The Blue Star-shaped Glass

On my geocaching adventures, I happened upon a paperweight of blue glass in the shape of a five-pointed star. It was inside one of the caches I was seeking. The rule was that if I took it, I had to leave something of equal or greater value. I left 2 dollars. Time would reveal that it was not an equal trade.

I don’t know what it is about this simple piece of beautiful glass art, but it has been on my desk for about 4 years now and I am remiss to part with it. I often pick it up and hold it to the light and look through it. It reminds me of Long Beach, California when I was 8 years old for some strange reason.

I used to walk down Long Beach Boulevard into Compton and there was a business with fishing nets and blue glass balls hanging on it. I used to stop and stare at how beautiful they were and the rich color mesmerized me. I imagined pirate ships and exotic islands and untold secrets.

What hold does this crystal have over me that I am so attached to it? I don’t have an answer to that and no doubt the person who released it into the public didn’t think anyone would feel passionately about such a bauble. The truth is they probably haven’t thought twice about it since they placed it.

If asked I wouldn’t even pick blue as my favorite color; that color would be green. Neon green is my choice, like the Christmas tree lights or maybe pistachio sherbet. Is it possible that a green star would have more of an effect on me? Simple pleasures, I know and that brings me round to the purpose of this column.

Living in the moment. 

Late last month a group of us hiked 12 or so miles on the Lone Star Trail up by Huntsville. 12 miles doesn’t sound like much, but strap on a 20 pound backpack and do the numerous water-crossings and root-infested trail and it is a long danged stretch requiring half a day of fairly steady walking. We stopped for a rest and sandwich at the halfway point and that is when I felt compelled to expound on living in the moment.

Some people call it taking time to smell the roses, but it is more than that. It is recognizing that you are at a special place in your life and savoring it. It is having an epiphany that you are having the time of your life. You could be any place at that moment and not recognize how wonderful the experience is. Most of us relive it later and that is when we get connected.

I was on my Spin bike at the gym the other day with a group of sweating people and I glanced at the clock. 20 more minutes! 20 minutes of beating myself down. 20 more minutes of self-abuse… or is it only 20 more minutes to experience something most people wouldn’t recognize as wonderful? At that point my whole mind-set shifted and I felt a surge of emotion. I was in the moment and yes, I can do this in spades – or Spandex! Those last 20 passed in a blink of an eye.

When we go on vacation we take our cameras so we can relive the experience later and we zip past the very experience we came for. The photos don’t do the visit justice and we miss out almost entirely. The sad thing is this is exactly what we continue throughout our lives. I’ve talked to many people who have been on cruises, but not once has anyone really relayed the experience in specific detail.

None of them remembers or reminisces about seeing their own blue star-shaped glass. One of my brothers had a mouse crawl on his lap while he was bear hunting in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. He calmly watched it make a burrow in the heated pillow he was sitting on and will recall that moment over and over again for the rest of his life. Most people would not have the identical memory for sure, but his was amazing.

Children live in the moment almost 100% of the time. As adults we learn to ignore most of our life and focus on emergencies, distractions, delicious food, and tasks. My future is to find more blue star-shaped glass and I’ll have to slow down and make it a point to find it. How about we start today?

How about we slow down to see those little things we are missing. Last night I stepped outside and right above me in the sky was the planet Jupiter glowing like the moon. My mind went immediately to our ancient astronomers and once again I marveled at how they mapped the planets. Early this morning I witnessed Mars and Saturn in the south-eastern sky. Wow! So simple and free and so unnoticed by most.

Like my blue star-shaped piece of glass, most people forget to hold it up to the light.

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Blood, Some Sweat, and Possibly… Fears?

I stood about a mile down the Bright Angel Trail inside the Grand Canyon in sunny Arizona and heard a 10 year old teary-eyed girl complain “We could have gone to Disneyland”.   Before her parents could reply, I said, “I felt the same way when I was your age, but now I realize my parents gave me experiences I could never duplicate in an amusement park.”

Her mom and dad just shook their heads knowingly and my beautiful bride and I turned and began the descent to the 1.5 mile house below.  My wife didn’t correct me for speaking out and I thank her for that, but what I said was the truth.  No man-made faux entertainment facade can duplicate God’s creations.   I know, as my Dad made sure I saw raw nature growing up as we meandered coast to coast.

