Wildlife on the Border

This is not the post I've been working on for the last couple of days, but I am currently sitting and waiting for law enforcement so our Survey Crew can get on with the day. I am currently less than a mile from the Mexican Border and can clearly see the fence from where I stand. I realize this is a blog mostly Bout exploring but I also touch upon Nature and Environmental stuff too, I'll try and stick to that without being very political, but honestly, I think you'll deal with it. Going to start this out by straight up saying, I hate the Fence. I'll hate it even more if it becomes a big stupid wall. It's a waste of money, time, effort and barely works. What it is good at is screwing up the environment. It started out as open  space and slowly became barbed wire and wooden posts. Today it is a long series of closely placed metal bars. This kind of barricade is meant to restrict illegal goods and people (don't get me started on the term illegal). This also has an impact on large wildlife like deer, bears and coyotes. As the reduction of these animals continue, it negative impacts the smaller wildlife and plants. This in turn effects insects and soil and the thing gets messed up. I can't figure out how to upload pictures from this app, but if I could I could show you what essentially looks like a prairie. I will remind you I am standing in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. Makes sense right? No. The grasses are almost entirely invasive and non native. Really, the only area where I don't see stuff that is in the proper order is the nicely tended garden of native species. I don't particularly have a huge point here, except just one more instance of our impact on the world with basically no return. Happy 4th of July everyone. Pick up your trash and do your best not to scare the pets/wildlife. We are heading to the Border Patrol HQ to see if we can get this underway...

Sing it from the Mountain Top, or "Too Far From the Beaten Path".

  

Top of the Mountain

   Since last time I wrote a post I have a lot of stuff go on in my life, all of it positive I might add, but still requiring a lot of thought processing. When I feel overwhelmed or stressed out, the best place for me is outdoors. I realize that there is a lot of talk about how the outdoors can help with things like depression and anxiety, and that might be true in some cases, but that is not true for everyone. But

Looking East from the Sandias

that's not necessarily what I am talking about. Being outside is like my meditation. Being surrounded by the Natural World refreshes sense of wonder and gives me some perspective. Its like meditation for me. Except I don't really know what that feels like because my mind wanders too much. But I can imagine there is a similarity. Maybe it's standing next to towering Ponderosa pines, hearing the wind blow through the the grass in a high mountain meadow, or making eye contact with a pair of deer as they nonchalantly pick their way through the brush; whatever it is, it brings me peace. As I mentioned before, big week for me. Lots to think about. Something in me decided to climb a mountain. So I did.
     I had been reading about interesting things in the area and read about an outcrop of limestone at the top the Sandias that supposedly had fossils. Nothing really special, mostly coral and small bivalves, but regardless, I wanted to see it. I could have driven to the top, parked, had a short, relaxing hike and been done. Did I do that? No. No I didn't. On a whim I parked just short of halfway up that bad boy and hiked. One of my favorite parts of hiking up a mountain is being able to go through all the different ecosystems that melt together as the elevation increases. The trail I chose began next to a small stream at the very top of Madera Canyon, it was a fairly modest trail, lacking in upkeep and only tenuously marked, making it all the more exciting. Looming above me, somewhere above the massive pines, was the peak that I sought to reach. The tail meandered up around the side the mountain, taking me through some truly beautiful stretches of forest. Unfortunately that was not the case the whole time.
     I spent a lot of time in my life working for a Nature Center in Nebraska where were basically in constant battle with Invasive Species. Sounds dramatic? Good. Because it was. Lost a lot of good

Prescribed burn back in NE

people out there. Stretches of the forest that I walked through were in really bad shape. Inches of duff (basically dead plant matter) covered the forest floor with barely any under story growth. In other places Scrub Oak blanketed the area in a near mono-culture. The mountain is in desperate need of a good burning. Fire was one of the most important aspects of managing our Prairie back home, and is also super important for keeping a healthy forest. I admit, I am not an expert in forest management and I realize there is a ton of planning an budgeting that goes into it. Problem is, unless you stay on top of it, the next time there is a fire it can be severe. Just a week or so ago, a large fire sprung up in the Manzano mountains southeast of Albuquerque. The Sandias are closer to an urban area and could potentially cause a greater loss of property and life if not contained in time. Thousands of years ago, lightening and mindful Native Americans made sure that fire did its part, whether it was intended or not. There are even a number of plants that will remain as seeds until fire coaxes them out. Fire is important, and it hurts my heart to see the forest in such bad shape.

