November 9, 2009 – What is it they say, “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”? Sometimes it’s true.

By Dave Eriqat

Well, I have to admit, it’s really hard maintaining a blog while working full time, especially at a job one enjoys. When I come home from work I actually look forward to … working some more! I turn on my computer and spend a couple more hours working. I don’t care that I don’t get paid for it. Actually, it’s better than when I was self-employed because there is no dilemma about whether to charge the client for the extra time. Being a salaried employee, any extra time I spend is purely on the house. But that gives me a certain freedom to experiment with ideas without feeling guilty about charging my client, which in this case is my employer. I really enjoy my work because I’m learning so much. I’m actually sort of surprised that I still have the drive I had in my youth. I had spent so much time in a work-related rut that I forgot how much fun it is to learn new things.

It’s also difficult to switch from writing eloquent words that stir the hearts of computers to writing words that do the same for humans. For example, the phrase,

device->ADC()
    .SetCalMode( AD_CAL_MODE_NORMAL )
    .SetDiscardFirstSample( true )
    .SetTriggerMode( AD_TRIGGER_SCAN )
    .SetGainCodeAndDiffMode( AD_GAIN_CODE_0_10V, false )
    .SetOversample( 100 );

may turn a computer all gooey inside, but it does little for most humans.

Anyway, this long-winded introduction has a point. Laboring over a hot computer for too long has its disadvantages, not limited to sore shoulders, elbows, wrists, back and so forth, not to mention the acquisition of a pasty complexion. I don’t have anything against pasty complexions – actually, on some people they look quite nice – but as someone who believes the sun is a great source of health – if not overdone – such a complexion accompanies poorer health. Last weekend – the fact that it’s taken me a week to write this shows how much time I’m spending working – I availed myself of the gorgeous, clear, warm, dry fall weather and the sun’s therapeutic rays to do some hiking. Since I wanted to get back to work ASAP, I decided to hike in a local park, a mere ten miles away instead of my familiar hiking locale of Mount Cuyamaca, where I have hiked countless times.

An innocent start: A shady crossing over the bone-dry
San Diego River, believe it or not

Last weekend I hiked in Mission Trails Regional Park, located just a few miles northeast of downtown San Diego. Even though I grew up in San Diego, I had never visited this park until a couple of years ago. Since then, my brother and I have hiked there several times. Last weekend I hiked solo – what could possibly go wrong?

Although the park is remarkably close to everything in San Diego, it’s equally remarkable for its ruggedness.

Rugged terrain of Mission Trails Park

This park is huge – covering thousands of acres – and one of the most rugged and seemingly remote places I’ve ever hiked. It’s also rather treacherous. On our last hike my brother slipped and sustained minor injuries, a rarity for him, although not so much for me!

On a previous hike we had hiked to the top of the Fortuna Mountains – I don’t really consider these mountains, but in some parts of the country they would be considered such. So in the interest of expedience, I decided to repeat that rather enjoyable hike we took. My first mistake was attempting such a mission without the aid of my brother and his trusty maps! Hey, I don’t need no stinkin’ maps!

The trails in this park are poorly marked, as in, there are few signs. Worse, there is abundant overgrown brush that conceals the trails rather well, making it difficult to figure out where you are. Another problem I always have when hiking in this park is the failure to take it very seriously – because it’s so close to home – which leads to my bringing insufficient quantities of water. Last weekend the temperature was only in the mid-80s, but the sun was intense and the air was exceedingly dry, which, combined with the extremely rugged terrain I hiked, rendered the mere one liter of water I brought along grossly inadequate. I should have brought along three or four liters! As it turns out, I drank probably a gallon of water over the course of the evening after I got home.

Between the poorly marked trails and the absence of my navigator, I evidently made a wrong turn somewhere along the way. After an hour or so I found myself confronting not the base of North Fortuna Mountain, but the base of a different mountain, Kwaay Paay. On one of our hikes, my brother and I had expressed an interest in scaling that mountain, so I figured, “Why not?” I wasn’t particularly devoted to hiking Mount Fortuna and this other mountain was right in front of me, so I began the ascent.

A vanishing trail becomes a rockclimbing endeavor

In the photo above – a blow up of the preceding photo – one can see the trail leading up Kwaay Paay peak, or at least half of the way up. The other half is nearly a rockclimbing endeavor, which literally reduced me to using all fours. In fact, this mountain is popular with rockclimbers, more than a dozen of whom were climbing up the face a few hundred yards to the north. Below is a view from about the half way point.

The view from half way up Kwaay Paay Peak,
looking southeast toward downtown San Diego

By the time I got to the half way point, I was starting to think about turning back. I wasn’t really in the mood for a rockclimbing session, nor did I relish climbing back down. Nevertheless, it was one of those goals I simply couldn’t abandon. I just had to get to the top. Plus, I was hoping that I’d find an easier way back down, so I kept climbing. I did encounter one other hiker coming down – the only other hiker I saw the entire day at elevation. I should have listened when he said as he inched past me, “It’s a lot easier going up,” but alas, I did not and kept climbing.

It was a relief when I got to the top, and my apprehension temporarily melted away as I enjoyed the satisfying view.

The view from the top of Kwaay Paay

The green belt in the valley below is the San Diego River

After enjoying the view from the top for a while and “dining” on some leftover Halloween candy bars, I decided to search for an easier way down than the way up. Heading north along the crest of Kwaay Paay peak, I figured there must be an easy way across the gorge between it and the Fortuna Mountains. I was so determined to avoid going back down the arduous route I climbed up that I was willing to walk several miles out of the way if necessary.

The trouble was, after walking a mile or so north it became inescapably clear that there was no such easy passage between the two mountains, which remained diabolically separated by a chasm-like gorge plunging a thousand feet below. As a grim feeling welled up inside me, I finally concluded I had to bite the bullet and forge my own way down into the gorge and up the other side. The problem was that I couldn’t identify any place that looked easy to traverse, so I just started heading down.

This terrain is tricky. The tops of the “mountains” are nice, round curves, but as one descends, the terrain gets increasingly steep, as if the mountains are buttressed by walls of rock. And worse, because the terrain is so steep, one cannot even see what’s below. One is reduced to guessing about what’s ahead. Nevertheless, I knew what lay ahead as I descended the gentle upper slope of the mountain into the gorge. It’s hard to convey how treacherous this descent was. For starters, it was remarkably steep. Most of the time it looked to be straight down, although it was probably no steeper than forty-five degrees. But there were no flat spots, no places to stop and relax and not worry about slipping. Every step and foothold had to be carefully selected – a mistake could literally be fatal. One could pause, but only so long as they had a secure grip and didn’t move. Surprisingly, the worst hazard was not the steepness or the rocks, but the grass. The tall, brown, post-summer grass covered the ground, making it difficult to identify secure footholds underneath. And the grass was thick and smooth and slippery, like hay. A couple of times I slipped on it and fell, thankfully coming to a speedy stop before losing control and plunging hundreds of feet down.

About half way down I realized that the way down was far more difficult than the way I had come up, a route that I was so determined to avoid traversing back down! I had managed to trade a difficult, but known quantity for a much more difficult, unknown quantity. While it took me half an hour to climb up the mountain, it took me an hour to climb just half way back down via the route I was on. I also started to experience some self-doubt, fearing that I might not be able to get down at all! There was no way I was going back up, and the terrain ahead of me looked increasingly steep and unnavigable. I started to imagine being lifted out by a cable dangling from a helicopter, and I think it was the potential embarrassment of being “rescued” that motivated me to continue. I simply told myself that I had made it half way and that I could take as many small steps as necessary until I got down, and that’s exactly what I did.

Can’t see the trail? That’s because there isn’t one. That’s a waterfall above.

As I feared, the terrain became increasingly difficult, steep and rocky. I selected a route that was obviously favored by water during the rainy season, figuring that would definitely get me down. The only problem was that along the way I literally had to scale down a waterfall, and the route harbored a lot of dense plant growth which obviously relished the abundant water. Once I got past the waterfall, the terrain got a little less steep, but it was still quite a struggle to get through the brush without falling down the rocks. I was amazed at my ability to scuttle under bushes. Of course, when one has no choice – and I had no choice – one can do surprising things.

Two hours after initiating my descent I reached the bottom of the thousand-foot gorge, and then spent ten minutes or so removing plant burrs from my socks and shoes. I was so relieved to have made it down without incident – despite a hundred opportunities to fall to my death – that I didn’t even mind that I still had a three-mile long, mostly uphill hike back to my car.

I guess the moral of this story is that life deals us wrong turns all the time, and how we cope with them is what matters. Do we panic or do we keep our heads and muddle through? Do we give up or do we summon up the strength to carry on? Do we learn from our mistakes or do we keep on making them? I must confess, I usually make the same mistake three times before I learn my lesson … sigh. Just two more to go …

September 19, 2009 – Is resistance futile​?

By Dave Eriqat

Although the government’s war against the citizens has been waged for decades, beginning at least as far back as Nixon’s “war on drugs,” the war was escalated significantly in 2001, and in the last year or so it’s become an assault so brazen that few can fail to see it any longer, that is, if they can see rather than merely look. What’s peculiar is that the people – aside from those few hundred thousand engaged citizens who marched on Washington on September 12 – just seem to endure it. I suppose that can be attributed to the incremental nature of the assault, which obscures just how far we’ve deviated from the ideals set forth by the founders of this nation, as well as the simultaneous, deliberate and systematic dumbing down of the populace, not to mention the monopolistic takeover of the media by the government’s partners in fascism, who largely share the government’s agenda and don’t hesitate to use their hard won monopoly to serve as the government’s mouthpiece, as long as they can sell a little advertising in the process.

While we were paying more attention to circuses like American Idol than to what our government was doing in our name, our country quietly morphed into a bombastic, militaristic bully that sustains itself today on tribute paid by the rest of the world. Few Americans, however, realize that the rest of the world is doing more than just grumbling about its subservient role – it’s looking for ways to stop paying these tributes to the American empire. When that happens, and it’s only a matter of when, not if, America will have nothing to fall back on. Its factories, with the exception of its military weapons factories, have been shipped elsewhere. Its family farmers have been driven off the land and the land turned over to the government’s partners in the fascist food production system. Americans are in for a rude awakening, and yet few see it coming.

War Comes Home

Of course, the people still do not recognize the product of the seeds they sowed when they sanctioned the country’s various ill-conceived wars against “ragheads,” which would inevitably come home. When a government transforms itself into a war-based government, as ours certainly has, what with its 700+ military garrisons outside the country, it’s only a matter of time before it begins to view the citizens it supposedly serves as the enemy. After all, such a government needs “enemies” to justify its existence; if it cannot find enough of them abroad, it must look for them at home.

We hoped the Abu Ghraib spectacle was an appalling anomaly, but judging from the polls, torture is apparently popular with Americans, especially religious ones:

How is it that the issue of torture, an intrinsic evil in the same moral category as rape and slavery, has gotten divorced from the realm of morality and been given a completely different focus; i. e., does torture “work”?
 
Torture does not provide reliable information; but that’s not the main point. Why is it that religious leaders, by and large, cannot find their voices? Why do they take the course of least resistance, adopting as their model the cowardice of the institutional churches of Nazi Germany? What are the implications for us? (Source: Torture: The Fault Is Not in Our Stars)

I guess I’m not really all that surprised that religious people are more tolerant of such egregious, inhumane practices, since a lot of religious people I’ve known are religious in name only (like the fellow who nearly ran me over yesterday evening in his Mercedes because he was impatient to get to temple). Going to church for many is simply a means to absolve the past week’s sins and clean the slate for the coming week’s sins. And allow me to recall one of the more infamous examples of religion-inspired torture, the Inquisition. If torture were a product, I wonder what brand of torture Jesus would endorse. I’m guessing it wouldn’t be crucifixion.

We’ve become so inured to torture and barbarity that we don’t even recognize it in our midst. Tasers were supposed to be a “non-lethal” alternative to guns, yet every week I read about someone dying from a taser attack, and hundreds have died from tasers in the U.S. and Canada in just the last few years. At least guns kill quickly, especially when the victim is shot forty or fifty times, preventing authority figures from indulging their prurient sadistic tendencies by pulling the taser trigger twenty times, smiling and cracking jokes as the victim writhes in electrified agony on the way to his demise.

The public is no better, having become equally sadistic, even if we lack the imprimatur of “legitimacy” through which to act out our carnal urges. We have to content ourselves with watching tawdry TV shows that specialize in humiliating “contestants” and “perps” alike. Since I spend more time among the public these days, I’ve had more opportunity to observe the disgusting behavior of my fellow citizens, particularly those behind the wheel of over-endowed automobiles, which evidently serve to compensate for feelings of low self-esteem or some other inadequacy.

Lies, Lies and More Lies

I’ve gotten to the point where I believe nothing – and I mean nothing – the government says anymore. All of its “official” statistics are so gerrymandered for political reasons that they are almost meaningless. They are still slightly valuable, however, as a reverse indicator of reality. If, for instance, a government “statistic” shows something is improving, then in all likelihood the truth is the opposite.

I don’t believe a single word uttered by the current occupant of the White House. In fact, besides “his” words (he is merely a mouthpiece) being devoid of any discernible sincerity, his persona makes my skin crawl, as would that of a slick, psychopathic con artist (and I have known such a person). And yet this thinly veiled authoritarian (or perhaps would-be dictator is a more apt term) remains the darling of the “progressive” crowd. I guess that doesn’t surprise me either, since “progressives” are really authoritarians of the left.

Despite the torrent of lies spewed forth by the government and the absurdity of the obsolete terminology used to describe this nation today, people desperately cling to demonstrably false beliefs, such as that this nation is the “freest” nation in the world and a champion of “free markets,” and that the government “cares” about our well being. (Excuse me for a second while I clean up my vomit.)

The psychology of belief retention even when those beliefs are wrong is a pillar of social cohesion and stability. It explains why, once change is effected, even revolutionary governments become conservative. The downside of belief retention is its prevention of the recognition of facts. Belief retention in the Soviet Union made the system unable to adjust to economic reality, and the Soviet Union collapsed. Today in the United States millions find it easier to chant “USA, USA, USA” than to accept facts that indicate the need for change. (Source: Why Propaganda Trumps Truth)

The “global warming” orthodoxy is one of several contemporary examples of the “big lie.” The threat posed by this supposed malady is so dire that only draconian action can save us, and no dissent will be countenanced. The real objective behind this charade is the empowerment of government to meddle in our lives and tax us, and to give enterprising, Nobel Prize winning, self-proclaimed do-gooders an opportunity to line up at the trough of the carbon trading pits, eager to feed off the naiveté of people who care about the environment but make the mistake of trusting their government to tell them the truth.

Deliberate Poisoning

Deliberate poisoning of the populace probably began with the introduction of fluoride to the drinking water, some 70% of which is now intentionally contaminated with this stuff. Some have claimed that fluoride makes people docile, so perhaps that’s why Americans seem so apathetic about the affronts they suffer daily at the hands of their government.

Nowadays we have a more modern, more direct approach to poisoning the populace: vaccines injected right into the bloodstream. Not content to let the populace voluntarily self-medicate with vaccines (in no small part as a result of massive government and corporate propaganda), governments and their corporate partners are on the verge of dispensing vaccines at gunpoint. The motivation is the same as it always is in a fascist system: power for the government and profits for the corporations.

How fortuitous for the proponents of mass vaccination that a “novel” disease should come along right now. Or maybe not:

A virologist who has been researching the A/H1N1 virus has concluded after months of research that the “novel” influenza was re-assorted in a laboratory from eight genes consisting of avian, swine and human type influenza A virus. (Source: A/H1N1 was reassorted in a lab)

Notice the word “novel” in the quotation above? That’s a significant word because legislation and executive orders have recently been concocted that give the government extraordinary and extra-Constitutional powers in the event of the emergence of a “novel” virus. I hardly think it’s a coincidence that a “novel” virus should appear just when the economic situation of this nation, and especially that of its government, is becoming so dire. And how about the irony of us being forced to pay for (through taxes) our own debilitation from these vile “medicines”?