The Bright Angel Trail begins at the rim the Grand Canyon and to put this place into perspective, let me relive my first glimpse into the giant crack. 

We drove my Jeep from Baytown to Clovis, New Mexico the first day – 700 miles.  That is a long way in a lifted Jeep running 4.88 gears and 35 inch tires.  Day two found us in incredible Sedona, New Mexico.  I say incredible because it is a Mecca of trails, hiking, and ATV off-roading and this appeals to the freedom-loving side of our psyche.

We wanted to hike to Cathedral Rock and not knowing the ins and outs, we were disappointed when the parking area was full.  We were redirected 2 miles away to the auxiliary parking lot.  To put it in plain English, I was PO’d, as in “not particularly happy”.  Well, it turned out that this redirect was a blessing in disguise, as the 4.5 hour round trip hike on the trail was exactly what we physically wanted.  It also prepped us for the big crack hike.

The other way was a round trip of about an hour and the easy way in and out and not at all what we wanted.  Sometimes our path is not our own, but exactly what we need.  Think about that a moment.  If I was a Bible preacher, that would preach.  It would preach good.  Adversity is actually our friend.

We wanted to do more there and we did, seeing ancient cliff dwellings and because of my Dad and Mom, I have an appreciation of such historical sites.  Wrapping up, we drove north for the Grand Canyon and the historic El Tovar hotel – the one where Teddy Roosevelt stayed – and Sir Paul McCartney.  Some of its attraction is lost on me though – like no elevator and almost non-existent Internet service.  Old Teddy probably didn’t notice.

Well, seeing we had already hiked through some clothes, we had to make a laundry run and this took a couple of hours after check in.  Neither my bride nor I wanted to hit the sack before seeing the actual Grand Canyon, so we stepped off the 100 yards or so to the rim behind the hotel to get our first look at the big crack.

Holy Evil Knievel!  Talk about something bigger than what you can imagine!

I immediately stepped back and took a deep breath.  I had a feeling of acrophobia, mixed with a healthy dose of vertigo after looking over the measly 4 foot stone wall.  Abyss!  Honest as the day is long, I looked down on the stone path next to me only to see where some soul had lost their supper.  I can’t think of a better way to explain what the first sight of the Grand Canyon is, than to say someone took one look and tossed their cookies.

To sum up a challenging and vigorous hike, my Bride I and carrying around 15 pounds of water each, made it to Indian Gardens and back in 7.5 hours.  That is a 3800 feet descent and back.  That year of training at the gym named after the clock paid off.  Although others do it faster, most don’t, regardless of their ages.

One bizarre observation I had visiting all the State Parks was the total lack of Texans.  We met only 5 in a week of travels, 3 of which were working concessions. I made it a point to question probably 60% of hikers we encountered.  Most were from other countries and continents,  Poles, Israelis, French, German, Russians, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Spanish, Britain’s - you name it, we met them.

The rest of my encounters were Americans from the northern part of the US, escaping the cold.

Do American’s visit our national parks?  Are we shallow amusement park people only?  Are we really this plastic?  Are the YouTube videos of Americans being out of touch with everything except sports and the entertainment industry actually true?  We talked at length with a French couple at the highest point in Mesa Verde for a half hour and they had been touring America for… 5 months!

Do foreigners know more about our history and geography than we do?  I shudder to think this is true, but all evidence in our parks and historical sites points in this direction.  I want more.  I want to see and experience more of our history.  I don’t want to repeat it; I just want to recognize it.  I want to “be it”.

The drive to New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Colorado in my Jeep probably cost me twice the cost of gas of a passenger car, but we did it and we did it in American style.  I think the miles added up to over 3000 and we enjoyed every second of our American road trip.  Oh yea, the money we spent stayed in America too.
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It's all so clear now!

After reading about PAD, or peripheral arterial disease in Wednesday's Baytown Sun, I realized I must have this malady.  It all became so clear. Although this is sad news, it's actually good news because I can finally pinpoint all these weird and bizarre symptoms I occasionally (read: quite often) experience.

