuAn8PxS9-86iTZhFA-IqH_UTDMPfEdqi/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Hotel+Seagull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttw7DMtIDIC6rnfFNB9HKccUfkRxvKQ1Q2C3W9SKYEJVIJCapo5Xxqkw2VInFPtgdzFgUWPeu7spmjvb8LZt6FZibbAd0PkA7gXHAX4fiu3fJuAn8PxS9-86iTZhFA-IqH_UTDMPfEdqi/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles+Villa+Vitta+Hotel+Seagull.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lXEKZ1m2zV3511YK-stMYGPqfeC7UWytZ25iXEmZdNdDW0C9TdwcKkSBVvNYwD0bk_VlYR7lKO-b93X3ijt-WEkyGKdp6Q4vhdoNtvdJGDOYhRexvntkLPV3d6Tj_Pn05hk0KGQBjj8m/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lXEKZ1m2zV3511YK-stMYGPqfeC7UWytZ25iXEmZdNdDW0C9TdwcKkSBVvNYwD0bk_VlYR7lKO-b93X3ijt-WEkyGKdp6Q4vhdoNtvdJGDOYhRexvntkLPV3d6Tj_Pn05hk0KGQBjj8m/s1600/Bah%25C3%25ADa+de+Los+%25C3%2581ngeles.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, more gorgeous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<i><b>Day Eight: </b></i><i><b>Bahía de los Ángeles to San Felipe via Coco's Corner</b></i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Our special breakfast may not have arrived promptly, but the meal belies the establishment by far. Oh my! The chorizo omelet is tender and savory, with a poblano cream sauce that is simultaneously spicy and rich. The accompanying potatoes and tortilla live up to our ever heightening expectations. Job well done, Mario! Our heads loll back as we taste it... oh, but it is so very good! We savor each bite slowly, but as always, it's time to roll, because... today's the day! The day we go <i>Off Road!</i> Or off pavement, anyway. Li'l Burro, who has clippity-clopped over what will be 2,000 miles of inhospitable pavement, is ready! Am I?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1aacjff9VphLKLFcBSXq_j-SDf6AMGTYp6EY0C3lggoH0tf6oGkii37SZJlYUUHxJuos6ojJEhX-wDqF6LGXvvXktPBGhk6rRqE9Vxo-xxW4Qc18KAtNAhQvMKJ8s7x7w8-dQBEnSzBJ/s1600/Leaving+the+Pavement+by+Adrian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1aacjff9VphLKLFcBSXq_j-SDf6AMGTYp6EY0C3lggoH0tf6oGkii37SZJlYUUHxJuos6ojJEhX-wDqF6LGXvvXktPBGhk6rRqE9Vxo-xxW4Qc18KAtNAhQvMKJ8s7x7w8-dQBEnSzBJ/s1600/Leaving+the+Pavement+by+Adrian.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chapala Junction. Not exactly terrifying, is it? Suspiciously, the only building as far as the eye can see is a tire repair shop. Something tells me there will more than meets the eye at the moment.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the asphalt gives way to pavement, I - street rider at
heart - hesitate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"What is it, Friend?" Li"l Burro inquires.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"The earth moves beneath your hooves!" I cry.
"There are bumpy rocks and ruts, and maybe even soft sand! What if we
should slip and fall?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then what would we
do?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"Fear not," Li'l Burro says. "You shall
see."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
True to his word, his knobby tires bite into the soft earth.
His head bobs up and down over ruts and rocks, smoothing my ride. Lest something unexpected in my path frighten me, he carries me, in second gear,
as slowly as I ask, and never stalls. He carries me
up hills just as slowly and smoothly, even in first gear, if I wish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
When we reach firm, unmoving asphalt
again, I say, with a twinkle in my eye, "If it's not too rocky, or too
sandy, and the hills not too steep, perhaps, just perhaps... well, I can see how
another rider might like this." I give him a pat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"Good girl," he purrs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Good girl."<br />
<br />
"Coco's Corner" is on every dual sport riders' destination list. It is, quite simply, the storybook "shack in the middle of nowhere," that just happens to be well equipped with Coco, the cheerful host, meticulously recording the hometown and make/model of each visiting riders' motorcycle; photogenic oddities; cool drinks (alcoholic or not); and the happy company of Coco and those who are passing through at the moment. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6IVTQLmlRSg_GPtBilu1lobwMMwLHaTwqQYqX9M5ihfq0fCFY9vf951wA4xcVu4dxYiCa_kWp9m3R89xErO8L3eybIslT-v8SW5Rqwg-n0VKmEJ86s3mmWfLgEFTCzdMUCD2cbTKaZ3g/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6IVTQLmlRSg_GPtBilu1lobwMMwLHaTwqQYqX9M5ihfq0fCFY9vf951wA4xcVu4dxYiCa_kWp9m3R89xErO8L3eybIslT-v8SW5Rqwg-n0VKmEJ86s3mmWfLgEFTCzdMUCD2cbTKaZ3g/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer cans tinkle in the breeze like wind chimes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSaJIw51QQgHfVr3PshWfmHmVL0-M8YyNXTSvWxtBUPx5ohTozLQweRgo2CJhaPBy-7oHdY9z3-3C7YqTlVMRg2JCiAR9gnAktA8YsJi-_jVybhi8PUdez52wVNWgguZ_gTqBpfUOmJ6Mg/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSaJIw51QQgHfVr3PshWfmHmVL0-M8YyNXTSvWxtBUPx5ohTozLQweRgo2CJhaPBy-7oHdY9z3-3C7YqTlVMRg2JCiAR9gnAktA8YsJi-_jVybhi8PUdez52wVNWgguZ_gTqBpfUOmJ6Mg/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oddities amuse.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QRp0D7GQepay4C2HJvvFM6NAH1ChP4_v2NCrKbcatoFPI64mv4KHG0yvd1sMphf7_PiIrLf2L2YhUuDKLkGMMe7ah_g9jOu2nBGO64rdoqJH1ViLC37qoQF8x-HQY9GxRmGDBbCWHcbH/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QRp0D7GQepay4C2HJvvFM6NAH1ChP4_v2NCrKbcatoFPI64mv4KHG0yvd1sMphf7_PiIrLf2L2YhUuDKLkGMMe7ah_g9jOu2nBGO64rdoqJH1ViLC37qoQF8x-HQY9GxRmGDBbCWHcbH/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25285%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjkf12OcFWFF5UDjZLyhkqpufjxCstds_a1m9bfBLb0o2cTNnZQ9puoET2efQJf8-KZrLFlv2ENft_mAzUCs-kupb56KfJLs_OzqdzHBxE1DCeprrceTipwu4WSpKseHQPhCt1jeh8M50/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjkf12OcFWFF5UDjZLyhkqpufjxCstds_a1m9bfBLb0o2cTNnZQ9puoET2efQJf8-KZrLFlv2ENft_mAzUCs-kupb56KfJLs_OzqdzHBxE1DCeprrceTipwu4WSpKseHQPhCt1jeh8M50/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25286%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjve8s3QmNPSiyDtX3pWZ36x6lnjMvNUigMtQaT-JmjmY0-29fBpmkDXf93KjVdmMd8v4XWGlv9So2e7HDsS6jYrIjG0xFHfuNeM4FfPeAW3T3LAp1wMT5RnF4Kwjf52UDoHdcFPBBDRGb3/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjve8s3QmNPSiyDtX3pWZ36x6lnjMvNUigMtQaT-JmjmY0-29fBpmkDXf93KjVdmMd8v4XWGlv9So2e7HDsS6jYrIjG0xFHfuNeM4FfPeAW3T3LAp1wMT5RnF4Kwjf52UDoHdcFPBBDRGb3/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25288%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You will not find any of my underwear here. I need them elsewhere!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MzYmRxpcNWIo_ZtJMzaAcRuOfx0dBPAa0PuZsfTBYRTUySuVydSmAV_pikPrbPfk7LWcHF5Er8hJAY28-brmS9-oECtzcuA0x55HQoA7KaOdGU8yT9Ym8ltywQrx0DagYY28crfZmd7C/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MzYmRxpcNWIo_ZtJMzaAcRuOfx0dBPAa0PuZsfTBYRTUySuVydSmAV_pikPrbPfk7LWcHF5Er8hJAY28-brmS9-oECtzcuA0x55HQoA7KaOdGU8yT9Ym8ltywQrx0DagYY28crfZmd7C/s1600/Coco%2527s+Corner+%25289%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coco himself, holding his record book. He is at least 80, as indicated by a celebratory birthday banner on the wall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The unpaved portion of our journey, between La Chapala and Puertecitas, is becoming obsolete as fast as I type. Probably faster, actually. Baja, once a back country land of dusty dirt roads and less, as it were, is quickly become paved over. Mixed feelings, trapped between resistance to change and the convenience of progress abound, and I am no exception. I'm glad to have experienced at least a tiny remainder of what once was. We wonder and worry what Coco will do when the paved road, now under construction, is completed. Progress does not serve everyone.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9GOwfBiMR-1Yd-ynQAcp4lGWoPyw4eWomPhWYSiGEUn4QqYy-mz0DFMyCAklBoFkMbhWr24r9JpiFMDPy1FHXAES56A5DfJpHvGhsnD6YZdceIuRBtZmErkaMqvB59ebfHILAy84-aop/s1600/Rest+Stop+on+New+Mex-5+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9GOwfBiMR-1Yd-ynQAcp4lGWoPyw4eWomPhWYSiGEUn4QqYy-mz0DFMyCAklBoFkMbhWr24r9JpiFMDPy1FHXAES56A5DfJpHvGhsnD6YZdceIuRBtZmErkaMqvB59ebfHILAy84-aop/s1600/Rest+Stop+on+New+Mex-5+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old and new roads often diverge, but at this point, the stark contrast is clear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3vdRV8vpqivXDUuWFFymyeouGTtU57lfnu4kw_7nPITCw3a6-MzyrBDAXvb4Cjq4oQrihKWfKMFIrgaRy041gDeHzztxVBU0cRt8oF3kA03MinoB4M8OOW51NhV4C6CHEfPvwLpi3ZjD/s1600/Rest+Stop+on+New+Mex-5+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3vdRV8vpqivXDUuWFFymyeouGTtU57lfnu4kw_7nPITCw3a6-MzyrBDAXvb4Cjq4oQrihKWfKMFIrgaRy041gDeHzztxVBU0cRt8oF3kA03MinoB4M8OOW51NhV4C6CHEfPvwLpi3ZjD/s1600/Rest+Stop+on+New+Mex-5+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Return to the safety of virgin pavement. The shift from Coco's Corner to this brand new but strangely vacant rest stop feels bizarre. Notably, it's the only official rest stop I've ever seen in Baja.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Adrian and I spend a little time trying to find the site of <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-baja-unadventure.html">his accident</a>, but even that area has changed too much for us to find it unequivocally. "Imelda's Mexican Food," the definitive marker of the event, appears to be long gone. I don't expect we'll ever know for sure just where it happened. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXOpMezhaNKoU_Y-kv8LALcRHCVH9PTi9CAgJXr5cm2nCYElL9TZXp233rOLOq2kOpqlSNZC_zji8556g7YTfjz9ow1kQAQ9YRJpznItjq4jbTCxY7gv4-aQ8YVICMNA5GIUttllskoyb/s1600/Seeking+Accident+Site+of+2013+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXOpMezhaNKoU_Y-kv8LALcRHCVH9PTi9CAgJXr5cm2nCYElL9TZXp233rOLOq2kOpqlSNZC_zji8556g7YTfjz9ow1kQAQ9YRJpznItjq4jbTCxY7gv4-aQ8YVICMNA5GIUttllskoyb/s1600/Seeking+Accident+Site+of+2013+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Here?" "No, perhaps it's around this bend." "I seem to recall there was an island in sight." "No, I think it was here..." It seems we'll never know.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWM2eI2c4hXmHFErNwM12WZcmlt3qwumGrUqKmGCZKcy3qTdxzPKkYdVGSkltAHmQCb0L1jm7-HgMSKOChxdRNxGdaMdCZpMmzZ8zDtwzztqWzec0WsqrEhnkY_P0qy7-o2QiiYJU04N3v/s1600/Seeking+Accident+Site+of+2013+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="173" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWM2eI2c4hXmHFErNwM12WZcmlt3qwumGrUqKmGCZKcy3qTdxzPKkYdVGSkltAHmQCb0L1jm7-HgMSKOChxdRNxGdaMdCZpMmzZ8zDtwzztqWzec0WsqrEhnkY_P0qy7-o2QiiYJU04N3v/s1600/Seeking+Accident+Site+of+2013+%25288%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are the scenes I was kicking myself over not capturing in 2013. It was our first good view of what was should have come, but didn't.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
While the unpaved portion of our trip was not terribly challenging, and the pavement just north brand new, the stretch of pavement immediately to the south of San Felipe may be among our most challenging moments. I'm tired and ready to complete our day, but the potholes, deep, numerous, and unavoidable, are feeling like a test of even Li'l Burro's capabilities. I have chosen wisely. Baja is no place for the tight suspension and titanium rims of one certain Ducati. There is at least one moment on every wonderful trip that feel, undeniably, like a slog. That moment has arrived. But like all things, the feeling is temporary.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoWPoaxlzbFGq9Es46wqb3ZZGk1mvKqOAMVFNHnzotsIgx15_Bpf8TWgwqmMjlPD1OW9B6zs557IjIrMHs1aL0djCCWNzfcJsGlIbwHB9DBxLjbZ0h3eWYLVvjp6LdlCUfaBu8KghmBHN/s1600/San+Felipe+Malec%25C3%25B3n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoWPoaxlzbFGq9Es46wqb3ZZGk1mvKqOAMVFNHnzotsIgx15_Bpf8TWgwqmMjlPD1OW9B6zs557IjIrMHs1aL0djCCWNzfcJsGlIbwHB9DBxLjbZ0h3eWYLVvjp6LdlCUfaBu8KghmBHN/s1600/San+Felipe+Malec%25C3%25B3n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arrival!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
We quickly book a room at the familiar "El Capitán" and wander out on the town. What a difference from January, 2013! San Felipe is hopping, with street vendors, brass bands, and overflowing restaurants. I look forward to another pleasant meal at "The Taco Factory," remembering the ceviche of 2013, but am as disappointed with my dinner as I will be with my breakfast tomorrow morning. Perhaps we've been spoiled and lucky, perhaps it's the trying-too-hard-hip waiter, or possibly I'm simply sad to be almost done with our journey, but these tacos taste decidedly and disappointingly like something from an inexpensive chain restaurant in the U.S. No matter! There are beach side churros, hot and freshly made, that do much to console! Fortified, we climb up to a hillside shrine of sorts, and take in the view.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5h_NmKfIohnifJD9MakAYiuThhyhv1rMWiNKt5Oic58pC35DjqM22Agto-AZ0yFVrpG-QGA3RYK5ZhOoy3DPzi0Kf-iesCgzdkPKwCmgi6cTTSzHWhSW-zaUyZkrQa4Cl-strM4kBT6ul/s1600/San+Felipe+Hilltop+Shrine+Viewpoint+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5h_NmKfIohnifJD9MakAYiuThhyhv1rMWiNKt5Oic58pC35DjqM22Agto-AZ0yFVrpG-QGA3RYK5ZhOoy3DPzi0Kf-iesCgzdkPKwCmgi6cTTSzHWhSW-zaUyZkrQa4Cl-strM4kBT6ul/s1600/San+Felipe+Hilltop+Shrine+Viewpoint+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uOKodmPL-DMxZK1ERwIK7ykgcxOo7jL3KXI4HXb97Q-I7ENvDWAnC83hgDj-6WTjxhSLL_Kc3KHJ-PEYEo62qGbHQzSTcythx5kUniKtOQMUFvfnZmyXiR7H6gKL9rbPc-g1MPP3J5Qj/s1600/San+Felipe+Hilltop+Shrine+Viewpoint+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uOKodmPL-DMxZK1ERwIK7ykgcxOo7jL3KXI4HXb97Q-I7ENvDWAnC83hgDj-6WTjxhSLL_Kc3KHJ-PEYEo62qGbHQzSTcythx5kUniKtOQMUFvfnZmyXiR7H6gKL9rbPc-g1MPP3J5Qj/s1600/San+Felipe+Hilltop+Shrine+Viewpoint+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Day Nine: San Felipe to Tucson, via the Algodones Garita</i></b></div>
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The next morning, our last day in Baja, I stupidly order pancakes for breakfast. Now I have two reasons to be glum. They are Not Good. I could have done better at Denny's. Afterwards, Adrian and I drag our feet, quietly packing up. There's so much left unseen, undone, unridden! Neither of us is ready to come to the end of the road, moreover, I find myself wondering if I'll have trouble at the border, <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/04/baja-prelude-third-times-charm.html">like I did in 2015</a>. Not much to be done about it now. </div>
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There is one more sight to see, however. "Big Flo," a Boeing 727 crashed in the Baja desert not far from here, in 2012. On purpose, even! I jam my camera through the holes in the chain link fence to document the damage.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78IrWPR9XkUt998SX39GmLv9A4ixxkgA6xKpko7U6MZpo_icAn3iHJ-4FkCU2-DLntJIow5e6hhkMh3ePhiCeAgBqz9G5tLB0pR2yXh-vzOHWZjC1-kC6pnxspeSoQ4lGEHMVyPQH7XyZ/s1600/Big+Flo+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78IrWPR9XkUt998SX39GmLv9A4ixxkgA6xKpko7U6MZpo_icAn3iHJ-4FkCU2-DLntJIow5e6hhkMh3ePhiCeAgBqz9G5tLB0pR2yXh-vzOHWZjC1-kC6pnxspeSoQ4lGEHMVyPQH7XyZ/s1600/Big+Flo+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The plane was loaded up with test crash dummies and data collecting sensors before take off.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5AyyKPOFKPM9ivPquNWMuGWSaPZJKjSy7hRtLQ0MIJW644RS-X5slDEDlWdqeYrQ8I5mC0RTErKsi_SAzvfN54EDVRp0ktEzqtgF3nC8CwZLbHt30e8pBv1ggNUUtcFzC-yDM95CgA-P7/s1600/Big+Flo+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5AyyKPOFKPM9ivPquNWMuGWSaPZJKjSy7hRtLQ0MIJW644RS-X5slDEDlWdqeYrQ8I5mC0RTErKsi_SAzvfN54EDVRp0ktEzqtgF3nC8CwZLbHt30e8pBv1ggNUUtcFzC-yDM95CgA-P7/s1600/Big+Flo+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real pilots started the flight, which was then completed by remote control, after they parachuted out. It was quite a trick.</td></tr>
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Much of the rest of our all-too-short path to the border is spent behind the pleasantly pungent smell of a truck loaded with onions. It offers a bit of distraction from the unavoidable fact that our trip is ending. After a bit of confusion over our migration papers in Algodones, there's nothing left to do but cross over. It's hot at the border, and, lest protective gear laden motorcyclists die of heat stroke while waiting in the long line at the checkpoint, we are shuttled directly to the front. The only border delay I suffer is when the U.S. immigration agent tries to sell me his own motorcycle. I opt out, but am relieved.</div>
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Look! It's Pilot Guy waiting to meet us! There's not enough daylight for me to get all the way to Tucson today, and Pilot Guy is leaving the day after tomorrow for a trip of his own, so Li'l Burro graciously concedes. We'll travel the final leg to Tucson in the back of a truck. Besides, an alarming number of knobs on Li'l Burro's tires have been all but sheared off, likely on that bad bit of pavement south of San Felipe. A hundred or so miles of hot freeway on questionable tires just doesn't appeal as much as a nice reunion evening with my "beloved enabler." Before we part ways, Adrian gets a bear hug, and then he's off, all to soon, towards his own home and family.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o_lJ_9aP6tz2r6jKhN5J0Y0drypw37lMijgrbEcP19YU_b994UIY29KphN4-cyesp8yRxNNiSQgXcOts8KTOcK-trNrxdkPBYbu-suoEUlRKA6JPhQr2gfo4_F0uZTlo6lxOgkiymJxf/s1600/US+Arrival+after+Algodones+Garita+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o_lJ_9aP6tz2r6jKhN5J0Y0drypw37lMijgrbEcP19YU_b994UIY29KphN4-cyesp8yRxNNiSQgXcOts8KTOcK-trNrxdkPBYbu-suoEUlRKA6JPhQr2gfo4_F0uZTlo6lxOgkiymJxf/s1600/US+Arrival+after+Algodones+Garita+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2v-Ty-VujuN6B6yH5l4VrjUhHcjSLIrXwb5loNm-QRHlpiTGT1RIL51ihnejfYE6lEncrzuvUVPtcidm0XB-oXV6LytX6mO67q4j7V6-bnaC8AwY1VuicX6KwzXXruOBfT9T03-Y41w7/s1600/US+Arrival+after+Algodones+Garita+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2v-Ty-VujuN6B6yH5l4VrjUhHcjSLIrXwb5loNm-QRHlpiTGT1RIL51ihnejfYE6lEncrzuvUVPtcidm0XB-oXV6LytX6mO67q4j7V6-bnaC8AwY1VuicX6KwzXXruOBfT9T03-Y41w7/s1600/US+Arrival+after+Algodones+Garita+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two months later, in the midst of <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/06/blessed-event.html">perhaps one of my loveliest summers to date</a>, I can't shake the melancholy feeling of seeing this photo. 2017 Baja Adventure Concluded. Surely there will be more?</td></tr>