Easiest way to read "Owls Hoot in the Daytime"

     Anyway, enough of the preaching. So I am about halfway to my destination and I stop to down some Powerade. What do I hear? An owl hoot in the daytime. First off, I freaking LOVE owls. Back at the nature center we had these two little screech owls and they were so cute and perched on my hand and then there was this blind Barn Owl and watching him eat was disgustingly fascinating. Second: "Owls Hoot in the Daytime" by Manly Wade Wellman is one of my favorite short stories ever! If you haven't had the chance to read it, find me and I will make sure you do. In the story, the owl calling out during the day signifies that the main character has traveled too far from the beaten
path. It is derived from old Appalachian folklore; I promptly ignored its warning and continued on.

     It was a long trek, not going to lie. I had to take a more than a few breathers because walking up hills is hard work. My eyes widened as I walked

Looking down from the top

into a wide open meadow very near the top. The top of the Sandias is a really popular hiking/trail running/dog walking area and I rapidly came to realize that I was not really in the wild anymore. My dreams of bear taming crushed for the day, I couldn't help but pick up some of the trash I came across in the trail to at least be placed in a trash can next time I saw it. I can forgive ill maintenance of the parkland, I get it, its hard, it costs money, and it can be really dangerous. You know what isn't any of those things? THROWING AWAY YOUR DAMN TRASH. Seriously. Put it where it belongs. Awesome, two preachy moments in one post.

      Anyway, eventually I made my way the highest point on the mountain and looked down and out across the world around me. Gods is it a beautiful sight. In moments like that, I am overwhelmed with a sense of place. That meditation thing I was talking about at the beginning. I knew where I was and for a moment my doubts and fears rushed away with wind. But I still had a goal. I had to find me some fossils. The age of the earth is profound to me. The fact that at the top of the mountain I am standing on what used to be the bottom of an ancient sea. Untold centuries of violent processes radically changed the shape of the surface into what I was seeing then. Talk about perspective. Looking out into the horizon, feeling the weight of time and pressing my hands against the remnants of some of the earliest lifeforms on the planet. People find solace in many things. Religion. Fantasy. Art. I find it most often in the feeling of insignificance. It is peaceful there. Maybe a bit lonely. But it's clarity. For me at least. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I look up at the sky. Down at the world. Peace. The hike back down in way easier. I feel a little high. Maybe its the meditation, maybe its dehydration. Who knows. Aside from being stabbed in the side by a Yucca thorn, it was a good day.

Bottom of the Ocean

A walk down a forested path, or "how I get lost..."

   Finally I feel like its safe to say that spring is upon us. I am sitting here and as we speak the temperature is gradually reaching into the 70's. Thank the gods. Yesterday it was nice enough for me to venture forth into the wilderness and go on my first real hike of the year.
    I almost always like to stick close to the river, I have always had a fondness for water and fate probably missed the boat by not making me a fish. Right now the water is still frozen solid on the surface but life is already waking beneath the frozen sheet. I came across a young man fishing through a hole in the ice and I sat watched him creepily with my phone camera poised to catch the act of pulling a fish from the river. It never happened. Too bad.
     After climbing some trees and steep embankments I came across the undeniable scent of skunk. I am by no means an expert tracker, but I do share a name with wolverine and decided I would try and follow my nose. I successfully tracked the skunk to its den. On second thought I may have been smelling a skunk victim, but alas I did not find the smelly culprit.
     I did however, stumble across an archaeological site. It appears to be a trash dump littered with bottles and automotive parts. I know it doesn't sound exciting but it is so deal with it. Using the bases of some bottles I was able to place it somewhere within the realm of the mid 1950's. Not anything super old but technically anything over 50 years old counts.
    Afterwards I bushwhacked back to the jeep and rewarded myself with a mint chip cliff bar. Mmmmmm. I suggest to all of you that you get outside and take some time to see what you can find. Don't be afraid to travel off the beaten path and poke around where you might not think you should. Just finding little mysteries in the world or maybe things you've never seen before can make the whole day worth it.