In case you skipped over (read: didn't bother to read) the informative article I'll 'splain it briefly.  “PAD is a common but serious form of vascular disease caused by a build up of plaque in the major arteries that supply oxygen-rich blood to your legs, feet, arms and pelvis”.

Common side-effects are: “cramp-like” leg muscle fatigue or heaviness, pain and discomfort that occur in the buttocks, thigh or calf muscles while walking or climbing stairs.  I can honestly and truthfully confess that I have these symptoms in Spin class and while hiking!  Especially the buttocks part and it usually starts about 30 minutes into the class.  My legs begin to have those classic cramp-like fatigue and heaviness symptoms too, especially when we do an extend five minute uphill pedal.  I can't for the life of me believe I didn't see this before.  I'm diseased!

Take last Tuesday for instance.  My Bride and I were out for a casual stroll in rocky Sedona, Arizona on the Slim Shady Trail (read: elevation 4500 feet).  I was carrying a small backpack with about 20 pounds of food water and supplies and it was a cool 55 degrees with the humidity around 20%.  No problem, right?  Wrong!

We hadn't gone (read: rocky trail climbing) more than 4 miles and I began to experience classic peripheral arterial disease symptoms!  In oil town plain speaking; my butt was aching, as were my feet, legs and lower back.  I know, I should have turned back, suffering from this disease, but I didn't.  I guess it was the majestic Cathedral Rock that mesmerized me into ignoring these symptoms - I can't say.

Up, up, and up we climbed until we were fairly close to the summit and all the time my buns, thighs, feet, and toes were burning.  I shifted the pack around and drank long from one of my water bottles as I stared at the giant red rock formations prevalent in the area.  I chuckled and remarked that "the locals ain't seen nuthin' till they've seen the Fred Hartman Bridge."  We both found this humorous for some reason.

We finished up the long hike back to my Jeep and danged if my Bride didn't complain of the very same symptoms!  On top of that, we both suffered a bout of lethargy!  We drove into Sedona and got a table at a place called Javelina Cantina. A hot plate of Arizona-style Mexican food partially restored us to our former healthy state.  I may just write the American Medical Association and explain that there may just be a healthy antidote for this PAD condition - Mexican food after heavy exertion.  It goes without saying that we both slept well.

Yesterday morning, ignoring the PAD symptoms we experienced only 2 days prior, we stood on the rim of the Grand Canyon's Bright Angel Trail... and began our descent to Indian Gardens 4.5 miles away.

Both of us were carrying close to 10 pounds of water and salty snacks and with walking sticks, the hike progressed fairly well, but each step down was the equivalent of putting on the brakes.  The incredible view made it easy to ignore the screaming thigh muscles as PAD began to rear its ugly head.  That is the only explanation I have for this condition - or is it?

The long hike down to Indian Gardens was nothing in comparison to the 4.5 hour hike back up the canyon trail.  As we neared the last mile and a half we encountered casual hikers who only planned to the do a smidgeon of the trail.  They were kicking up a lot of dust and that is when it hit me - I don't have PAD.  I don't have PAD any more than I have COPD - Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.

I was simply coughing because the air is dry and I'm breathing dust.  I don't have PAD; I have what is commonly called EXERTION.  My body was simply responding to the extreme demands I was placing on it and heavy exercise doesn't negate these pains; it allows you to experience them and recover.  Wow!  What a revelation!

Of course I know this and the point I am making is actually quite simple.  Why wait until your body is failing before you do something to reverse the trend?  The outer trails are there to lure people to challenge themselves and make no mistake, they challenged us.  However the many visits to the gym on a regular basis made our trekking possible, but if you think your legs and buttocks won't ache, forget it. 

There are good aches and bad aches.  We experienced the good ones.

The Four Cache Loop Phoon

This past Saturday I joined 12 geocachers to do the amazing Four Cache Loop geocache hike up east of Huntsville, Texas on the Lone Star Trail.  13 miles of hiking, the often muddy trail with 20 something water crossings.  It rained Wednesday and Thursday and some who planned to attend dropped out figuring the waterways would be impassible.

They missed an excellent fairly dry, cool weather hike.  Of course, along the way, buns hit the ground numerous times, including my own.