While most people probably get a vaccination out of a misplaced sense of “duty” or as a result of being bamboozled by the health care industry into believing that vaccines actually do anything, people seem to really enjoy medicating themselves with psychoactive drugs. Actually, we know that to be the case with “illegal” drugs, which are also referred to as “recreational” drugs. These drugs are illegal because there is no profit in them for the corporations. Anyone can grow their own marijuana plant, so how can the corporations profit from that? That is why marijuana is particularly hated by the fascist establishment. Antidepressants, on the other hand, are a whole other story. They can be patented and sold for exorbitant prices, fattening the profit margins of corporations and the bonus checks of corporate executives. Since marijuana is illegal, Americans have happily turned to legal, if expensive drugs to escape reality, much to the delight of the corporations that own the patents and the government that doesn’t want a bunch of “unresty” citizens on its hands. I don’t think it’s unwelcome news to the government that our drinking water is increasingly contaminated with antidepressants, but I can’t help but wonder about the source of this contamination.

Taxing Us To Death

Despite our country being in a depression (yes, it’s a modest depression so far), the government, ever hungry for revenue has been raising taxes and “fees” (a kinder, gentler euphemism for “taxes”) across the board. It seems to believe that the people, much like the government’s own printing press, have bottomless wallets, and that the government can simply raise taxes willy-nilly without repercussions to the economy. Here’s a free economic tip for the government: when people are so tapped out that they are unwilling to assume any more debt obligations, even to purchase the latest snazzy, “must-have” gadgets, they certainly cannot afford more taxes (or mandatory payments to greedy health insurance companies, for that matter, a tax of sorts that just happens to be collected by the private sector).

Although governments are raising taxes and “fees,” they are now finally looking at cutting expenditures. Unfortunately, they are planning to cut useful services, such as police and fire departments, completely overlooking the fact that the only reason to have a government is to provide services. These government people have become so entrenched in their “occupation” that they seem to believe that their “job” is to collect a taxpayer-funded paycheck, and that any service they might happen to provide as a consequence of doing their “job” is purely incidental, icing on the public cake. It’s OK to cut those pesky “services,” but by no means cut administrative staff or salaries, or, god forbid, the lavish pensions. Thank goodness that the city of San Diego will be able to keep funding its precious pension system for ex-employees who are collecting upwards of $100,000 per year for their past years of well-paid service to the city. Laying off the police to pay the pensions might have one beneficial consequence, however: a decrease in taser fatalities, much the way labor strikes by doctors result in a decrease in the mortality rate (and people wonder why I don’t go to doctors).

As if we weren’t already being bombarded on all sides by tax increases, there is one particularly harebrained scheme that just won’t die: the GPS-based automobile mileage tax. Not only will such a tax create a disincentive to drive economical cars, it will be a nightmare to administer. Imagine trying to keep such a system working with hundreds of millions of vehicles. Imagine not being able to buy gasoline because the “GPS computer” is “down” and can’t read your car’s mileage. If they want to tax people for miles driven, there’s a simple device that is already built into every car, truck and motorcycle. It’s called an odometer. I believe the primary motivation for this idiotic proposal is to raise tax revenue because as people have increasingly turned to more economical cars lately, gasoline tax revenues have fallen. The logical solution to a government mind is to punish the people for causing this reduction of tax revenue and ensure that it won’t happen again. However, I think an additional, sinister motivation behind this scheme is to keep track of peoples’ movements, and a GPS tracking device fitted to every car would make that most convenient. Of course, I’m sure the government would never abuse such information. In fact, I’m sure it will tell us just that if this proposal gets close to becoming the law of the land.

Here in California we’re suffering under a drought, or so the government tells us, so the “authorities” have urged us – there’s always the latent threat of “fines” or worse for noncompliance backing up their urges – to conserve water. We complied, reducing consumption by something like 15%. The reward for our civic mindedness? Higher water rates! The government isn’t making enough money now because we’re using less water, so in order to keep the revenue flowing, even though the water isn’t, the government is proposing to increase the cost. (This is just like the mileage tax idea above. We use less, so the government wants to raise the cost. The most important thing is to maintain that revenue stream.) I guess the plan is to tax us if we consume water and tax us if we don’t. Hey, maybe they should just tax us for being alive. Oh, wait, they’re already working on that under the guise of “health care reform.”

The Death Of Freedom

Not content with controlling our food, water, health and movement, the government is even tinkering with minutiae like baning incandescent light bulbs and “large” TVs. How about banning air conditioners, or banks of recessed ceiling lights, or swimming pool pumps, or garish Christmas light displays, or rechargeable electric vehicles, all of which consume more power than a “large” TV? Does it ever occur to the people who propose such drivel that people already pay for their consumption of electricity? To my knowledge, the electric companies don’t give the electricity away for free, and if a person consumes more electricity, they pay more for it. If there aren’t enough power plants to power all of our electronic toys, whose fault is that? Perhaps that of government “planning” commissions, which don’t hesitate to approve one new housing development after another, regardless of whether there’s enough electricity and water to run all those new houses. I’m sure the fact that housing developments generate lots of new tax revenue for the government has no bearing on the decisions of the “planning” agencies.

Someone I know was complaining that they had to go get re-fingerprinted this Saturday morning in order to renew their notary license, because the FBI rejected their first set of fingerprints as not good enough. Aside from the spine shivering idea of needing to obtain FBI approval to engage in one’s choice of occupation, the person who was complaining about having to jump through these hoops just accepted it as a reasonable occupational burden! I would find another profession! Sadly, this person is but one of many I know who simply tolerate such affronts to their freedom to earn a living however they wish.

It seems as if people have lived without freedom for so long they’ve forgotten what it tastes like. I keep wondering how long it will be until people say “NO!”, but I’m starting to believe that will never happen. The government has invested enormous sums of money into studying the psychology of populations under conditions of adversity, particularly from the perspective of controlling popular will. Perhaps through medicating, terrorizing and dumbing down the populace, the government has succeeded in its long sought endeavor of controlling the population. Perhaps the people are incapable of resisting anymore because they are incapable of seeing, feeling or thinking anymore. I see so many people who are truly happy in their state of blissful ignorance. They don’t want to know the truth; they don’t want real freedom; they want only to live in comfort, regardless of the cost, as long as that cost is kept largely concealed. Give them bread and circuses and they are content to tolerate their chains of bondage as long as they aren’t uncomfortably tight and don’t clash with their other bling.

Why am I so disappointed by the apathy of the populace? After all, they can be bought off cheap. For a mere $4,500 rebate (taxable, by the way) they will chain themselves to a new car for five years. For a tax credit of just $8,000 they will chain themselves to a new house for … until they can no longer make the payments. No wonder house prices have risen by double digit amounts in some markets lately.

Meanwhile, the government continues to wage its war on us. Is it too late to resist?

Update – 21 September 2009

Well, this is a timely article titled, The Economy Is A Lie, Too, by one of my favorite writers, Paul Craig Roberts. It opens with:

Americans cannot get any truth out of their government about anything, the economy included. Americans are being driven into the ground economically, with one million school children now homeless, while Federal Reserve chairman Ben Bernanke announces that the recession is over.

That’s but one of many no holds barred assessments made by Mr. Roberts. Needless to say, I couldn’t agree more.

Update – 24 September 2009

Above I expressed puzzlement at the source of pharmaceuticals in our water supply. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but suspected that it was coming directly from pharmaceutical companies. Well, here’s a new article, titled U.S. Pharmaceutical Factories Dumping Huge Quantities of Drugs Into Public Sewers, Rivers and Waterways, that reinforces my suspicions. The only remaining question is, “Why?” Is it just a cost-saving practice or is it secretly intended to involuntarily medicate society into docility?

Update – 28 September 2009

There could be no more succinct image of the government’s war against the civilians than this one from the recent G20 (i.e. NWO) get together in Pittsburgh.

Isn’t that a scene right out of a harrowing science fiction movie? Too bad it’s real! And the descriptions of the unprovoked, rabid attacks by police on protesters are breathtaking, even for one like me who long ago foresaw today’s reality. In fact, some claim that the police themselves were acting as agent provocateurs amid the “protesters,” which is not only believable but reinforced by ample precedent.

The events in Pittsburgh also demonstrate an element of “blowback.” A country that engages in militaristic adventures abroad inevitably follows the same path at home when the “troops” come home. Where do people think all those ex-soldiers go? To work for police departments, for one. And they don’t see “us” as Americans, but as the “enemy,” little different from all those “insurgents” in Iraq, or Afghanistan or Pakistan. One can only hope they run out of money before they are able to cinch closed the noose they have planned for us.

September 12, 2009 – It’s back to the salt mines for me.

By Dave Eriqat

Some may have noticed I’ve been rather reticent of late. I have an excuse: I took a full time job that demands my presence from nine to five (‘what a way to make a living,” I hear Dolly singing in my head) every weekday, and then some.

This is my world now – traffic, freeways, smog – a far cry from the wilds of Kentucky (I actually ride my bicycle on the freeway to get to work)

The funny thing is that I wasn’t even looking for a job. I was looking to spend money on a digital camera that I don’t need, while enjoying my “sabbatical.” After almost thirty years of slaving over a hot computer I figured I earned a year or so off for good behavior, but alas, it was not to be. Striking out looking for my future ex-camera on craigslist, I decided to click on the “jobs” category to get a sense of the job market, As I browsed the job listings, one struck me as right up my alley, so on a lark I updated my resume, which I last updated on a similar lark three years ago, and mailed it off. Craigslist promptly rejected my e-mail, complaining that it exceeded 150K in size. I was tempted to abandon my halfhearted quest right then, but darn it, I just spent almost three minutes of my precious time updating my resume and I was not going to be flummoxed by a damned machine. So I posted the resume on my web site and e-mailed a link to it to the employer.

After seven days I still had not heard back from the employer and breathed a sigh of relief – truly – that my sabbatical would continue uninterrupted. After all, I had a lot of napping and other important duties to attend to, such as spending hours every day reading articles on the web. Should anyone make me feel guilty about being unemployed, I could now say with all honesty, “But I’ve sent out hundreds of resumes and not gotten a single reply.” OK, that wouldn’t be totally honest, but if need be I could contrive the necessary wiggle room, like debating the meaning of the word “hundreds,” the way politicians do. The point is, I could say that I made an effort to get a job but it’s just too tough a market these days. Aw shucks.

On the eighth day, however, fate or fortune intervened and I got a call out of the blue from the employer. They asked me to come in for an interview that afternoon, which I did. After speaking with the head programmer for half an hour and the owner of the thirty-person company for fifteen minutes, he offered me a job. The salary is half what I used to make working part time as a self-employed consultant, but still above the median household income for this entire country, which is pretty good considering that computer programming jobs like mine are disappearing faster than dollar bills at a political convention. Plus, to be honest – and I hate to admit this – I need the money. My cash will run out within six months or so and then I’d have to start tapping into my savings, which I’m loath to do. So with considerable trepidation over abandoning my delightful sabbatical, I took the job.

On my first day I was given a customer support task for a product I knew nothing about, for a customer I had never talked to before, who was having a problem that he might as well have explained in Greek, for all the sense it made to me. It was an inauspicious start to my new job. So after cleaning up my storage room-turned-office, assembling my own workstation from spare parts lying around and installing the Linux operating system on it – since I’m to be the company’s Linux guru (what a laugh) – I sat down to investigate the customer’s problem.

Now, a common repartee between software engineers and hardware engineers involves the software person asserting that “it’s a hardware problem,” and the hardware person retorting that “it’s a software problem.” (Usually it is a hardware problem. He, he.) After writing a little utility program and e-mailing it to the customer untested, based on the feedback from that utility program I was convinced that the customer’s problem truly was a hardware problem, as in a defective board, which is a daring conclusion to make on one’s second day at work, not even having seen the board in question since it’s over a thousand miles away in Texas. Anyway, I helped the customer get his other board working properly and he was very pleased with the level of support he received.

Although the learning curve so far has been daunting and my “to do list” is already several pages long, I really like the job and don’t miss my sabbatical as much as I feared. The people who work at this company are really nice, sharp cookies and the place has a family feel to it, which is not surprising since the owner’s wife and two of his sons work there as well. In fact, one of the sons is a hardware engineer, so maybe I’d better backpedal a little from my earlier statement that problems are usually hardware problems. Last week we had a relaxed company potluck lunch right out in front of the building. It’s also pleasing that the products – data acquisition and communication products – are fully designed and manufactured right here in the U.S. The irony is that the owner is an immigrant from Poland! While American CEOs are working overtime to send American jobs overseas, here is a foreign immigrant to this country creating American jobs and American made products.

My only regret about taking this job is that I won’t be able to go camping later this month like I had planned. After my recent trip I vowed to go camping on my property in Northern California and even bought a bunch of camping gear to use on that trip, which was to last at least a week, maybe two. Oh well, life involves trade-offs.

I will certainly continue to work on my blog here, but it might take me some time to adjust to my new lifestyle. After all, for over two decades I was self employed and worked only part time, so I had plenty of free time. Now my schedule is a little more regimented and my time is a little less abundant. For example, I’d love to sit on my butt all day and lallygag or, I don’t know, maybe work on the huge work project I brought home, but in a few minutes I have to go spend the day helping my brother-in-law build a deck in his backyard, something I agreed to before I was employed.

As for the collapse that’s continuing apace all around us, well, I’m ignoring it for a little while, but I have no illusions that things will turn around. “Green shoots,” my ass! Why, beginning yesterday afternoon we were without electricity for over ten hours, that following last month’s six-hour outage. The electricity here is less reliable than that in Kentucky! Only twice did I suffer power outages in Kentucky that lasted longer than the last two here, once after a devastating hurricane and the other after an even more devastating ice storm. More than anything else, electricity outages give one a palpable taste of real collapse because almost none of our modern conveniences or entertainment devices work without it. We take for granted that the power will come back on within a reasonable amount of time, but what if the electric company is suffering under crippling financial problems? Mother nature doesn’t take a company’s fiscal health into account before meting out her disasters.

I’m working solely to make some money, and to take advantage of an opportunity that was dangled tantalizingly in front of me. I’ve neglected to take advantage of so many such opportunities throughout my life, so I thought, “why not?” Who knows, if the economic collapse accelerates in the next month or two, as some have recently averred, I may be unemployed soon again anyway, so for now I’m just taking things a day at a time.

August 19, 2009 – Mother nature is a surefire cure for human hubris. Free photos inside!

By Dave Eriqat

Western side of Mount Cuyamaca, from about 6,500 feet elevation. On a clear day one can see the ocean, perhaps 40 miles to the west (to the left in this photo).

Having an urge to take some scenic photographs, I headed up to Mount Cuyamaca yesterday, but I didn’t end up taking the kind of photographs I set out to capture. The hazy atmosphere, the summer-baked vegetation and the burned out forest weren’t very conducive to taking panoramic photographs of the landscape. Instead I ended up taking photographs documenting the welcome rebirth of a devastated mountain.

I have hiked this mountain countless times during the past thirty years. Way back in the early 1980s the mountain boasted a lush, dense, shady forest packed with wildlife. I still recall seeing whole families of deer during a hike back then – fathers with huge antlers, smaller mothers and bunches of little ones. Even today, with the forest all but dead, there are incredible numbers of deer, squirrels, lizards and even mountain lions. Yesterday I saw as many deer tracks on the trail as human footprints.

Eastern side of Mount Cuyamaca. Almost thirty years ago the occasional dead tree was an anomaly. Today the occasional living tree is the anomaly.