Cabin Fever, or "A Winter's Tale"

     As my fellow Mid-westerners know all too well, it is the dead of winter. In fact, we have a recent wave of frigid cold and layers of snow that dwarf any from earlier in the season. This generally puts a damper on the outdoor adventures. It isn't so much the cold or frozen snow that keeps me inside. Its other people. It seems to me that during the warmer months the majority of people completely forget how to drive n snow and ice. Far more dangerous than the freezing temps and blistering wind are the people who drive atop layers of frozen water as though it were normal road surface. This make for a nerve wracking, tiresome slog to the nearest trail head, all of which I am intimately familiar with. I have recently returned from a long stint of work in New Mexico where I spent every day exploring the high plains. It has been a rough couple months since then, readjusting to a mundane life and erratic work schedule. It doesn't help that when I get the time, the weather is at its worst.So how do I get my fix during these hard times?
     Recently I have rediscovered a show on Netflix that I adored as a teenager, Destination Truth. The premise is that a group of people, led by intrepid adventurer Joshua Gates, travel the globe in search of the truth behind mysteries and legends. A lot of people scoff at the fact that people still believe and search for things a kin to big foot. I will tell you that I a firm believer that there are things in the world that we have yet to discover. In this technological world we have created, it is easy to fall into the misconception that we have found all there is to find in the world.  With Google Maps able to give us a birds eye view of nearly everywhere in the world we can forget that places exist that have yet to be explored. While the Amazon Rainforest is rapidly shrinking, there a vast tracts that are untouched, the Himalayas, the Congo, even parts of Canada are unexplored. While the cast of Desitnation Truth never truly finds "the thing", some of the episodes do bring to light some unexplainable evidence.
      Watching the explorers jump from Brazil to Zambia to Vietnam definitely helps ease the wanderlust that is tugging at my heart. It also causes a tinge of jealousy to rise in my heart. I would really like to know how these people get approached to do these kinds of shows! I am more than willing to uproot everything and globe trot, to anyone who might be reading! Travel shows like the one I mentioned also give a nice, quick view of the far off places that the world has to offer. Did you know that there is a lake in the Congo the size of Connecticut? Me neither, till this morning. I also really enjoy watching the interactions of people from the United States and say...the Nepalese. The meeting of two different cultures is fun to watch, but some can be quite agitating. I am not usually one to sit in front of the tube and watch TV shows, but with little else to do it is nice to see a little bit of the world and learn something at the same time.
     Fortunately for me, spring is upon us and soon I will back at my summer job where I will be outside every day. Then as fall rolls around, I will be taking off to a new destination for Graduate School and a new place to explore will be at hand. Right now I am sitting and looking out the window and dreaming of fish by the lake, scuba diving and hiking...ugh....spring you could not come sooner...

Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie...

     As many of you know, I have been hired as a field surveyor on an archaeological project in New Mexico. This is my first job as a professional archaeologist and is quite exciting. I have already done one 8 day session but unfortunately I did not bring my computer nor my camera. I can assure you that it was a fantastic first week on the job despite the nearly constant presence of rain. We are surveying ground for a windmill farm that is taking us across a multitude of ranch land in central New Mexico. The majority of our findings are depression era relics however we have also found many stone tools from wandering Native Americans. Today was a particularly exciting day; firstly because I brought my camera and secondly because we found a site that told a story. I am going to share that story with you now.

     In the early 1900's the railroads passed through and bought up all the land alongside the tracks. Eventually this land was sold to people all over the country, but mostly back east with the promise that the land would be fertile for years to come. Many of these men and women took to growing beans; think pinto, not soy. This worked fine for awhile, however the elevation of the area keeps the annual rainfall fairly low and eventually the farmland was drying up. Then comes the Dust Bowl and Great Depression. These hard times cause many people to drop everything and leave, some head back east, others west as migrant workers. The remnants of this era are scattered about the empty short grass prairie.
     My day started out relatively normal as far as survey goes. We drove our truck down some lonely dirt roads that snake between large tracts of grassland. We parked, we got out, we line up and then marched in lines. For the first hour or so we found nothing, which seems to be the norm out here. A herd of female Pronghorns trotted by and a very short distance, followed closely by two ever watchful males. Shortly after we met the owner of the property who has lived on this land all his life; we all guess he was pushing his 80's. His father moved out here and bought the land in 1913 and started out as a bean farmer but turned to cattle when the farming looked bleak. This is one of the few families the survived through the Dust Bowl.