The perfect sunny weather was a calm-winded 32 degrees when we started and rose to the low 50’s at end, 7 hours later.  One of our group wasn’t really prepared for the rigors of the trip and became a walking casualty about 2 miles in.  Since I organized the first half of the trek, I refused to leave her side and by the 6 mile mark, I was pushing her along with my hand in the middle of her back just to keep her going.

She was game, but hopelessly out of shape and I warned her to half her next challenge… and then half it again.  The trail is 11 miles with often elevation changes and water crossings.  At the halfway point, we planned a detour to get the infamous D.B. Cooper cache, which was off the trail a ways and added a mile or more.

For some time I urged her on, telling her it was only one more half mile, when it was actually triple that.  She gave it her all, but every so often, she would flat stop.  Brian Miles (better known in geocaching circles as 4 Miles) and I would chat about geocaching and hiking while she rested and we would start again.  The main group would travel a good ways and then wait for us, as we only move as fast as the slowest hiker.

Eventually we arrived at the designated lunch location, which meant sitting on a forest road. Originally I had convinced our weakest hiker she would get a one hour rest before we tackled the last 6 miles.  But after the struggle to get here, it was quite apparent there was no way she could finish the hike.  Fortunately, another group of geocachers arrived from the east, only showing up to do D.B. Cooper and after we ate and relaxed, she followed them back a mile or so to their vehicles.

In the spirit of spontaneity, before we parted ways, we posed for a mass Phoon photo.  Phooning is described as “To stand motionless on one foot, tilted forward at the waist, with one bent arm held in front and the other bent arm held behind.”

Now mind you, this is an intrepid bunch of people who would rather ford streams and climb slippery banks, then invest their time watching the Ellen DeGeneres show.  We phooned to create a historical moment in time that we can relive again and again.  Not to mention we can rub the photo in the face of our friends who didn’t come “due to the weather”.

From here on we moved at about a 3.5 mile an hour pace and about 2 miles up the trail, we began to encounter a large group of maybe 50 college-age hikers coming towards us.  Another Houston area geocacher and Lone Star Trail volunteer named Tom, who we all know as Great Birds, was leading an over-night hike and camp group towards us and we stopped and chatted with Tom briefly.

As I passed by the many young hikers, I blurted the great line from the movie Airplane, “Everyone who ate the fish got sick” and the old timeless staple, “You can’t get there from here.”  Both silly lines may have been lost on them, but maybe not.  They looked pretty bright.

Canine Queen was leading us and she bumped up the gait to about 4 miles an hour and I dogged her every step.  FYI:  Our median group age was probably 50 years old, give or take and this group was taking no prisoners.  Split evenly between men and women, I will never be found guilty of making jokes about the female gender’s ability to bang their feet on the ground (or race on a stationary bike).  By the by, I think Canine Queen is close to 50, but I feared to ask.  She’s an alpha female after all and even though I can hold my own; there are some paths I would rather not trod.

Our next phoon photo will be taken at the Baytown Nature Center Nurture Nature Series just before Chrissy Butcher’s survival class.  Maybe you would like to join us at 9:45am on February 7^th to join in the fun?

The vanishing personal space conundrum solved!

 I am not entirely comfortable in large gatherings even though I occasionally attend them.  In fact, I don’t think you will ever spot me marching in any kind of mass assemblies, peaceful or not.

Don’t get me wrong when I say this.  I can sit comfortably in church, or an occasional sporting event and behave myself, it’s just that I would rather walk down a lonely trail in the woods, far away from any other human being or musical delivery device. In fact, I have walked for hours not hearing another human voice and was perfectly at peace and content.  Did you know that when you spend hours alone, you become very quiet?  My doggies sleep when my bride is away, because the house becomes silent, except for my constant pecking of the keyboard.

My dad once said he “enjoyed his own company” and I learned to understand this peculiar sounding confession. He would go off in his 18-foot boat and spend the day catching redfish and speckled trout and come back and clean them at his house in Aransas Pass.  He didn’t even listen to the radio.  I don’t think he was uncomfortable around other people; he just loved the freedom to make all his own choices and he got it in that boat out on the water.

As technology shrinks our privacy and let me say up front that I embrace much of it, the need to get away from it all amplifies exponentially.  Angie Middleton explained to me that a friend owns a car that spoke to her while driving.  It told her to “keep your eyes on the road”.  It’s scary on one hand and much needed by some on the other.  I do believe we are going to see a massive shift in technology very soon that will be overwhelming to most of us, me included.

