This Magic Moment, So Different And So New... 2009

 

This Magic Moment, So Different And So New...

 

In April 2007, I traveled from Los Angeles, California to Moab, Utah. On the night before my arrival in Moab, I stopped at Navajo National Monument. There, they have a free campground that sits high on a west-facing ridge. That evening, the sunset was beautiful. Far from the nearest city, the quiet night soon filled with stars. 

 

Only a week before, I had met Carrie, at her home in Simi Valley, CA. Now I was on the road, heading to Moab, over 800 miles away. Having met her only twice, I knew that she was the woman I had searched for all of my life. This new relationship would last forever, I believed. The only thing I had not yet done was to tell Carrie that I loved her.

 

After reading for a while that night, I felt lonely and alone, far from friends and family. Since I was fifteen miles off U.S. Highway 160, between Tuba City and Kayenta, AZ, I assumed that there would be no cellular telephone service. To my surprise, a strong signal reached my coach, perhaps from Tuba City. From the 7200-foot elevation at Navajo National Monument, there was a sixty-mile sight-line to Tuba City, at 4960-foot elevation.

 

As soon as I saw cellular reception on my mobile telephone, I dialed Carrie. That night, she was staying at the historic Santa Maria Inn in Santa Maria, CA. We talked for over an hour. I told her that I loved her. She told me that she loved me too, but as she did, the cellular connection buzzed in my ear. Not knowing what she had just said, I did not want to ask, “What did you say?”

 

During the conversation, she invited me to fly back to LA for my birthday, on Cinco de Mayo weekend 2007. It was an offer that I gladly accepted. Later, she called me back and asked, “You did hear me when I said, ‘I love you too’, didn’t you?” From that moment on, Sunset Campground at Navajo National Monument became a special place in my life.

 

Two and one half years later, in October 2009, Carrie and I shared our first sunset at that magical place. She and I were traveling from Moab, Utah to Casa Carrie, in Simi Valley, CA. Leaving Moab before noon; we arrived at Sunset Campground about an hour before sundown. That gave us time to prepare a toast to that special place. Our wine that evening was a Kokopelli Vineyards Arizona Cabernet Sauvignon.

 

As sunset fast approached, we took our glasses out to the rim of the campground. There, at sunset in that beautiful place, I proposed a toast. It was, “To our Love”. Since Kokopelli plays such a big part in the energies of that area, we toasted to him, as well.

 

Soon, the sun dipped behind a large cloudbank hovered on the western horizon, many leagues away. Distances in the Four Corners can be deceiving. There is a sight-line from the monument to the San Francisco Peaks, ninety miles away. For that reason, it was impossible to know how far away the clouds really were.

 

Although I had once experienced an overcast sunset at that place, I had not seen the sun set behind the clouds from there. Perhaps because of a false horizon and perhaps for reasons more magical, our sunset lasted for longer than expected.

 

As we looked to the western sky, shades of gold showered from the clouds above. Looking like fiery red creatures, deep red colors shone through many holes in the cloudbank. Above the darkening horizon, in clear sky the color of faded turquoise, we saw splashes of golden light. As we watched, coded swoosh-dot-dash lights hovered above the horizon. The brightness and intensity of these celestial features were unlike any clouds we had seen before.

 

As the sunset slowly faded, the intense display of light remained. For many minutes, features in the cloud-cipher barely changed. Whatever message it had to impart, we had time to marvel at the beauty of nature in that time and place. Turning to Carrie, I said, “It looks like Kokopelli in the sky, coming to greet us and bless us in this sacred place”. Pausing before she replied, “It is a magical place. Thank you for inviting me to share this special place with you.” If it were not for my need to keep taking pictures, I might then have melted into the sandstone of the ridge on which we stood.

 

As the sunset faded in the foreground, an angel or cloud-being came to rest atop Navajo Mountain, over thirty miles away in Southern Utah. At 10,385 feet, the peak stood out against a darkening horizon. Mimicking the shape of the mountain below, the being’s arms rested atop the pillow of air that separated mist from rock.

 

As darkness closed further around us, we turned again to see our sky bound Kokopelli, still shining, low in the western sky. Since all good things must end, we turned to face the final moments of our private sunset. Golden light flowed across the land, cloud beings rested atop nearby peaks and Kokopelli showered sparks of golden light before us. For both of us, it was a magical moment.