In the early 1980s the forest was so dense that one could walk much of the five miles or so to the top of the mountain under the shade of trees. I recall a hike after an ice storm hit the mountain. In the early morning sunlight each individual, ice-coated pine needle looked like a long crystal. An entire forest of such needles sparkling in the morning sunlight was awe inspiring, and I have always regretted not having a camera with me that day.

For the last couple of decades, however, the forest has suffered one assault after another. Two decades of dry conditions, bark beetle infestations and in 2003 and I believe 2007 as well, disastrous fires drove the final nails into the coffin of this once lush forest.

I look at this devastated mountain today, recall its former glory and lament the loss that’s occurred just within my lifetime. At the same time, I cannot help but wonder how many thousands of times the forest on this mountain has been erased and reborn in this manner. Assuming such drastic upheavals occur every ten-thousand years, then the forest has likely been erased and reborn a thousand times in just the last ten-million years, an exceedingly brief epoch compared to the age of the earth. Knowing that the forest has died out and been reborn thousands of times before makes the loss seem more palatable.

Even in death there is haunting beauty. The pale and charred skeleton of a once mighty oak tree.

I was fortunate to hike here in the winter of 2002/2003, just months before the big fire in October of 2003. It was perhaps the last time there was any semblance of a forest remaining. The sky was so dark at midday that it seemed like twilight. The snow was over a foot deep everywhere, which made hiking rather taxing. And there were abundant mountain lion tracks up and down both sides of the snow-covered trail, which added to the foreboding ambiance. Nevertheless, it was a highly memorable hike.

Today, even amid the death and destruction of what looks more like a war zone than a forest, amid dead trees that stand like so many charred headstones, life is thriving. With the tall trees no longer blocking the sunlight, the smaller plants have a chance to grow, including an impressive number of new pine trees which are already three feet tall.

Rebirth of the forest, including numerous new pine trees

Death and rebirth

Young pine trees where I once enjoyed seeing a crystalline forest

I’m somewhat surprised to see the pine trees growing back so quickly. Who knows, maybe by the time I’m ready to depart this earth the forest will be almost back to what it was when I arrived on this earth. One thing is for certain, should the human species exit stage left, mother nature, in her eternal wisdom and limitless patience, will keep the show going on without us.

A busy little bee doing its part to rejuvenate the forest

August 16, 2009 – As if that’s really news.

By Dave Eriqat

I really don’t enjoy writing about negative topics (I was once called “Mr. Negative” for foreseeing the present economic malaise; another time I was called “Mr. Complainer” for asking a bartender in an Irish pub to put a larger head on my next Guinness), but I just ran across a stunning, damning report that I regard as compelling evidence that the U.S. is a fascist country.

Definition Of Fascism

First of all, what do I mean by fascist? The word is fecklessly thrown about these days to describe anyone or any organization that’s overly authoritarian, which is not to imply that the U.S. is not authoritarian, even totalitarian as well as fascist. In fact, I believe that fascism can only exist within an authoritarian climate that inevitably devolves into a totalitarian one. I use Benito Mussolini’s definition of fascism:

Fascism should more appropriately be called Corporatism because it is a merger of state and corporate power. – Benito Mussolini

Mythology Versus Reality

For decades we’ve been regaled with the mythology that the U.S. economy is based on small businesses, that small businesses are the engine of job creation. (I confess that until I read this report, I believed that myth too.) At the same time, it’s been increasingly evident, even to a blind person, that the liaisons between the state and the corporations are strengthening, and that their combined interests are increasingly contrary to those of the people. The report to which I refer above soundly lays to rest the fiction of a U.S. economy based on small businesses. A single chart pilfered from the report and shown below succinctly summarizes the findings in the report.

Similar charts depicting the data for smaller businesses run by self-employed individuals and larger businesses with up to 500 employees are more or less the same, showing the U.S. at or near the bottom of the list of countries surveyed. What these charts indicate is that, contrary to the myth we’ve been fed for so long, employment in this country is dominated by large firms and corporations. In addition, it’s been known for some time, again, contrary to the mythology commonly presented, that the U.S. offers among the lowest class mobility among these same nations. In other words, contrary to commonly held beliefs, the notion of a person in the U.S. working hard and making a “success” of their self is more fantasy than reality, limited to a very small minority of the population. The rest are firmly locked into their station in life on a perpetually spinning hamster wheel. Finally, income disparities today are worse than ever in U.S. history and worse than anywhere else in the world. While I have not researched the facts behind the growing income disparity, I suspect it has much to do with the systematic elimination of small businesses, including family farms, and the consolidation of smaller firms into larger ones that are “too big to fail,” not to mention outsourcing (a practice only large corporations engage in).

Relevance

What bearing does the make-up of the U.S. employment picture have on the U.S. being a fascist country? For one thing, fascism is almost inconceivable in a nation comprised of myriad small firms. It’s only feasible in a nation dominated by a few large companies, such as the half dozen or so companies that control nearly every form of “mainstream media” in this country, including television, radio, newspapers, magazines, books, music, films and videos. Think about it: six or so individual CEOs effectively dominate the full spectrum of information that’s disseminated in this country, the internet standing out as an exception for the time being, although it’s under dire threat. In such an environment dominated by a handful of huge corporations, a government interested in controlling the message received by the populace (e.g. “catapult the propaganda”) need only make such arrangements with a handful of individuals. If, instead, the media market in this country were distributed among hundreds of companies, the government would face a much greater challenge getting all those companies, headed by diverse and individualistic personalities, to sing its tune. This is the basis upon which bloggers are being demonized today. They represent precisely this sort of diverse, uncontrollable information outlet that rankles the fascist establishment.

Besides the handful of corporations that control the media in the U.S., there are a handful that control the banking system, another handful that control the energy system, another handful that control the food system, another that control the retail system and another that control the health care system. Literally a few dozen corporate CEOs control the bulk of commerce in this country.

Fascism In Action

Fascism is clearly on display in the “health care reform” bill moving through the digestive tract of Congress. Since fascism is a symbiotic relationship between government and corporations, each must benefit from the arrangement, although usually not in the same manner. The government will get from the new law what it covets the most, which is power: among other things, to decide what health care people will receive, how much they will pay, perhaps even when and how they will die. Corporations will get what they covet the most, which is money.

It’s quite clear that the health insurance companies had a hand in crafting this proposed new law, and no wonder, for the law mandates millions of new “customers,” forced literally under threat of violence from the government to purchase health insurance. Forced participation is simply the next logical step after government-protected monopolies have run their course and no more customers are willing to purchase a company’s product or service.

Pharmaceutical firms evidently had their hands on the nascent bill as well, an assertion which seems to be supported by a memo exposed on the liberal Huffington Post, which one might have assumed would be an avid supporter of this ostensibly socialist bill. The memo indicates that the bill demands trivial, vague and ultimately unenforceable concessions from pharmaceutical firms while prohibiting the government from taking any action to reduce the cost of drugs it purchases with our tax dollars. It’s a perfect example of the fascist symbiosis at work: the government gains the power to dictate what drugs people have access to, and the corporations enjoy unimpaired profits.

Another example of fascism in action is the so-called prison-industrial complex, in which what are effectively slave laborers toil away in prisons run for profit, manufacturing goods or performing services to the profit of other corporations. The government gains increased power to imprison people at will, even for picayune reasons such as “three strikes” laws or petty drug use, while corporations profit from building prisons, operating them and exploiting the labor of those incarcerated, no doubt kicking back a not insignificant portion of their profits to politicians in the government in order to keep this system going. (These kickbacks take the form of “legitimate” campaign contributions, financial conflicts of interest and probably illegal bribes.) The truly sick part of this system is the complicity of people seeking jobs at these prisons, who apparently have no moral compass telling them that locking up their peers in order to earn a living is wrong. In addition, perhaps because of the deteriorating economic situation, I hear more and more intelligent people advocating harsh treatment of prisoners, never even considering the possibility that some of those people don’t even belong in prison in the first place. Why, just yesterday one person I know made the appalling declaration that people in prison should be put on a boat with holes drilled in it and sent out to sea. Such attitudes are indicative of fundamentally authoritarian personalities, people who harbor an innate fondness for authoritarian government, utterly incognizant of our heritage of physical and intellectual liberty and due process. I’ve come to the conclusion that these people who support the prison-industrial complex have been successfully brainwashed by the government and its fascist allies, particularly those in the media. (The person who made the appalling suggestion above is an avid watcher of the TV show COPS.)

Finally, there are all those proliferating automatic red light and speeding cameras operated by private companies that share revenue with the governments that authorize their installation. Again, government gains control over the people, while corporations profit.

Fascism And Psychopathy

As I’ve stated in past essays and in many comments I’ve littered all over the internet, I believe there’s a small percentage of people – say 5%, for a nice, round number – who are natural born psychopaths. The simplest definition of a psychopath, as I use the term, is one who lacks a conscience. That is to say, a psychopath is one who logically looks after his or her own needs, irrespective of the harm they cause to others. They are utterly incapable of empathizing with their potential victims and thus mediating their behavior to minimize such harm. All that matters to the psychopath is his or her own well-being.

Does that attitude sound familiar? Doesn’t it sound like the attitude displayed by so many corporate executives and politicians? It ought to, because I believe – and this may sound outrageous – that the vast majority of politicians and corporate executives are psychopaths. Our system, not just our economic system, but our entire hierarchical civilization itself is geared toward psychopaths. Nice people simply do not rise to the top of the economic or political systems; only cold, calculating, dissembling, ruthless, remorseless people do, that is, psychopaths. And the higher up the hierarchy one rises, the more likely they are to be a psychopath.

So we have at least two parallel systems – politics and business – for which psychopaths are ideally endowed. It should not be at all surprising that the psychopaths running each system have a natural affinity for one another, as well as a compatibility of ideals and methodologies, thus facilitating the establishment of fascist relationships. (For two interesting essays on this subject, see Word gets around: Twilight and the trick of the psychopaths and Truth to Power: Psychopaths Rule Our World.)

Conclusion

What is the solution to fascism? We’re presently on the same course as the most famous case of fascism, Nazi Germany, which is that of self destruction. Given enough time – not much more, in my opinion – we will self destruct, economically, militarily, morally. Self destruction, however, is not the most pleasant way to arrest this cancer.

The simplest solution to fascism, and the one most repugnant to politicians and corporations (gee, I wonder why) is to eliminate all private political campaign contributions. Such campaigns should be financed entirely by the taxpayers, which will make the elected politicians beholden to the voters, not the corporate lobbyists. The U.S. Supreme Court – not exactly an impartial body, for as a branch of the government it’s implicitly part of the fascist system too – has absurdly ruled that corporations are “people,” entitled to all the protections afforded by the Constitution, including the right of free speech. The same court has also ruled that campaign contributions are a form of free speech. One can immediately connect the two rulings to understand the problem we face today: the wealthiest entities control the political system, while the rest of us who vote are irrelevant. To some extent I agree that campaign contributions are a form of free speech, but the harm caused by this practice is so demonstrably egregious that it must be stopped, even at the expense of the corporations’ free speech. (Frankly, I disagree with the Supreme Court: corporations are not people, and I would not shed a tear if they lost their “right” of free speech.)

A second solution to fascism, which doesn’t violate today’s ridiculous election rules, but does require a more activist, engaged populace, is to prevent psychopaths from getting into positions of power in the first place. Most people simply cannot accept that one in twenty of their peers has no conscience. Most people, myself included, want to give everybody the benefit of the doubt and assume that they are decent, moral people, like themselves. And for 95% of people, that’s a safe assumption, but to make the mistake of assuming that all people are like that is to bury one’s head in the sand. The fact is, and it’s been amply demonstrated, that there is a small percentage of people who would literally sell their own mothers if they could profit from it, and these people are natural aspirants in the realms of business, politics and the military. If we can get “normal” people to accept that fact, they can be more wary of those they elect to office, making at least a modicum of effort to prevent psychopaths from getting into office. Fascism is a two way street requiring the cooperation of two bodies: business and government. While we cannot control who rises to the top of the business world – unless we want to appoint a dictator to supervise corporations’ leadership and executive compensation – we can control who rises to the top of the political world, and those people are in a position to not only shun fascist ties to corporations, but regulate corporations for the benefit of the country as a whole.

A third solution, which I have long advocated and is both voluntary and non-violent, but which requires the greatest change and effort of all, is to decentralize our civilization, restructuring it into a network of small, semi-autonomous communities. Small communities, small businesses, small political systems are incompatible with fascism, and if communities are small enough – unfortunately, they have to be as small as one-hundred inhabitants – even psychopaths cannot thrive. In my reading about psychopaths I’ve learned that above all, they fear discovery, that is, until they attain a powerful enough position that they no longer care if they are discovered. In small communities where everybody else knows them, psychopaths simply cannot conceal their actions or their personalities.

Sadly, I doubt there will be much change in the status quo. One need only look at ten-thousand years of human history to see this same pattern repeated ad infinitum: civilization being established, thriving for a while, devolving into despotism and self destructing. Rinse and repeat. Maybe I should just have another Guinness.

Update – 17 August 2009

This essay helps make my case that our business climate is geared toward large businesses and against small businesses. A key quotation from the essay reads,

Though most will deny it, I suspect there is a deeply seated anti-small business value system now at work in the U.S. While large corporations are wined and dined with huge tax credits–please come to our state, we’ll pay you millions to move!–small business is left to shift for itself, receiving nothing but pandering PR about how “we value small business” served up with ever-higher taxes and regulatory burdens.

Yep, that about sums up the business climate in the U.S.

Update – 20 August 2009

This video is delicious and disgusting at the same time (is that even possible?). What’s disgusting is that Mr Obama criticized Mr. Bush’s sweetheart deal with big pharma in the Medicare drug benefit legislation a few years ago, and then did exactly the same thing! What’s delicious about this video is that it’s the product of “progressives,” who are apparently beginning to see the light about the “messiah.”

Update – 20 August 2009

Wow! Here is a passionate indictment of the U.S. fascist system by the esteemed Paul Craig Roberts, titled Americans: Serfs Ruled by Oligarchs.

Update – 22 September 2009

Well, here’s a “duh” moment if I ever heard one:

On September 16, Dan Rather, the former anchor of the CBS Evening News, warned that today’s news is shaped by very powerful corporate network owners who “are in bed with powerful political interests” that are influenced by government regulatory interests. (Source: Former CBS anchorman warns of corporate influence over news)

Nevertheless, coming from an “insider,” this is a compelling observation. I wonder why it is, however, that all these ex-insiders see fit to spill the beans after they cease to be insiders. I suppose the obvious answer is that they have too much to lose while they are insiders. Perhaps a more charitable explanation is that they just don’t see the corruption when they’re immersed in it.

August 9, 2009 – I never thought I’d actually see it happen, but when all other civil options are exhausted, what’s left?

By Dave Eriqat

At long last, people are slowly beginning to realize that they are under full scale assault by the powers-that-be, who are attacking the peoples’ food, finances, health and freedom.

So far the people have behaved admirably, perhaps even with stupefying placidity, and tried to work within the system to effect change, but I sense that their patience is running out, that they are nearing the last straw that will finally cause them to throw up their hands and shout NO!

Working Through The System

Although the assault on the populace is decades old, dating at least as far back as the 1970s with Nixon’s escalation of “war on drugs,” if we go back just a few years we see the first indication of any sort of backbone within the populace. The 2006 Congressional election was a turning point in the public’s mood, their vote clearly reflecting a desire to get the heck out of Iraq. The politicians running for office at the time gave vague assurances that they were inclined to end the war, but once safely ensconced in office, their steady diet of campaign contributions from smarmy lobbyists secure, the newly elected legislators capitulated and abandoned the notion of withdrawal, and in fact even increased funding for, and supported expansion of the wars. The wishes of the people, who admirably performed their civic duty at the polling booth, were utterly ignored by their “representatives.”