The famed British theoretical physicist, Stephen Hawking recently threw up the same red flag as the Unibomber Ted Kaczynski, in that "The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race." 

"Humans, who are limited by slow biological evolution, couldn't compete and would be superseded" is another quote by him.  This, of course caught my eye, as I follow the (AI) artificial intelligence movement and have read a number of books by a leader in AI, Ray Kurzweil.  The real kicker here is this is happening right now.  We will see this in our lifetime and that once again brings us back to the original intent of this column: personal space.

Our personal space or comfort zone is shrinking, right along with our ability to control what little we still have.  Baytown is a good example of how little personal space we have.  Get in your car and drive onto any of our roads.  The only space you control is around you inside the car and that’s about it.  Everywhere you look are trucks and cars with lots and lots of people.  Inside almost any store you have to move out of someone’s way.  You stand in line.  You wait, due to the movement of people.  You are crowded and if you are like me, impatient.

Maybe that’s why I like to hike the trails or launch my kayak on one of our waterways.  Maybe I feel claustrophobic in the crowds or maybe I just don’t like to conform.  I don’t know and frankly, I don’t care; all I know is I don’t like the crowds.  Now, according to Angie, Ted, Ray, and Stephen, I won’t even be able to get away from technology, especially inside my own danged car.

I guess I could attempt to go off the grid, but I like my air conditioning and Food Town’s close proximity; besides gardening is danged hard work and rabbits are a poor substitute for prepared boudain, chicken fried steak, and gumbo.  I’m afraid I, we, us… are caught in an inescapable vortex of people and technology and like lumbering lemmings scurrying toward our own destruction; we’ll ultimately gallop to our own demise.

Of course we will not go empty-handed.  I wouldn’t suggest that.  In one hand we’ll have the latest 5G Smartphone or tablet and in the other a sack of rapidly prepared convenience food.  We won’t actually run either.  We’ll be driven to the cliff’s edge in our environmentally correct ‘smart” car or faux-SUV.  We won’t have to worry about criminals because all of us will be armed.  Drunk or distracted driving will be eliminated because our cars will go wherever we tell them, or just take us to the nearest de-tox center by law.  They’ll monitor our sugar levels and automatically send the results to our doctor.  A drone will deliver our meds when our house signals we are home and our universal insurance will deduct the credits from our account.

If by chance you can find a place to hike off the grid, an amber alert will automatically go out and a platoon of camera heavy quadcopters will home in on the last place you were known to be.  When you are located, your account will be billed for not securing a permit from Homeland Security to go off-grid.  It will be “for the good of the people” that everyone is accounted for and by golly, for safeties sake, we will agree to it.

Doom and gloom you say?  Nope, just acceptable social acclimation and the snuffing out of personal space – for the good of the people.

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Baytown Walks. Wait! What?

I grew up playing outdoors, unlike what is commonly accepted as normal child activity  today.  Being hyper was unheard of; we were boys.  Baseball, football, whiffleball, Army – we played Army almost every day.  We were the baby boomers, being born after World War Two and the Korean conflict.  Of course we had toy guns and a lot of times, we had sticks that in our vivid imaginations were machine guns.  We shot a lot of imaginary enemies of our country and many times, were wounded or killed.

My 3 brothers and I spent untold hours on long hikes in the woods, often staying gone from my Mom’s scrutiny for hours – or we rode our bicycles and would many times chalk up 10 mile adventures.  We would climb trees and when our body weight over-powered the tall plant, we would hang on and ride the tree to the ground before letting go.  This was our entertainment.  Its what we did to entertain ourselves.

We would find a brick wall and one would bat, while the other threw a rubber ball at the strike zone or we would find a circular track and ride our bikes around it 100 times or more simulating a race track competition.  One summer in Woodstock, Georgia, we camped out in the wooded section behind our house for over a month, only using the house for the toilet, a meal, or the occasional shower.  We loved staying outdoors and it was plenty hot, wet, or cold all of the time.