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Pilot Guy and I watch a documentary on "Big Flo," and I've found some Baja wine right here in Tucson. The quiet is pleasant. Tomorrow I begin a two week scramble of work and preparation for my annual transhumance to the greener pastures of gainful summer employment. A <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/06/blessed-event.html">new life adventure</a> awaits!</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Note Bene: Adrian is the gold standard of riding partners. He
cheerfully sets a pace comfortable for my little 225 machine, and never
suggests I push my comfort zone about reaching our destinations before
nightfall with time to spare. He seems to know before I do when I want to zip
up my jacket vents or find a restroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He freely loans pesos when I'm out, and freely accepts them when I'm
flush from the ATM. Neither of us has the need to keep close track of the exchanges, being content to trust the laws of equilibrium between two reasonable
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is personally supplied with the trifecta of an
excellent on-board tool kit, and both the knowledge and experience in using
them. That he is in the midst of restoring a pair of Royal Enfields, making one out of two, in his garage tells you a thing or two about his skills. Thank you, Adrian, for all the gifts you add to the adventure!</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Bat mobile/rolling office test ride, just to Calexico and
back. I suspect this machine, complete with solar panel array and enormous flat screen that silently rises from cabinetry at the touch of a button, will appear in a future post.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**In a word, awful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*** Later, just as I'm contemplating Baja, the land of extremes, a gnat
or small fly was funneled more deeply into my left nostril than I ever imagined
possible. It must have made it round a bend or even two before lodging itself
into the delicate tissues of my airway. Had the opportunity for research been immediately available, I would have run to the closest anatomy book to detail just what sort of spiraling death flight this insect enjoyed. I spent the next mile or two sneezing. Baja extremes indeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">****There’s also <a href="http://www.bajacalifornia.gob.mx/portal/nuestro_estado/gastronomia/ruta_gastronomica/index.jsp">La
Ruta Gastronómica</a>, <a href="http://visitbajasur.travel/ruta-de-las-misiones/">La Ruta de las Misiones</a>,
and one or two others that I can’t remember, which is making me crazy. Cave
paintings? Art? Gah!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*****Li'l Burro is leaking fuel from the float bowl overflow,
or maybe I have a fuel pressure issue which would explain the gas cap problem.
Either way,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm gonna have to fix that
when I get back, but until then, I need to turn off the fuel valve immediately
at every stop.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">******Upon awakening in an icebox, we discover the reverse is also true. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*******The next morning, I finally fell prey to the French Toast. But it was delicious. Sometimes a simple dusting of cinnamon sugar is best. </span></div>
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Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-80681575115871616232017-06-13T20:19:00.001-07:002017-06-29T22:41:57.880-07:00Blessed EventI know, I know, I'm <i>supposed </i>to be writing about <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/04/baja-prelude-third-times-charm.html">whether or not I actually made it to Baja this spring</a>, and I was, I really was! Yesterday morning I was inspired anew, wrote quite a bit, and had planned to finish the post in the evening, after my Little Miss Muffet lunch of curds and whey*. But I was unfairly railroaded. By this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2H-GhBACRqN2T83cd2c8yTlbq5zl8OMZD_BSP1PaxFhhj2ZjIwCID-0uHo4vbk8xYHlDpxaLu0Syru_XTwdgOFNJHDDdg7VrinrRZscbRJWhMppZHbEkKJSNklCoS_-ewMqqIDpZHCyl5/s1600/Clara+in+Labor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2H-GhBACRqN2T83cd2c8yTlbq5zl8OMZD_BSP1PaxFhhj2ZjIwCID-0uHo4vbk8xYHlDpxaLu0Syru_XTwdgOFNJHDDdg7VrinrRZscbRJWhMppZHbEkKJSNklCoS_-ewMqqIDpZHCyl5/s1600/Clara+in+Labor.jpg" /></a></div>
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If you've been paying close attention, you'll know that this summer, in additional to my usual opera flutist duties, I'm moonlighting <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/08/a-wedge-of-cheese-ounce-of-courage.html">here</a>. But what may <i>not</i> be apparent is that the cow in the idyllic alpine photo above is in labor. It was supposed to be cold and rainy last night (it was!) with up to a foot of snow in the mountains. Good thing I took my mountain ride a few days ago, because even then, it looked like this: </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_w0PRuPED4_bDfS1aqh-6L18HUNWIer4yF3-XUiHunTZQUjGJgEWKdsa1Zx2ggCaeKNrgrkizUPaN0TWHso_VypI08qfQ2Btrx3_4KX7YnRizksBkrp-Hqx0NCjsI5dHV8WoxktjLfWm/s1600/Ducati+696+in+Snow+Tony+Grove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_w0PRuPED4_bDfS1aqh-6L18HUNWIer4yF3-XUiHunTZQUjGJgEWKdsa1Zx2ggCaeKNrgrkizUPaN0TWHso_VypI08qfQ2Btrx3_4KX7YnRizksBkrp-Hqx0NCjsI5dHV8WoxktjLfWm/s1600/Ducati+696+in+Snow+Tony+Grove.jpg" /></a></div>
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And just a few weeks ago, the calf barn looked like this:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEf-WOHzAaEGgP_LVgl-W72Rip94vPmdCbZUoj-AuJMNoFu7MMvy-pQieN5qM5C9lC8rDHCQPSuWBZkn1JyqNODMjJr2doq7T6jSZ-hI5eWaAccXkYW6hsd1md3wjK86PYBXx9NDYhJTIl/s1600/Snow+Day+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="283" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEf-WOHzAaEGgP_LVgl-W72Rip94vPmdCbZUoj-AuJMNoFu7MMvy-pQieN5qM5C9lC8rDHCQPSuWBZkn1JyqNODMjJr2doq7T6jSZ-hI5eWaAccXkYW6hsd1md3wjK86PYBXx9NDYhJTIl/s1600/Snow+Day+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn. Time to milk the cows. In the.... SNOW?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
But I digress. Point being, it sure would be nice for Clara's sake if she were to bring a calf into this world under a roof. Thankfully, we had just that sort of place in mind for her. And we got her there without a minute to spare!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPuAbq_MBt9MK78M1uPe9GCt-mqpEjBjnUzdHKzMuwFpGOWcjnyGFclePoRe-__Uf2pQ8QLhVPWQksH-yTY33uC2UWfCI_IT_0rUAvyUYfbQHWEuAziGLxMpcGcFzn-JZB39irGA7QmpA/s1600/Blessed+Event+Clara+in+Calving+Stall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPuAbq_MBt9MK78M1uPe9GCt-mqpEjBjnUzdHKzMuwFpGOWcjnyGFclePoRe-__Uf2pQ8QLhVPWQksH-yTY33uC2UWfCI_IT_0rUAvyUYfbQHWEuAziGLxMpcGcFzn-JZB39irGA7QmpA/s1600/Blessed+Event+Clara+in+Calving+Stall.jpg" /></a></div>
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Because only moments later, a tiny cloven hoof began to emerge. And then another. And then the startled face of a being leaving one world and entering the next.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiii1xwQlNlTiT4MWHr02wZlW_uYCX-UzrIN42JHU23zRucY1UtBiUCJFjVWEnm4T4zeXU-aFCuC5sJOhi4TB0HZmkIZ1jMHGe25MwDwD6J99sTrHY2ZmQsVABVOftd9eogcPh1d2ZfqkG/s1600/Newborn+Calf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiii1xwQlNlTiT4MWHr02wZlW_uYCX-UzrIN42JHU23zRucY1UtBiUCJFjVWEnm4T4zeXU-aFCuC5sJOhi4TB0HZmkIZ1jMHGe25MwDwD6J99sTrHY2ZmQsVABVOftd9eogcPh1d2ZfqkG/s1600/Newborn+Calf.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome, Little One!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Oh, auspicious day! It's a heifer**! Clara tended to her charge like only an experienced mama would, cooing in her gentle bovine way throughout the process.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnviWge5httFufns_moc3eL5Gfszgu6hBZJSlgM5doke_djm_EZV5bmN7xgCTS_GHY5XUIdcWW6f-tT3YKAJ1pKkgjY_u1ylcNLP_gmBUhw2IdSVAzw2WKDQFVIQg-N9ox47qVQ4GXX-qk/s1600/Clara+Tends+her+Newborn+Calf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="519" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnviWge5httFufns_moc3eL5Gfszgu6hBZJSlgM5doke_djm_EZV5bmN7xgCTS_GHY5XUIdcWW6f-tT3YKAJ1pKkgjY_u1ylcNLP_gmBUhw2IdSVAzw2WKDQFVIQg-N9ox47qVQ4GXX-qk/s1600/Clara+Tends+her+Newborn+Calf.jpg" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj460d9x4ySJam6HL9xwoZF0-dooBM3bZBUsaHgD0YRIE3YkF9JL6iQBsKcwIfGa_bxfmNvaT5O8uKtKfZlInGbmUp9NcmNJgEqJUx4eHJQpDFJajJ-zfCHCcK1v8o2BF79NpaYJWwD_S6M/s1600/Blessed+Event+Clara+Calving+%252884%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj460d9x4ySJam6HL9xwoZF0-dooBM3bZBUsaHgD0YRIE3YkF9JL6iQBsKcwIfGa_bxfmNvaT5O8uKtKfZlInGbmUp9NcmNJgEqJUx4eHJQpDFJajJ-zfCHCcK1v8o2BF79NpaYJWwD_S6M/s1600/Blessed+Event+Clara+Calving+%252884%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good job, Clara!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">We decided to give mama and calf some quiet time. Besides, we needed to fetch some basic necessities for these two for the night. After all that, Clara must be hungry and thirsty. When we returned there was a surprise waiting for us...</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZP8bNPLykR47z2CqFnfq_ahv-3dX1HeilocdeNxz4cLi8Yxzl-wSUWetBCaHJ5BkHDqA7CyH-v6cR1QnFdO-RTGwDBdG3woxBObII4Y3o36Nbe1rl8W52CpQZsx4GdldmaZ437RyLXvO/s1600/Twins%2521+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZP8bNPLykR47z2CqFnfq_ahv-3dX1HeilocdeNxz4cLi8Yxzl-wSUWetBCaHJ5BkHDqA7CyH-v6cR1QnFdO-RTGwDBdG3woxBObII4Y3o36Nbe1rl8W52CpQZsx4GdldmaZ437RyLXvO/s1600/Twins%2521+%25286%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twins!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Not even kidding. Leftover cheese curds + salt + pepper + garlic scapes + drizzle of olive oil = the lunch of cheese apprentice champions. They are especially satisfying after spending the entire morning, stomach growling, <i>stirring</i> those curds. These are the sorts of things cheese apprentices do. And eat. And? The next day, once the curds have knit together, you can slice the loaf, fry the slice, and top it with roasted garlic scape pesto and roasted cherry tomatoes. Yep. You can. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**That's code for more milk. Which is code for more cheese!</span></div>
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Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-28060769488176732962017-04-12T16:43:00.001-07:002017-04-12T19:55:49.786-07:00Baja Prelude: Third Time's the Charm?I really didn't think I'd be going to Baja this week. I mean, it's been on the calendar for months, and I've caught myself saying things like, "Yeah, I think I'm riding to Baja sometime in April," and I even hung up the maps and turned down work to keep the dates open. But I really didn't think I'd be going. For starters, I'm a bit queasy about crossing the U.S. border these days. Even back in 2015, during my border-to-border Return Migration (still only a draft-dream, as far as posts go), I had a headache doing so. Detained for no reason what-so-ever. Held in a small room by my own countrymen*. And Pilot Guy, in no uncertain terms, was given no other option but to pass through without me and wait. For what? For how long? All's well that ends well, but... I have no interest in experiencing <i>that</i> again.<br />
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My Baja motorcycling track record is not a good one**. You know about <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-baja-unadventure.html">my first try</a>. Round about November, 2015, I heard from Adrian. "I'm ready to try again. You in?" My response sizzled with excitable electrons over the wire. "I'm in." April 2016 was blocked off the calendar. In pen. We're in! Li'l Burro was fully refreshed and ready to go. All wheels were in motion. But <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2016/07/neither-zen-nor-art.html">mom got sick</a>, so, I was, of course, out. Adrian, stout soul, went on his own, and has made at least two additional trips since then.<br />
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Fast forward to 2017 and the calendar was blocked out again. In pencil. This week my dog pretended to have lymphoma (she doesn't), and Li'l Burro, in all his good humor, pretended to be broken (he isn't). Like I said. I really didn't think I'd be going***. <br />
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Miraculously, there is a heap of gear in my dining room, an array of devices charging in the next room, and a Yamaha**** out back, waiting, ever patiently, to be packed. Maybe I'll check the oil. And the tires, even. Third time's the charm?<br />
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Wish us well.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoU44Sv3A3hBVyLR3lDwXXUXxFTHU0NxUlCNd-vcJAajgI8yMGDywbmWPjs6REbZczVsxvC4gbH7bDQLu3Fz2VP2cErHkBzWvRdl_m_rTS3Dxpg3exgMZUt-R_1QekS1FDzWLTSoaDL5Uw/s1600/Li%2527l+Burro+Baja+Check+Ride+Yamaha+XT225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoU44Sv3A3hBVyLR3lDwXXUXxFTHU0NxUlCNd-vcJAajgI8yMGDywbmWPjs6REbZczVsxvC4gbH7bDQLu3Fz2VP2cErHkBzWvRdl_m_rTS3Dxpg3exgMZUt-R_1QekS1FDzWLTSoaDL5Uw/s1600/Li%2527l+Burro+Baja+Check+Ride+Yamaha+XT225.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Since I haven't posted an actual photo of a motorcycle in... forever, here's one from Li'l Burro's 2016 Pre-Baja Check Ride.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> *Global Entry status not withstanding, even! Harrumph.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**My Baja by Little Aeroplane record is <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/02/baja-reprise-seeking-cetaceans.html">substantially better</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Oh great. I've just been informed "five planets are in retrograde." That's bad, right? Carry on. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****New speedo gear and larger gas tank, even!</span><br />
<br />Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-28052453787576325552017-03-18T13:01:00.000-07:002017-03-18T18:52:32.719-07:00Grounded!When you open the hangar door to reveal a veritable and volatile pond beneath your aeroplane, well... it makes for the quickest pre-flight ever. There goes 80 gallons of 100LL*. Can I just say, it's not <i>always</i> the Ducati that breaks down?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5gqzz53qJtbDbe4eeRZfc-uLtgufyBvl2GMk2dt45hi6_YT7W094onWGv94HNXygkQWrcGWXPOTUHs9Re3yu9d7r_pdC0IgOcJtic0a91RuphDb-nEPCm3-GvmA0A-gxDeIX_gFRWz1k/s1600/Cessna+206+Fuel+Spill+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5gqzz53qJtbDbe4eeRZfc-uLtgufyBvl2GMk2dt45hi6_YT7W094onWGv94HNXygkQWrcGWXPOTUHs9Re3yu9d7r_pdC0IgOcJtic0a91RuphDb-nEPCm3-GvmA0A-gxDeIX_gFRWz1k/s1600/Cessna+206+Fuel+Spill+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AvGas evaporates pretty quickly in these parts.</td></tr>
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Day off! Let's go to Yuma! (??) There <i>was</i> a bit of sense to the plan. Pilot guy's friend is out there for an airshow, helping manage the smoke generators. You know, the letters in the sky? That smoke. Turns out, Pilot Guy helped design the system, based on GPS clocks, some years ago. Why not? And? There's a motocross demo to be seen! <br />
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As is the case with motorcycles, some days involving aeroplanes don't always go as planned.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-JbhnRPUp7DWisEGfUwPTukSAuDP9sUJAbdZse_GxAzftSYrXvPNPvBQQCmK_0u2k86eJeHMLIgnSbe8Eug4HIv5H6QFiCORpPR4LVzPnGlAzjcnksNeJJCpPogYkrOwweYd1odVnFfW/s1600/Cessna+206+Fuel+Spill+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-JbhnRPUp7DWisEGfUwPTukSAuDP9sUJAbdZse_GxAzftSYrXvPNPvBQQCmK_0u2k86eJeHMLIgnSbe8Eug4HIv5H6QFiCORpPR4LVzPnGlAzjcnksNeJJCpPogYkrOwweYd1odVnFfW/s1600/Cessna+206+Fuel+Spill+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The
task of the day was more along the lines of siphoning 50 or 60 gallons
out of the wings (who <i>doesn't</i> love the taste of AvGas first thing in the morning?), rather than any diagnostics. But on first glance it
appears the left wing <i>and</i> the fuel selector valve are both leaking. Go big or go home! (AvGas is blue, by the way.)</td></tr>
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So we went out to eat, instead.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhefLq2e4Int3gef8nd6PBPuxkQfye9fpDg4vOayMsTQg5inaSMi4EdRnL_xC19llg72NgeGm1xHGRWzutL1-EOUvW1jbVoPTDV_QdAsZ7HIRgd5znrjqDOm04_HU8FEaki8LyXh0fTUjvT/s1600/Posole+Sunny+Daze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhefLq2e4Int3gef8nd6PBPuxkQfye9fpDg4vOayMsTQg5inaSMi4EdRnL_xC19llg72NgeGm1xHGRWzutL1-EOUvW1jbVoPTDV_QdAsZ7HIRgd5znrjqDOm04_HU8FEaki8LyXh0fTUjvT/s1600/Posole+Sunny+Daze.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We've always been curious about the airport convenient, Flamingo bedazzled <a href="http://www.sunnydazecafe.net/">Sunny Daze Cafe</a>. The posole was pretty good!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3qqheXpB4eyCC1Q9OLNGDqwennbbfwSRoOvmX5PzzZIvwdVo0wcxDRGkBZb4MNDnoIWF7qV27zpcrgaJxZoExcueFARawPCTjQOMNnBCvKaRU7ohwFIHlV2KFqmE2IP2vEM1LzVRtAiQ/s1600/Sunny+Daze+Flamingo+Tragedy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3qqheXpB4eyCC1Q9OLNGDqwennbbfwSRoOvmX5PzzZIvwdVo0wcxDRGkBZb4MNDnoIWF7qV27zpcrgaJxZoExcueFARawPCTjQOMNnBCvKaRU7ohwFIHlV2KFqmE2IP2vEM1LzVRtAiQ/s1600/Sunny+Daze+Flamingo+Tragedy.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Sunny Daze flamingo didn't survive pre-flight, either, it seems.</td></tr>
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And so, instead of presenting you with a photo of a motorcycle leaping through the air, here is a photo of a... horse. Because that's just kind of how the day went.**<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYksO_VxfzFVz-HNmcCocgaqquZE8Y3_TXTjzDHIYLUHecO6W_wm92S5iYbbMnpZvyKGgAftS46Gbtim8DNgtdWbmXohJ6wpcMSWHlDyRMdil4Rg33Or8r97Zhmnjt8AZXSk-4XeQxyf00/s1600/Tucson+Dressage+Horse+Show.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYksO_VxfzFVz-HNmcCocgaqquZE8Y3_TXTjzDHIYLUHecO6W_wm92S5iYbbMnpZvyKGgAftS46Gbtim8DNgtdWbmXohJ6wpcMSWHlDyRMdil4Rg33Or8r97Zhmnjt8AZXSk-4XeQxyf00/s1600/Tucson+Dressage+Horse+Show.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucson Dressage Horse Show<br />