Calling Their Congressmen

A few years later, in 2008, people were up in arms about the first major financial system bailout, which was proposed during the Bush Administration. The people, who are frequently characterized as stupid (including by me), saw through the lies of the government and its corporate partners and recognized the bailouts for what they were: the public socialization of losses suffered by private, politically connected entities. People did the right thing and dutifully “called their congressmen,” as they have so often been urged to do. Some congressmen admitted that public opposition to the bailout was 100:1, yet in the end Congress voted for the bailout anyway, totally ignoring the wishes of the people they supposedly represent. Is it any wonder? The people don’t pay the campaign bills of the politicians; Wall Street does. So who are these politicians going to listen to?

It should have been clear to anyone paying attention that the bailout bill, a 451-page monstrosity that few people in Congress actually read before voting for it, was planned long in advance (a bill that size, full of legislative minutiae cannot be written in a few days, as we were led to believe). Congress perpetrated a fraud on the people by introducing a phony, two page bill, which it then voted against in order to appear “resistant” to bailouts, only to introduce the massive bill days later, which it swiftly voted for. The people had no say in this blatant robbery, even though they are left holding the bag. This larcenous precedent set by Mr. Bush merely laid the groundwork for even more grandiose thefts of public money under his successor.

Public Protest

Escalating their political activism, the people have taken to protesting in the streets, only to find themselves cordoned off in “free speech zones,” well away from the political venue that is the target of their protest, or summarily arrested, sometimes even “preemptively” in their own houses before they can travel to the venue. For the most part, people are no longer permitted to protest in public, despite the Constitution’s First Amendment, which reads:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Notice the part about “the right of the people peaceably to assemble”? Or how about the part about “to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” In true despotic fashion, Mr. Obama has recently set up an e-mail address [now disabled] to which people can report their aggrieved peers. It’s no longer safe or even legal to engage in public protest in the U.S.

In Person Activism

One of the few remaining venues in which people can still vent their frustrations in public is the so-called town hall meeting, in which legislators graciously grant an audience to the people they ostensibly represent.

This summer, legislators are justly getting “an earful about government run amok.” The people are opposed to the “cap and tax” initiative which will increase the cost of living across the board, to the benefit of people and corporations involved in trading carbon credits. The people are opposed to “health care reform,” which they correctly recognize will increase health care costs while decreasing the quality and availability of health care. Say what you will about “stupid” voters, but when it comes to issues affecting their pocketbooks, they can see with crystal clarity. The people are worried about mandatory vaccinations and actually doing something about it. Yet despite all these legitimate concerns, the legislators seem genuinely baffled by the peoples’ resistance to the proposed legislation. It’s as if the legislators are so isolated in their rarefied world of wealth and privilege and donor pampering that they no longer have anything in common with the common man.

No doubt, these baffled legislators will not take away any sort of revelation from these town hall meetings with their constituents. Once they get back to Congress, back into the groove of wining and dining and pampering by political operatives, they will forget all about their recent unpleasant experiences with their constituents and vote along corporate lines, as usual. The people have no representation any longer and a few are starting to understand that, even if they are not quite ready to acknowledge the logical consequence of being taxed and controlled without representation: revolution.

Last Resort: Armed Rebellion

When the people no longer have any representation, yet seemingly bear all the costs and affronts, what choice remains but to rebel? So far, even the abjectly poor live pretty comfortably in this country, so they still have too much to lose by rebelling. But just wait until the economic collapse kicks into high gear, which is coming. Just wait until food shortages kick in, which I believe is also coming. Just wait until armor-wearing soldiers are pounding on peoples’ doors, demanding to inject them with useless vaccines that threaten the peoples’ very lives. Just wait until people are living in tents or being rounded up and sent to internment camps. Once enough people have nothing left to lose they will rebel, and once that happens many people who are fed up with the fascist system in place today will join them, even if merely by offering covert support.

The threat of genuine, armed revolution is why the Second Amendment is under such fierce assault today. It’s why internment camps are being set up and the Army National Guard is hiring “internment/resettlement specialists.” It’s why the government wants to keep tabs on us any way it can, such as with this new GPS mileage tax baloney being propsed. First of all, the current gasoline taxes are already essentially a tax on mileage, with some variation due to the differing fuel economy of individual cars. Secondly, if they wanted to implement a tax based on mileage alone – a dubious plan that would reduce the incentive to drive fuel efficient cars – they could simply require people to report their odometer reading when they register their car each year and the state would tax them accordingly. The only reason for using GPS to keep track of mileage is to record every place a car is driven and possibly even to determine if one is speeding and issue speeding tickets by means of satellites. Automated ticketing is the wet dream of every cash-strapped bureaucracy, as evidenced by the proliferation of automated red light and speeding cameras that spew out tickets, generating profits for both government and corporations.

Since “our” legislators no longer heed our votes, take our phone calls, permit us to protest in public or hear us (they listen but they do not hear) when we speak to them in town hall meetings, what course of action is left? The only thing government seems to understand anymore is force. I believe the day is coming when the people will turn to the only option left to them. By the time that possibility becomes palpable, the U.S. will be embroiled in World War III so as to deflect peoples’ attention from our economic problems, militarize the country even further and kill off as many potential revolutionaries as possible before they can foment insurrection here at home.

Update – 10 August 2009

In this two-part video, Gerald Celente echoes my long-uttered assertions that:

• People have no representation anymore

• The U.S. is becoming a fascist country (I believe it crossed that line a while ago)

• And, to quote Mr. Celente, “when people lose everything and they have nothing left to lose, they lose it”

He closes by saying, “we need a revolution.”

Update – 13 August 2009

More from Gerald Celente in this article, titled, The ‘Second American Revolution’ Has Begun.

Update – 17 August 2009

Some good news for a change. The White House has retired the offensive tattletale e-mail address, flag@whitehouse.gov, due to citizen outrage. We can be heard if we want to be.

August 8, 2009 – A movie review.

By Dave Eriqat

I hope this review of the movie The Dark Knight doesn’t offend anybody, but let me say it right up front: I thought the movie was trash. Last night I watched the movie because so many people, both those known to me and those online, declared it a great movie. Yet, while watching it last night I found myself alternately hoping a story would emerge and hoping the movie would end, several times my twitchy finger even coming close to fast forwarding through the needlessly long movie to get it over with.

The characters were uniformly dull and apathetic, not to mention utterly unlikable, if not downright unsavory. Even when the district attorney’s “squeeze,” as the Joker called her, was blown to bits it didn’t cause me even a momentary pang of sorrow, especially since the supposed love affair between her and the DA was one of the least convincing in cinematic history.

Not even Batman himself was appealing, and I found myself muttering, “Do it, do it,” urging him to follow through on his threat to turn himself in to the police, which would have added a much needed intriguing twist to an otherwise limp and lifeless movie. (Anyone who has read my writings long enough knows how fond I am of “authority” figures, so my wishing that Batman would turn himself in to the police reveals the depth of my disappointment with this movie.)

To say there wasn’t much of a story is being charitable. One could have stuffed this film into a blender, put it on high for several minutes, reassembled the film and watched it with no almost discernible degradation of the “story.” Or, to put it another way, one could watch different segments of this movie at different times and in any order and walk away with the same impression as watching the whole thing from start to finish. The movie was more or less a disjointed collection of de rigueur, but shoddy action sequences sprinkled among an equally disjointed collection of insomnia-curing scenes of contrived emotion and solemnity. Although my viewing companion was actually falling asleep during most of the film, I was kept awake by the drive to identify a single frame of film that would make me care about the story or any of the characters. Such a frame never did flash across the screen.

Now, I’m no great fan of the Batman genre to begin with. I believe I’ve only seen perhaps three of the movies in the last twenty years, and none of them were memorable. When I was a kid, of course, I watched Batman on the television, “Same bat-time, same bat-channel,” but it was merely cheap entertainment. I never desired to be Batman, nor ever owned any Batman-related paraphernalia. Nevertheless, it just so happens that I saw another Batman movie some months ago, titled simply enough, Batman. Although the movie was made in 1966, at the same time that I was watching the television series, I never knew of its existence all these forty-plus years until I watched it recently, and I have to say, that old Batman movie was a far more entertaining movie than The Dark Knight. Batman had a simple plot, not unlike the preposterous plots in the early James Bond films, before they too became pretentiously complex, and a cabal of villains that were, well, likable and even classy. Who wouldn’t be charmed by Cesar Romero’s Joker? By comparison, who wouldn’t be repulsed by Heath Ledger’s Joker? I have seldom laughed so hard as when I watched the movie Batman, because it was so ridiculous and campy, but that was deliberate. For example, in one scene – if memory serves – Batman is hanging on to a rope ladder suspended from a helicopter and has a rubbery, great white-like shark attached to his leg. No problem. Batman simply whips out his handy-dandy can of bat-shark repellent, which he had the foresight to place in his utility belt, sprays the toothy monster and it falls back into the sea, leaving not even so much as a tear in Batman’s tights. It’s terribly amusing, but the creators of that movie had no delusions of creating a cinematic masterpiece – they were trying to create entertainment, and succeeded.

Maybe it’s the times. Maybe people born in the last twenty years or so see The Dark Knight as an apt reflection of the ambiguous, morally relative times in which we live today, while I, having been born decades earlier, still recall a time when moral absolutes prevailed and life was truly pleasant and carefree. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’ve finally become the curmudgeon I’ve always longed to be. There is at least one noteworthy thing I can say about this movie, and that is that it moved me enough to write a review of it.

July 31, 2009 – Sometimes I feel like one of the few remaining uninfected people in a land overtaken by pod people.

By Dave Eriqat

The other day I overhead a detailed recitation by some parents to their children of the “official” 9/11 narrative. It was like witnessing an age-old fable being handed down from one generation to the next. I listened silently as it was somberly explained in rich detail how the passengers of the one plane that “crashed” prematurely had heroically sabotaged the plans of the hijackers. When one child astutely asked how the people on the plane knew all that was happening elsewhere, the parents deftly explained that as well, attributing the omniscience of the passengers to cell phone conversations with people on the ground, never wondering if cell phone conversations would even be feasible from an airplane, let alone whether the passengers could have gleaned sufficient and accurate information from such brief and confused conversations to have made the momentous decision to immolate themselves.

No question was raised about the minimal quantity of debris on the ground from that “crashed” airplane, nor the absence of a satisfactory impact crater in the ground, both of which suggest the plane was actually shot down in midair, a fact that would completely demolish the official narrative of what happened aboard that flight.

And although the parents described the impact into the Pentagon, once again no question was raised about the lack of sufficient debris to indicate that a large aircraft had crashed into the building. Nor did anyone wonder how an amateur pilot of a small, single engine plane could navigate a huge, ponderous jet airplane in a sharp, 270 degree turn around the Pentagon and then fly it close enough to the ground to clip off lampposts before slamming it into the side of the building.

Nor did any questions arise about how three steel-framed skyscrapers could perform the unprecedented and unrepeated feat of collapsing into a nice neat pile, all due to fire. Nor were any questions raised about all the records pertaining to financial wrongdoing that were conveniently destroyed in the Pentagon and the World Trade Center, one day after the Defense Secretary admitted in front of cameras that $2.3 trillion dollars had gone missing.

It was as if the fable tellers had swallowed the entire “official” narrative, hook, line and sinker.

Yesterday I needed to buy some groceries for a family dinner. I went to my usual small stores first, but still needed a couple of more esoteric items, so I reluctantly went to a nearby major grocery store. From the moment I walked into the place I felt uncomfortable. Aside from the chic, dimly-lit, bar-like ambiance and decorator-designed interior, the more disturbing aspect was the people in the place. Shoppers blithely walked around with an unnerving, perpetually ebullient, Stepford-like demeanor, happily stuffing items costing double or triple what they should cost into their carts. For instance, avocados in this avocado-growing region were being sold for $2.49 each, when they ought to be selling for less than a dollar, and do elsewhere.

Then there was the staff. The checkout clerk finally took time out of her conversation with a customer to notice my exasperated expression at the line that was not moving. Instead of making an effort to move the line forward, she simply directed me with an eerie cheerfulness to the automated checkout machine before resuming her conversation with the customer. Quipping, “You’re talking yourself out of a job,” I picked up my basket of two items and went to the automated machine, bewildered at her apparent eagerness to undermine her own future welfare. Were I in her position, I would never usher people to my robotic replacement.

I hear repeatedly on the mainstream media how the “recession” is over. Hooray! Sales of everything are down; corporate income is falling; personal income is falling; tax revenue is falling; houses and commercial buildings are being boarded up; real unemployment is in the neighborhood of 20%; the stock market is showing signs of being in a wishful thinking bubble again; the U.S. dollar is on the precipice of collapse; industry is still fleeing this country at a torrid pace; the government is doing everything it can (e.g. “Health Care Reform”) to undermine any prospect for a “recovery.” These cheerleaders must be seeing a tiny bounce in a single data point and declaring the “recession” to be over. I take a broader view. On the other hand, witnessing people the other day spending money at Legoland as if it were board game money, maybe they are buying all this “ding, dong, the recession is over” spin. I myself would never have paid even the half price for admission I did pay were it not for the supplications of my eight year old nephew. Who can resist such an appeal? But the still outrageous, half price sum of $32.50 I spent to get in was small change compared to the hundreds of dollars spent by some of the families visiting the park for a single day’s amusement.

Despite the crippling cost, Legoland does have some worthwhile charms, such as these detailed and accurate models of cities made entirely of Legos

Imagine my astonishment today at being characterized as insane in this video produced by the very same mainstream media that promotes the fantasy that the “recession” is over. The above video succinctly underscores the chasm that separates me and others like me from the pod people. Instead of debating the facts, these pod people simply dismiss us free thinkers as lunatics for not embracing the official story lines.

Does anyone think anymore? Are people in denial, as if pretending that all is normal will make it so? Have drugs, legal and illegal, processed food, materialism, consumerism, crappy entertainment and a gutted “educational system,” all promoted by a fascist duopoly of corporations and government finally succeeded in creating nation of brain-dead sheep? I have little doubt – and considerable fear for myself – that these pod people will happily and dutifully extend their arms when ordered to submit to the government’s coming mandatory flu vaccination program.

As Oscar Wilde put it, “A man who does not think for himself does not think at all.”

Update – 2 August 2009

I ran across this quotation that seems so appropriate for this post.

We’ll know our disinformation program is complete when everything the American public believes is false. – William Casey, CIA Director (from first staff meeting, 1981) [Source]

Most of the people I interact with on a daily basis have a world view that’s 180 degrees opposite my own. Either they are wrong, or I am. Obviously, I think I’m right.

Update – 4 August 2009

This magazine cover succinctly summarizes the concerted opinion of the mainstream media. I hope the pod people aren’t buying it, but I suspect that if the MSM continues to browbeat them with this drivel the pod people will succumb to it and do something stupid, like borrow more money in order to “consume” something they don’t need, such as their next “clunker” automobile.

In all fairness, the cover does include a fine-print caveat which reads, “Good luck surviving the recovery,” but the primary message is “The recession is over!” I wonder how they’ll spin this absurdity a couple of years from now. Perhaps they’ll attribute the error of their wishful optimism to a “double-dip recession,” which, of course, nobody saw coming. For more honest insight on today’s economy, read this article.

July 22, 2009 – The government finally does it: It establishes a tax on being alive.

By Dave Eriqat

Tax On Being Alive

This morning I skimmed through the entire 1017-page bill known as H.R. 3200, which I’m sure is more than did most of the congress people who voted for the bill. All I can say is, oh my god! This is a sweeping, disastrous piece of legislation that is more appropriately described as a back door route to totalitarian dictatorship!