Remains of Model T

1930's wheel well/running board

     In another 45 minutes of walking we began to see scatterings of objects on our transects. The first being an old trash pile with the remains of a Model T Ford as its center piece. Later we found the wheel well and running board of a 1930's style luxury car. Atop the next hill appears to be some kind of structure that our boss guesses is the homestead to which the trash belongs to. As we get close the debris become more frequent. We start seeing old fruit or meat cans, Prince Albert tobacco and shattered glass jars. Upon finally reaching the top of the long rolling hill we come upon the place where someone once tried to make a home.
    The bodies of two old farm trucks; one a Ford, the other likely a Chevy, sit rusting away. A well
sits unused, still filled with water, and a scattering of large stones and a deep depression marks where

the dugout that the family lived in once stood. Among the artifacts that we found were broken china with intricate flower patterns, broken wine bottles, cosmetic jars, a belt buckle, a marble, various tools. Now I love the mystery found in a scattering of prehistoric pottery and flaked stone, but those kinds of artifacts leave behind a lot of guess work. Here we had a story of people who tried to make a living in a far away place and failed. These people are likely remembered by someone, their records left behind in a census or bill of sale or some such thing. This makes the site more personal and easier to access in a number of ways. This isn't the only sign of the tragedies of the Dust Bowl, not but 3 miles away is another abandoned farmstead. These are the sad, lonely reminders of one of the worst hard times in

Remains of Dugout House

American History.


















Here are some other pictures from the day...

Explorer of the Month: Fish Tales

     So I have been itching for spring to get here so it can finally warm up and I can start fishing. In honor of the arrival of my excitement for fishing I am nominating my favorite fisherman for Explorer of the Month. Fishing isn't usually the first thing that pops into mind when one thinks of exploring. I admit that it wasn't on my radar either until one man convinced me. His name is Jeremy Wade, host of the Animal Planet program River Monsters. Mr. Wade is a biologist by trade, but is also a renown "extreme angler". On his TV show he travels the world in search of over sized fish that may explain local legends and lore about man eating monsters in the the world's river systems. It is not only the travel to exotic, or some times rather mundane locales that makes him an explorer. Just by viewing the show, one can tell that Wade has the utmost interest in not only his quarry, but the stories and people involved.
     One of the most intriguing episodes takes place in Africa where he is fishing for the Goliath Tiger Fish. During this particular adventure, he becomes involved with a local tribe, learns about fishing gangs, hears a story about marauding hippos and handles some of mankind's very first fishing implements. If that does scream exploring, I don't know what does.
    Recently, I had the joy of reading his book "River Monsters: True Stories of the Ones that Didn't get Away". While at first glance, the book appears to simply be a rehash of the first couple seasons of the show. However, the stories he tells are filled with interesting asides and misadventures that Mr. Wade has gone through from his time as a young hopeful obsessed with fishing to the man he is today. We are talking plane crashes, encounters with Natives, and being arrested for espionage. These are things, that while mentioned on the show, are retold in great detail that makes the book interesting on many levels.
     It obvious from the words on the pages that Jeremy Wade had a deep caring for the these giants "monsters" and greatly laments that they are disappearing from the planet and that he may in fact be one of the last people to witness some of these giants. Jeremy Wade is a man, while I do not know him personally, that I look up to. His genuine interest in the world around him and the people within it alone makes him worthy of Explorer of the Month. If you haven't seen the show check it out on Amazon Instant Video, all of the seasons are free to stream with Amazon Prime. Also the book is a great buy for those interested in biology, fishing, or travel writing. It is complete with full color photos of some of his most awesome catches and adventures.

 www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_4_13?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=river+monsters+book&sprefix=river+monster%2Caps%2C341

P.S. Sorry I haven't been posting much content, my very last undergraduate semester is finally coming to a close and I have been quite busy. However, I have several items in the works as well as some guest writers. Stay tuned and hang in there with me! Thanks guys!