Might as well, right?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*That's aviation fuel, to you and me. And about $500.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**We swung by <a href="http://www.ziparizona.com/">Arizona Zipline Adventures</a>, too, with the hopes of making today an even stranger collection of activities, but they were booked. It's a fun looking place! I'll be back. On a motorcycle.</span><br />
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<br />Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-18285666023771236852017-03-13T14:47:00.001-07:002020-05-22T14:12:33.908-07:00Hope for 2017<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvAHC2UHOHmr1hpOf2CVA7S_sXH8eeJGy3rk1HYHTcfuyQ-M6lKN1E_p_JOU1SyBPGc0l_vFSQ_l6IqMRM8Q4SIM5MJkPHEGpO2yUYVv-zEU6hL20Sss0_wrKs-Ugpa5cOt2QooYTSCYy/s1600/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+Next+Box+MBY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvAHC2UHOHmr1hpOf2CVA7S_sXH8eeJGy3rk1HYHTcfuyQ-M6lKN1E_p_JOU1SyBPGc0l_vFSQ_l6IqMRM8Q4SIM5MJkPHEGpO2yUYVv-zEU6hL20Sss0_wrKs-Ugpa5cOt2QooYTSCYy/s320/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+Next+Box+MBY.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
They said it couldn't happen. Wouldn't happen. Until it did. One day, a tiny gray bird named <a href="http://www.tucsonaudubon.org/images/stories/urban_habitat/lucysboxinfo_01.pdf">Lucy</a> unexpectedly made her nest in a decorative little bird house in one lucky Tucsonan's yard. Despite her declining habitat, Lucy had, until then, steadfastly refused to rear her young in nest boxes. Lucy prefers the holes and crevices found in trees - mesquites, thank you very much - especially those of the dense stands found in riparian areas. Make no mistake: it's just these types of areas and trees that are in rapid decline. Poor Lucy. Consider her the next time you are tempted to buy mesquite charcoal.<br />
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Truth be told, I've become a little bit of a "crazy bird lady" recently. I thought it was prompted by my having to cut down my old chinaberry tree/starling apartment complex this fall (both invasive, for what it's worth), but Pilot Guy reminded me of <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2016/07/neither-zen-nor-art.html">this strange day</a>, and the haunting dream I had about both my mother and the yellow bird months later. No matter the reason, I've enjoyed watching, listening to - I'm a flutist, after all! - and photographing birds ever since. (<a href="https://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/frame/slideshow?key=NR4qJw&autoStart=1&captions=0&navigation=0&playButton=0&randomize=0&speed=3&transition=fade&transitionSpeed=2&clickable=1">Here's a haphazard selection</a> of some of my early attempts.)<br />
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So today, the Ducati and I - noses high in the air, inhaling the orange blossom and sweet acacia scented morning breezes - headed east, to volunteer for the <a href="http://tucsonaudubon.org/">Tucson Audubon Society</a>'s nest box project. Our task? Install 100 nest box "replicates" to aid in determining just what sort of box, with what sort of height, and/or orientation, Miss Lucy might, if we're lucky, decide to patronize.<br />
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The boxes are almost as light and delicate as Miss Lucy herself. Until you try to push a wheelbarrow with 50 of them (and your lunch) through deep sand under an uncharacteristically hot March sun, that is.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ducati No-Fly Zone (Yes, this is a river. A desert river.)</td></tr>
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Two teams installed, in random order, five different types of boxes in each of 20 sites, recording their GPS coordinates, height, arrangement, and orientation along the way. <br />
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Which one will Lucy prefer? I'll ride out for Audubon from time to time this spring, in an attempt to answer that very question.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Od0MWmZIphyPOZUi28ZZJ1FvYiTjVJIW24ubea8wiU43PkCgGq6wf9YaQuAiqX3l79ei_S-xB6lHVo4h6D-l5qpu7N7TVwgzmQa2YO1ok1nxofOh-m1Pnqn8yGf2AXO8dIxyXyOYFtXF/s1600/Audubon+Lucy+Nest+Box+Replicates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Od0MWmZIphyPOZUi28ZZJ1FvYiTjVJIW24ubea8wiU43PkCgGq6wf9YaQuAiqX3l79ei_S-xB6lHVo4h6D-l5qpu7N7TVwgzmQa2YO1ok1nxofOh-m1Pnqn8yGf2AXO8dIxyXyOYFtXF/s1600/Audubon+Lucy+Nest+Box+Replicates.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The five "replicates," installed just in time. The migrating Lucy's Warblers are beginning to arrive in Tucson this very week. (The first photo in this post is an extra credit box in the mesquite in my back yard. I'm hope, hope, hoping...)</td></tr>
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The installation site is delightfully close to the base of Mount Lemmon, but my reward run up the mountain was slower than Sunday. The ascending traffic, a long snaking line of cars so slow it was nearly outpaced by the sweating, panting bicyclists, left me wondering if today was a holiday. The smart rider stops for a sandwich constructed of <a href="http://www.alisahrestaurant.com/">Bosnian leftovers</a> and enjoys the view.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windy Point, Mount Lemmon</td></tr>
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The return trip? I may have done a little - just a little - flying myself. <br />
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<i>With our nation poised to leap backwards into an abyss of ecological apathy, if not downright assault, consider volunteering an hour, making a choice, planting a plant, or writing a check for a bird, bee, or tree near you.</i><br />
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<b>April 24, 2017 Update!</b></div>
I've checked the boxes twice, with no sign of activity, (I'm going back again tomorrow), and I don't know what other volunteers have seen (or not seen) at the other two sites, BUT...<br />
I have a friend with a decorative bird house in her tree. Guess who moved in? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5WkoJm6diIojUuTgwbYFJWFE0iw_7s4wwc3sl0yFip-5NKnGl7bJ8442jZSPvpkl3bMEIFj0mzVEwpdlsObYQeUy0gdeAFkmBzlTykqxzoinYDeKZdeWxz-6hq6beAXZuWAVggG5Who6/s1600/Maureen%2527s+Lucy%2527s+Warbler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5WkoJm6diIojUuTgwbYFJWFE0iw_7s4wwc3sl0yFip-5NKnGl7bJ8442jZSPvpkl3bMEIFj0mzVEwpdlsObYQeUy0gdeAFkmBzlTykqxzoinYDeKZdeWxz-6hq6beAXZuWAVggG5Who6/s320/Maureen%2527s+Lucy%2527s+Warbler.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.fastwinn.com/">FastWinn Photography</a></td></tr>
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<b>April 17, 2019 Update!!</b></div>
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Guess who is in MY nestbox??</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I spotted the pair making a nest about two weeks ago. Then I had to leave for 10 days, which nearly made me cry, for fear of missing the action. <br />
Two years of testing demonstrated that Lucy prefers a larger triangular shaped box, with openings on both sides. </td></tr>
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<b>Update! April 15, 2019</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9IOp3c1pM7TxzWpoC_1otjTkxkPHeAwQP5G1lMwEo3H8sChRFYw3B-uxw7q4pv4WLAML8OSEpaTXWHYhKHVbcaSdTOM-4diJ94uTEhBqNLvRl3oL1IqtUNM96w9kX4GyCr7N8ee9oP_oU/s1600/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+with+eggs+in+Nestbox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9IOp3c1pM7TxzWpoC_1otjTkxkPHeAwQP5G1lMwEo3H8sChRFYw3B-uxw7q4pv4WLAML8OSEpaTXWHYhKHVbcaSdTOM-4diJ94uTEhBqNLvRl3oL1IqtUNM96w9kX4GyCr7N8ee9oP_oU/s1600/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+with+eggs+in+Nestbox.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I returned home this past Monday, and someone looks very busy sitting on eggs!<br />
Next Audubon experiment: demonstrate whether or not LUWAs (that's fancy talk for Lucy's Warblers) prefer native mesquites, non-natives, or show no preference when foraging. I happen to have both in my yard. I have not <i>once</i> seen them in the non-native trees.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Update 4/21 Happy Easter!</b></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwWCyZ4wkqBqWurNc3MWiHC2tbPng787kvNos5m1vkWU1y-FGPk8p3tl_oc8hvOtaUXd7wPO6ObxPV-4ceY1Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Two chicks! (The other not seen in this short clip, but I'll resist the temptation to harass them repeatedly for the perfect video.)<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Update 4/29 Happy Birthday to Me!</b></span><br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorAZB6n_2_aq6ZQASi1GWg4w9TUICEvi7vXGP2RWjh5HhNsNHLt4CEjI0mcKZK3LFU2xJLOktVijn_EDfsbSxKaAKUbCnVRwSRvXF89vSCZRWg_9ENSNNiQboH3YBxljV6JBYtfW-dB9f/s1600/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+Audubon+Nest+Box+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorAZB6n_2_aq6ZQASi1GWg4w9TUICEvi7vXGP2RWjh5HhNsNHLt4CEjI0mcKZK3LFU2xJLOktVijn_EDfsbSxKaAKUbCnVRwSRvXF89vSCZRWg_9ENSNNiQboH3YBxljV6JBYtfW-dB9f/s1600/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+Audubon+Nest+Box+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a> </b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final Count = Four!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<b>Update May 5, 2019</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvh4aSHy1E9KLMxSevWAucPpaQJfshu_rcB7A9oJzaWV6Hb0Uc7oitPN3McJ0GvhNvZ3_M4rB0CEmUj11wofcQVVpN8yUKjfg92HplRwVaHbgM_i5YG4fhbPRx3Y1S7f734urt-0SiSp0H/s1600/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+with+Fledgling.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvh4aSHy1E9KLMxSevWAucPpaQJfshu_rcB7A9oJzaWV6Hb0Uc7oitPN3McJ0GvhNvZ3_M4rB0CEmUj11wofcQVVpN8yUKjfg92HplRwVaHbgM_i5YG4fhbPRx3Y1S7f734urt-0SiSp0H/s1600/Lucy%2527s+Warbler+with+Fledgling.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I feel some empty nest syndrome coming on. <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Thank you, dear Lucy, for coming into my life. I hope we see each other next year.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">2020 and Look Who's Back!!!</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>7 April, 2020</b>: Little Lucy is at is again! After a long hard day of nest building by the pair on March 24th, followed by many days of refining their work, Mrs. Lucy began laying an egg a day on April 4th. As of today, there are four eggs in the nest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Watch their progress in real time, as well as some interesting video clips, via an Audubon research camera <a href="http://tucsonaudubon.org/lucycam/">here</a>.<b> </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>29 April, 2020 </b>A hungry quintet!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>30 April, 2020 </b><a href="https://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/Eating-on-Two-Wheels/E2W-Videos/n-76tmj8/i-95BRSZP/A">It's fledging day</a>! (This is No. 3 taking the leap; watch for the reaction of No.s 4 and 5)<br /><br /><b>May, 2020 </b>Surprise! 2020 Lucy Team Two in in the works! Miss Lucy is sitting on three eggs, and if they survived <a href="https://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/Eating-on-Two-Wheels/E2W-Videos/n-76tmj8/i-GHVgH7f/A">a recent attack by a neighbor's cat</a> we can look forward to Hatch Day some time next week. (People! Keep your cats inside!)</span> </span></div>
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Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-23063245823785749922017-02-14T09:47:00.000-07:002017-02-14T09:47:03.025-07:00Things I Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Is there anyone who <i>doesn't</i> love these things*? </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> *Not Shown: "Free Speech," "Twisty Roads," "Transparency," "Education," "Facts," "Heath Care," </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"The Great American West," </span>"Clean Elections"</span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="c0egl-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span data-offset-key="c0egl-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span></span></span><br />
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Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-40563495810525560982016-07-09T19:45:00.001-07:002017-03-13T15:21:13.488-07:00Neither Zen Nor Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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My mother died, so the motorcycle didn't make it to Utah*, so I
thought I'd do some things I usually don't because I'm busy motorcycling
instead. So I'm planning a maybe backpacking expedition to King's Peak (3 days,
30 miles) and I need granola, so I pick some cherries and dry them, but I
need some butter, too, so I have to spend three hours fixing my bicycle to
get the butter, and then the chain gets jammed up anyway on the way to
the store, and I never get the butter (way better than oil, by the way),
but -look!- there's one of my favorite brilliant yellow birds**, dead in the
middle of the road, and suddenly I turn back; I must carry the dead bird home in my bicycle
basket (what am I, eight years old?), and it makes me cry and cry and...see? This is why I hate fixing
motorcycles*. The End<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*This really <i>does</i> all make sense.<br />**Yellow Warbler? Wilson's Warbler? I'm not sure.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Granola tips: Use whatever bits and pieces you like, but instead of plain oil, used browned butter or coconut or olive oil, and instead of honey/sugar/agave syrup/whatever, use maple syrup. Put in the dried fruit after baking. Cook it low and slow, turning it over often. If you want it "clustery," grind up some of your oats and coconut into flour and let your final mix sit for a few minutes before baking it. Then pinch it together into clumps before baking. (See <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/11/dining/granola-recipe-clusters-video.html">here</a> for the method, but I think this recipe itself is too sweet.) Mom, however, in her final weeks, had a sweet tooth that never would have been obliged in earlier days. She requested I pour caramel all over her granola when I made it for her this spring. She remarked candied orange peel would make a lovely addition, and she was absolutely right.</span>Paulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13012777824807580267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-1154146209882495962016-07-03T13:36:00.000-07:002016-07-03T13:40:17.763-07:00Coffee BreakThe last few months of my life have been spent not on a motorcycle, but on the commercial airlines. Something along the lines of AZ-FL-AZ-FL-AZ-CA-AK-FL-UT-FL-UT-AZ-UT.<br />
<br />
Except for the trip to Alaska (miraculously <i>not</i> cancelled, whereas the repeat ride to Baja <i>was</i> cancelled and, by the way, hooray for Adrian* for making the ride with out me), these journeys have been filled with heartache and loss. And in saying that, I'm not talking about the time American Airlines delivered me to the wrong city on the wrong day, or the times they charged me <i>twice</i> for the same checked bag.<br />
<br />
As I sit waiting for the final leg of this reluctant game of hopscotch to end, I take more than a little pleasure in a coffee done right.<br />
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I admit, <a href="http://www.cartelcoffeelab.com/">Cartel Coffee Lab</a> hasn't been my <i>absolutely </i>favorite coffee in AZ, (Why <i>does</i> their downtown Phoenix location seem perpetually closed, anyway?), but
they've just won me over for life. I could almost forget I'm sitting in a
airport. Thank you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfhqczjEHfJeh8AyBKubbOilIqqYJa1YQvJ-7dkc62MueA8sb4hvKQ_so6-ewaW_bItwioSna6ApVaNJRs0Me6RbKI_Oh1jtSZV2leqTxO97cG3uZa5AdMYxqx3axoGw3n5msJB_ONlu-/s1600/Cartel+Coffee+KPHX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfhqczjEHfJeh8AyBKubbOilIqqYJa1YQvJ-7dkc62MueA8sb4hvKQ_so6-ewaW_bItwioSna6ApVaNJRs0Me6RbKI_Oh1jtSZV2leqTxO97cG3uZa5AdMYxqx3axoGw3n5msJB_ONlu-/s1600/Cartel+Coffee+KPHX.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one's for you, Mom. </td></tr>
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So much to love:<br />
The caffé macchiato is actually a caffé macchiato.<br />
The caffé macchiato is served in a real glass.<br />
The caffé macchiato is served with the appropriate glass of water. I didn't even have to ask for it.<br />
The olive oil muffin is not only delicious, with its crispy sweet sugar crusted top and golden rich interior, but is <i>not</i> the size of a truck.<br />
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*Yes, you've met Adrian. <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-baja-unadventure.html">How could you forget?</a>Paulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13012777824807580267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-26594977458845052252015-12-26T11:44:00.000-07:002015-12-26T13:42:20.758-07:00Recipe: Christmas Dinner in Thirty Minutes or Less (The Feast of Three Fishes*)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did you ever make pomanders as a kid? Remember how much those pokey cloves hurt your fingers? Clever adults use a lobster pick or other implement to poke pilot holes, first.</td></tr>
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When you decide at 12:30 pm on December 24 that you’ll host dinner on December 25, you’re
going to have to throw money at the problem. That means shellfish. Since you’ll
need to have grocery shopping, cookies for tonight, and cake for
tomorrow all completed, and be showered (bonus!), coiffed (hah!), and out of the house by 4:00 pm to attend
your Christmas Eve festivities, plan on making, rolling, and filling the Russian
Cigarette cookies promised to your Christmas Eve hostess with one hand, while
mixing up a cheesecake with the other. And I do mean this literally. The cookie crumbs that fall
into the top of the cheese cake will be covered up by cherries, so don’t fret.
And because you simply can't survive one more year without those anise-seed
Christmas cookies of your childhood, mix up a batch of those, too. Oh, and cook
an artichoke, so you don’t have to do it tomorrow. They take a while. Finally,
praise the deity of your choice with hearty song on high when your still warm cheesecake
remains steadfastly in its pan, despite your 4:15 pm unscheduled tire squealing