I’ve lived in my present house for 22 years and with a large track of woods behind it, I’ve never seen kids playing there, so yes, times have changed from the ancient times of my childhood.  Thank the big man in the sky, that is about to change again.  Boomers are once again coming out of their houses and… walking.  Maybe, just maybe, it will include kids and teens.  The Blue Heron Park Trail has about 2.5 miles (estimate) of 10-foot wide sidewalk for us to bang our feet upon and it has a lot of activity and it is just one of the many trails our city has built for us Baytownians.

Thanks to Scott Johnson’s strong leadership and Sonja Payne, we now have a Baytown Walks program and I am pleased to say we had a good turn-out on its first day.  Baytown for many years was a very hostile place for hikers, bikers, and walkers, lacking even a modest number of sidewalks, let alone walking trails.  This has changed, but there is more work to be done and more wide sidewalks are needed.

We are fat, folks.  There is no sense in denying it.  We need to get off our rumps and walk.  What, you’re not fat?  Good for you.  No go outside and start walking.  Sweat all you want, but walk anyway and while you’re at it, bring a plastic garbage bag and pick up a little trash while you’re sweating.  All that bending over will work wonders for that soon to develop six-pack and make the city look cleaner at the same time.

Speaking of making the city look better, I confirmed with a city employee that the proliferation of signs being stuck at every intersection advertising “Repairing credit for $250” and another that “Buys Homes Fast” are illegal signs, so feel free to remove and recycle them in your green can.  They are litter, nothing more.

The city has an OAP (overall plan) to connect all of our trails together in the future and I for one applaud it.  The sooner the better and every dime spent on it is an investment in our city’s future and our personal health.  I am anxiously awaiting the trail expansion and fourth bridge across Cary Bayou in Walter Jenkins Park.  I’ve put a bug in Dustin Schubert’s ear to certify the trail at 5000 meters so people will come to Baytown to train for long distance running.  The area behind the dog park could be a spaghetti trail with elevation changes in that would make a runner’s mouth water.

And speaking of water, let’s get that kayak launch point on Cary Bayou at JC Holloway Park!  The new launch point at the Baytown Nature Center is awesome!

And people call this fun?

Back a couple of months ago when it was hot and muggy… Yes, I’m being sarcastic. A number of my friends and acquaintances with the Houston Geocaching Society came up with a plan to hike eleven miles in the woods near Huntsville. The Four Notch Loop is part of the Lone Star Hiking Trail and is a fairly flat hike with numerous gully crossings and because of the distance, a real challenge for anyone not prepared to walk over 19,000 steps. And then there is the added element of hunters with high-powered rifles mistaking us for deer to bump up the adventure.

When we had the November 16^th date decided, I organized an “event” and this would give each of us a point or what geocachers call a “smiley” to add to our total geocache statistics.  Each time you find a geocache or attend an event, it generates a little smiley face icon on the list page and your personal statistics to show you found it.

Juleed, GreenEyed, & BaytownBert

All week long we discussed the weather on our forum and at first, it looked like it was going to be very cold, but this turned to thunderstorm concerns with the added probability that ravine crossings would be difficult.  The day before the event, first one, then other probable attendee began to beg off and all for good reasons.  My geocaching mentor and friend Larry Houston (known to geocachers as HoustonControl), who knows the trail well, just wasn’t up to the long hike after his recent hospital stay and I am glad he chose prudence over possible misadventure.

The trail can be confusing, but I wasn’t much concerned as I drove the 98 miles and rolled into the campsite at 0730 where the trail begins.  We had a couple of seasoned and trail veteran hikers, namely Mudfrog, out of Beaumont, TexasWriter from Tomball, and Nov64, from Willis.

Well, I get a text from Mudfrog.  His son TxTadpole is sick and they’ve been up all night.  He won’t be there.  Okay, alright.  Not to worry.  It’s about 60 degrees outside and humid enough to sip the air.  I wisely wore shorts and a bright orange t-shirt, figuring if it was cold, the strenuous walk and the 20 pound day pack would warm me up.

Using my Android phone, I check the forum and sure enough, TexasWriter has bowed out over a scheduling conflict.  Well, we’ve still got Nov64 to lead us.  As I am standing there pondering all of this, another Jeep arrives and out hops Dennis, or as he’s known - RatherGoHiking.  He tells me he showed up for the event, but has a bum foot due to surgery and won’t be going.  Okay.  This is looking a bit weak in the numbers category.