Explorer of the Month: Douglas Preston

     While wandering up and down the musty smelling aisles of the local public libraries I have passed a certain book more than a few times. I love to read very much but am a heinously slow reader so no matter how much my curiosity was spiked I always passed this particular volume by. The tome is thick, somewhere around 400 pages tiny printed text, bound in a large hardcover with a water color painting of Coronado scrawled of the front. The book jacket is yellowing clear plastic and with the library bar code placed in the upper left corner. This particular book is titled "Cities of Gold" and is written by this months Explorer, Douglas Preston. Douglas Preston is an author from Cambridge, Massachusetts and is a bestselling author of both fiction and non fiction. He got his writing career off to a start when writing for the American Museum of Natural History in New York. He wrote his first book, Dinosaurs in the Attic, in 1986 and continues to write today.
   Having lived and fell in love with the deserts of the southwest I was drawn to "Cities of Gold" simply by title alone. I did not really know what to expect from the book but upon my completion of the book what I found is quite possibly the greatest nonfiction story I have ever read. Mr. Preston, once a product of the city and described as a Yankee by many people throughout his book, decided to move to New Mexico on a whim. Eventually he decides that he will trace the trail of Francisco Vasquez de Coronado through the American Southwest; from the Mexican border, through Arizona, and up to Santa Fe. For Coronado and his men, this was an excruciating, arduous trek that led them across most of the American continent. For Preston and his companions this would prove to be just as difficult as the original search for the seven cities of gold.
     The quest of Douglas Preston and his companions I feel was many things, one was the search for what it means to be American which I feel is a very important question for those of us from this country. Another reason for this journey was to simply prove that they could do it. Throughout the book Preston often expressed frustration when people told him that we was just a "Yankee" and would probably die along the way. The writing of this particular book really conveyed the sense of wonder, danger and awe that he must have felt as he traveled through the desert southwest. One of the most compelling parts of this book are the interactions with the myriad of people that he met along the way. Preston also conveys a deep sense of respect for the land and its people, especially the natives that lived there before us. There is a stark contrast between the "once was" and the "is now" and it is very interesting to see the changes and how rapidly they came. I have literally only glanced over what is contained between the covers of this book. I do need to say that after completing it I was brought to tears by the shear beauty and poignancy of this "Cities of Gold". I am probably not considered an expert on literature, but I feel as though this is one of the most important books I have read.
    Enough about the book, I need to say a little as to why Douglas Preston has earned this Explorer of the month award! Firstly, it is well known that Coronado did not have an easy time with his journey, scholars are not even sure of the exact route. Having the courage and the grit to take up the challenge of following in the footsteps of one of the great conquistadors is merit enough. Secondly, he has not only done this once but continued to seek adventure throughout the world by following other historic trails on horseback. Very soon I will be reading a follow up book of sorts about another one of his adventures. I will be sure to post my thoughts on what I am sure will be another excellent read. I think most of all I appreciate Mr. Preston's ability to leave everything behind and pursue something different, something of the beaten path. That is what has earned Douglas Preston my explorer of the month award for February of 2013.

Here is a link to Preston and his partner's website: http://www.prestonchild.com/

Here is a link to the Douglas Preston Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/Douglas-Preston/e/B000AQ0AWW

A Walk Beneath the Long Dead Sea: or "My Trip to the Badlands of South Dakota" Part 3

     Following the series of stone monuments that had been left for travelers like me, I made my way through the tall emerald grass accented with the brilliant whites, yellows and purples of the native wild flowers. The trail edged along a eight foot or so drop off that acted as a kind of barrier between the viewer and a gallery of strange sculptures carved from the ancient stone. There were windows and doors and twisting pillars and a whole menagerie of petrified creations. It is funny how time changes things, changes all things, even those that seem the most solid, the most resistant. These monuments were once grand and imposing, part of another much more mammoth work of creation. Now they are little more than the size of us. Wind, water, and the flow of time had already sealed their fate long before the sea tides ever peeled away and revealed what it hid to the world. As the layers chip, crack and fall the remnants of ages undreamed reveal that all things are born, crumble and are born anew.