collision avoidance maneuver. Don’t forget to pop the cheesecake in the fridge
before the Sugar Plum Faeries do their dance, but let it cool to room temperature first.<br />
<br />
Ready, set… GO!<br />
<br />
T-30 min: Set a big pot with a few inches of water to boil. Dump a half jar of the <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/07/more-excuses.html">sour cherries
you preserve each summer</a> in a small pot with some of their juice, a bit
of lemon, sugar, and cornstarch. Set over medium flame, stirring as often as your hands are free of other things. Rinse and section
out king crab legs. Waste 15 seconds or so pondering just how seriously big of
sea beast this thing was, then swear at it when its sharp shell slits your
finger open. Band-Aid, STAT! Glass of wine, STAT! Do take a brief moment to savor the drama and excitement of it all. The cherries are boiling now. After a minute or so of this, pour them - schloop! - into the nearest appropriate container. Put it on ice. The big pot is boiling now. Sling
the crab legs into it, and cover. Work in a snap and twirl to for effect.<i> </i>Yank the leaves - pop! pop! pop! - off the artichoke you
cooked last night, and smear the base of each one with a dollop of spicy, garlicky cream
cheese. Oh, right, you mixed up the cream cheese yesterday, too.<br />
<br />
T-25 min: Pull out the crab legs from the pot and throw them into a colander whilst doing the "Gah! HotHot!" dance. Dump and rinse the pot,
avoiding a steam burn as best you can. If you forget to save a bit of the
crab leg broth for two steps from now, you won't really miss it. It was a bit too salty, anyway. Set the pot back on the
burner, add olive oil, a lump of the garlic you prepped and froze earlier
(because you hate prepping garlic on a daily basis), paprika, and slices of the Russian
sausage “Babcia” gave you last night. Sausage is forbidden in the traditional feast of any number of fishes, but desperate people do desperate things, and, well... <i>sausage!</i> Sauté for a full precious minute while you keep on keepin' on with those artichoke leaves. Dump a <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2008/09/holy-grail-found-harvested-and.html">jar
of tomatoes</a>, that almost gone bottle of white wine at the back of the
fridge, a quarter of the onion you were slicing for the salad (yes, you are also preparing a green salad), a bay leaf, and some cayenne into the big pot. Rethink. Take chances. More cayenne. Wish you had some spinach on hand to toss in at the last
second, but don’t waste too much time here. Bring to a boil, then reduce to the
slightest simmer or less. You will come back to this later.** <br />
<br />
T-20 min: Arrange the artichoke leaves artfully on a platter, put a caper on
each one (because the jarred roasted sweet red peppers you found in Pilot Guy's fridge don't taste all that good, pretty as they may be), and sprinkle with smoked paprika. (Under the gun, you can do this
incredibly rapidly. Trust me.) There. You have an artichoke sunflower on the
table, should people arrive early. Nuke butter with more of that frozen garlic
in two little espresso cups, and set them on a platter with the drained crab legs. Oops! Pilot
Guy is not equipped with crab cracking instrumentation. It’s easy to slit each side
of the legs with kitchen scissors, but it will cost you two, possibly three,
precious minutes.<br />
<br />
T-15 min: Meanwhile, Pilot Guy is making fondue from a kit. Scorn the
kit, but admit the ingredient list is suspiciously…. fondue like. Imagine that! His maneuver is approved.
Fire directives at him: toast bread cubes! Not too much! Cut up the apples we got at the orchard! (Oops, never posted about the orchard run.)
Set out olives and pickles! No, not <i>those</i>, <i>these</i>! Go! Go! He
complies with a knowing smile, sweet man that he is.<br />
<br />
T-10 min: The cherries are cool. Maybe too cool. Nuke for 10 seconds. Chicken
out and remove them at 8 seconds. Unmold the cheesecake pan side, but leave the cake on the
pan bottom, because you just don’t dare at this point. Set it directly on the
cake stand, instead, and pour the cherries on top. Allow them to spill over just so. My God, but those are good. Put the whole thing back into the
fridge, and be good and smug about it, because you were clever enough to re-position all the space hogging beer
bottles earlier today. Ta da! Should the slightly too soft cake collapse later
under the weight of the cherries when you’re doing battle with a stuck fridge
drawer, no matter. Tomorrow you can slap the creamy heart of the leftovers into martini glasses, poke in a Russian Cigarette, call it parfait, and
pretend you meant to do that. My God, (again), but that is good. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disaster recovery plan</td></tr>
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T-5 min: Finish a simple salad of greens and thinly sliced radishes and
onions. Have at the ready the nice vinaigrette your friend made and gave you for
Christmas last week, and also that speech your mom makes <i>every single
time</i> about how the French eat salad***, since she won’t be there to make it
herself. Pop bread in to warm.<br />
<br />
Ding Dong! Pop the champagne cork, snap a hasty photo, and high five with
Pilot Guy. You did it!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a pretty photo, this is purely for documentation. It's the only course that got photographed, so you'll just have to believe me on the rest of it. Thirty Minutes or Less does not include time for food styling or even proper exposure settings.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*A hasty version of the southern Italian tradition of La Vigilia, or “Feast
of Seven Fishes,” in which seven or more seafood dishes and/or fishes are served before
Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. With a little more thought, surely we could
work in the other four? See below for the two fishes I haven't explained yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">**Start with the fondue, artichoke sunflower, crab legs, and champagne. When
it’s time to move to the table, crank up the heat on the big pot, while Pilot
Guy clears the dishes. Throw in a heap of mussels and little neck clams. You bought every last one from the store yesterday. <tap tap> Yep, they're still alive - don't prepare dead ones! The clams go in 1-2 minutes ahead, as they take a little longer. When the shellfish
open, retrieve and toss the quarter onion, pour the shellfish and spicy rich broth in a
big wide bowl, sprinkle with fresh herbs, and serve with crusty, warm bread and that green salad. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">*** Make the dressing: a proper vinaigrette of shallots, mustard, salt and
pepper, and oil and vinegar (<i>never balsamic!) </i>in the bottom of an
overly large bowl. Cross the business ends of your salad tossing and serving
devices in the bowl, and place your plain greens – <i>nothing else!</i> – on
top. Okay, thinly sliced onions and radishes are allowed, but <i>nothing
else</i>! Not like those ridiculous American salads. (Optional: insert discourse on composed vs. tossed salads here.) Oh, wait, sometimes blue
cheese crumbles are permissible as well, especially if you want to combine the cheese and
salad courses, but <i>nothing else! </i>Salad is eaten <i>last, not
first!</i>, and gets tossed just before serving. Unless, of course, you're eating it with quiche, in which case, it may (must!) be eaten <i>with</i> the quiche, but that's another set of rules. See how the greens don’t get
soggy while waiting? Salad and pasta can never be over-tossed! (To be fair,
that’s my own personal addition to the system, and by this I mean no amount of
tossing will be too much. Toss! Toss! Be sure to appoint someone <i>else</i> for this particular part of the rite, then hover over the victim and correct his technique. Ditto for cake
and pie serving.) P.S. Mom’s way really <i>is</i> the best way!</span><br />
<br />Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-53583166396121149632015-12-09T10:30:00.001-07:002015-12-09T21:10:39.372-07:00Amuse-Bouche: Tidbit from the AirWhen you get scolded via email by a reader (I have readers??) for not having posted in waaaay tooo looong, it’s time to write. I’m at least two good sized moto tours further behind than usual, including but not limited to: the Ducati’s first ferry crossing, a hunt for Chimayo chiles, a Huckleberry Helicopter ride, an embarrassingly slow run of my beloved Highway 12, another Ducati mechanical mishap (two, really, if you’re counting), a fruit stand campsite, and then – even better!- an actual orchard campsite, getting detained at an international border, saving a goat, and - oh, right - and milking a sheep. (Really). But I – let’s all say it together, now! – “haven’t had time to write.” I know, I know…<br />
<br />
So here’s a quick post that has something to do with neither motorcycles nor food, unless you count lunch at <a href="http://www.chickenuevo.com/">Chicken Nuevo</a>*, my guilty little secret, located conveniently close to the airport.<br />
I had my first “Air-to-Air” photography gig last weekend!** For you and me, that means shooting, er, I mean photographing, airplanes in the air from – yes! – another airplane.<br />
<br />
Let me begin by reminding you that I’m in no way a professional photographer***. No, I’m not even a rabid amateur one. I don’t even own a decent camera. If fact, every time I’m ready to <i>buy</i> a decent camera, some disaster happens, like <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2011/08/dining-while-stranded-daily-special.html">my car self destructing</a>, or <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-daily-special-chinese-steamed-buns.html">my beagle needing high dollar surgery</a>, or, most recently, my former tenants trashing my house. Evidently the universe is telling me, quite loudly, that I should really stop camera shopping. So I was, despite being friendly with a few pilots, a teensy bit surprised to have this activity come my way. “Really??? Yeeeeahhh!”<br />
<br />
A <i>real</i> aerial photographer would insist that the doors be removed from the platform aircraft, and wear a special safety harness, such that she (or he) not fall out of the bumping and rolling formation flying aircraft. Said <i>real </i>aerial photographer might even be able to hang out of said platform aircraft to optimize angles and such, which sounds wickedly fun. <i>I</i> want to be a real aerial photographer! Not having a harness, I opted for the more conservative doors-on configuration. The blue tinted, scratched, light reflecting windows were a challenge that marred, oh, say 90% of the photos beyond repair. A good 9% of those remaining were ruined by the simple fact that I don’t really know what I’m doing. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlABaKsH_GYSSbMMmP36VAJf0xSh3cDrpmHPxUMTmIf_whX8SqZEl__BenHF_eaVKPHNFGshVtrg-SnFVnjFO670HufkRPQTVnk06faN727z-QbVWh_BY1XzVpIBIcxOXhWGMHwNzPfIGm/s1600-h/Shooting%252520Planes%252520Cessna%252520205%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Shooting Planes Cessna 205" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cVh1xoOOfNQ/VmhiIWHrmJI/AAAAAAAABeY/nayql9015vo/Shooting%252520Planes%252520Cessna%252520205_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="Shooting Planes Cessna 205" width="449" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camera vs. microphone made communication with pilots in both aircraft difficult. Higher! No! Lower! Say again?</td></tr>
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But the pilots did know what they were doing, thank goodness, because formation flying requires adept communication and piloting skills. Our “photo mission”, as it was reported to Air Traffic Control, consisted of our platform aircraft (Cessna 205), and five subject aircraft (two Cessna Citation Jets, one Beechcraft/Raytheon Premier Jet, a Beechcraft King Air, and a Beechcraft Baron, if you care about such things.) It helps if your platform aircraft is as fast as or faster than the subjects, but we made do.<br />
<br />
Even light turbulence presents a challenge, it turns out. A <i>real</i> aerial photographer would have an awesome and gyroscopically stabilized camera, and the biceps to hold all that gear up for hours. Instead, my borrowed camera and I just bumped around a lot, as we twisted ourselves into various contorted forms. And since the photos were requested, you know, NOW, I had to cull and edit on the fly. (Hah!) Delicate lap top mousing is also difficult even in light turbulence, as it turns out. I even got a little queasy staring at the screen too long.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PegPOkOAP_Y/VmhiI30ck_I/AAAAAAAABek/oG7anMTVwws/s1600-h/Editing%252520on%252520the%252520Fly%252520Cessna%252520205%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Editing on the Fly Cessna 205" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gLQy7zmoibk/VmhiJY4qzDI/AAAAAAAABew/2QKYj-BydUs/Editing%252520on%252520the%252520Fly%252520Cessna%252520205_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="Editing on the Fly Cessna 205" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High speed editing… on the fly.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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It was all wildly fun, and surprisingly exhausting. Here’s a sampling of my, no, <i>our,**** </i>work over the two or three hours we spent in the air.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnrmb-yWUz20aw9MKZxnW-uabKv9eHsPUV76A8_Py_62LNKPjTETuZbLLJQ4CFb0LSF2FJXzcIShXkKxTACtmtFsjG6vLhWydCcZMrVEk9dyDbfdNdSQKRnQSiuxdCvDOQeMtQpiu7RbJ/s1600-h/First%252520Cessna%252520Citation%25255B4%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="First Cessna Citation" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L3-raeeK1dA/VmhiKoEFBQI/AAAAAAAABfI/srXKSee39dc/First%252520Cessna%252520Citation_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="348" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="First Cessna Citation" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Citation Jet No. 1. Meh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XwOsxPUgfjY/VmhiLDUdOGI/AAAAAAAABfU/yApahxRwfuw/s1600-h/Beechcraft%252520Baron%25255B4%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Beechcraft Baron" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ju2n127iCX4/VmhiLrDtFjI/AAAAAAAABfg/ieYvkLa9b68/Beechcraft%252520Baron_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="371" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Beechcraft Baron" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twin engine prop planes are far more photogenic. (Beechcraft Baron)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3KRl8bn3pzc/VmhiMChHKXI/AAAAAAAABfs/Wio9JU14xQk/s1600-h/Beechcraft%252520Raytheon%252520Premier%252520Jet%25255B8%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Beechcraft Raytheon Premier Jet" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TaDXplDmlTc/VmhiMiyM7FI/AAAAAAAABf4/ttLmIXM7ip0/Beechcraft%252520Raytheon%252520Premier%252520Jet_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="371" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Beechcraft Raytheon Premier Jet" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beechcraft/Raytheon Premier Jet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sxdtjSMKUmM/VmhiNJd4AHI/AAAAAAAABgE/c9aaKIjgqMA/s1600-h/Beechcraft%252520King%252520Air%25255B4%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Beechcraft King Air" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZdNRUPfiTLU/VmhiNgC6sII/AAAAAAAABgQ/wX2rUrCL6kk/Beechcraft%252520King%252520Air_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="371" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Beechcraft King Air" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beechcraft King Air</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qM89mLAPL24/VmhiOJJKP7I/AAAAAAAABgc/pcUzrwghWuo/s1600-h/Second%252520Cessna%252520Citation%252520%2525281%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Second Cessna Citation (1)" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--XV4qbp2OkA/VmhiOu_h0VI/AAAAAAAABgo/AnMP-nerrwI/Second%252520Cessna%252520Citation%252520%2525281%252529_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="205" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Second Cessna Citation (1)" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Citation Jet Number Two </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_beGndK7vuQ/VmhiPByvDfI/AAAAAAAABg0/Tk0S08vTXmo/s1600-h/Second%252520Cessna%252520Citation%252520%2525282%252529%25255B4%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Second Cessna Citation (2)" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IPOZe0DefEY/VmhiPhOEXfI/AAAAAAAABhA/UcHuZcqTvjM/Second%252520Cessna%252520Citation%252520%2525282%252529_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="554" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Second Cessna Citation (2)" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bye, Bye, Citation Number Two!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Coincidentally, when we returned to earth, and were refueling, I stumbled across <a href="http://flightlevelsonline.com/2015/fall-2015/behind-the-scenes-on-a-three-in-three-photo-shoot/">this magazine article</a>, which describes the topic better than I do.<br />
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Three pilots, one photographer, six planes, hundreds of gallons of fuel… it was not a day to be proud of my carbon footprint.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* Don’t let the fast food atmosphere fool you. It’s actually… good!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Imagine that!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Evidently someone on the ground mistook me for a well known (in the field, anyway) aerial photographer, not by my photos, to be sure, but by the combination of my appearance, I guess, and the fact there was a camera hanging around my neck.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****Not your usual landscape photography, it was a team sport to be sure. </span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-70599536237936308122015-08-03T11:10:00.000-07:002017-07-06T10:44:46.830-07:00A Wedge of Cheese, an Ounce of Courage (Rockhill Creamery Visit)Remember <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/07/trailside-find.html">Pete the Cheese Guy</a>?<br />
