G&C Summer 2017
Blogpost 009
June 27th, 2017
“Farewell Wyoming, hello Montana”
It’s been awhile since my last
report. Well, I suppose it hasn’t been that long of a stretch. I mean,
people can go for years neglectful of diary entries and writing altogether
(save for the commonplace signature and initial). Besides, breaks are
apparently “good” for creative-based work, as Charlotte has been known to
remind me in times like these. I do agree, but still, powering through eight
500 – 1000+ word journal entries a day to sitting on my hands for four days
straight has left me with a growing guilt. That, and the fact I now have to
condense four-days worth of events for this return to regular writing
exercises. I’m becoming more aware every day how one can take years off from their
writing projects…
I
believe the last entry covered Mid-summer and since then we have had one more
full day on the ranch so one last full day with our horses, and one last full
day with Charlotte’s family. Because this would be our last chance to mount
these gorgeous two-thousand pound behemoths we signed ourselves up for two
rides; a lope for the morning, and a walk-n-trot with Chot’s parents.
Our
morning ride was pleasant and relaxing as we knocked out our first chunk of
lopping alongside a sliver of the Snake River. We came across a couple of men
on horseback who were spraying weeds with Kool-Aid blue poison. Charlotte joked
that for most places on earth it’s easier just to travel by horse. At first I
laughed her comment off, me being a naive city boy thinking of all the
advancements mankind has had with planes, trains, and automobiles. Then a scene
from the Cohen Brother’s No Country for Old Men, based on the Cormack
McCarthy novel of the same name; the scene involved Tommy Lee Jones’ character,
the old sheriff ridding saddleback with a younger deputy to the scene of a
high-stakes criminal deal gone south in the remote outback of the American
west. On a global scale the amount of untamed Mother Nature far surpasses all
the motorways and transcontinental railroads of all time. I began feeling very
small but was lifted back into spirits by sudden high-pitched squeaking. An
adult marmot sunning itself along the rocks along the Snake had seen our horses
and was barking adorable warning signals to his fellow marmot buddies.
We
continued our ride high in spirits from the wildlife, and it didn’t stop at
this vocal rodent. After leaving the shores of the Snake, our wrangler took it
upon herself to show off a trail-favorite of hers that, after being considering
“private property” for the last decade has just become open for trail rides
again. She took us over streams and hills so steep we would have to climb with
all fours had it not been for our four hooved beasts. We saw a pretty large
herd of elk-mothers with their elk-babies that couldn’t have been more than
four weeks old. Then we loped through thick winding patches of forest cleared,
yet somehow overgrown with vegetation and the occasional dead tree blocking the
way. The rest of the ride was done entirely in stitches as my fiancé and I
engaged in an exchange of riddles and jokes among our fellow riders and
wrangler. By far the best one we heard was;
Two
penguins are paddling a canoe in the desert. One penguin looks to the other and
says, “wears your paddle.” Other penguin looks up and says, “sure does.”
I’m realizing now that while
in person the joke was hilarious and took us a while to get that it doesn’t
translate that well through text. Ah well, take it anyway. Jokes are always
more fun to give then to receive.
Our
second ride wasn’t (in my opinion) as fun as our first but only for the fact
that we weren’t flying at medium-speed, which I’d become accustomed too on our
short yet exhilarating week of equine-adventure. We were in a larger group with
at least one or two guests who hadn’t been tested for loping (a safety
requirement for the R lazy S ranch) and besides a solid five-twelve rides over
the course of six days can result in some amazing musculature soreness in
places you’d never know you had. I spent the majority of the ride in mild
discomfort throughout my legs and hinny but we did encounter a large herd of
bull-elk with their crowns of antlers so massive and twisty one has to wonder
how they manage to frolic through the trees without getting caught or
clobbered. A little fun fact about elk that I learned last year on the ranch is
that their perception is vastly different from our own in that when they see a
person on horseback they’re unable to separate the two creatures in their minds
eye and instead just see one big, strange quadrupedal forest dweller like
themselves. Because of this we were able to ride so close to them that we could
see the soft velvet coating of their antlers from just a handful of feet away.
I wonder if they see us as some two-headed docile monster or just as super-ugly
hoofed beings with matching humps that sway and wobble on their own. I bet they
see us as the Igors of the forest.
We
ended our final ride with bittersweet goodbyes to our horses who had been more
than exceptional companions in addition to their roles as full-time
piggy-backers. Charlotte gave Silver/Sparkles many hugs and nose-kisses; a
common trait I’ve noticed of horse-lovers alike, plus she’s been riding that
grumpy yet lovable lug for every visit she’s had on the ranch. I was not as
attached to Romeo/Calaban as my fiancé but we still exchanged in a full
snot-to-chest embrace. When the rest of the riders gave up their horses as well
the wranglers freed them of their saddles and binds and ushered them out the
stables to the weekend pasture for them to frolic and gallivant amongst
themselves. They truly are remarkable creatures but to see them galloping
together naked and free to their favorite realization spot is a sight reserved
for artists and lovers to immortalize in their hearts.