In this age of concrete, steel and computer chips, it is easy to see that humans are dominate in this world. We have managed to conquer nearly every environment, defy gravity, travel continents in hours. It is easy to think that we are unstoppable, invincible, that the tides of fate do not apply for we are the chosen ones, masters and creators of our own destiny. For countless eons this planet has harbored lifeforms great and small, they engulfed the Earth with enumerable species of all kinds. And yet here we, a product of the continuing cycles of life. It is foolish to think that humanity will last forever, despite the towers, the technology, we too will pass with time and in the wake of our going, it will be the turn of another.
     As I continued down the trail I came across something that I had not really expected to find. Atop a small island raised above the ground was a small patch of Prickly Pear cactus. Out west this type of cacti and its brethren are everywhere, in the Great Plains, not so much. Cacti are native to the central corridor of the United States and can be found in South Dakota, Nebraska, and Kansas. When thinking of the plains many envision endless prairies and fields of corn, perhaps some cattle ranches thrown in the mix. There is actually a great number of smaller ecosystems interspersed, such as the Badlands and the Sand Hills of Nebraska. Some of these areas have the kinds of stuff Cacti love to live in. My grandfather actually grows one in a garden and it manages to live throughout the often harsh Nebraska winters. I have many less than fond memories of pulling spines from my calves and forearms after trudging through the desert on survey. When in the desert it was normal, perhaps a tad mundane to see this plant, as common as grass in Nebraska. Here it was somewhat of a gift. An unexpected reminder that within a world of lines and grids and barbed wire fences there are some things that can transcend the arbitrary boundaries that we assign to the world we live in. I recently listened to a piece on NPR that spoke of a a journey to the sea floor in Antarctica. This particular voyage was searching for a an elusive three-eyed tube worm that colonizes around volcanic vents on the ocean floor. Instead of these worms, they found fields and fields of yellow "fluff". This fluff turns out to be one of the oldest organisms on the planet. The piece ended with a very poignant statement, that nature does not care what we expect to find, it will be where it is whether we want it to be or not.

     After pulling myself back up to the trail I continued to walk in peace. According to the map I would soon come to a cross roads that would lead to a parking lot in one direction and a path back towards where I came from in the other. I had not seen any people thus far and enjoyed the solitude although there were times it was somewhat eerie. In my everyday life it is very difficult to come across loneliness and silence. It is true that while in nature I had still not found neither loneliness or silence but I had found an escape. Here there were no cars, no television, no computers, even my phone was off (I always carry it in case of an emergency). Being without these things are nearly heresy in modern times. There was still the wind, the birds, and insects all around me but I would gladly take them over sirens, traffic and commercials. Regardless, I knew it would not be long till someone ventured across my path and lo and behold, I had found them. At the cross roads were an older couple, probably late fifties or early sixties, the wife peering through a pair of binoculars and the husband scanning a wrinkled brochure.
     I walked up to them, looking what I would deem imposing with my large pack, knife strapped to waist and black bandanna wrapped around my head. This couple saw me and waved vigorously and I returned the wave with a smile. We greeted each other with handshakes and smiles although our names were never shared. This couple was lively and friendly, on a road trip across the U.S. vacationing from Canada. They were searching for the Big Horn Sheep that were supposedly roaming this area and asked if I had seen any. Unfortunately I had not, they seemed somewhat disappointed but still undaunted. They inquired as to how far I'd walked and we shared a bit of conversation about the great outdoors. I noticed the portly man red and sweaty and they were both lacking in water. Anyone who knows the first thing about hiking knows you need water, dehydration is a very serious thing. Being an Eagle Scout I am always prepared and had ample amounts of water bottles in my pack and they were grateful to have some. After a bit more chatter we parted ways and I wished them a safe and enjoyable trip. Before I left they thanked me for both the water and for being interested and caring about the outdoors. They said that far too many people my age just aren't interested. I thanked them and left with a feeling of pride. I am glad I had met these strangers and that our brief intersection had meant something to all of us.
     The last leg of this section took me to the edge of  the plateau where I could look out into the bulk of the Badlands. It was a barren, wasted land. Rocky spines and crags lifted above deep, shear gorges where little grew. At the bottom of these canyons were pools of muddy, brackish water. It was beautiful and terrifying as I looked out over the blasted heath and stared down into the crevasse below. Far off in the distance was a sea of green, a safe haven from this little patch of hell. This had been a rewarding venture for me, a chance to walk through time, to imagine the ages that came before, to see a still wild place nestled in the farmlands of Middle America, to meet people that I have never met and to share something with them. There was more that I saw and experienced in this almost alien terrain, but if I told you everything there would be nothing left for you to experience if you have the chance to go and see it for yourself. In nature some are driven to see God, others peace and the sublime, for others like me it is beauty and realization of place.

 
 Thanks you for following me on this journey, I hope you enjoyed it and continue to read.