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<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a-SdEKtdTI8/Vb-sD4nFbhI/AAAAAAAABZE/D30_n12re1o/s1600-h/Richards%252520Hollow%252520Trail%252520Pete%252520Schropp%252520of%252520Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520%2525281%252529%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Richards Hollow Trail Pete Schropp of Rockhill Creamery (1)" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pGVbXO0bPKs/Vb-sF5fSbiI/AAAAAAAABZQ/o90mxTWYKiY/Richards%252520Hollow%252520Trail%252520Pete%252520Schropp%252520of%252520Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520%2525281%252529_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Richards Hollow Trail Pete Schropp of Rockhill Creamery (1)" /></a></div>
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As you probably know, behind every good cheese, lies… a productive ungulate.<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-03X1RawAanI/Vb-sG1oeA5I/AAAAAAAABZc/UWWb3pOt8VU/s1600-h/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Visit%252520048%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Rockhill Creamery Visit 048" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BQzulXFSRy0/Vb-sIFT2LMI/AAAAAAAABZo/KUB329h2kmU/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Visit%252520048_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Rockhill Creamery Visit 048" /></a><br />
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Last week, I got to meet the little herd that supplies Cache Valley (and more than one chef in Jackson, WY) with its very own <a href="http://www.rockhillcheese.com/cheese.htm">artisanal raw milk aged cheeses</a>.<br />
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Being a cheese enthusiast (and who isn’t?), as well as having just made a batch of (amateur) cheese myself the week before, I was quite excited to mount the Ducati and head up to Richmond. This visit was long overdue!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaiDdrOdvEwVCoWa6eoj7K6u6byiLEQeRzay8dalFI7KGOiRLjB_tRDizhjmdNRwhkWI90xoaSphsUTfIkmyEXx-sgbAJLosGzG0G8a3K6-e4WfEdPKTaC6RjSHf0pDd0it_VUmJ5YzxYy/s1600-h/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Visit%252520Ducati%252520Arrival%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Rockhill Creamery Visit Ducati Arrival" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7WGZI5osDb0/Vb-sKLSOphI/AAAAAAAABaA/1SiJQeeNocs/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Visit%252520Ducati%252520Arrival_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Rockhill Creamery Visit Ducati Arrival" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arrival! A flower and vegetable garden greets visitors.</td></tr>
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Pete was incredibly generous with his time, showing me all around his wonderful operation. Everything was spotless and well tended, with a cheerful air about it. Jennifer smiled at me from the window of the cheese making room and pointed out Pete’s tiling handiwork: golden wedges of cheese tumbling across the walls. Their work in restoring the 1893 James & Amy Burnham Farmstead to a working micro-dairy not only provides us great gastronomic reward, but won them a National Preservation Award in 2011.<br />
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There’s something contemplative, even meditative about making cheese: warming the milk to the correct temperature, one degree at a time, stirring gently, gently; patiently waiting during the culturing and renneting of the milk; carefully cooking, draining, and pressing the curds; flipping and washing the rounds; and the long, long wait, as the cheese ages. Good cheese whisperers don’t make magic happen, as much as lovingly create the conditions that allow it to happen*. It’s an art best left to the gentle-spirited and patient, and Pete and Jennifer fit the bill.<br />
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The creamery hosts an apprentice**, who gets to live above the cheese cave. Oh, midnight snack! Also residing in the cave is the work of just six Brown Swiss ladies. Each one produces some 50-80 pounds of milk a <i>day, </i>allowing Pete and Jennifer to make 200 pounds of cheese a week. Some of the wheels will rest here for well over a year, becoming ever more delicious by the day.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb39WVo_FNgIErFfOWXTtDta_yDXPHIY-z2GKExWmB2PqhVoyWutQKUoVIWZxAc_Kp1NNtGBvt_u_rDTGJvHAjyhaHO13wn1n8BkAKWzHoTV3tTNCtzfxVKDPBLkYseVLg8McRk53RBz_9/s1600-h/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Cheese%252520Cave%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Rockhill Creamery Cheese Cave" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVJLoTYxsM48xnFBBrLUBnYGyGWm3byVifHgJvdOx6nXjqxphATMQI55BrNgJzxzaL7wiwGaRex9OarN4xEr8HttzBbb7B3oHivVzPA3uGpWDTma0jmgDbaLslO_gDOxYC8YXFW8-wFBV/?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Rockhill Creamery Cheese Cave" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To be fair, my photo barely shows half of the cheese wheels in the aging
room. Higher math indicates we can only hold three cows accountable. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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But the girls won’t work for free. In addition to enjoying open pastures, they eat hay. Lots of it. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9wQtMfGXqlY/Vb-sMg0-UoI/AAAAAAAABak/_4Fhzgc9bZY/s1600-h/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Visit%252520Hay%252520Barn%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Rockhill Creamery Visit Hay Barn" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H6YUyengcLI/Vb-sNb4OXgI/AAAAAAAABaw/r5Gk4dXaKf8/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Visit%252520Hay%252520Barn_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Rockhill Creamery Visit Hay Barn" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From sunlight comes cheese, via grass, cows, milk, and microflora. Think upon this next time you savor a golden, creamy wedge.</td></tr>
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I confessed a little phobia of mine to Pete. I’m not at all fond of bovine encounters on the hiking trail. Just this week, I had to run the gauntlet no fewer than three times. The amount of courage I need to summon in such situations is not insubstantial. Unlike most wildlife, whose intentions of flight or predation are well communicated, cows just <i>stare</i> at you. For a long time. Menacing? Dumb? For the inexperienced, it can be hard to tell. But look at me today!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-thez4cJ-lAU/Vb-sOO0FJ5I/AAAAAAAABa8/Zg-PYGM1Q1Y/s1600-h/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Cow%252520Friend%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Rockhill Creamery Cow Friend" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VapbbEAh2iU/Vb-sPcNa8vI/AAAAAAAABbI/TGeyCWohA3w/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Cow%252520Friend_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Rockhill Creamery Cow Friend" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows are anvil heads. Pete was good enough to remind me more than once to keep my own blockhead out of Ella's way, lest she shake at a fly, and put me out of work for a week. Thunk! I don't need <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/01/throwdown-knockout-i-fell-ooh-thats-not.html">another head injury</a> just yet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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My victory ride down <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2011/06/100-miles-is-not-enough-hyrum-canyon.html">Blacksmith Canyon</a> was met with a terrible sign: “Loose Gravel, Next 12 Miles.” The Ducati and I stayed disappointingly and cautiously vertical. But my hunk of Zwitser Gouda didn’t seem to mind.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gtliAEhCrrM/Vb-sQTEfq5I/AAAAAAAABbU/F0DK7Iv2PRI/s1600-h/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Zwitser%252520Gouda%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Rockhill Creamery Zwitser Gouda" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E2uaDckecTg/Vb-sReVvzFI/AAAAAAAABbg/lN9EbGFaX3c/Rockhill%252520Creamery%252520Zwitser%252520Gouda_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Rockhill Creamery Zwitser Gouda" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aged at least 12 months. So delicious!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The <a href="http://www.rockhillcheese.com/">Rockhill Creamery</a> Farmstand is open to the public on Saturday mornings during the warmer months, and hosts the <a href="http://www.richmond-utah.com/harvest.html">Richmond Harvest Market</a>. Do pay them a visit!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*For a truly beautiful and touching description of cheese making and pastoral life, read “Goat Song,” by Brad Kessler.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Hm. A germ of an idea forms. UPDATE: Yep, two years later I followed through on that thought. First post from the farm is <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2017/06/blessed-event.html"><i>here</i></a>.</span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-83112464663716420272015-07-22T08:49:00.000-07:002015-07-22T22:47:08.722-07:00Lost River Range – Found!My packing is going <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/02/to-hell-and-back-again-hells-canyon.html">exactly as it went one year ago to the day</a>. The GoPro mount is fiddly-fussy, and seems intent on keeping me from actually steering the Ducati, no matter what configuration of awkward connector pieces I choose. The day is getting on, and I’m <i>this close</i> to tossing the irritating contraption in the top box to deal with later. A shift in my schedule has blessed me with an unexpected three day weekend, and I intend to use it. I recall my regret from last year, swear softly, and persevere. The sun is high in the sky by the time the jumble of pieces takes a usable, if not ideal form, but this year, the Lost River* Range will <i>not </i>go unphotographed.<br />
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I cross the border into Idaho, and the landscape subtly shifts. The valley is tilting this way and that in a dizzying fun-house sort of way. Were it not for the lush grasses and smattering of farm houses, one would think the extinct volcanoes surrounding me had burst through the earth’s crust in a cataclysmic event some time around last Tuesday. But all is quiet.<br />
<br />
I’ve got a great tail wind, but I don’t realize it until I take a slow left hand turn into my first gas stop. An invisible hand pushes the Ducati to a lean angle unsustainable at its slow speed. I catch it with my foot, but had I been on a taller bike, I probably would be spending the next few minutes unloading it, picking it up, and inspecting the damage. I pull up to the lee side of a gas pump, but it doesn’t seem to help. When I dismount, I’m practically pinned to the bike by the wind. We’re holding each other up now, and I don’t know how to even begin the complicated maneuver of removing a glove, extracting a credit card, and filling the tank without at least one of us falling over. I struggle to reposition the loaded bike at a better angle, and manage, but barely. I take a deep breath and dart 100 miles across the Snake River Plain in the crosswind.<br />
<br />
It seems I am not the only one affected by the wind. In a real life cinematic freeze frame moment, all time, sound, and motion abruptly stop. I’m face to face, eye to eye, with a hawk. For a split second that feels like minutes, we contemplate each other from our surprisingly short range perspective. This huge bird can’t be more than two feet directly in front of me. Then, just as abruptly, the tape rolls again, now in double-time. I duck down, the hawk swoops upward, and the encounter is over before it began. I wonder how the hawk’s experience compared with mine.<br />
<br />
It’s raining now, and the streets are flooded. I motor slowly, carefully, through small running rivers at every turn. Splashing arcs of water land directly in my boots and just as soon as I wipe my visor, it’s covered in raindrops again.<br />
<br />
By the time I reach <a href="http://www.blm.gov/id/st/en/visit_and_play/places_to_see/challis_field_office/Joe_T_Fallini_Recreation_Site.html">Joe T. Fallini Campgound</a> at the Mackay Reservoir, the sun is shining through the clouds.<br />
<br />
From one side of my tent, I see this:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7qtHgFF_WCk/Va-0pEvUp2I/AAAAAAAABRg/x84XSpFLaqQ/s1600-h/Lost%252520River%252520Range%25252C%252520Idaho%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Lost River Range, Idaho" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cJWp8IsymHI/Va-0p4LPo0I/AAAAAAAABRk/-BXcChbws1U/Lost%252520River%252520Range%25252C%252520Idaho_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="111" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Lost River Range, Idaho" width="550" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
And from the other, this:<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gABwOGt1zPU/Va-0qguIeDI/AAAAAAAABR0/YWYCxoLiIJQ/s1600-h/Joe%252520T%252520Fallini%252520Campground%252520Mackay%252520Reservoir%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Joe T Fallini Campground Mackay Reservoir" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f6hd27x-Wq8/Va-0rZa0inI/AAAAAAAABR8/59yNNfoBukw/Joe%252520T%252520Fallini%252520Campground%252520Mackay%252520Reservoir_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="174" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Joe T Fallini Campground Mackay Reservoir" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I reflect on my <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/06/touring-why-we-do-it.html">last blog post</a> as I pour the water out of my boots. Heat, cold, rain, flooding, all in the first 100 miles. Yep, it’s good to be touring again!<br />
<br />
I’ve been feeling hurried since February, and I’ve no intent on feeling that way this morning. My plan is to ride around, somewhere, for a while, and get back to camp before the afternoon thunderstorms pop. Maybe I’ll loop around the Sawtooth Mountains, maybe I’ll finally take that dip in Sunbeam Springs, or perhaps I’ll investigate the valley to the east of the Lost River Range. It really doesn’t matter, because every direction is a win around here.<br />
<br />
Remembering yesterday’s wind, I reinforce my tent with guy wires, and a few rocks for good measure. I gear up, mount up, and the Ducati decides to point north.<br />
<br />
It’s not soon before I realize my heart is simply not equipped to process beauty at this order of magnitude. It hurts. I want to know this land intimately, in a way that would take a lifetime, or even generations. Every creek, and every flowering meadow, the song of every bird, the view from each towering peak, the texture of the boulders sprinkled in the river below me, the hiding places of its tender spring greens, earthy mushrooms, and sweet berries… I want to simultaneously savor it all slowly, and gobble it up, in the way I want to eat an entire pie, bursting each tangy sweet just picked cherry between my teeth, letting its juices tingle my tongue, and then finishing the rest of it, directly, no fork involved, as a blue ribbon winning pie eating contestant.<br />
<br />
I need to distract myself, so my mind turns to the fresh asphalt before me. I downshift, release the clutch just so, and seek the edge of my rear tire. I’m a swallow racing the river around each sweeping bend. But it offers little reprieve. I’m simply trading one agonizing form of joy for another. Later, I’ll vomit words into my notebook, but the relief will be temporary. Before I’ve ridden only a few miles again, the bile of useless ineffective words will rise up in my brain. <br />
It’s only recently occurred to me to ask gas station attendants for dining recommendations, but it’s starting to seem like a good strategy. As I step into <a href="http://www.bertramsbrewery.com/">Bertram’s Brewery</a> in Salmon, ID**, I notice there’s a “<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Je_suis_Charlie">Juis Suis Charlie</a>” sign in the window. I chat with the <a href="http://misfitfarmmules.tripod.com/">equestrians</a>, motorcyclists, and pilots seated around me, and enjoy delicious, if not Baja-Certified-Authentic, fish tacos. I like this place!<br />
The ghosts of Lewis and Clark beckon from the Montana border. It’s just a short ride away, and I want to test my own skills on the same mountain passes that proved so formidable to them in 1805. But the stormy clouds in the sky direct me back south, and I pass, for the second time today, the sign proudly declaring “45th Parallel. Halfway between the Equator and North Pole!” It’s okay, August and I have big plans.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUlxmy3nbCOCTHTfy-7eAzb-q7-JiK1FTd7G-I4DuW6PcHijTiyoX0Lk6J9w6Te3DDVMQ3cyw87x6iD94AMCu30JSOAQds1_hq4hg18f6K06ng4NdtEHr5R8lh48lHkvBeHZKucYyJNTQk/s1600/GoPro+Mackay+Salmon+Mackay+072-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUlxmy3nbCOCTHTfy-7eAzb-q7-JiK1FTd7G-I4DuW6PcHijTiyoX0Lk6J9w6Te3DDVMQ3cyw87x6iD94AMCu30JSOAQds1_hq4hg18f6K06ng4NdtEHr5R8lh48lHkvBeHZKucYyJNTQk/s1600/GoPro+Mackay+Salmon+Mackay+072-Edit.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It may not look like it, but I'm pointed to the <i>good</i> weather in this photo.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I’ve got time to wander around the “Battleground Cemetery***” north of the reservoir when I get back, and chat with two huckleberry picking ATM riders, and their dachshund riding buddies.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Zsm9hh7d8-c/Va-0sHGeflI/AAAAAAAABSQ/D0s6PHBBaAg/s1600-h/Battleground%252520Cemetary%252520Mackay%252520Reservoir%252520Idaho%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Battleground Cemetary Mackay Reservoir Idaho" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPg_eAhOF10UOHqxhD5Y2FvGgAdQIrm99xl4afT1UNMbQRtxf4TB8U8YLvmC74c6OTwK_s1wg0-20oeYrFuArqZMh4UZ2GhG5VLUHLM7WFcPLUyzZaG8BESnLnFuL6RDepa25Ar8LHTfCU/?imgmax=800" height="413" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Battleground Cemetary Mackay Reservoir Idaho" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I get back to camp, confirm my tent is still standing, and prepare to ride into Mackay for some groceries. My trip was hastily planned, and there’s not enough food left in the top box for both dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. The group next to me extends an dinner invite. “Why, yes, I think I <i>would</i> like to join you!” Dutch oven cooking is a formidable skill and these people have mastered it. The meat is tender, the vegetables flavorful, and there’s just enough bacon added to make it sing savory songs in my mouth.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Fdd_gnnSPes/Va-0td2Hz6I/AAAAAAAABSo/P2_jHhUeLig/s1600-h/Dutch%252520Oven%252520Dinner%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Dutch Oven Dinner" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RzqOOfaHYbE/Va-0uJuDbAI/AAAAAAAABS0/V_ylsr6inPY/Dutch%252520Oven%252520Dinner_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Dutch Oven Dinner" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We look across the water into the hills directly west, and – Lo! – It’s the Ghost Horse of Mackay Reservoir! He’s been living out there, wild, for over a decade. Another <a href="http://djoart.com/">camp neighbor</a> offers his binoculars. There’s no question now. A white horse has wandered down the hill for an evening graze upon the green grass alongside the reservoir. I squint a bit. Could it be… a unicorn?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hiu6S5Io6-A/Va-0u_f09hI/AAAAAAAABTA/AJ-ndqleVqc/s1600-h/Ghost%252520Horse%252520Mackay%252520Reservoir%252520Idaho%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Ghost Horse Mackay Reservoir Idaho" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zy0ylDFB7e4/Va-0vhgiwrI/AAAAAAAABTM/inqcnfBcNLw/Ghost%252520Horse%252520Mackay%252520Reservoir%252520Idaho_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Ghost Horse Mackay Reservoir Idaho" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, the white speck on the edge of a water is a horse.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
