In Case You Couldn’t Be There . . .

Thanks to Toby for this video of the Fenn and Preston chat before the book signing:

 

 

The following are my opinions. I have, on more than one occasion, said and written that the event on May 18, 2017 caused a change in Fenn. He was already tired of the “activity” around the effort to find the treasure he hid. May 18, to me, was the straw that broke the burro’s back. […]

via The End Has Drawn Nigh. — A Gypsy’s Kiss

 

Update on Nov. 2nd Forrest Fenn Book Signing

Important read if you are planning a trip to Santa Fe for the Once Upon a While book release:

http://dalneitzel.com/2017/10/18/new-info-book-signing/#comments

Ticket from Collected Works Bookstore needed.

New Mexico Museum of Art

New Mexico Museum of Art

FROM DAL:  Anyone wanting a seat at the event must send a request for ticket/s either by:

  • Email to CWBookEvents@gmail.com with your name and phone number, requests will be processed in the order received and confirmed by return telephone call.
  • Or you may call the store at (505) 988-4226 and talk to Dorothy or Darrell between 9am-5pm daily. If not available, they will return your call promptly.

I can’t make it to this one, but plan to order a book once the dust has settled.

Enjoy all!

no fishing allowed

No Fishing Allowed

Discovering a real Jurassic Park

What a cool opportunity!

highland hind

P1080035A ranch. Somewhere high in north-western Montana. We’re fly fishing in the baking heat, casting for trout, listening to the trickle of clear spring creeks and glimpsing sleek, fast-moving shapes in the shadows.

It should be relaxing, but I’m distracted. I discovered in a chance conversation with the rancher’s wife earlier in the morning that at least two dinosaurs are entombed in rock on their land and she promised a ride to where the university volunteers are digging – and spending the long scorching summer.

“Yeah, they’re all living up there in the rocks, right beside the rattlers,” said the woman with a  real life Jurassic Park on her land. “Someone flew over the ranch in a hang glider years ago and discovered the site and they’ve been working on it on and off ever since.”

The Jeep bounced, rattled and shuddered its way over a track more suited to cowboys…

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Thor (-ium) Ablaze // Road Food

Miss Muffet

Miss Muffet

{Not a happy post.  Not a Fenn treasure post.}

When I packed for my road trip to search for the treasure chest, I filled a cooler with frozen juices, healthy food, waters, and even falafel mix. (I know, but when you’re trying to dine gluten-free and non-GMO and non-ractopamine, etc, etc, what are you going to do? )

It was a cooler apparently in name only, and with the 105 degree days, I was adding copious amounts of ice within 48 hours.  I ran low on my rations early on, but once I hit Wyoming, I started ordering steak salads,  (and was never disappointed!)

Thor (Marvel Comics)

Okay.  So how does this relate to Thor, you ask?

—  See prior post– a reblog of Regenaxe’s Nuclear Fire.  It gave me pause.

Once upon a time, I was avidly against nuclear power plants.  After Three-Mile-Island, I was ardently antinuke.  Post Chernobyl–fervently  so.

As I said, I thought it was difficult to eat on the road and avoid gluten and gmo’s (biotech)  and other toxins.  Now, post-Fukishima, I find it hard to eat even at home.

Grocery shopping:  I hesitate to buy seafood now.  Pasture-raised meat and dairy?  Doesn’t excite me like it used to.

Can I even find non-gmo corn products?  Only if it’s organic, and now I’m not even sure about that.

Does it really only have to be 95% Gmo-free by weight to be considered organic?  Just how much can an engineered gene weigh?  And I just read that organic doesn’t mean Round-Up free, either.  What the ….?

Remember that first week after the tsunami and the reports of spikes in the  readings starting on the West coast, and then the East?  And then, no more news?

We’re sort of ‘fuked’.

So, back to Thor.

THOR

A couple weeks ago I heard an interview on the radio.  Someone promoting a book promoting nuclear power.  Before changing channels though, I heard enough to be interested.