What they failed to achieve with the two Patriot Acts, they will accomplish under the guise of “health care reform,” and that’s what I call “change you can be terrified of.” Yet, while the Patriot Acts were ostensibly aimed at terrorists, this new law is aimed squarely at U.S. citizens who have done nothing wrong, transforming those citizens who don’t wish to participate in this totalitarian health care regime into de-facto criminals.

This new law essentially establishes for the first time, a tax on being alive, as those individuals who refuse to purchase health insurance that meets with the government’s approval will have to pay a tax equal to 2.5% of their income. Section titled “Subpart A—Tax on Individuals Without Acceptable Health Care Coverage” [page 167, line 16] reads,

TAX IMPOSED.—In the case of any individual who does not meet the requirements of subsection (d) at any time during the taxable year, there is hereby imposed a tax equal to 2.5 percent of the excess of— [page 167, line 20] [All highlighting here and below is my own.]

Opting Out Is Not An Option

Although titled “America’s Affordable Health Choices Act of 2009,” the bill does not offer the “choice” to not participate, which is the most “affordable” choice for me. I have utterly no desire to have anything to do with the for-profit medical establishment. Should I not have that right in a supposedly “free” country that boasts a supposed “free” market economy? Not according to this bill. Participation is mandatory whether you need or want the health care it offers.

The bill “initiates shared responsibility” [page 5, line 11]. Frankly, I don’t want to be “responsible” for anyone else, only myself. I take care of myself so I don’t require health care, and that’s my version of being “responsible.” The authors of this bill should be more honest and simply say that we are being forced to be responsible for other peoples’ health care expenses, as well as the compensation packages of health insurance industry executives.

New Burdens For Individuals

The bill imposes staggering new information reporting requirements on individuals, businesses and health care providers, such as:

The Commissioner shall establish rules under which an individual determined to be an affordable credit eligible individual would be required to inform the Commissioner when there is a significant change in the family income of the individual (expressed as a percentage of the FPL for a family of the size involved) and of the information regarding such change [page 141, line 2].

In other words, if you are a poor person who starts earning more money, you will be required to notify the government of your increase in income, so that the government can increase your health care premiums. And should you fail to notify the government of such a change, you will be liable for back payment of any premiums you should have paid.

In the case of an individual intentionally misrepresents family income or the individual fails (without regard to intent) to disclose to the Commissioner a significant change in family income under subsection (c) in a manner that results in the individual becoming an affordable credit eligible individual when the individual is not or in the amount of the affordability credit exceeding the correct amount— [page 142, line 14]

This is going to be a bureaucratic nightmare for poor people and a powerful disincentive to working, not to mention hiring. One will be better off becoming, and remaining a ward of the state under this new law. We’re going to have to provide the government with extensive details about our personal lives and finances in order to implement this law. Section titled “SEC. 1173A. STANDARDIZE ELECTRONIC ADMINISTRATIVE TRANSACTIONS” [page 57, line 10] reads,

(D) enable the real-time (or near real-time) determination of an individual’s financial responsibility at the point of service and, to the extent possible, prior to service, including whether the individual is eligible for a specific service with a specific physician at a specific facility, which may include utilization of a machine-readable health plan beneficiary identification card; [page 58, line 5]

…

(C) enable electronic funds transfers, in order to allow automated reconciliation with the related health care payment and remittance advice; [page 59, line 21]

The above goals simply cannot be accomplished without massive, detailed databases and individual identification schemes. We will inevitably be issued ID cards, which like our social security numbers have become, will become de-facto national ID cards. We will no doubt also be required to provide our bank account information, both to determine our “financial responsibility” for this health care monster, and to automate payments.

Section titled “TITLE VIII—REVENUE-RELATED PROVISIONS” [page 819, line 1] provides for extensive disclosure of income tax filing data to the new health administration for the purpose of determining one’s “financial responsibility,” or tax on being alive.

Moreover, we are ultimately responsible for the accuracy of the information provided to the government on our behalf. The bill contains numerous provisions for punitive fines in the event that any of the information on file is incorrect. The bill contains so many paragraphs pertaining to enforcement, audits and penalties on those who fail to pay sufficient premiums, that the primary focus of this bill is clearly on generating revenue. In other words, it’s little more than a massive, across the board tax increase.

The bill weds “health care reform” to the income tax system. We will presumably be required to prove compliance with this foul new law or add the appropriate tax to our income tax return.

Reduced Access To Health Care And Higher Prices

Under this bill, the government will dictate the medical care received and collect premiums (taxes), literally from cradle to grave. Private health care is effectively being outlawed. No longer will a person be able to walk into a clinic, pay a reasonable fee and receive treatment. From now on, all health care providers will have to check with the government first to determine what services a patient may receive and how that person will pay for those services.

The Commissioner shall specify the benefits to be made available under Exchange-participating health benefits plans during each plan year, consistent with subtitle C of title I and this section [page 84, line 5].

There is no possible way the onerous requirements this bill imposes on health care providers can increase the number of such providers, even though increased competition is precisely the prescription called for in order to reduce health care costs, the fundamental problem we face. This bill will accomplish the opposite: fewer health care providers, poorer quality and higher costs.

“Building on current system” [page 4, line 10]. The current system is totally broken. The current system consists of patients who have no incentive to shop around for a good value or regulate their use of health care services, and health care providers who have no incentive to be competitive, all because the insurance companies and governments act as middlemen, paying much of the cost. That is a totally broken model, which this new legislation seeks to enlarge! Since this bill vastly increases the size of the middleman bureaucracy, there is no possible way it can lower costs, since all those additional bureaucrats aren’t going to be working for free.

Ask yourself, since when has any government program failed to achieve the exact opposite of its purported goal? The “war on poverty” launched during the Johnson years has produced more poverty; the “war on drugs” launched during the Nixon years has produced more drugs; the “war on terror” launched during the Bush years has produced more war and terror; no doubt, this bill to improve the health care system will accomplish the exact opposite.

Among other things, this bill is a wet dream piece of legislation for the health insurance industry (see Industry Cash Flowed To Drafters of Reform) by mandating an increase in the number of customers, especially healthy customers who don’t need health care and won’t be filing claims, but will be paying extorted premiums. Yet, as with mandatory automobile insurance, not only will the cost of health insurance increase, but coverage and the quality of customer service will decrease, which is to be expected when a monopoly has a captive customer base and no meaningful competition.

Additional Objectives

The subtitle of this bill reads,

To provide affordable, quality health care for all Americans and reduce the growth in health care spending, and for other purposes [page 1].

“And for other purposes” is the exact same wording that appeared in an ominous bill passed a few years ago to build detention camps capable of housing millions of people. I wonder what “other purposes” the government has in mind.

Perhaps a clue lies in a several-page section titled “SEC. 1310. EXPANDING ACCESS TO VACCINES” [page 498, line 16]. It’s curious that this should be emphasized at a time when there’s so much impetus to inject the entire population with vaccines in order to ward off the hyperbolic threat from bird flu or swine flu, or whatever they’re trying to scare us with. It’s difficult to ascertain exactly what all these revisions pertaining to vaccines actually say because they amend existing laws. My suspicion, however, is that the provisions of H.R. 3200 pertaining to vaccines are aimed at giving the government the authority to force people to take them, while indemnifying the government and its corporate partners from any legal claims made by victims harmed by those vaccines.

In addition, this bill gives the government massive new surveillance authority over peoples’ medical and financial records, while also giving the government the authority to decide what health care we are entitled to receive, regardless of our means to pay for it.

And people thought the recent push to computerize medical records was a benign effort to improve the quality of health care. It was, in fact, a vital prerequisite to the government taking total control over everyone’s health destiny.

Like all other government initiatives, this is a foot in the door to more control in the future. The present bill already contains hints about governing peoples’ lifestyles. No doubt, future versions of it will intensify those intrusions into our personal lives, giving the government the authority to dictate what we eat, how we exercise and who knows what else, all in the name of “health care reform.”

Conclusion

I merely skimmed through the legislation over a period of a couple of hours. I can only assume that there are numerous vile gotchas buried in that tome of a document (see Shock: Check out what’s INSIDE the Healthcare Bill), which seems to be the modus operandi of government today: create legislation so vast, complex and obfuscated that nobody will actually read it word for word, in order to conceal vital details. That was the procedure for the Patriot Acts, the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act (H.R. 1424) and now the “health care reform” bill, all of which taken as a whole place the entire population in a totalitarian headlock.

There is no worse time than right now to impose such an ill-conceived, burdensome bill on the nation. If the intent is to fiscally hobble this country so that economic “recovery” is impossible, this bill will achieve that goal. While this bill might increase access to health care for a tiny segment of the population, it will do so by reducing access to, and the quality of health care for the vast majority of the population, while substantially increasing the cost to them, which is the exact opposite of the purported goal of the bill, which is “To provide affordable, quality health care for all Americans and reduce the growth in health care spending, and for other purposes.”

Update – 22 July 2009

The always awe-inspiring Catherine Austin Fitts has just written a piece that I sense is related to the health care reform initiative passing through Congress. As I mentioned above, the bill seeks to increase accessibility to vaccines. Moreover, the threat from [fill in the blank] flu is being hyped beyond all sanity in order to scare people into submitting to vaccination. Finally, I have long believed that there is a desire among the global elite to reduce the global population and that disease and/or “treatment” for such disease would be an ideal and concealed means by which to accomplish that goal. And as Ms. Fitts points out, if the depopulation process is carried out slowly, it can be profitable as people pay money in a vain quest for a remedy for their terminal disease.

While such a plan sounds utterly preposterous to normal people, the people running the world are by no means normal. They are psychopaths, pure and simple. They would exterminate their entire families without a shred of remorse if it would profit them in some way. Once one understands that fact, nefarious schemes such as described in Ms. Fitts’ piece aren’t so preposterous.

July 19, 2009 – … with no particular destination in mind, sort of like my life. (There are a huge number of photos here, so it may take a while to load.)

By Dave Eriqat

Introduction

I’m not sure if anyone will find this interesting or not. It may be as boring as watching someone’s slide show of photos from their trip, or it may be of interest to people planning a trip to any of these places. I don’t know. It was fun for me to compile, however, because even though I’ve taken many such long trips, I’ve never attempted to document any of them. So this is sort of an exercise for me, which unintentionally sort of morphed into a photographic journal. Finally, all these small photos have larger siblings. Just click on any of the small ones to see the larger version.

Day 1 – June 29

Photos from the San Diego Zoo – I love that rainbow colored lizard. He spends his whole day chasing other lizards off his rock.

I embarked on a little road trip today. Even in this day of dwindling energy and prosperity, I still find it refreshing to take to the road, aimlessly and carefree. Departing San Diego around noon, I felt I’d be able to skate through Los Angeles between the lunchtime and evening rush hours. What a fantasy! I should have recalled that rush hour in Los Angeles runs all day and all night long, merely segueing from intolerable to sanity-taxing during the barely discernible “rush hours.” The only time I can recall getting through Los Angeles without coming to numerous complete stops on the freeway was once about fifteen years ago around three in the morning.

Inching along ten lanes of parking lot for an hour or so gives one plenty of time to ponder some of life’s weighty questions, such as what good is the $300,000 sports car to my left, capable of going 200 MPH, in a mess like this? Or the utility of the gargantuan SUV on my other side, preposterously jacked up three feet off the ground, apparently so it can drive right over mountains. Its dust-free, sparkling detail job belies such speculation, however, suggesting instead that about the closest that hulking SUV will ever get to climbing over a mountain is cresting the Mulholland grade, many miles ahead yet. Then there’s the unfinished skeleton of a massive new building smooshed right up against the jam-packed freeway, so close it could literally topple onto the freeway in a strong earthquake. The irony of more development beside an already over-congested freeway evidently escapes those responsible for such development.

The worst thing about driving through Los Angeles in heavy traffic is the uncertainty of it all. Is the stop-and-go ride going to last just a few miles, or will it persist for sixty miles? Not that one really has any alternatives if they are simply passing through like me. In an effort to address this uncertainty the city has installed computerized displays along the freeway, which kindly inform drivers how many minutes it will take to reach a particular landmark ahead. The only trouble is that they are spaced so far apart that in heavy traffic like this one only passes one of these signs every half hour or so, which doesn’t do much to ameliorate one’s uncertainty. One would think that a city known for glitz, glamor and the movies could come up with a snazzier, more entertaining system for keeping drivers informed, especially since drivers here spend so much time sitting in their idling cars with nothing to do except inhale exhaust fumes. The advertising potential with such a captive audience would easily pay for the capital investment required!

Gaviota rest stop – notice the fog creeping over the tops of the hills

Once one finally emerges from the traffic nightmare, well north of Los Angeles, they find their self in a world that’s almost diametrically opposed to that which they just left, a world of pacific shores, laid back beach living, fog and cool, fresh air. One can feel the stress of the prior madness melting away, even more so after passing the first sign indicating the distance to San Francisco: 394 miles. I’ve always loved this stretch of coast, up around Ventura. I love seeing the signs announcing the distance to San Francisco appearing with increasing frequency, while simultaneously the roads narrow and become less congested, as if inviting one to a special place. Of course, since I lived in San Francisco for many years, those road signs were like welcome home signs to me.

I love the way the oak trees carpet the summer-brown grass hills of central California

Finally able to use the car’s cruise control, I set the speed, leaned back and listened to music as I continued heading north. As the highway zigzags back and forth between the coast and the inland, the temperatures zigzag in concert, from 67 F along the coast, to 95 inland, back to 65 along the coast, back to 85 inland, and finally a cool 64 along the coast again, all the way to San Luis Obispo, my stopping point for the night.

Day 2 – June 30

Departing mid-morning – unlike me, my companion is not an early morning person – we embarked on the long drive east from San Luis Obispo to the eastern side of Yosemite park. It was a scenic drive all the way through the park, save for the haziness in much of Yosemite valley, largely due to deliberate controlled burns of the forest! The myriad tourists, mostly from Europe, didn’t seem to object to the hazy conditions, however. My companion and I, however, were miffed at the lack of picture-perfect crystal clarity, which is possible, especially because the smoke filling the valley was caused deliberately. In the photo below one can barely discern a diminutive Half Dome in the distance.

Water and smoke haze fills Yosemite Valley

I’ve hiked to the top of pretty much all these peaks over the years, including Half Dome. I remember one such hike, when my companion and I were burdened down with heavy backpacks full of food and water, and we saw this ancient guy carrying nothing but a plastic cup. Not only did the guy look to be about a century old, he looked like he was going to keel over any minute. Nevertheless, as we were coming down from Half Dome, here comes this old guy, determinedly trudging up the hill, with his cup. We couldn’t help but admire his fortitude, so we talked to him briefly and he informed us he’d been climbing Half Dome every year for decades, since the 1930s if I recall correctly, using his cup to fish water from whatever stream he happened to encounter. I guess that just goes to show that one cannot judge a book from its cover!

Vernal Fall as seen from the bridge over the river

Seeking to maximize the use of our time, my companion and I took our time driving through Yosemite, stopping frequently to take photographs, even though the conditions were poor for that. We even took a brief walk to Vernal Fall, which is worthwhile – we’ve done it before – but which pales in comparison to the falls we would see the next day. Also, it’s far more enjoyable to hike to the top of Vernal Fall instead of just the base, if one has the time. It’s a scenic hike and there’s a nice pool at the top in which people swim – foolish people, that is. The placidity of the pool above is deceptive, as all one needs to do is get caught up in a little water current, and before they know it they’ll be slipping over the smooth rock edge of the falls.