My dining companions are fascinating company, and remind me a bit of musicians, doing all manner of odd things to make ends meet. This week, they’re a paving crew, waiting out the daily rain to begin work. Other months of the year, they drive sugar beet trucks from field to Paul, ID, home of the biggest sugar beet processing plant in the US. (And you thought Idaho just grew potatoes.) Like bees to the hive, they scurry back and forth in a frenzy, feeding our country’s addiction to sugar. Veritable mountains are moved on a daily basis. One camper is a <a href="http://heinsianskiing.blogspot.com/">former ski instructor</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&field-keywords=gary%20heins&index=blended&link_code=qs&sourceid=Mozilla-search&tag=mozilla-20">published author</a>. I share equine photos with a woman who has a side business as a farrier. A third camper shows off clever little inventions put together in his spare time. Another tells of how, inexplicably, he is paid twice as much to transport beets as he was paid to transport school children in a yellow bus. On my way out the next morning, I’ll be delayed by a paving crew. I know they’re not my friends from the night before, but I think upon them warmly. From now on, paving delays will bring me fond memories of these good people.<br />
<br />
The light is different tonight on the mountains.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M0GUL05P_hQ/Va-0wbg6xQI/AAAAAAAABTY/VFDCaUg8JJg/s1600-h/Lost%252520River%252520Range%25252C%252520Idaho%2525202%25255B6%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Lost River Range, Idaho 2" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sSNQ9aVnN0U/Va-0xKAvTII/AAAAAAAABTk/Nag2BbQghr8/Lost%252520River%252520Range%25252C%252520Idaho%2525202_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="193" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Lost River Range, Idaho 2" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I return home, GoPro photos (most of which prominently feature my
gloved index finger) and Lost River Range panoramas aside, I’ll have
done nearly nothing to capture the reality of this ride.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g7mkJ-xhwkg/Va-0xiPkA0I/AAAAAAAABTw/JU6-Y-I6cck/s1600-h/Ducati%252520at%252520Fallini%252520Campground%252520Mackay%252520Reservoir%252520Idaho%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Ducati at Fallini Campground Mackay Reservoir Idaho" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GiL3riF4Dug/Va-0yXEOvlI/AAAAAAAABT8/7PoVie5b40M/Ducati%252520at%252520Fallini%252520Campground%252520Mackay%252520Reservoir%252520Idaho_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Ducati at Fallini Campground Mackay Reservoir Idaho" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My eyes are drooping, even before it’s dark. I stick my arm out my tent to capture tonight’s subtle sunset.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaD0FCHHL2MiZZ1aqVh8bGaeu5HZb5ZdpnrZJJv-EeUSaZSVyarKLp9gh77hGS5ssbpmyytB4uRqCR4lATsckRMjuZv0-VuhVIO776EwsPaVqJGq_zE3J-jzOsg5qXrewtIRlK2r_urS6/s1600-h/Sunsest%252520from%252520Tent%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Sunsest from Tent" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uH5gkpE5o5w/Va-0z7NcMJI/AAAAAAAABUU/OkjTXXqv-5I/Sunsest%252520from%252520Tent_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Sunsest from Tent" width="550" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<br />
This trip home seems to be about picking up loose ends. I stop at <a href="http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/34555">Pickle’s Place</a>, home of not just the Atomic Burger****, but <a href="http://johnsspice.com/aboutjohnsspice.html">John’s Steak and Seasoning Spice</a> as well. I’ve been curious about this little roadside stop in the past, and I need both breakfast and to charge my phone, which has decided not to work at ambient temperatures below 50F.<br />
<br />
World Potato Museum? The Ducati and I come to an abrupt stop.<br />
<br />
The place is packed!<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RRFi2bdeFKg/Va-00qilYYI/AAAAAAAABUg/n9jgAjc8wbE/s1600-h/Idaho%252520Potato%252520Museum%252520Blackfoot%25252C%252520ID%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Idaho Potato Museum Blackfoot, ID" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QQIFm3jSOV4/Va-01N8rINI/AAAAAAAABUs/yMYL7aXASt8/Idaho%252520Potato%252520Museum%252520Blackfoot%25252C%252520ID_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Idaho Potato Museum Blackfoot, ID" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
There are informative panels on the history, farming, (potatoes are often grown in rotation with sugar beets, which explains a thing or two!), and processing of the world’s favorite tuber; impressive collections of potato mashers, peelers, farming implements, and Mr. Potato Heads; and, of course, a wildly outdated constantly looping film. I find myself hoping I get a free potato upon exit. I do, sort of...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7mDHxp_KT92YTM_ujEPM8Iu06DqcMEfhgpIjSe-7hfP61JsmtLJfdNYfQymsB2GriCmFh3v8K25gVWOPxXx9KhlGaLmtLSoKev_PYN_xoBMs-C12YY9fDRD44FIXNVo_5_EQI79POvMB/s1600/Idaho+Potato+Museum+Freebie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7mDHxp_KT92YTM_ujEPM8Iu06DqcMEfhgpIjSe-7hfP61JsmtLJfdNYfQymsB2GriCmFh3v8K25gVWOPxXx9KhlGaLmtLSoKev_PYN_xoBMs-C12YY9fDRD44FIXNVo_5_EQI79POvMB/s1600/Idaho+Potato+Museum+Freebie.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I take in a few other points of interest that I’ve never stopped at before.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSw3Vveu5Pl9V73toyNxqPbYOMzRe2-nRKdPSJ3K-UE3FHoPvTbgsgisdP_ecXVV_YkOHp2vJDMxEtpW3Evvkd7MU8OWf1J7AWOvVk2bMFgg3Bog3ySsOgWffPoQxrHqzUj-hwMfuUlCO2/s1600-h/Red%252520Rock%252520Pass%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Red Rock Pass" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pQT9JTkzQio/Va-02kVEinI/AAAAAAAABVA/ESRo3WcAENo/Red%252520Rock%252520Pass_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="193" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Red Rock Pass" width="550" /></a></div>
<div align="left">
<br /></div>
<br />
Red Rock Pass is a two-for-one deal. To see an overlook of the pass, you climb up the steep stairs of <a href="http://bo.tactical.digital/marker.asp?marker=48986&Result=1">Utah Pioneer Trails and Landmarks Association Marker No. 119</a>, dedicated to Mormon Battalion Caption Jefferson Hunt.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-09CG2YVcHrE/Va-03WQb2mI/AAAAAAAABMw/rREulvuYvdA/s1600-h/Utah%252520Pioneer%252520Trails%252520and%252520Landmarks%252520Marker%252520119%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Utah Pioneer Trails and Landmarks Marker 119" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKou7Jr02cdx-qMAwOQxBkWg2WRA1XOD7SV9sZ7NAr9N8WcYKgOfuTxbQ3c5OE3RRz6FK-RZdxzFLJXjqRhMVLRPp9CH2AG-G-2tEmcWZsmZeuCZgQLjTp6yJL_pXqmOmgGv1U5lgO-ci/?imgmax=800" height="417" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Utah Pioneer Trails and Landmarks Marker 119" width="554" /></a></div>
<br />
Here, the ancient Lake Bonneville burst forth, flooding the Snake River Plain.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iHP8iXIRQZk/Va-041Wa83I/AAAAAAAABVQ/iyozG5vgz8Y/s1600-h/Red%252520Rock%252520Pass%25255B11%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Red Rock Pass" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xqGSGle8WCA/Va-05r_kNcI/AAAAAAAABVg/MVfG9pNIJns/Red%252520Rock%252520Pass_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="193" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Red Rock Pass" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
The Battle of Bear River has been aptly renamed to The Bear River Massacre. An estimated 450 Shoshone were killed here in 1863. There is a nice interpretive site on a small hill overlooking the area. It’s hard to think about, even now.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0KIRobPzJi4/Va-06ETgNcI/AAAAAAAABVs/RBqeC_tuBh0/s1600-h/Bear%252520River%252520Massacre%252520Site%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bear River Massacre Site" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HYLgPGCGoRE/Va-07A2rwAI/AAAAAAAABV4/ISzyW1h79WQ/Bear%252520River%252520Massacre%252520Site_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="310" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Bear River Massacre Site" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's difficult to imagine violence in this peaceful, green valley.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I take a final detour victory lap to Bear Lake for lunch. After the informative video at the Potato Museum, my menu choice is obvious.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7YYtg1i5tuGobin_Z_JUBPXQkDei_OKy9SlFb3iq9dkA7PobKTMecHmU2RJLtke5Cy4obwvc3M2oEJBJTVyCHwPnPO1TZUQPOGyX2No3wHGnVl_nYKdU-6iP9L8rpMxtP4M4Qfk0_OHo/s1600-h/Bear%252520Lake%252520Fries%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Bear Lake Fries" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHPaKK6G-AqYUMxXFT5YloBkKHqfyLuR-ww44tYLNNF2G1nhpAR3uoOJrRAHi41tRpMo1jEo-3jxdFBgt19hyQOuUSqM_OZRdYwLhLrN3xsic6cZEljwxwDPR85maSDqrFMDN94xolJ_ht/?imgmax=800" height="550" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Bear Lake Fries" width="328" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Why is it lost? Both the Big and Little Lost Rivers dive underground at the Big and Little Lost Rivers sinks near Arco, ID. They emerge again about 100 miles downstream at Thousand Springs, near Hagerman, ID.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**”Birthplace of Sacajawea!”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Battleground Cemetery</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**** From the menu: “Arco, Idaho, became the first city in the world to be lighted by atomic energy on July 17th, 1955.” Atomic City, ID is not far away, nor is the <a href="http://www.visitidaho.org/attraction/historic-sites/experimental-breeder-reactor-i-ebr-i-atomic-museum/">Experimental Breeder Reactor 1 Atomic Museum</a>.</span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-16954177594943127722015-06-28T15:43:00.000-07:002015-07-24T14:57:52.172-07:00Touring: Why We Do It<span style="font-size: large;"><b>(Annual Migration 2015…. errr, Return Migration 2013)</b></span><br />
<br />
The pain of this year’s Annual Migration can be summed up in one photo.<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GTK8ivPsGp4/VZBvvWKaOFI/AAAAAAAABHw/kBK-c50o-E8/s1600-h/Delta%252520Flight%25255B1%25255D%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Delta Flight" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o1SByb9IhaU/VZBvw_0DF2I/AAAAAAAABH8/4nWeAaoDXic/Delta%252520Flight%25255B1%25255D_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Delta Flight" width="413" /></a><br />
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Even worse, not one of my motorcycles is here in Utah with me. (Yet.)<br />
<br />
So, I’ll sit and dream for a bit, I guess.<br />
<br />
To date, I’ve been reluctant to pay tribute to heart-lifting exuberance, the melancholy sweetness, the humbling wonder that is motorcycle touring, because, frankly, I’m not equipped to do so. The lonely open road? The wind through your... helmet? The majesty of the American West? These phrases are both terribly trite and painfully insufficient. Why do I ride for hundreds of miles a day, often in heat, cold, rain, and discomfort, anyway? For my Annual Return Migration, 2013, Pilot Guy followed me home in my Fearsome Toyota. Turns out he wasn’t just driving, but snapping photos of me, too. Elusive words, you fail me! <i>This! </i><i>This!</i> <a href="http://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/photos/swfpopup.mg?AlbumID=50241353&AlbumKey=jc9qxd">These photos</a> say everything I can not.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBLJSXP0CIh455U0poJgNHO5iX6SHpKaLgHTp00MvtPxS-iA3_ekoov9e0asjY9hbTtKyyfhJKm9rdM-4dpQIkCaKTOWk-tdShQo-NTEUXZzgU3HJqhn0C89d8wm7yyw1-ESnyvyU1dWQ/s1600-h/Ducati%252520El%252520Capitan%252520Agathla%252520Peak%252520Kayenta%252520AZ%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Ducati El Capitan Agathla Peak Kayenta AZ" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0DLkm4nH_EM/VZBvzSUvnFI/AAAAAAAABHk/lBa6fYzQY_E/Ducati%252520El%252520Capitan%252520Agathla%252520Peak%252520Kayenta%252520AZ_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="367" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Ducati El Capitan Agathla Peak Kayenta AZ" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Capitan/Agathla Peak, near Kayenta, AZ</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-11917370018952172402015-06-15T09:05:00.003-07:002015-06-28T16:30:51.316-07:00Sonoran Reina de la Noche (Consolation Prize No. 2)<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5PHHnPUjUSQ/VX7y9zYWURI/AAAAAAAABF4/0UCR0PTiroE/s1600-h/Night%252520Blooms%252520Full%252520Size%25255B22%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Created with Microsoft Fresh Paint" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DVYgt-_bKWE/VX7y__YglfI/AAAAAAAABGE/6uAmh5Y97lA/Night%252520Blooms%252520Full%252520Size_thumb%25255B19%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="245" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Created with Microsoft Fresh Paint" width="550" /></a><br />
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If you saw last post, you know I’ve decided to spend my usual spring motorcycle play time in a voluntary musical incarceration*. My consolation prize? <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2015/06/when-time-is-on-your-side-bacon-and.html">Bacon.</a><br />
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This weekend, the Sonoran Desert brought me a second consolation prize. I’ve lived in Tucson for enough years to lose count, and I’ve <i>never</i> witnessed “Bloom Night.” I’ve simply always skipped town by the then**.<br />
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<i>Peniocereus greggii, </i>a type of night blooming cereus, looks like a dead scrappy twig for 364.5 days of the year***. But after sundown, on one sole, mysterious, synchronous, meta-bloom**** noche, she is the Sonoran Queen of the Night. Somehow, all the plants in the area know…. tonight’s the night! Her goal? To be pollinated by the Hawk Moth. Oh, sweet signal-scent, filling the night! Oh, secretive and wondrous desert!<br />
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No one knows how she knows… and <i>I</i> have no idea how the staff at Tohono Chul, keeper of the largest collection of these special cacti, knows when to declare Bloom Night. But they do, and send a silent call through the air*****, a bit like the flowers themselves, just a few hours before the first petals begin to open. Hundreds of people cancel their plans and flock to the gardens to witness the event. And, finally, I was one of them.<br />
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Because of the crowds, getting good photographs of the event is nearly as tricky as photographing sun beams in Antelope Canyon (oops, haven’t published that one yet!). I did manage a few though, so you wouldn't be stuck scratching your head over the silly painting shown above. <a href="http://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/photos/swfpopup.mg?AlbumID=49933612&AlbumKey=75QLT9">Here's a slideshow of the real thing.</a> Enjoy!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*It seemed like a good idea at the time?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">** Not a bad plan. It’s supposed to be 109F here all week.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***I recently learned that underneath those gangly awkward twigs, lies a large turnip type root. My first question, “Can you eat it?,” remains unanswered.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****My neighbor's phrase. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****Email. <a href="https://tohonochulpark.org/cereus/">Get on their list.</a></span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-31941082380207982572015-06-11T15:33:00.003-07:002015-06-11T20:43:53.354-07:00When Time is on Your Side, Bacon (and other things) HappenI’ve voluntarily given up my annual spring motorcycle camping trip in favor of solitary confinement to a practice room. No winding my way northward with Li'l Burro on the Utah Backcountry Discovery route, nor overshooting my migration destination with the Ducati, perhaps finally exploring Bear Highway in Montana, no, no, not me.* But as small consolation, I’ve found much can happen in my kitchen, while I’m in the next room practicing the flute.<br />