-Logan

A Walk Beneath the Long Dead Sea: or "My Trip to the Badlands of South Dakota" Part 2

     I pulled my sunglasses from my face, lifted my hat from my head, and wiped away the sweat already beginning to bead just beneath my hairline. The dark clouds that had blotted out the sun had now ventured forth to lands unknown and the sun shown full bore in the hazy blue sky. The air was dry and warm but a cool breeze found its way to my skin intermittently. I looked on as the the gentle breath sent the green grass waving like an emerald ocean. A trail of almost non existent footprints led into the open prairie where they would soon disappear and the trail would be up to me to decipher. Narrow lanes of barren, dusty earth snaked their way through the field, looking like a maze of trails that led to nowhere and everywhere all at ounce. Not so far off in the distance was a small orange marker, just like the ones that led me up the cliff face, I put one foot forward and off I went. I wished greatly to be able to explore the areas off the trails, but out of respect for the wildlife and their home I opted to stay relatively close to the mapped path. In a place like this, be it State Park, National Park, game reserve or whatever, it is important to not disturb what little patch of ground we have designated as wilderness. Haven't we as humans taken enough from what was already here?
     I walked slowly through prairie imagining the bygone years. Once this was home to number of great beasts; rhinoceros, North Amercan camels, a variety of horses that would later migrate to Europe and Asia before being sealed off from this continent, only for their descendants to find their way back here aboard great Spanish galleons. Giant land tortoises once munched on reeds growing alongside muddy watering holes. Tall, spindle legged birds would watch carefully and quietly, the diminutive deer ever wary of the the scimitar-cats stalking through the tall grass. Just below their feet lay dormant the fossils of a once teaming sea. Time marches on and in another epoch, man has found its way here. Now great Mammoths are hunted by roving bands of nomads, travelers from Asia far from their homeland. And farther on still, their memory erased, no sign left except chipped stone spear points and scenes of a fresh kill. New waves of people immigrate to this land, the Lakota, the Dakota peoples, all travelers journeying through space and time only to once again be displaced as settlers from Europe claim America as their home.
     As I walked I looked carefully at all the earth formations and  along the ground, part habit from my days in Archaeology field school, part desire to find some sort of fossil, some tangible proof that there was once something else here, that there is more to the story than the cover. I walked between two small bluffs with barren sides and hats of bright green grass, the layers of sediment were stacked high like a tower of crepes on a breakfast plate. My map warned of two animals that I might encounter: the American Bison, and the Mountain Lion. I had seen both before, albeit behind fence and plexiglass. I knew the size a Bison could achieve and that that can be ornery, but I relished the idea of seeing some of the last wild Bison on the continent. What really gave me a case of the chills was the idea that a Cougar could be watching me, just like the saber toothed cats of old.

     In Arizona there have been a number of fatal lion attacks in the mountains, and I had read heavily about how to change your status as prey if need be. First off, mountain lions mark their territory heavily and if one is in the area you should recognize it by its pungent urine odor. If you should happen to see one, the idea is to make yourself look as big and loud as possible. Wave you coat or shirt in the air, hold your backpack high above your head, yell and jump around. What do predators generally prey upon? Deer, young cows, gazelle in Africa, all animals that are quiet and skittish, much like bears, they are not looking for a fight, they want an easy meal. Note that these methods are not guaranteed but have been shown to improve your likelihood, if the need should ever arise.

      The grass gave way to a scene that I found very interesting, here on a barren patch of ground lay scatter hundreds of small roundish rocks. To me it looked very much like they had been washed ashore on a beach. Much to my amusement, some travelers coming through this place long before me had written messages with the stones. One greeted me, one told me I was on the right track, another was just simply a smiling face. The messages weren't big, and for that I was grateful, it could have been relatively easy to eliminate this sight by moving the rocks around. It was also nice to see there was nothing obscene written in tiny rock messages. Don't get me wrong, I am by no means a prude, but I find it infinitely distasteful when someone simply has to scrawl vulgar words or whatever in places that are public. I like to think of it as preserving the innocence of a child just a little a bit longer.
     Once again, I found myself off the map, and wandering only where I thought the trail was leading. I stood atop a small mound and peered through my binoculars partly admiring the scenery, partly wondering where the hell I was, when something caught my eye. A small pile of rocks, deliberate, placed conveniently where someone looking would be able to find it. Then I saw more. The little stone cairns were left to help those lost to find their way...

    
     I was going to attempt to write more, but I felt like I might be getting long winded, plus I love cliff hangers. Instead I am going to opt to put up a few pictures of what I have seen on my trip thus far. Hopefully you will keep coming back for more, there is an end to this trip, I promise!

The Badlands Plateau

Above the trail

Thousands of pebble strewn on the shore

The Mourning Giant

This is only a fraction of the Turkeys I saw

As requested by a reader, here are two pictures of the Prairie Dogs

Peeking up to say hello

The Jagged Horizon