Our motel in the town of Lee Vining closes its office at 8 PM, after which time I guess one is out of luck with respect to getting into their motel room which they have reserved and paid for. Our dallying in Yosemite valley caused us to arrive in Lee Vining at 7:30 PM, which sounds as though we arrived with time to spare, except that according to the map provided by an online mapping service, our motel was on the opposite side of Mono Lake, almost a half-hour drive from Lee Vining. So we blindly headed off in the direction shown on the map printout, increasingly perplexed and concerned by the steadily diminishing signs of civilization. When we saw a sign announcing the distance to the Nevada border we finally allowed our evidently not-so-common sense to overrule the computer’s map and headed back the way we came. After several failed attempts to call the motel for directions, we finally got close enough for one of our cell phones to operate and got hold of the motel manager, two minutes before the office was to close. The manager sounded amused at our folly, informing us that the motel is right in town, which, as she bemusedly put it, “is only two blocks long.” (I could picture her muttering “Stupid tourists” to herself after hanging up the phone.) Indeed, when we got back to town, there was the motel, plain as day! Our experience demonstrates the peril of blindly relying on a computer for directions.

Day 3 – July 1

Today is the day of our planned twelve mile hike near Tuolumne Meadows. Before heading out, and since my companion was still sleeping, I decided to take a stroll around this town of three hundred some odd people. Away from the highway that passes through town is a serene, pleasant community, which reminds me of so many small towns across America.

The town of Lee Vining is situated at an elevation of around 6,000 feet and overlooks the desolate Mono Lake. Quite honestly, I don’t understand why people think Mono Lake is so interesting, as it is barren and otherworldly. June Lake, a few miles south, is far more beautiful, reminiscent of a miniature Lake Tahoe.

Power shovel from the 1920s

The town of Lee Vining boasts a museum of sorts. Since it was early in the morning and the museum wasn’t open, I didn’t bother to ascertain what kind of museum it was. Besides, I was intrigued by the outdoor displays of ancient mining equipment, especially this power shovel dating from the 1920s. In real life it’s larger than it looks in the photo, as the treads are waist high.

The most moving aspect of this outdoor display was its depiction of a bygone era. Every piece of equipment was proudly emblazoned with the name and place of its manufacture, in most cases cast right into the metal itself: a large cast steel box made by Union Iron Works, San Francisco, 1911; an air compressor made by Ingersoll-Rand, New York; another cast steel box of some sort made by B. F. Sturtevant Co., Boston, sometime after 1901; a motorized pump assembly made by Woodin & Little, San Francisco. Looking at these bygone relics of American industrial strength one could almost hear the din and feel the heat of the steel mills and forges, which, as indicated by the labels on the equipment, resided in the heart of America’s greatest cities. I happen to believe that exciting confluence of blue collar industriousness and white collar culture is what made those cities great to begin with. In place of the wealth producing factories that once existed in our great cities, today we have shopping malls and condo blocks.

Perfectly clear and still conditions – great for photos and hiking

After my wistful tour down America’s past we embarked on our hike, and the conditions could not have been better. The air at the roughly 9,000 foot elevation was cool and still and crystal clear, as evidenced by these photos of a reflective lake, which is actually at an elevation of about 9,500 feet.

Another photo of the same lake

There’s something alluring about water, especially on a long, hot hike. I’ve hiked in places where there was no water to be seen, and one was constantly aware of their declining provision of water in their backpack, always wondering if it would last the entire hike. On this hike, however, we were beside a copious river the entire way, and any concern about having sufficient water for the duration of the trip was nonexistent. We stopped a few times and waded into the water, still somewhat icy even in July. We refilled our water bottles from the river. It was comforting and carefree to know that water was always readily available to us.

River along the trail to Glen Aulin – trees grow on rock islands in the middle of the river

I remember another hike, a 17 mile trek to the top of El Capitan, when I was young and foolish. Between me and my hiking companion we had one apple and one bottle of water each, so by the time we got back from the hike, we were exhausted, dehydrated and starving. It’s a miracle that there wasn’t a Donner Party-type incident during that hike!

Day 4 – July 2

Still weary from the hike the day before, my companion and I decided to forgo another strenuous hike and take it easy. So we rented a motorboat and putted around June Lake, just south of Lee Vining. After returning the motorboat we learned that kayaks were also available and I wished we had rented those instead because they would have complemented the serene ambiance of the lake. Nevertheless, we turned off the motorboat engine periodically and floated placidly in the center of the lake, marveling at the serenity of the place. June Lake is like a little emerald jewel nestled in between a bunch of mountains. While picturesque to the eye, I didn’t feel I could photograph it satisfactorily, so I have no photos of it.

Day 5 – July 3

Leaving my hiking companion behind, I drove from San Luis Obispo to San Francisco, a city I called home for more than a decade. Sadly, the place has changed for the worse. When I moved there in the 1980s it still possessed a funky, friendly, festive yet mellow character. Following the twin housing bubbles of the late 1990s and early 2000s, the place became cold and sterile and clonish, and to a large extent so have the people. Sad to say, the place has lost its unique charm and now it’s just like any other city, or suburb for that matter, the familiar corporate logos just as prominent in San Francisco as in Temecula, a suburban bedroom community where I once lived. The shallow, trendy, materialistic clones one finds in San Francisco today are no different from those one finds in Los Angeles, although today’s San Franciscans would be loathe to admit that. Most of the artists, the musicians, the “different” people that once made the city interesting, have long since departed for cheaper locales.

The huge Morro Rock in the distance – unfortunately, one is not allowed to climb the rock

If one wants a town along the California coast with a bit more character, in terms of both people and architecture, smaller towns like Morro Bay are still appealing. As shown above, Morro Bay is landmarked by the massive Morro Rock guarding the entrance to the bay.

A couple of seals sunning themselves in the weak, fog-filtered sunlight, availing themselves of the convenient sun deck provided by humans

Further up the coast, a few miles north of Hearst Castle is a stretch of beach that the elephant seals are fond of. These creatures can weigh over 10,000 pounds! A decade ago one could walk right down to the beach and sit a few feet from the seals, but I guess the tourist crowds grew to unwieldy dimensions, so now the people are cordoned off with fences, well away from the seals.

Elephant seals napping on the beach, north of San Simeon

Still further north, all signs of human development except the highway disappear, leaving only nature’s beauty to enjoy. Driving along the famous California Highway 1, one feels like they are driving along the edge of the continent, and they are, as shown in the photo below!

California Highway 1 skirts along the edge of the continent

Day 6 – July 4

A town with even more character, Eureka, lies about 250 miles up the coast from San Francisco. It’s a town of about 28,000 people, but feels much larger, similar to the way that Paducah, Kentucky, which has about the same population feels much larger. Eureka has thankfully mostly escaped the curse of redevelopment and still retains a 19^th century feel. Its Victorian style and cool, foggy perch on the Pacific coast always reminds me of a miniature San Francisco. For all these reasons Eureka is perhaps my favorite town in all of California.

The drive from San Francisco to Eureka was exceedingly pleasant, except for a detour around the town of Willits, which was hosting a perfunctory Forth of July parade. Frankly, in the 95 degree heat, the people attending the parade didn’t seem terribly jovial, one of them hurling some sort of epithet at me for attempting to drive through an intersection without stopping, which apparently interfered with his navigating his hulking pickup truck through the same congested intersection from the crossing direction. Evidently he didn’t realize that the highway had been detoured along the route I was driving and the stop signs facing me were covered up, meaning I did not have to stop. I stopped anyway, unwilling to let his less than fraternal attitude and barbed tongue spoil an otherwise pleasant drive.

Further on I stopped at perhaps the most beautiful highway rest stop I’ve ever stopped at, a quiet, heavily shaded, grassy spot, dotted with widely spaced picnic benches. I sat there in the cool shade for an hour, eating lunch, feeding bits of my sandwich bread to the birds and taking photos. Even though it was over 90 degrees outside the rest stop, it was perhaps ten degrees cooler and totally comfortable under the shade of the dense oak and pine trees.

Beautiful, shady rest stop on the way to Eureka

Reluctantly, I departed the rest stop and proceeded toward Eureka. Along the way I happened upon another tree-infested stopping point, Humboldt Redwoods State Park. Standing among these indescribably massive and ancient trees, some of which probably exceed 12 feet in trunk diameter, 200 feet in height and 2,000 years in age, one feels a sense of majestic awe, not to mention insignificance. Think about that, some of these trees – if not these, then certainly the ones in Sequoia National Park – have been around since the birth of Christ. Consider how much human history has elapsed during the reign of these trees.

A medium sized redwood tree along the Avenue of the Giants

It’s impossible to capture in a photograph the massive size of these trees, or the eerily quiet, yet comforting ambiance of being surrounded by them. To provide some scale, I parked my car beside one tree along the aptly named Avenue of the Giants. This tree is actually just a medium sized one; others have trunks nearly twice the width of this one! The branches of these suckers don’t even emerge until at least fifty feet above the ground.

Day 7 – July 5

In my many travels I’ve stayed in a lot of cheap motels, so I’ve come to recognize some common characteristics of them.

Indian-owned motels, which seem to be growing in number, are generally pretty shabby but have good Internet access. Chinese-owned motels are generally well maintained but seem to have poor Internet access. Caucasian-owned motels, which are dwindling in number, tend to be well maintained and have good Internet access, but are pricier. I’m staying in a Chinese-owned motel in Eureka right now and I have to move the table around the room to obtain a wireless Internet connection, which is then spotty at best, sometimes requiring me to tilt the computer on its corner, a form of geek acrobatics.

I mentioned above that Eureka, California and Paducah, Kentucky feel like larger towns than their populations would suggest. Of the two, however, Paducah is the classier town! Ignorant people mis-characterize people from Kentucky as backwoods “rednecks,” but let me tell you, you haven’t seen rednecks until you’ve seen some of the feral dudes around Eureka. Don’t get me wrong, I harbor no ill will toward “rednecks,” whether they hail from Kentucky or California. Actually, I think I’m one at heart, so I feel right at home here.

In a previous post I lamented about the poor kids in Kentucky wasting their money on fireworks the last Fourth of July. Well, while having breakfast in a restaurant this morning I couldn’t help but overhear the guy at the next table talking about how he and his neighbor spent $1,000 on fireworks. Between the two of them they blew up $1,000 of their money! Never mind the questionable wisdom of detonating fireworks over the course of three hours in a densely wooded area such as this. Fortunately, the weather here is almost perpetually cool, damp and overcast, so the vegetation is probably not too combustible.

This afternoon I went on a boat cruise around Humboldt Bay. While I love being on the water under any circumstances, there wasn’t a whole lot to see, especially since the heavy overcast gave everything a dull, gray pallor. It was so cold that when I returned to my motel room I turned the heater on! In July! And don’t think that’s an anomaly either, because I did the same in San Francisco a couple of days ago.

Eureka as seen from Humboldt Bay

Eureka, pleasant though it is, lacks an attractive skyline such as San Francisco’s. Eureka is a working class town, where until quite recently fishing and lumber mills were big business around the area, but those are dwindling today.

Incredibly ornate Carson House in Eureka

As I said earlier, there are a lot of really nice Victorian houses in Eureka, the green one pictured above undoubtedly the finest. It was built by a lumber magnate in 1885 to give his workers something to do during an economic downturn. Supposedly, it took 100 carpenters an entire year to build the house pictured above. Across the street is this fine pink house, also apparently owned by the same man.

Another Carson House

A couple of blocks away is this massive and intriguing yellow house. All of these fine houses are within a few blocks of one another and also near the few blocks of the old downtown that is being gentrified, complete with horse-drawn carriage rides [gag]. Fortunately, our contemporary economic downturn seems to have stalled progress toward gentrifying Eureka, as if we need more art galleries and high end clothing stores anyway. Do people really think such stores improve a town? What is so wrong with keeping things the same?

Magnificent old house

I think our zeal to “redevelop” and “improve” everything is related to our zeal for perpetual economic growth. After all, when people “redevelop” and “improve” towns, what they are really aiming at is increasing revenues, either for their businesses or their government, or increasing asset values, or providing busy work for contractors. One way or another it boils down to increasing wealth, denominated in money terms. People seem only able to think in terms of money anymore, unable to appreciate the value of a town with a unique character, or the value of a place that dependably remains the same, or the value of a quiet place to live, a place that doesn’t constantly beckon money-laden tourists to come for weekend visits. I so love places that shun change and instead strive to remain the same.

Day 8 – July 6

Today I departed Eureka, destined for Yreka. Although the two towns are perhaps only a couple of hundred miles apart, it took me the whole day to drive from one to the other! Aside from my notorious slow driving pace, I deliberately took the slowest but most scenic route and stopped frequently along the way to take in the scenery, smell the fresh air, eat under a shady tree or take photographs.

Road wide enough for about one car, with rock face on one side (left) and sheer cliff on the other (right). Notice the absence of any painted dividing lines. That’s because the road is too narrow for two lanes.

One noteworthy aspect of this drive is the incredibly narrow, windy and treacherous road one has to navigate. As shown in the photo above, much of the road along a fifty mile stretch is wide enough for a single car. Fortunately, however, there’s not a lot of traffic, and one doesn’t see another car for twenty minutes or more.

Chasm along narrow road, river at bottom. It really is as straight down as it appears!

The road is so narrow and riddled with blind curves that one must often slow down to as little as 10 miles per hour when rounding some curves. The average speed along this stretch of road is only about 20 miles per hour. Should two approaching cars meet – it is actually a two directional road – one must find a wide spot and pull over so the other can pass. On one side is a rock face, but on the other side is a chasm varying from 100 to 400 feet deep, straight down to the river below (see photo above). This is sure not a road on which to swerve to avoid hitting a squirrel!

The nicest thing about this route is that it follows the Salmon River most of the time, affording plenty of opportunities to stop under a shady canopy of trees and walk down to the river’s edge.

Salmon River running a bit low

I’ve seen this river higher on previous visits. Perhaps it’s running low because it’s summer. Another appealing feature of this drive is the immense, steep mountains and the dense forests that carpet them.

Dense, lush forests cover the immense mountains of the Klamath Forest

Shortly before stopping at this spot, where ten minutes elapsed before another car came by, I dropped off a hitchhiker that I had picked up. When I picked him up he asked me if he could drink his beer in the car. I said I didn’t care but should a cop come along he’d better hide it. He replied that should a cop come along he was going to jump out of the car! He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask him to, but he turned out to be an intelligent and polite person with some interesting knowledge, and was genuinely appreciative of my giving him a ride.

Along the way he regaled me with stories about one friend who went over the edge and survived, floating down the river with a broken leg until he could land; about another friend who went over the edge and wasn’t so lucky; about an entire family that went over the edge and perished, their car still stuck on the rocks somewhere. I must say, his stories helped me focus my attention on the road! He also told me about a hippie commune in the area, which I might actually investigate. I could see myself living in a commune.

Day 9 – July 7

Today I set out to drive from Yreka to Oregon. I had a full itinerary of things to see along the way, including a stop at some property I own in Northern California and a stop at Crater Lake in Oregon, before reaching my destination. Unsurprisingly, I went slower than expected, taking all day to travel some 200 miles.

Iron Gate Lake reservoir

Iron Gate Lake is a water reservoir and the site of a power plant, hydroelectric I presume, and a fish hatchery. It’s about 25 miles northeast of Yreka. Back in the 1970s somebody got the bright idea of carving up the property surrounding the reservoir into large residential lots and selling them. They build dirt roads, put in street signs and lot markers, called the whole thing Iron Gate Lake Estates and waited for the buyers to come. For some reason, however, the place has remained largely undeveloped all these decades, and even today there are only a handful of houses on the hundreds of lots. It almost seems frozen in time, unchanged since it was built, yet it is a remarkably beautiful and serene spot, with a huge reservoir nearby that I believe people can take boats on.