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It all started this winter, when I scored almost two gallons of <a href="http://www.tucsonmooshine.com/">fresh, raw milk from our CSA</a>.<br />
Heat and culture the milk, then go examine at length the difficulties of keeping your 5ths and 3rds in tune in E-Flat major. Milk magic happens on its own.<br />
<br />
Add some rennet, then enjoy G Major as a reward.<br />
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Cut the curds, drain the whey, press the curds, and go work on the crazy technique you learned <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2012/03/meal-in-manhattan-totto-ramen.html">back in NYC</a>.<br />
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After several days of drying, turning, and brining, you’ve got Bach’s Brandenburg 4 in your pocket, <i>and</i> a nice block of Eating On Two Wheels Greek Style Cheese. (That’s feta, to you and me.) <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKT9YKBEINqtidwL3YN4gVugeHSTLYySizkFH1WXkpWgguFHD0KybEzBRd4BEQS3MYenvRqG_T5WtOB7Q3LzqGowbXkwYu5o6Zqg4Uy-wOHHEEqIS2xRWxlzH9Iwrttm8VUzqPJplPfHN/s1600/E2W+Maiden+Voyage+Feta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKT9YKBEINqtidwL3YN4gVugeHSTLYySizkFH1WXkpWgguFHD0KybEzBRd4BEQS3MYenvRqG_T5WtOB7Q3LzqGowbXkwYu5o6Zqg4Uy-wOHHEEqIS2xRWxlzH9Iwrttm8VUzqPJplPfHN/s1600/E2W+Maiden+Voyage+Feta.jpg" /></a></div>
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Fermenting vegetables is even easier. Sprinkle them liberally with salt or brine them, weight them so they stay below the surface of their liquid, step back, and allow the local population of microbes do the work for you. By the time you’ve re-learned the Stravinsky part you haven’t looked at in a decade, which, admittedly, takes a few days, you’ll have a spicy radish and root kimchi. Or curtido, that lightly fermented El Salvadoran slaw one simply <i>must</i> have along side a pupusa.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMn8hYDVPrP8C6yqqVazjLCS-7gzLNKsMLUCLD9_mHlDCcSumzgT6UVsgudGm9bKTW54x3JWNYFupE-ArivOqOVgT8g4l1K9hlgXIwKqQx9JX-FTowu6Ci9zT1pNseiFp6R147HUt0Bae/s1600/Curtido.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMn8hYDVPrP8C6yqqVazjLCS-7gzLNKsMLUCLD9_mHlDCcSumzgT6UVsgudGm9bKTW54x3JWNYFupE-ArivOqOVgT8g4l1K9hlgXIwKqQx9JX-FTowu6Ci9zT1pNseiFp6R147HUt0Bae/s1600/Curtido.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Operation Curtido Test. The fancy set up in the photo is wholly
unnecessary, but I was only too happy to receive this little birthday
gift.</td></tr>
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Unlike canning, from which, if you don’t follow the directions <i>exactly, </i>you just might experience the neurotoxic paralysis of botulinum, albeit with a particularly youthful facial complexion, when fermenting, the good guys <i>always </i>win!<br />
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Then there’s the adorable little “ginger bug,” a siren song for wild yeasts everywhere. She’ll be the starter for a half gallon of ginger beer in a day or two.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRH_vZlR8CGtuEE1A6pZSAsDGXlHjXXM5FBx-kz8Ck-fkjL8CdoE3ucj9RBGaYz69dmKQw89QKBdXLzDLRrzeanZpFP0LRlD8dMIMkvwvRJeyM2rQOCtDXad6Q7PNDOpWr3H4dxqOu-bdA/s1600/Ginger+Bug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRH_vZlR8CGtuEE1A6pZSAsDGXlHjXXM5FBx-kz8Ck-fkjL8CdoE3ucj9RBGaYz69dmKQw89QKBdXLzDLRrzeanZpFP0LRlD8dMIMkvwvRJeyM2rQOCtDXad6Q7PNDOpWr3H4dxqOu-bdA/s1600/Ginger+Bug.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">People, <i>please.</i> I know it’s a hack job, but you get my point. I’ve no time for Photoshop, only time for bacon.</td></tr>
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I don’t (yet!) have a temperature and humidity controlled space for fermenting, oh, say, salame (yes!!), but… look what I can do!<br />
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<b>RECIPE</b><br />
Take the Community Supported Agriculture humanely raised pork belly out of your freezer. <i>Carefully**</i> measure out some curing salts and seasonings, lovingly rub that belly with the mixture, and let it rest comfortably in the fridge. Don’t come out until you can play the tricky bits from Strauss’s Rosenkavalier. There are a lot of tricky bits.<br />
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Take the belly out, drop it in your good neighbor’s smoker, go practice for a couple more hours, and…<br />
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Ding! Practice break! If you are anything like me, the rest of the story will proceed along these lines:<br />
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The delicious smell wafting towards me sparks a wild kitchen circle dance, carving knife held high in the air. But it’s difficult to slice meat whilst leaping around, so gaining control of my hysteria is paramount. I cut a slice, then reverently lower my weapon. “Sweet Baby Jesus,” I whisper to myself. “Bacon happened.”<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NwBzx3TLtEuDDnL04kE3x7Ux5eBPeP2m3FxWRcCwQrbvKikwLRWhyQaabyDx-rozdODqZaofliUPxz-fKJxafsU5bHLZe1m7xZ2qsA4oUBjeIvP7MMKC7P3Jx2spEXRTBliVu_uH85NU/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NwBzx3TLtEuDDnL04kE3x7Ux5eBPeP2m3FxWRcCwQrbvKikwLRWhyQaabyDx-rozdODqZaofliUPxz-fKJxafsU5bHLZe1m7xZ2qsA4oUBjeIvP7MMKC7P3Jx2spEXRTBliVu_uH85NU/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+3.jpg" /></a> </div>
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No good can come of this newly discovered culinary superpower.<br />
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But there is still one thing left to do...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtMRcwF2MTnOywTMPGqFwCz538irT06nxTVm8qmXq0CkveetmuN0JgMLZgomKXpIsGofJyprAZrM-nlp2UYDxUkZvQUjAX1dEopn0R0I39rfAvL-GB1tY4mK5sWEMq1dy2Jaz1uyiQO4O/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtMRcwF2MTnOywTMPGqFwCz538irT06nxTVm8qmXq0CkveetmuN0JgMLZgomKXpIsGofJyprAZrM-nlp2UYDxUkZvQUjAX1dEopn0R0I39rfAvL-GB1tY4mK5sWEMq1dy2Jaz1uyiQO4O/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+4.jpg" /></a></div>
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Sizzle. <taps watch> Sizzle.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsGN_6uzHVui7Jrrgl2TVJJt85VEAYPctYr7kNOTsjaKv1hahUb3wq3zIW__S7CxzEN_xchABF5-7mJfYQWjDjPAC4pSvqLFHh-sEJznTRcboqgkC7rPYZ7kgr2ItksT3GR03NJMcW2t3/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsGN_6uzHVui7Jrrgl2TVJJt85VEAYPctYr7kNOTsjaKv1hahUb3wq3zIW__S7CxzEN_xchABF5-7mJfYQWjDjPAC4pSvqLFHh-sEJznTRcboqgkC7rPYZ7kgr2ItksT3GR03NJMcW2t3/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+5.jpg" /></a> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEgpn2CpNxdAyz9ARlyIH8J-EWw2PrtKXuHSgeThNxMrcpXV-kqNrg3x77ohOEVy7nbGA_wcM2Vca76s9tgrf17OC3442UqiNz12PhtSDG26yZ_TAWCaQQ5XN4LNfGlaUl8bOx-4mppGK/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEgpn2CpNxdAyz9ARlyIH8J-EWw2PrtKXuHSgeThNxMrcpXV-kqNrg3x77ohOEVy7nbGA_wcM2Vca76s9tgrf17OC3442UqiNz12PhtSDG26yZ_TAWCaQQ5XN4LNfGlaUl8bOx-4mppGK/s1600/The+Bacon+Project+7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blessed be the steady supply of Grandpa-Good tomatoes at the Santa Cruz River Farmers' Market</td></tr>
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<br />
Although it may appear otherwise, I do still ride motorcycles. This
picture is not from today’s ride, when, after flying by the Sheriff at
twice the speed limit, I sat up quickly, hoping to look like an innocent
mushroom hunter***, but from a Kitt Peak ride back in March. Thanks to the good <a href="https://www.facebook.com/OliveAndEmilie?fref=ts">"Olive and Emilie"</a>, who I met at the top, for the photo!<br />
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<b>References</b><br />
<i>Milk - The Surprising Story of Milk Through the Ages</i>, Anne Mendelson: I checked this one out of the library years ago, and have wanted my own copy ever since. I finally plunked down real money for it, and, more importantly, allotted it space on my very small bookshelf this winter. Fascinating information, some recipes, and interesting little kitchen experiments, too.<br />
<i>Dry-Curing Pork</i>, Hector Kent: A purely self-serving gift from Pilot Guy. Clear explanations regarding both “how” and “why.” I expect to put this book to heavy use. Features photos of cheerfully smiling people wielding butchering knives in a field.<br />
<i>The Art of Fermentation </i>and <i>Wild Fermentation, </i>both by Sandor Ellix Katz, aka “Sandorkraut”: The former is an absolute Bible, or “in-depth exploration of essential concepts and processes from around the world,” the latter a small book focusing on actual recipes. I absolutely love this guy, and his philosophy on food, life, and community. <a href="http://www.wildfermentation.com/who-is-sandorkraut/">Visit him and a useful support forum online.</a> <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Prepare for neglect, dear flute, because August, you are mine!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**This is no time for eyeballing it, because, if you goof, you’ll stand a
chance of enjoying either nitrite toxicity or botulism. Get yourself
an <i>accurate</i> gram scale, if you don’t already have one from,
uhhh, other pursuits. I didn’t trust my aging kitchen scale, but Pilot Guy’s
mad scientist laboratory includes, among other things, a three foot
wide photo printer, a 3D printer, and a scale once owned by the former
U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commissioner. I’m pretty sure that means it’s
good for these purposes, too, so long as all traces of plutonium have
been removed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***I came up empty on the mushroom hunt, although I only allowed myself a ten minute foray at one favorite spot. But – rain in June, <i>twice</i>?? – it’s unheard of. The season is off to an early start! Regarding the sheriff, I guess he was texting. Useful Lemmon Tip: Once you know where he <i>is,</i> you know where he <i>isn’t. </i>Yeeee-HA!</span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-43381701984083064892015-04-17T22:41:00.000-07:002015-12-27T12:49:51.043-07:00Harvest on… hooves?You may remember last spring, when I returned home from my Flatistan Tour of Duty, Li’l Burro and I took a <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2014/05/sweet-homecoming.html">celebratory ride in the desert</a>.<br />
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This year*, I once again find myself savoring the wonders of springtime from the saddle. The blooming desert is almost too glorious to bear**. Oh, happy homecoming!<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L3aksu_p_zM/VTHtgov5GII/AAAAAAAAA8c/H_Y9xBooGxc/s1600-h/Easter%252520Hike%252520Hugh%252520Norris-Sendero%252520Esperanza-Dobe%252520Wash-Hohokam%252520Road%252520044%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Easter Hike Hugh Norris-Sendero Esperanza-Dobe Wash-Hohokam Road 044" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YBY-jzQFAPw/VTHtiQRkI0I/AAAAAAAAA8k/JqgH86mTRow/Easter%252520Hike%252520Hugh%252520Norris-Sendero%252520Esperanza-Dobe%252520Wash-Hohokam%252520Road%252520044_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="display: inline;" title="Easter Hike Hugh Norris-Sendero Esperanza-Dobe Wash-Hohokam Road 044" width="550" /></a></div>
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Eventually, the gaudy display <i>does</i> become unbearable. I may have stomped my foot angrily, and said a little too loudly, to no one in particular: "Would you<i> </i>just<i> look</i> at this ridiculousness?!"***<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LP-r-D_AvBA/VTHtj1ftHQI/AAAAAAAAA8s/DM8_Gyb8LZw/s1600-h/Easter%252520Hike%252520Hugh%252520Norris-Sendero%252520Esperanza-Dobe%252520Wash-Hohokam%252520Road%252520059%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Easter Hike Hugh Norris-Sendero Esperanza-Dobe Wash-Hohokam Road 059" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-r-ty-Kgxqow/VTHtlOeZ2gI/AAAAAAAAA80/iSUC3KiKOwE/Easter%252520Hike%252520Hugh%252520Norris-Sendero%252520Esperanza-Dobe%252520Wash-Hohokam%252520Road%252520059_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="361" style="display: inline;" title="Easter Hike Hugh Norris-Sendero Esperanza-Dobe Wash-Hohokam Road 059" width="550" /></a></div>
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Cholla blooms outshine their younger siblings, but it’s worth taking notice of the plain green buds, because…<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see the shimmery bead of sap at the base of each bud's thorn?</td></tr>
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… you can eat ‘em! It helps to travel properly equipped****. Depending on the length of your tongs, harvesting the buds can feel downright dangerous.<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hY7P-lV23H8/VTHtowsDi5I/AAAAAAAAA9M/_03tTFoeqk4/s1600-h/Cholla%252520Harvesting%252520%2525284%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Cholla Harvesting (4)" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wmY4XKhteXM/VTHtqORgTII/AAAAAAAAA9U/O8RnRLksKmA/Cholla%252520Harvesting%252520%2525284%252529_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="display: inline;" title="Cholla Harvesting (4)" width="550" /></a></div>
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My ride is right at home amongst the wildflowers.<br />
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Not what you expected, eh?*****<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* I've been home about a month now. For a probably never to be blogged Flatistan Eating/Kayaking/Unmotorized slide show, click <a href="http://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/photos/swfpopup.mg?AlbumID=48699560&AlbumKey=D6DWVT">here</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Springtime in the Sonoran Desert is not without its dangers. <a href="http://www.roamingnerd.com/nerd-at-large/crotalus-atrox-i-presume/">Pilot Guy documented one of our encounters last month</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Seriously, it's ridiculous. For more photos, <a href="http://gilinskyphotos.smugmug.com/photos/swfpopup.mg?AlbumID=48699554&AlbumKey=HJBSL6">see here</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****Toss the <a href="https://www.slowfoodusa.org/ark-item/ciolim-cholla-cactus-flower-buds">ciolim</a>, as they are called by the Tohono O'odham, vigorously in a mesh strainer to knock off their spines. Stand upwind! Or singe or roast them off, if you prefer. You must boil the buds for at least 15 minutes to denature their oxalic acid, and, incidentally, release a wealth of calcium! I think I'll use mine in a pico de gallo to go with some heavily spiced tepary bean hummus I made recently.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***** Introducing “Junior!” Li'l Burro can't wait to meet him! Truth be told, I've been riding Junior </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">sporadically</span> since September, but this week I have officially leased half of him for the next two months. I'll actually be <i>home!</i> I'll save you the trouble of asking: I'm leasing the left half. Never fear, the iron horses are still being exercised...</span>Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5043536671262411901.post-40837578190054813892015-02-14T16:37:00.000-07:002015-02-15T18:26:00.753-07:00Baja Reprise: Seeking Cetaceans on Three Wheels and Two Wings<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>A tale from </i><b>The Back Burner </b><i>(March 2013)</i></span><br />
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March is a time of year when I have to schedule in my showers, and decide which I have time for on any given day, brushing either my hair or teeth. Days off are few and far between (if any) for weeks at a time, so making a trip to a remote lagoon in Baja to pet whales is really not something that comes up. Except sometimes.<br />
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A group of riders, including Phil, from my recent <a href="http://operaflute.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-baja-unadventure.html">Baja Unadventure</a>, are heading down to the San Ignacio lagoon at the end of the month, and – what? is it possible?- due to some freak alignment of the planets (and jobs), my days off from my four different positions actually coincide this month! Wumph! I sit down hard in my chair in disbelief. It must be too good to be true. Of course, it is. Too good to be true. I look at my calendar again, check the map... Arghhh! I don’t have quiiiite enough time to ride the miles, pet the whales (requiring at least one, possibly two, overnight stays), and get back to Tucson before the clock strikes midnight. But I was so close!!<br />
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Sometimes, good things just need a little adjusting to make them true. Pilot Guy, who has been courting me these past two months*, says coolly, slyly, “Yanno, we could <i>fly</i> down to pet the whales.” I raise an eyebrow. It might be a bit early to be hopping in his Bellanca Super Viking for an overnight, but I don’t care. I’m in! I was so in, I even agreed to get up at 4am** to begin our adventure.<br />
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Our wheels are up before the sun, and we watch it rise as our little aeroplane crosses over the international border. Immigration and customs laws designate that we must first land in an international port of entry. Guaymas is beautiful from the air! Can you believe this? I’m <i>flying</i> in a <i>private plane</i> to <i>Baja</i> to <i>pet whales.</i> I really can’t wrap my brain around it. I may be wearing sensible adventure appropriate footwear, but I check my feet for glass slippers, just in case. Nope. I'm good.<br />
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<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_RXpJPLRQnA/VN_V1KFI6nI/AAAAAAAAA14/NytTRG2gSE8/s1600-h/Guaymas%252520Aerial%252520View%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Guaymas Aerial View" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bJiQM5Zw9LA/VN_V1_q-9OI/AAAAAAAAA2A/hkizWtOhYdc/Guaymas%252520Aerial%252520View_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="252" style="display: inline;" title="Guaymas Aerial View" width="550" /></a></div>