I see a red Smartcar rolling down the road and it’s my two geocaching 101 friends, Juleed, and Greeneyed - Julee Denton from Seabrook, and Jennifer Schaudt from League City and right behind them are Backwards Charlie From Austin, and Nov64 – Patty Pritzen.  Patty owns the geocache – all one of them, we are going after.

The four cache loop, as it is know is actually a multi-cache with 4 containers, but geocachers only get one smiley for finding the last one.  Nov64 is wearing flip-flops – not a good sign.  Backwards Charlie is about 75 years old and "ain’t walking that far for one smiley when he can find more in the area, driving."  That leaves Juleed, GreenEyed, and me.  Ugh!  Time to make lemonade with these lemons, right?

Juleed did the hike before in cold weather and we started out, with good ol goose-stepping BaytownBert banging his feet at what turned out to be an intense pace and just about did in Juleed.  I tried to hand off the lead a couple of times and even slow it down a bit, but my natural gait kept the pace high.  When we finally stopped to eat a bite, Juleed informed me “it took us 5 hours to get here the last time”.  Two hours and fifty minutes had passed under our feet, including quite a few steep ravine crossings.

Greeneyed ate a peanut butter sandwich and green grapes, I had a turkey and cheese sandwich, and Juleed produced a sour green dill pickle as her soul fare.  I offered her a granola bar for carbs, but she refused it.  All three of us had hiking sticks and this is where Juleed walked off without hers.  She was beginning to get leg cramps and the temperature climbed to 84 degrees according to my thermometer on my back pack.

 

We came to what appeared to be a logging road and discussed taking a shortcut, as the trail wandered way away and then cut back in the same direction as the road and it was decided this might be a good idea.  It wasn’t and resulted in an extremely muddy and treacherous ravine crossing, which basically brought Juleed to a halt.  She’s a fighter and like all of us do, pushed herself too fast and too far before admitting that she was in a bit of trouble.  It was my fault.

I kept looking at my GPSr unit and the trail and distant road markings and set out double time for my Jeep three miles away.  I came to a road, took it for a bit and then plunged back into the forest, making pretty good time considering everything.  Three miles is a long way with the heat and terrain and I finally made it to my Jeep at the campgrounds, cranked it up, and took off.  I was following the outer perimeter road and called my mates.  They had gained the road and were walking slowly in my direction, but were still about a mile away when I came upon a locked gate.

Well, I am all for abiding by the laws of the land, but medical emergencies negate some things and my Jeep was made for situations like this one.  It took a bit of 4X4 savvy to leave no destructive footprint – I am a firm believer in leaving nothing behind but a shadow and I rolled right up to them.  Everything ended well, but next time I think we will go when it is cooler and with more friends.  I like adventure that ends well.

The future of Baytown

An open letter to our city's leadership:  I know everyone is seeing the scorched-earth dirt work that is going on all around Houston and Baytown.  Its almost as if there is a vendetta against anything green.  God help us if we don't start an aggressive program to replant. The greenhouse gas alone will continue to spike upward and then there is the very serious loss of habitat for wildlife to consider.

Baytown has always been a blue-collar town and I like it that way, but the truth is we have to start looking at more than people and industry growth, or the people earning very good livings off of our industry will live elsewhere and our collective health will decline.  We must push, push, push the expansion of parks and hiking/biking trails and businesses must be encouraged to replant trees and more trees, specifically native varieties tuned for the Gulf Coast.  I am going to retire here, most likely next year with no plans to go to "greener" pastures and I'm watching with enthusiasm for Baytown's future under you folk's direction.  Please don't let me and my neighbors down.

4 lane road through a natural area.

For years people called this Honda Hills.

Honda Hills defoliation to add Baker Road extension

Clear out everything above ground to put this underground.

I suggest we use this mowed containment area below the Fred Hartman Bridge

The current construction on Cedar Bayou replacing natural habitat.

Barkuloo Road closure to tie in the new Baker Road.

SH-146 & Hwy 99

SH-146 & Hwy 99

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Barkuloo road and Baker road intersection 7-28-13

Barkuloo road and Baker road intersection 7-28-13

Barkuloo road and Baker road intersection 7-28-13