I bought one of these lots back in 2001 and have gone up there about once a year ever since, always marveling at the serenity of the place and longing to build a house there for me to live in. I also thought it would be a good place to grow crops, what with the temperate climate and flat land with soil that looks pretty rich. There’s also a ton of large rocks in the soil – well, actually many tens of tons – that could be used to build a house. Imagine a house built entirely of rocks collected from the land.

View south, my lot in the foreground

From my lot, which resides on the plateau of a good sized hill, I have nearly a 360 degree view of the valley below and the surrounding mountains, including even Mount Shasta to the south.

14,000 foot high Mount Shasta looming behind some nearby mountains

Today it occurred to me for the first time that my own property, which is totally undeveloped, would be a fantastic place to camp! It’s remote, serene, flat, and the climate is temperate. And I could bring my kayak along and go kayaking on the reservoir. So I think before this summer is out I’ll be back up here, camping.

The reservoir is filled by the Klamath River, which looks sort of diminutive as it trickles out of the reservoir, as shown below.

Klamath River as it departs Iron Gate Lake

Although the Klamath River looks diminutive here, up north in Oregon before it enters Iron Gate Lake it looks rather impressive, as shown below.

Klamath River in Oregon

Since it was clearly impossible for me to get to both Crater Lake and my friends today, I decided to stop for the night in the interesting looking town of Klamath Falls, Oregon. The town has a nifty little downtown dotted with fine old buildings dating from at least the 1930s.

Klamath Falls architecture

The town seems like it would be an exceedingly pleasant place to live, offering a mixture of laid back, quiet living, nearby outdoor recreational venues, and some of the trappings of city life. To me, this community design, which prevailed throughout much of America until the advent of the automobile and suburbia in the 1950s, is the most ideal.

Day 10 – July 8

I finally headed toward my friends’ house, two days later than originally planned. I’m normally a punctual person, but when it comes to traveling I have no itinerary – I just go where and when my whim takes me – so scheduling an arrival date in advance is nearly impossible.

Along the way to my friends’ house I stopped at Crater Lake National Park in Oregon. As the name suggests, the lake was created when a volcano erupted 7,700 years ago, hurling almost one hundred times as much matter into the sky as Mount St. Helens – also in Oregon – did in 1980. The resulting caldera of what today is called Crater Lake filled up with water, the most astonishingly blue and clear water imaginable.

Crater Lake, Oregon. Dark patches are from clouds in the sky.

Apparently, the deep, brilliant blue color of the water is due to its clarity and its impressive depth, which averages 1,100 feet, with a maximum depth of 1,900 feet, making it the deepest lake in the U.S. The photo below more accurately depicts the blue color of the water.

Crater Lake shoreline, 1,000 feet below

Even though I spent a couple of hours at the lake, admiring it and relaxing at a lovely, secluded picnic area populated with deer, I could easily have spent several more hours there!

Deer relaxing beside a fallen tree at Crater Lake – the pair I saw seemed unconcerned about my presence

There is a route that leads down to the water’s edge that I would have liked to have taken, and there is also a boat that tours the lake, which I would have enjoyed as well, but it was time to get to my friends’ house. Maybe on the return trip.

My friends live in a rural part of Oregon at a moderately high elevation where the temperature is cool even in the summer. Actually, they live right beside the Deschutes National Forest, where one of my favorite western movies was filmed. I’m hoping to finally see the Rogue River, so beautifully filmed in that movie.

I was disappointed to learn from my friends that they’ve been in a multi-year battle against the local county government – I thought government was supposed to represent the people – which is trying to make life untenable for “poor” people so that it can redevelop the area with high priced homes and tourist resorts. It’s all about money and as far as the government is concerned, better heeled people pay higher property taxes to the government. I really hope we can somehow find our way back to a way of life in which people relearn to value what’s truly important, government represents the people and we all stop worshiping the false idol of money.

Day 11,12 – July 9,10

After spending the night in my friends’ travel trailer – they have no accommodations in their house – they took me out for some sightseeing. They wanted to visit a new archaeological museum that sounded not too far away. So we headed off in the proper direction with little idea how far away it really was. After fifty miles of driving we stopped for lunch and then discovered that the museum was another sixty miles away! I guess we should have carefully consulted the map before departing. Since none of us were all that keen on spending another two hours round trip getting to this museum, we turned around and headed back home.

The trip wasn’t a total bust, however, because on the way back we stopped at Lava Lands National Park, which is pretty interesting. Although the photo below doesn’t adequately capture the scene, the park is a vast landscape of ancient lava flows.

Lava Lands National Park, Oregon – the black stuff is lava

This entire area for a hundred miles around seems to have been a location of considerable volcanic activity. In fact, my friends informed me that they live atop 35 feet of ancient volcanic ash, rendering their soil pretty poor for growing much besides pine trees and scrub brush. Nevertheless, after years of soil augmentation, they now have one of the most impressive vegetable gardens in their area.

The day after our aborted trip to the archaeological museum, we went on another sightseeing trip, this time to the Deschutes River. One appealing thing about this part of Oregon is the abundance of large parks, many along rivers or lakes. There are tons of places to camp and fish and recreate on the water, hungry, aggressive mosquitoes notwithstanding.

Deschutes River, Oregon

While we were enjoying the scenery, my friends decided to try their luck at a little fly casting, hoping to catch some dinner. But not only did we go home empty handed, one of them had their hook snag on an underwater log and lost the hook and lure.

Day 13 – July 11

Getting itchy feet, I reluctantly departed my friends, not entirely sure where I was headed. Staying with my friends – whom I had previously known only via the Internet – for three days I discovered some surprising things about them, and that we had a great deal in common, including a fondness for movies (we even have many of the same movies!), for watching Internet, and even for playing the card game of bridge. Their big dog is just the sweetest creature ever. Besides keeping an eye on my friends’ flock of chickens and rabbits, she loves to give people big hugs and juicy kisses, and most surprising of all, she likes watching movies! She really watches movies, longing for the appearance of canine kin, whereupon she leaps to her feet and attempts to nip at the two-dimensional dogs. It’s terribly amusing to watch, especially since I’m not the one who has to clean all her slobber off the television screen!

After some indecisiveness I decided to revisit Crater Lake because I really want to take the boat tour out to the little island and hike to its peak. But when I arrived at the entrance to the park, without a minute to spare, there was an unexpected fifteen minute line of cars waiting to enter. I expected the weekend to be busier, but I could not afford to wait in this line, so I headed off to find a motel for the night, perhaps to try Crater Lake the next day when I would have more time.

Along the way to my stopping point for the night I happened upon a lovely and fascinating Oregon state park, named Collier State Park. What drew me to the park was its Logging Museum. Now, usually, these roadside “museums” are pathetic, featuring a couple of displays and charging an admission fee to boot. This museum, however, has a hundred or more huge pieces of logging equipment, much of it in good condition and spanning over one hundred years of logging history, from the nineteenth century to the present. It’s utterly fascinating, and totally free! Nevertheless, I gave a $5 donation because it’s such a fine museum.

These enormous wheels, standing as much as 12 feet high were placed under one end of a massive log so it could be more easily dragged by horses, and later by powered tractors. The axle of this one is roughly at eye level.

Some might decry the rapacious practice of logging that we witness today, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Logging can be a totally sustainable activity, as sustainable as growing any other crop, providing us with a steady stream of useful lumber. We simply have to resist the temptation to extract more lumber than nature is capable of replacing. It also seems quite unnecessary to fall old growth trees when several younger trees can provide just as much lumber. Surely we can afford to protect some forests and trees from being logged, if only so we can gape in awe at their majesty.

Tractor that replaced horses. Notice that it’s attached to one of those 12-foot high wheels. Also notice the tractor’s stylish name plate.

One striking thing about this museum, as with the minuscule “museum” in Lee Vining that I talked about above, is that all this equipment was made right here in the U.S. Even though heavy equipment manufacture happens to be one of the few remaining industries in the U.S., I still cannot help but wonder how much of this kind of equipment is made here today. One of the earliest products made by Caterpillar was the tractor shown above.

Collier State Park, Oregon

In addition to the fascinating museum, where I spent over two hours walking around and visualizing these machines operating in the field a hundred years ago, there is a stunning recreational area in the same park right along a river. Unfortunately, Oregon seems to have the worst mosquito problem of any place I’ve ever been! One dare not stand idly in the shade for more than a few seconds, lest they be besieged by not one, but several hungry mosquitoes. One often isn’t even safe in the sunshine because apparently not all the mosquitoes have been taught to respect the “sunshine is off limits” rule.

Day 14 – July 12

I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to explore Crater Lake in Oregon once more. The place is magnificent and that little island in the middle, Wizard Island, is so compelling I just had to visit it. So I departed my motel at seven in the morning and arrived at the parking lot above the boat launch at 8:30. By the time I hiked down to the water’s edge, a steep, one-mile hike down the inside face of the caldera, it was about 9:30, twenty five minutes before the boat was to depart.

I was surprised that there were so many people heading to the island. Our boat, which looked like a small motorboat from the rim of the caldera, was in fact, a 40-foot open boat with a capacity for about fifty people, and it was largely full when we headed for Wizard Island!

View of Crater Lake from the top of Wizard Island. Notice the red volcanic rock in the foreground. The entire island is comprised of various types and colors of volcanic rock.

The peak of Wizard Island even harbors a small caldera of its own! I suppose the island itself was formed from the residual lava spewing from bottom of the surrounding caldera, and when that lava flow ceased, the island developed its own caldera.

This desolate scene is not representative of Wizard Island, which is actually heavily forested. I just liked the starkness of this weathered, dead tree against the lake.

Standing on the peak of the island it’s awe inspiring to realize that just 7,700 years ago the peak of Mount Mazama soared five thousand feet above the rim of the caldera. Today, in place of that towering mountain lies a crater almost four thousand feet below the rim of the caldera. The cataclysmic event that removed roughly nine thousand feet of Mount Mazama, leaving behind a six-mile wide caldera, is impossible to imagine.

After descending from the peak, I took another “trail” to Fumarole Bay. I quote the word trail because practically the entire route was over black volcanic rocks. Any “trail” was difficult to discern, which I proved by losing the trail on the way back. Since I knew the direction to the dock, I simply clambered over huge hills of volcanic rock in the direction of the dock. On the way I stepped on a wobbly rock and sat down most ungracefully, my body coming to rest contorted around a large rock and my camera swinging violently around behind me, but fortunately not striking anything. Even more fortunate, since I was off the “trail” nobody witnessed my clumsiness, so in a sense it never happened.

Incredible blue water of Crater Lake. It really looks like this up close. The astonishing blue color is due to the phenomenal clarity of the water, the clearest of any lake in the world.

Besides the island itself, the boat ride is fantastic, assuming one likes boats, as I do. There are two places I feel truly at home: on a mountain and on the sea, even if it’s just a lake. Today’s trip was doubly appealing, for it involved a boat ride on a lake in the mountains!

It was amusing to watch the people dressed in light clothing – shorts and t-shirts – don more and more clothing throughout the day. Although the hike down the inside of the caldera was pretty hot, the boat ride to the island was cool. Then the hike to the top of the peak on Wizard Island was hot, while the subsequent boat ride was cold, especially since the wind kicked up because of a threatening storm, covering the lake with large swells and white caps. On the speedy ride back to the boat dock – these boats, even though they are forty feet long, can really cook through the water – we were splashing through the swells, the boat was pitching roughly from side to side and the water spray was drenching the passengers. But for the fresh water spray in lieu of salt water, I felt like I was in a Herman Melville novel. By the time we got to shore, most of the passengers had donned all the foul weather gear they had brought along and most seemed frozen from the cold.

After disembarking from the boat we had another hot hike back up the caldera face to the parking lot. I have to say, as one who has hiked hundreds of miles of rugged trails, the trail from the lake back up the caldera face was one of the steepest I’ve ever hiked. In all I hiked only about six miles today and this final leg was only a mile long, but it sure was steep.

It was well worth the time, effort and expense to undertake this mission. It cost $10 to enter the park and another $37 to take the boat to the island, and it took the entire day, but it was well worth it. The island is fascinating, beautiful, quite large and affords fantastic views of the inside of the caldera and the lake that fills it. There is also an interesting Galapagos-type evolutionary phenomenon on the island, a variety of Garter snake that has lost its stripes so that it blends into the black volcanic rock that covers much of the island, thus concealing the snake from the sharp eyes of the bald eagles that also inhabit the caldera.

Picturesque little bay on Wizard Island

There is a surprising amount of flora on the island, considering its isolation. There are relatively dense forests which shade much of the hike to the summit, plus lots of low-lying bushes and colorful flowers. There are birds, squirrels, chipmunks, snakes, a multitude of ants and even spiders. Pretty impressive when one considers that this is an island in the middle of a lake, which is itself totally encircled by the remains of a mountain, and that this ecosystem is only a few thousand years old. I guess it underscores the determination of life to implant itself in every available niche.

The rangers kept positing complicated explanations for the various kinds of animal life on the island. Observing all the trees laying beside the water around the lake it seemed to me that perhaps the animals simply floated over on a fallen tree trunk. Surely that happens at least once every few hundred years, which is all it would take to populate the island.

Day 15 – July 13

Today was pretty uneventful, just a simple drive back to California. I stopped in Susanville for the night, a nice little town of hundred year old buildings and inviting shady, tree lined residential streets. I drove through the Modoc National Forest, which, while not especially pretty, is rugged and remote, situated in the less traveled and drier northeastern corner of California. I did pass the delightful Eagle Lake, about thirty miles northwest of Susanville.

Eagle Lake, California, situated at an elevation of about 5,000 feet

Eagle Lake is not a very large lake – perhaps three miles across – but it looks tranquil and inviting. Unlike Crater Lake, Oregon, which is completely surrounded by formidable walls, one can walk right down to the edge of Eagle Lake and take a swim.

From Eagle Lake I proceeded on to Susanville, but not without a jolt of excitement to rouse me from my late afternoon lethargy. I was driving along admiring the scenery when all of a sudden this large, boneheaded deer runs right out into the middle of he highway and stands there, not fifty feet in front of me. I started to swerve around it when I realized that it was utterly indecisive about which way it was going to run next, so instead I hit the brakes hard. Fortunately, the car stopped on a dime, otherwise, that deer would have been toast and so would my car. I’ll tell you, there is nothing more spooky that those darned deer along the highway.

One of myriad dilapidated houses one sees along these lonely highways

Day 16 – July 14

Today was a torturous drive from Susanville to Bridgeport at elevations ranging from about 5,000 to 7,500 feet.. While I began today’s journey on U.S. Highway 395, I departed that highway pretty early for California Highway 89, on which I drove most of the day. The reason I took Highway 89 was to avoid driving through Nevada, which is the route Highway 395 takes.

Highway 89 winds through innumerable small towns with double-digit populations, which dot the Sierra Nevada Mountains. It also happens to be one of the steepest highways I’ve ever driven, going over several rugged mountains, sometimes seemingly straight over the top when the highway is relentlessly steep for miles at a time. Despite the steep, narrow, windy highway, however, there was no shortage of grotesquely large vehicles, often towing things, plugging it up. How do these people afford the gasoline?

Although scenic, Highway 89 is a maddeningly slow alternative to Highway 395, especially around Lake Tahoe, which used to be a pleasant place to visit, but now, thanks to gentrification, is a human-made hell in a natural paradise. Despite the glorious views of the lake, I did not stop and couldn’t wait to speed past the place and its overabundance of crowds and absurdly large vehicles clogging the roads.