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Negotiating customs and immigration in Guaymas is a bit of a trick. I speak (some) Spanish, but don’t speak Pilot. Pilot Guy, although obviously well versed in Pilot, is less capable in Spanish. We dance round and round, from window to window, each no more than ten paces from the other, seeking this stamp and that document before we can proceed. I’m not entirely sure, but it sounds like the official at one window is telling us we aren't allowed to fly from Guaymas to the San Ignacio Lagoon. Huh? It's something about flight plans, and towered vs. non-towered airports, but I can't discuss the topic intelligently in any language. We're stumped. Pilot Guy plays his ace - a call to a pilot friend, who flies to Mexico regularly. Aha! The the wink and nudge system that, in the US, might have a curious military jet alongside us in no time, wasn't published in the airport directory. Wink and nudge we can, and soon, we’re on our way!<br />
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<i>"What do you mean the landing gear won’t go up???" </i>I suppose this is better than the alternative, but mechanical failure in the air is not the sort of adventure I had in mind when I signed up for this trip. Pilot Guy starts to circle, and checks in with the folks on the ground. But before we’ve landed to investigate the problem….Oopsy! Pilot Guy was right when he said you don’t so much get in a Bellanca as wear it. During my clumsy entry when departing Guaymas, I’d inadvertently deployed the emergency landing gear switch. It’s always good to test your equipment, I suppose.<br />
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Traveling by private aircraft is part glam rock star…<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wPz2cEKLKDk/VN_V20FcVJI/AAAAAAAAA2I/jcBtlIk9s8I/s1600-h/Bellanca%252520Super%252520Viking%252520Sedona%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bellanca Super Viking Sedona" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-K5AKAPdQ-e8/VN_V3WbTZ3I/AAAAAAAAA2Q/ZYRrkh3MXp8/Bellanca%252520Super%252520Viking%252520Sedona_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Bellanca Super Viking Sedona" width="413" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling glamorous in Sedona, AZ</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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… and part grubby safari.<br />
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OibxRHCXQMM/VN_V4Q-oG9I/AAAAAAAAA2Y/uisa4taaVfE/s1600-h/Bellanca%252520Baja%252520Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Bellanca Baja Laguna San Ignacio" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QrlfIa0sY0k/VN_V4-tKvZI/AAAAAAAAA2g/dE9eqjqCxHQ/Bellanca%252520Baja%252520Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="310" style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Bellanca Baja Laguna San Ignacio" width="550" /></a></div>
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Today was definitely the latter. This is an airport? It’s simply a little dirt landing strip and a shack of sorts. But it works for us!<br />
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<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-h5F5lD5aJbI/VN_V5fyDMPI/AAAAAAAAA2o/Y9Vuknq3Ti0/s1600-h/Final%252520Approach%252520Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Aeropuerto%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Final Approach Laguna San Ignacio Aeropuerto" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7H2BQPdkpBI/VN_V6F1SSiI/AAAAAAAAA2w/JiQMn8wO7RY/Final%252520Approach%252520Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Aeropuerto_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="Final Approach Laguna San Ignacio Aeropuerto" width="474" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mnoapHEMMKw/VN_V8yy9JzI/AAAAAAAAA24/NNsafq1iXJA/s1600-h/Laguna%252520San%252520Igancio%252520Aeropuerto%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Laguna San Igancio Aeropuerto" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gIluO2z4df0/VN_V9i-cCUI/AAAAAAAAA3A/19jFijuareY/Laguna%252520San%252520Igancio%252520Aeropuerto_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="350" style="display: inline;" title="Laguna San Igancio Aeropuerto" width="550" /></a></div>
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Our boat is also more safari than rock star. Our captain pulls it to shore.<br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-BiiBi9u7gxg/VN_V-CP6joI/AAAAAAAAA3I/fcQzwblW7Es/s1600-h/Pulling%252520in%252520the%252520Majiben%252520I%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Pulling in the Majiben I" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8PaIf5l5p10/VN_V_zO1veI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/BN3rMg7NZRc/Pulling%252520in%252520the%252520Majiben%252520I_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="367" style="display: inline;" title="Pulling in the Majiben I" width="550" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-HzVm3tNLUhc/VN_WAQIclrI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/kDttu76VrxA/s1600-h/Majiben%252520I%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Majiben I" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTjjZhku1q_CepEYFy4Gn13aG8jsRzsstYvzIb0lPgT4kFdLI09D_6HmmJpDvAbaMcT4_LDRi8sJ5-9ar10aYXSGuAWXr4lfTD6kENwOoak3dtWaBHMJeqCuj5pQ4jnCohDyLyhbazucu/?imgmax=800" height="323" style="display: inline;" title="Majiben I" width="550" /></a></div>
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We set sail…</div>
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4oinkQ0jyn0/VN_WB81CjgI/AAAAAAAAA3o/JdNOyi5KeHY/s1600-h/Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Shoreline%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Laguna San Ignacio Shoreline" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-iS2OQ5FaK5A/VN_WEo_noLI/AAAAAAAAA3w/D6zeCoeg-9c/Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Shoreline_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="296" style="display: inline;" title="Laguna San Ignacio Shoreline" width="550" /></a></div>
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… and before long the whales show themselves. A flipper here…</div>
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8qIYnc_E8J0/VN_WFfeVGUI/AAAAAAAAA34/6GZR6zUbTtY/s1600-h/Grey%252520Whale%252520Flipper%252520Baja%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Grey Whale Flipper Baja" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyaimTSVhsO7ZjRqgQBGGCxslhMma69z-huBfbBjVGjmefSdVKp87DBzbgH4gMie1r52-RJXpMp_WCrFW6NInuSlcsC0dfC8cy1QDcTWqc158aajeuHtfnduJJec5McFPkvM3rgRNXqQq/?imgmax=800" height="268" style="display: inline;" title="Grey Whale Flipper Baja" width="550" /></a></div>
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… part of a tail fluke there.</div>
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<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DsyVDont8Oc/VN_WJ7RYfzI/AAAAAAAAA4I/_XJuWwjSft0/s1600-h/Grey%252520Whale%252520Fluke%252520Baja%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Grey Whale Fluke Baja" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3jJcXeXhmBo/VN_WKnxox_I/AAAAAAAAA4Q/2u-HSLbQ-38/Grey%252520Whale%252520Fluke%252520Baja_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="Grey Whale Fluke Baja" width="409" /></a></div>
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Ahoy! Friend or foe? Dolphins, too, are leaping about, twice as high as I’ve ever seen them do at Sea World. I’m spellbound and nearly mute with emotion. Still, I have no idea what I’m about to experience.</div>
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Y6dp4A7xN4A/VN_WLIutGjI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/ijGqbmhPMxg/s1600-h/Whale%252520Breaching%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Whale Breaching" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JUyG4ZDWUoM/VN_WLh98QRI/AAAAAAAAA4g/63c_zos7oWo/Whale%252520Breaching_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="Whale Breaching" width="445" /></a></div>
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They are so friendly and curious, that they mob our little boat. There are 3, 4, 5… all within reach, nearly too close to photograph. Who’s watching who?, I wonder.<br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7S3HvT39wYw/VN_WMYuVowI/AAAAAAAAA4o/LapBCJMckcc/s1600-h/Grey%252520Whales%252520Baja%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Grey Whales Baja" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-TM6GaUPDzIU/VN_WNDl_xdI/AAAAAAAAA4w/Hs5uk_Dj580/Grey%252520Whales%252520Baja_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="367" style="display: inline; margin: 0px;" title="Grey Whales Baja" width="550" /></a></div>
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<br />
Indeed, I am petting whales - whales far bigger than our little boat. They roll beneath my fingertips, we look each other curiously in the eye, and breathe the same air. Mothers push their calves towards us, as if for our inspection. “They feel just like olives!” observes Pilot Guy. He’s absolutely right!<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ey06V-JPucI/VN_WUvML82I/AAAAAAAAA44/etxeyRStLOc/s1600-h/Whale%252520Adoration%252520Experience%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Whale Adoration Experience" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprpE_g6nGL8wDJpwKPTX2HjCsW6TQ42DIboxWHXGUT2VfC1MWTwl1MWscIU1m6rNUcElObnZnYixio_onCdl7WeYJibkhzx3aOdEIzXfWyGH2o8fFBZgCH8j0GYVEg35BRxtJcrKzdOO5/?imgmax=800" height="413" style="display: inline;" title="Whale Adoration Experience" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Whoosh! I catch a direct blast from a blowhole and sputter.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-I4q4A_NTa9c/VN_Wa2YOwdI/AAAAAAAAA5I/BZV5xnMFRAc/s1600-h/Whale%252520Blowhole%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Whale Blowhole" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2dofeY3ppF0/VN_WcH-zSnI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/7Vx-OsrqjTE/Whale%252520Blowhole_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="367" style="display: inline;" title="Whale Blowhole" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
They roll out of the water and look us. I try in vain to catch their eyes with the camera lens.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-L6iZuvF-LEM/VN_Wc9PkMwI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/BS8dmMJbVa0/s1600-h/Grey%252520Whale%252520Eye%252520Baja%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Grey Whale Eye Baja" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Cb25qOLDSl8/VN_WeAFosbI/AAAAAAAAA5g/YEiVE73NfKw/Grey%252520Whale%252520Eye%252520Baja_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="367" style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Grey Whale Eye Baja" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look carefully - you can see an eye near the center of this photo, if you use your imagination!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Our captain’s wife prepares lunch for us. Eight hours bottle to throttle, says the law. We’re not flying again until tomorrow, so a beer is perfectly okay, too.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4Yyqm20510I/VN_Wfxi_msI/AAAAAAAAA5o/eAD2YHlM_J0/s1600-h/Lunch%252520Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520%2525286%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Lunch Laguna San Ignacio (6)" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7SJy8uM-Frw/VN_Wiv1AdUI/AAAAAAAAA5w/3DzmEPawT5E/Lunch%252520Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520%2525286%252529_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="Lunch Laguna San Ignacio (6)" width="457" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No whales were harmed in the preparation of our seafood lunch, I hope. It's a bit salty, but we're simply too elated to care. Our meal disappears quickly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<br />
A reconnaissance flyover before landing at the lagoon revealed that the airstrip closer to the town of San Ignacio was obscured with shrubbery. <i>We</i> would be okay to land there, but the <i>Bellanca</i> wouldn't!<span style="color: #0000ee;"> </span>Perhaps it's best we hire an SUV to take us across the strange landscape and into town. There are things to see there, too…<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UzuBiv_bbDs/VN_WkHx6yHI/AAAAAAAAA54/XvUy-yiFrtg/s1600-h/Ride%252520from%252520Laguna%252520to%252520San%252520Ignacio%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Ride from Laguna to San Ignacio" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jT4Gk7jtw3Y/VN_WknpP3tI/AAAAAAAAA6A/DKu2cqdXIx8/Ride%252520from%252520Laguna%252520to%252520San%252520Ignacio_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="245" style="display: inline;" title="Ride from Laguna to San Ignacio" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
...like palm trees…<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--GHAAKYuRNo/VN_WlbdDL9I/AAAAAAAAA6E/kh1FaiSBgSE/s1600-h/San%252520Iganacio%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="San Iganacio" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rMMNWMnk8I4/VN_WmK-p28I/AAAAAAAAA6M/7aLiCpZ9y6s/San%252520Iganacio_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="413" style="display: inline;" title="San Iganacio" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
… and banana blossoms.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-D7sIa3pZX3o/VN_WnG0KYzI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/BE2uUn9ijk4/s1600-h/Bananna%252520Blossom%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Bananna Blossom" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-C1DZipDOji4/VN_Wn83A8YI/AAAAAAAAA6g/TqqGrL4L8z0/Bananna%252520Blossom_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="Bananna Blossom" width="413" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And the cathedral.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ROs5CdaJos4/VN_WomM1lPI/AAAAAAAAA6o/-NU2hcisePQ/s1600-h/San%252520Iganacio%252520Church%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="San Iganacio Church" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-aBewPKjVqEg/VN_WpY9Q5JI/AAAAAAAAA6w/TXlbDJvkiAQ/San%252520Iganacio%252520Church_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="395" style="display: inline;" title="San Iganacio Church" width="550" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--BGOnCF8iuI/VN_WqE7KzwI/AAAAAAAAA64/EFUkAHT_L8U/s1600-h/San%252520Ignacio%252520Church%252520Inside%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="San Ignacio Church Inside" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-J81BFBtwQIM/VN_Wq_rZwMI/AAAAAAAAA7A/2Y5uEx8hL5k/San%252520Ignacio%252520Church%252520Inside_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="550" style="display: inline;" title="San Ignacio Church Inside" width="462" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We try to hunt down the riders at Ignacio Springs, but communication is too difficult here. We savor an amazing date shake near the oasis, instead.<br />
<br />
The next morning, we're pretty sure we can spot whales from the air. The watery loops below us are mesmerizing, like misty contrails melting into the sea. <br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nn4nXqPraZg/VN_WwcKuOSI/AAAAAAAAA7I/oQhYTyLF_lY/s1600-h/Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Flyover%252520%2525281%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Laguna San Ignacio Flyover (1)" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xZyZRVXML98/VN_W19LCpSI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/UBj8nFZDKSg/Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Flyover%252520%2525281%252529_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="367" style="display: inline;" title="Laguna San Ignacio Flyover (1)" width="550" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Bye, bye, lagoon!</div>
</div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FC_b5L4IAaQ/VN_W3bhUuQI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/BSKFrDrXQXo/s1600-h/Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Flyover%252520%2525282%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Laguna San Ignacio Flyover (2)" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mQYYy8jSZOk/VN_W4RJkvxI/AAAAAAAAA7g/aDIMAQ8-nTA/Laguna%252520San%252520Ignacio%252520Flyover%252520%2525282%252529_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="367" style="display: inline;" title="Laguna San Ignacio Flyover (2)" width="550" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Hello moon!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6R5DsRaVuOQ/VN_W40_j2CI/AAAAAAAAA7o/ooavTWHMVwk/s1600-h/Full%252520Moon%252520Returning%252520to%252520Tucson%252520%2525282%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Full Moon Returning to Tucson (2)" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ni9_G5hJz8w/VN_W5cqeU2I/AAAAAAAAA7s/DogPrHUzpjQ/Full%252520Moon%252520Returning%252520to%252520Tucson%252520%2525282%252529_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="292" style="display: inline;" title="Full Moon Returning to Tucson (2)" width="550" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheels touch down back in Tucson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is as good as it gets, I think to myself. Without a motorcycle, anyway.<b> </b><br />
<b>________________________________________</b><br />
<i><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/12/magazine/12whales-t.html?_r=0">A fascinating article in the New York Times</a> describes the behavior exhibited by these mysterious creatures, specifically when nursing their young in the San Ignacio Lagoon. I encourage you to read it. When I came across this poignant story back in 2006, eyes nearly brimming over, I had no idea one day I would experience it all myself.</i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Pilot Guy was quite the patient man when we met. Dating during the busy season? Hah! I literally said things like “I can meet you for coffee for 20 minutes a week from Wednesday, if that works for you.” Not to mention the fact I was ready to ditch him for a motorcycle ride to Baja on my first days off since meeting him. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lucky for me, he stuck with it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**No small feat for the work weary sleep deprived musician who was working mornings <i>and</i> nights.</span><br />
<br />Eating On Two Wheelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135581499800478109noreply@blogger.com0