Thorium reactions can’t go critical (into meltdown mode) and create maybe only 10% of the waste  current technologies produce.  Not a bad thing.

While China and India are pursuing this technology,  America is burying thorium as a waste product.  (Somewhere, I guess.)

Other minds know more about this.  The book is Thorium–energy cheaper than coal by Robert Hargraves.

Is it too late?  Who knows.  With three reactors in meltdown and spent rod cooling ponds running out of water storage space across the ocean, and fish freaking me out on the scale of their radioactivity, I kind of try to ignore it.

No Fishing Allowed

No Fishing Allowed

When Japan got hit and the news trickled out, I sent my kids emails and told them to eat seaweed and kelp.  Not that they listened, but it was the least I could do.  Now I won’t be buying any more seaweed products either, not that I was a big fan.  I still have some pre-Fukishima capsules.

Okay.  Back to the Chase.  I need some fun.

Happy Fourth of July

First fish?

First fish?

When I was a child, the 4th meant an outdoor fish fry at my grandparent’s and a contest for the biggest fish caught in the backyard pond.  I won once with an ugly bullhead.

I went on to bigger and better fish stories.  One, How Not to Catch a Muskie.  Short version:  I caught one, but was by myself without a camera. (My husband agreed to watch the baby so I could get out early.)  It’s a good thing, however, that no one in the far off boats had a video camera.  It might have shown up on America’s Funniest. I had it in and out of the boat a few times while I looked up the regulations, tried to measure it, put it back.  A bit excited, I started the motor to roar back to the cabin before I remembered to pull up the anchor.

That was a while ago.  Later on I found fishing a bit frustrating.  I’d be baiting hooks for one child or untangling knots, while the youngest, (Intrepid, remember her), would be tossing toys, and then the worms, over the side of the boat to watch them disappear.

And then, oh, joy, in Minnesota, my husband got a fish finder.   After he’d get tired of criss-crossing the lakes and complaining about the lack of fish biting, I’d suggest a spot to stop and drift across.

“No, hon, please don’t even use the trolling motor.”

It kinda bugged him when I would then pull in a northern or two.  {Not complaining. Really.  He’s a keeper!}

Lewis and Clark but not in the Rockies

That picture at the top is my dad and grandpa, and my grandma’s shadow.  I come from a long line of fishermen.  Some of my earliest memories are of camping in an already ancient army umbrella tent, and having to pee in the minnow bucket when our family of 5 was way out on a big lake in a rowboat with a tiny Johnson outboard.  Those were my mom’s years of untangling kids’ fishline.

I’ll have to look for a picture of the tent.  It’s one my great-grandmother used when she went to Traverse City to escape the pollen down here.  I remember the smell of the old canvas.  One of my first memories is of lying on the floor of that tent during a dark and stormy night watching my mom hold the center pole upright in the wind, thunder and lightning.  I asked her later where Dad was.  Out watching the storm, she said.

Misty morning in Glacier National Park

Misty morning in Glacier National Park

He knew things.  Like, “Put your back to the wind.  The storm will come from the left.”

I mentioned the Nimrod in an earlier post.  It occurs to me that many readers might be clueless, so here is a photo when it was 8 yrs old.  Out west.  You pull out the sides, prop them up, and pull out poles and snap the tent to the sides, and Voila!  The boys got one side, my folks, the other.  I got the convertible bench seat/dining table/bed that my carpenter father built in.

nimrod at dinosaur

Hmm. The Utah side of the park is out of the Thrill of the Chase search, but that leaves the Colorado side. . . .

That was it’s second trip out west.  There was one big loop out east, swinging through Detroit, Canada, Maine, Niagara Falls, and back to a great beach on the Canadian shores of Lake Huron.  Still a great site.  About the only place my husband will camp.  (Cabins are okay, but someone has to do housework…..People pitch in when you camp.)

Oops.  I mentioned a couple of my favorite places.  At least I didn’t put too fine a point on it.  That’s one reason I never wanted to be travel writer—didn’t want to attract a crowd and spoil the peace and quiet of special places.

Columbine

Columbine