View from the top of Highway 89 – the ridge of the mountain range I just crossed is visible on the right side of the photo

Upon reaching the southern end of Highway 89 I rejoined U.S. Highway 395 and proceeded to Bridgeport, situated in the mountains at an elevation of about 6,400 feet. Since I’m planning to hike in Yosemite again – this time solo – I chose to stay in Bridgeport instead of Lee Vining again for variety and because I thought it might be cheaper. Unfortunately, Bridgeport, like Lee Vining, is desperately trying to turn itself into some sort of chichi tourist destination, complete with “museums,” kitschy hotels and social events geared to attract tourists, so it’s not all that cheap anymore unless one is willing to spend the night in a real dive, like I am tonight. The room I’m staying in is entirely paneled in termite-eaten lumber, has a mirror made from a horse yoke, a rusty can hanging on the wall for decor, and with the exception of a tiny bathroom, lacks any modern conveniences, including a telephone. Were it not for the bathroom, the room, furnished with antiques, looks like one of those depicted in so many western movies, only not quite as nice!

Day 17 – July 15

Today I decided to hike to Mono Pass in Yosemite. It seemed like a pleasant, relatively easy hike and promised to be scenic. I was miffed that the first three miles of the hike were through a dense forest. It might sound perverse to say that because forests are universally appealing, but if one is hiking to see the scenery, having the view totally obscured by a bunch of bloody trees is no fun at all, not to mention all the hungry mosquitoes lurking in the shady forest. I was surprised, also, that the mountain was so heavily forested at this high altitude of 10,000 feet. I’ve hiked other trails in the area at this elevation and the terrain was pretty barren, certainly not densely forested.

After the first three miles, however, the forest gave way to magnificent views, which just kept getting better and better the farther I walked.

Small lake near Mono Pass, Yosemite

The little lake above is one of the first pleasing sights one sees after emerging from the forest. The water, of course, is crystal clear and this particular lake even had easy access and a sandy bottom – most have a rocky bottom. I was so tempted to get in it on the way back, but I figured it would be too cold and I was too weary to go to the trouble. Sigh.

Oddly enough, at Mono Pass itself, 10,599 feet above sea level, one cannot see Mono Lake to the east. One must walk at least another half mile east to see Mono Lake. In addition to seeing Mono Lake, one will also see a beautiful lake, which I believe is called Sardine Lake. It’s an incredibly picturesque scene, the little lake below and Mono Lake in the distance. However, if one proceeds still further east, there are even more lakes, a staircase of them leading down the mountain. All these lakes look so inviting to swim in, but I’m sure the water is cold and most of them don’t have easy access, or they have formidable rocky slopes leading into the water.

View from Mono Pass, Mono Lake on the horizon

The photo above shows what lies beyond Sardine Lake, two more lakes, each lower than the previous one, with Mono Lake about 4,000 feet below, barely visible on the horizon. Looking down from this height, one feels like they are at the top of the world. I can only imagine what it must be like to be atop one of the mountains of the Himalayas.

Despite the crowds, relatively speaking, for this is not a well known trail, this was a fantastic hike, an unexpected jewel. Even the walk back through the forest was better on the way down because I was hot and the shade provided by the forest was welcome. Even the mosquitoes were absent, apparently taking their afternoon naps following their morning feeding frenzy.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust – notice the young trees growing where the one died

I love the scene of the tree above gradually decomposing back into life-giving nutrients. It makes one appreciate the perpetual cycle of birth, death and rebirth. I wonder how long that dead tree has been laying there decomposing.

Ancient miner’s log cabin

There are a few of these miner’s cabins up here. I guess they mined for gold mainly. I could see me living in such a place. I wonder how difficult it would be to renovate this cabin. Not only is the location pleasant, but look at the view below from this cabin’s front door.

View from miner’s log cabin

This was a most satisfying hike, so much so that I didn’t even mind returning to my hovel back in Bridgeport. It ended up being about ten miles in length and without any severe elevation changes.

Day 18 – July 16

Since I was going to drive right past Yosemite again, and since I was pretty well recovered from yesterday’s hike, I figured I might as well take another hike on my way. So I decided to revisit a hike I took about ten years ago, not actually inside Yosemite park, but sort of “across the street.” Today’s hike, like yesterday’s, would be at elevations of 10,000 feet and above. Besides the thin air at these elevations, the sun seems more intense, a fact I forgot about yesterday and ended up getting a little barbecued.

My first impression upon arriving at Saddlebag Lake, where I was to begin my hike, was that it was immensely more popular than the last time I was here, thronging with tourists. Nevertheless, I embarked on my hike, walking the first mile beside the lake over hard rocks. It was punishing to the feet and the mountain to my side was intensely reflecting the hot morning sunshine. Needless to say, it wasn’t a very pleasant hike, just like the last time I did it.

When I got to the other end of the lake, I ran into my first conundrum, a fork in the road. Taking the left fork I proceeded across this incredibly wet, marshy area and was absolutely besieged by mosquitoes. I take back all the bad things I’ve said about mosquitoes everywhere else I’ve been because these were by far the worst. Every couple of seconds, three or four would land on me to partake of my blood. My hands were constantly flailing about shooing off the mosquitoes. Every once in a while one would hit paydirt as I felt his little sucking nozzle penetrate my skin. I really hate mosquitoes – they remind me so much of politicians. Along the way I ran into a couple of seasoned fishermen who were bugging out of the area on account of the mosquitoes.

As I got nearly to the other side of the marshy area I decided I was going the wrong way. The route the trail was taking me didn’t look promising, nor did it look like the trail I took once before. So I turned around and made my way back across mosquito marsh! By the time I got back to the fork in the road, I was about ready to call it quits, solely on account of the mosquitoes, but I thought that if the trail dried out some, maybe the problem would be mitigated. So I took the right fork this time and immediately proceeded up to a drier part of the trail. Actually, “drier” is relative because the entire trail was remarkably wet. Much of the trail was muddy or marshy and there was flowing water everywhere. In addition, in one place a fresh pond blocked the trail, forcing a detour around the pond. In two other places, several hundred foot long patches of snow, five feet deep or more, blocked the trail and one had no choice but to walk across the slippery snow, with sharp rocks waiting eagerly below. And then there were lakes everywhere. I don’t think I was ever out of sight of some lake. Needless to say, all this abundant water was heaven to the mosquitoes, which continued to hound me the entire day, although not as badly as at mosquito marsh.

Even though winter ended over two months ago, all the leftover snow is producing tremendous water flows as it melts, feeding the small brooks crisscrossing the landscape on their way to filling the abundant lakes. Most of the snow will probably be melted by October, just in time for winter to begin anew.

Small pond along the Saddlebag Lake trail

All the lakes and rivers and streams were quite scenic, but the entire hike was diminished because of the mosquitoes. I barely stopped along the trail because if I stopped moving they would pounce on me. By comparison, yesterday’s hike was so pleasant. I stopped here and there for long periods of time, never worried about the darned mosquitoes.

Look at all the water, flowing, standing

The photo above shows a fairly typical scene along this hike, with water everywhere – flowing water, standing water. It’s no wonder the place is so green and infested with mosquitoes. I must have seen fifteen lakes, some as large as half a mile long, and I never even saw the lakes I came to see.

That was the most disappointing thing about his hike. I could not find the trail I took a decade ago. The route I took today was much more rugged and steep than the trail I took long ago, especially near the end where one has to climb more than 500 feet up a steep, totally rock-covered slope. Moreover, the trail I took today didn’t lead me to the lakes I specifically wanted to see, which was extremely disappointing. I don’t know where I went wrong. Yosemite trails usually have good signs pointing the way to places. This hike today, however, was not in Yosemite and definitely suffered in the signage department. It’s also possible that the trail I took once before was submerged under so many lakes, because I don’t recall seeing anywhere near as many lakes then as I did today. Who knows, maybe I’ll go back someday and try again.

There were an astonishing variety of tiny, colorful flowers along the trail, frequently found valiantly protruding from a little crack in a rock. Looking at the broader landscape, one does not see flowers. However, if one looks closely along the sides of the trail, brilliant, hardy little flowers become apparent.

Incredible variety of tiny, hardy, colorful flowers

All in all, today’s hike was a disappointment, at least compared to the other two stunning hikes I took recently in Yosemite. I did end today’s hike on a positive note, however, by taking the boat instead of hiking! After a disappointing day, I did not relish the final mile long walk back over the rocks beside Saddlebag Lake, so I took the water taxi instead, which zips back and forth between the ends of the lake. It was a most enjoyable way to end the hike.

Day 19 – July 17

After my hike at Saddlebag Lake yesterday, I drove to Pig Pine, California, in preparation for a stopover in Las Vegas today. The lady at the motel asked me if I was planning to visit the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, residing within the Inyo National Forest. I said I was not, but when I found out it was on my way to Las Vegas, I decided to stop there after all.

The drive along California Highway 168 is one of the most grueling, steep and winding drives I’ve ever been on. One can only travel about 30 miles per hour on that highway, unless a huge tractor-trailer rig going 15-20 miles per hour is in one’s way. Fortunately, it’s only about twelve miles until one reaches a plateau where one leaves the highway to head to the Bristlecone pine forest, another ten or more miles of steep climbing ahead! The rate of ascent up this mountain is simply astounding, the 1,000 foot elevation markers passing by every few minutes, taking one from the 4,000 or so foot elevation of the valley up to the 10,000 foot summit of the mountain where the Bristlecone pines live. One feels as if they are ascending Mount Olympus. The decrease in temperature as one goes up in elevation is most welcome as well.

View from about 9,000 feet elevation – I believe the dark green patch on the valley floor to the right is Bishop, California, about a mile below

Even though these mountains are nearly as high as those I hiked in Yosemite, the terrain is markedly drier and harsher, showing no trace of water on the ground, save the green vegetation.

Arriving at the top of the mountain, driving in second gear (out of six) most of the way because of the steepness, I parked and walked briefly through the Bristlecone Pine Forest. I would have walked the entire loop mapped out, but I didn’t want to spend the two hours it would have taken. Plus, I was concerned by a warning sign taped to the temporary visitor center. It said marmots had recently chewed up the hoses and belts of a parked car, necessitating its being towed for repairs, whereupon marmots were discovered hiding under the hood! I know from past experience that critters – particularly rats – really do like to chew on hoses and belts and wires, so I took that warning quite seriously, especially since I have frequently seen marmots in these mountains. So I didn’t want to leave my car unattended for several hours on account of the threat of marmot vandalism.

Bristlecone Pine Forest

The Bristlecone pine trees are somewhat distinct from other pine trees, with long, slender, needle-covered branches, reminiscent of bottle brushes, if one knows what one of those looks like anymore. And these needle-covered branches are surprisingly soft and supple to the touch. What distinguishes these trees above all is their incredible longevity of over 4,000 years. That’s even older than the giant Sequoias, which are as much as 3,000 years old. Some of these Bristlecone pine trees are older than the pyramids in Egypt, and still alive. It’s truly humbling to be in the presence of such old creatures. Bristlecone pines are among the few plants that seem to thrive in this rugged and dry climate, which I suppose explains why they live so long. They are hardy plants.

After checking my car’s belts and hoses for marmot teeth marks, I drove back down the mountain, still in second gear to avoid picking up speed. The way up isn’t as menacing as the way down because on the way down one travels right along the edge of the mountain, where a single second of inattention could send one plummeting many hundreds of feet down the steep mountainside. I would like to return to this place and hike some of its lengthy, rugged trails. I just didn’t have time today.

On the east side of the mountain the terrain and climate become considerably less hospitable. The conditions are noticeably more barren and hot and dry. Along the lonely highway in Nevada I ran across some honest-to-goodness archaeological ruins, the former silver mining town of Palmetto.

Palmetto ruins in Nevada

Established in 1860s, the town was disbanded in 1906 when the silver mines were played out. At its peak the thriving town boasted 200 miner’s tents.

A bit further on, about 30 miles north of Las Vegas, the hot, barren, inhospitable landscape was strikingly different from the lush, water-covered landscape I was used to in Yosemite.

Rugged and dry Nevada desert

Where I stopped to take the above photo it was 112 degrees Fahrenheit, which I thought was unbearably hot. I didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘unbearable’ until I reached Las Vegas, where it was 123 degrees in places! I didn’t think Las Vegas could get that hot, but here’s a photo I took while sitting in Las Vegas’ gridlocked traffic. It’s my car’s dashboard information display, showing the outside temperature at 121 degrees!

Now that’s what I call hot!

Between the unbearable heat and the more unbearable traffic, I aborted my plans to linger in Las Vegas for a couple of days, and instead headed to San Diego. Along the way I performed my good deed for the day by picking up a guy who ran out of gas on the freeway, driving him to the next town, giving him a bottle for gas, buying him some gas and driving him back to his car. The whole thing cost me an hour and a few bucks, but I hope he got his act together.

The temperature remained well over 100 degrees until I stopped for the night at about 10 PM near Victorville, California, where my maternal grandparents lived for many years and are now buried.

When I was a kid we used to travel there every few months and it was a dusty backwater of a town. For kicks we used to play along the railroad tracks, waiting for a train to come along so we could have it smash a penny for us. Today the town is a victim of the contagious growth disease affecting most towns, with shopping malls and housing developments sprouting up everywhere, along with the concomitant traffic nightmares. Incredibly enough, many of the people who bought houses in Victorville recently actually work in, and commute to Los Angeles, over a hundred miles away! I suppose, given the state of the economy and the housing industry, that trend here in California has been mostly arrested.

Upon entering my motel room, pretty weary after driving twice as far as I had planned, I had to don another cap, that of bug exterminator. Small beetles, about half an inch long, were pouring through the gap between the door and the door jamb as if I were in some sort of horror movie. I sent 50 or so of the buggers to the happy hunting ground in the toilet, but they just kept coming. So I stuffed towels under the door and toilet paper into the gap between the door and the door jamb. That at least prevented more beetles from coming into the room, but there were still a few dozen beetles unaccounted for and hiding in the room. Every now and then one would foolishly poke its head up from its hiding place, usually a piece of electronic equipment, and then it was off to the “pool” for a final swim. I even woke up in the morning with one sleeping next to me in bed. (I didn’t ask whether it was male or female.) When I checked out, the staff asked me how was my stay. I replied that it was fine except for the beetle infestation. The staff shrugged and said, “Oh, that’s normal for this time of year.” It’s not normal for me.

Day 20 – July 18

I arrived in San Diego midday, sad that my trip was over, as I could do this forever. In all I traveled 3800 miles – less than some past trips – and spent about $1,600 for everything, not bad for nearly three weeks of travel.

I went on this trip looking for some sort of divine inspiration, which I failed to find. However, the trip was very enjoyable and relaxing, and I did have a revelation of sorts, that I would love to be a park ranger. Spending my days up in the rugged mountains, among forests and rivers, helping people to enjoy their visits sounds like a most satisfying occupation. I would do it for room and board alone.

One observation that kept baffling me was the large number of people eager to part with considerable sums of money: on gasoline while driving their huge vehicles and towing their enormous toys; on overpriced hotel rooms and overpriced restaurants; and on high entrance fees to attractions. I know the state of the economy from the numerical data and simple empirical observation of all the boarded up and “for sale” businesses I saw everywhere, and it’s bad, yet one would not get that sense from the bustling crowds of people everywhere.

What I concluded is that while demand for such recreational diversions may have fallen as the economy has deteriorated, so has the supply – exemplified by all the boarded up businesses – so the smaller number of remaining businesses are doing just as much business as before, if not more. Another observation was that most of the tourists going to places such as Yosemite were foreigners who benefit from the low value of the U.S. dollar relative to their own currencies. Sitting in a restaurant in Lee Vining, for instance, I thought I was in Europe, as European languages were being spoken at every single table around ours.

I suppose not everyone can take a trip like I took, totally free to go where they want, when they want, with no preplanned agenda. It requires a certain freedom from responsibility, which I happen to enjoy at the moment, as well as a willingness to be flexible and adaptable, unless one is willing to spend a ton of money, which I am not. However, I highly recommend such trips – I’ve taken many, and for longer lengths of time than this – because they are immensely relaxing and rejuvenating.