Our horses going to the weekend pasture
This
would be me and my fiancé’s first time visiting the state so our road trip
through rolling humps of brush and nothing was met with fresh eyes from us
both. Our first stop was in Spencer Idaho the self-proclaimed “opal capitol of
the world,” which was crudely painted on weathered wooden signs outside every
roadside gem-shop we could see (and boy there were quite a few of them).
We
stepped inside two; the first little more than a tourist trap selling semi-rare
precious stones found in every rock-shop/geo-hobbyists’ basement collection
except there was also a set of folding tables in the store’s gravel parking log
stacked with heaps of miscellaneous clods that were of no real value. The
second business we stopped at in Spencer was primarily to buy water and use its
bathroom but much to our surprise the selection of opals were impressive to the
eyes but not our wallets and we left with the dazzling display of mineral-based
psychedelic-glitter patterns burned into our retinas.
Charlotte
had planned for us to spend the night, our first night, camping in the thicket
of a Montana forest some miles off the main highway. This would be our first
real night camping with just the two of us (a real test of one’s relationship)
as both our parents had joked. I am not a seasoned camper, in fact I would say
my feelings towards the activity falls more towards the slightly-loathing side
of the spectrum but thankfully my fiancé loves the act of roughing it in
nature.
Just
to clarify I don’t dislike camping by choice. I’d never really had a
“pleasurable” camping trip in my life up to that point; my allergies are always
atrocious, accommodations are always to uncomfortable, sleep becomes a lunar
day-dream, and every parasitic monster with wings seems hell-bent of draining
me for my yummy, yummy blood. And it doesn’t help that I apparently have an
allergy to their saliva, leaving welts on my skin so bulbous you’d think
something was gestating inside. Of course the itching usually results in me
destroying the risen ailments of my arms and legs but that only results in open
wounds and infections, which I was all to familiar with in childhood.
Thankfully
Charlotte was prepared, as she often always is, and packed bug-spray and a tent
big enough for six with an “air-lock” feature that guaranteed no insect invasions
whilst we slept. The tent was impressively comfortable and though our dinner
consisted of just a sole can of chicken and carrot soup it was the best damn
camping experience of my life. In part, because my fiancé had the audacity and
foresight to pack post-bite relief ointment and allergy medication that made me
sleep without discomfort atop our air mattress for two inside our sleeping bag
for two and under her new Jackson Hole blanket. All that paired with the cold
mountain air made us slumber like two cuddly stones.
Our first campsite!
Our first speed bump!
not too terrible...
Even got some collecting it!
Now
it was my understanding that the NADs convention would be held like any other
professional conference, in that a bunch of enthusiasts who get paid to live
out their dreams get together in a big hotel with other like minded individuals
to schmooze and network in-between lectures and scheduled meetings. I was
partially correct in that there are scheduled talks each day with featured dipterists,
but as we arrived at our destination it became clear to me that everything else
I thought this “conference” would be was merely a fabrication of my brain and
that I really need to ask more questions with regards to our summer schedule.
Or perhaps I have a listening problem like so many male partners in this crazy
realm we call “relationships.”
The
NADS field conference is less of a convention and more of an outdoor retreat
for professional bug-catchers where each day is packed with day trips to
various national forests where the rules regarding what you can and cannot
remove from the grounds are minimal to non-existent with talks in the
afternoons and laboratory work held at night. The convention is being held at The
Lubrecht Experimental Forest which is almost like every campground featured in
every Friday the 13th film with exceptions to part Friday the
13th pt. VIII: Jason takes
Manhattan, Jason Goes to Hell, and Jason X (the one where the
shoot the guy into outer space), except that the grounds are more compact and
occupied primarily by researchers.
My
fiancé and I were initially set up to spend the week in a box-car cabin which
is like a regular cabin but mortifyingly worse so we said the hell with it and
pitched our camp off in a secluded part of the woods next to the bathrooms.
Thankfully the surrounding area is downright magical and teaming with nature.
Anyway this blog’s gotten way too long for my own good and though
there’s still more for me to go over I’ll do it for tomorrow’s entry in the
meantime I’ll be keeping my eye’s peeled for men in hockey masks welding
machetes ready to tear us to shreds though Charlotte insists I should be more
concerned for bear-attacks and falling into gofer-holes. Though I highly doubt
we’ll encounter either threats.
Our campsite in Lubrecht Experimental Forest
Charlotte is with her people!!!!
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