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By James McGillis at 10:48 PM | Personal Articles | Comments (0) | Link

Learn To Appreciate Nature, From A Distance - 2009

 

Learn To Appreciate Nature, From A Distance

In December 2009, I drove south on U.S. Highway 101, known in far Northern California as The Redwood Highway. Near Davison Road, in a spot called Berry Glenn, I encountered a herd of Roosevelt Elk. About twenty-in number, they were migrating north along the far edge of the highway. Since we were within Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park and only a mile from Redwood National Park, I sensed that these animals had never heard the sound of a hunter’s rifle. Long before native Yurok Indians made their way along Redwood Creek, the distant ancestors of these animals had walked this path.

 

Since Roosevelt Elk are among the largest of the deer family, I stayed inside my vehicle, turned on my emergency flashers and then paused to take a few pictures. By the time I had pulled off the road and stopped, the bull who led this harem was hidden from sight. The visible herd included only females and juveniles. Where might the bull linger? Was he hidden in the brush along the highway? With a light drizzle falling, the females, walking in pairs, passed my open window. Although the elusive males can weigh up to half a ton, adult females easily top 600 pounds.

 

Although traffic was light that weekday afternoon, one driver came to a halt behind me, leapt out of his car and approached the herd while standing in front of my vehicle. It was then that I realized that a fight was brewing. A lone female, haggard by age and weather, protected the rear of the heard. By her actions, it was clear to me that she wanted no part of this human interloper. In defiance, she planted all four hooves in the center of the northbound lane and bellowed repeated warnings at the photographer.

 

Whether one is viewing whales in the ocean or elk herds by the road, the first rule of wildlife viewing is, “Do not approach wild animals”. According to Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada, far more humans are injured there by elk than by bears.

 

When I realized that this crazed looking cow was bellowing at the man, I called to him and said, “That animal is upset. She could charge you at any time. You’d better get away from there.” Although he never looked at me or acknowledged my presence, he did move back behind my vehicle and then returned to his car. As I departed the scene, I kept my emergency flashers on as a warning signal to approaching motorists. Only when I was far from the action did I breathe a sigh of relief.

 

As I continued my drive, I recalled a time in Yellowstone National Park when I took a risk in order to photograph an American Bison. Parking my car near a spring fed meadow; I spied a lone male bison grazing perhaps fifty feet away. Wanting to get the best picture possible, I walked closer to the beast. As seen in the accompanying photo, he was an adult male, in the prime of his life. Standing there, peacefully grazing in that meadow, he was by far the largest animal I had ever seen up close in nature. The word, "formidable" came to mind. If you break that word down, you get "form", "id" and "able". Certainly, that bison was an architype representing all three concepts.

 

Almost imperceptibly, I saw the bison turn his head tward me. Even as a low grunt emanated from his throat, I edged closer. After taking my picture, I backed away slowly. At what still felt like an unsafe distance, I turned and walked more quickly towards my car. It was then, with my back turned toward the bison that my mind's eye opened, if only to see him charging at me. If this were true, it would be a close race to my car. With a full ton of angry muscle and bone hurtling toward me, I could easily lose my concentration and composure.

 

Short of breath when I reached my car, I turned to look back at the bison. Still pulling up clumps of fresh grass to eat, the bison had not moved. At first, thinking that he was a dumb animal, I had trespassed across an unseen boundary that demarcated his territory. That summer afternoon, I had intruded into his peaceful energy field.

 

Humans and bison have had a continual, if distant relationship with each other in Yellowstone for almost two hundred years. In that time, I believe that the bison have found collective wisdom. As almost two centuries have passed, the Yellowstone bison herds have genetically self-selected their gene pool in favor of those who are indifferent to humans, no matter how provocative or foolish those humans may be.

 

In the future, we see a time when humans shall remain calm and respectful while in the presence of nature. If so, that elusive bull elk may elect to stand calmly in the brush, rather than crashing out on to The Redwood Highway and into the path of an oncoming automobile. In honor of humanity's future relationship with nature, we believe that soon it shall be so.

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By James McGillis at 01:52 PM | Environment | Comments (0) | Link

Predictions For The Fate of Humanity - 2010

 

Predictions For The Fate of Humanity

In late December 2009, I traveled on U.S. Highway 101 south, from Port Orford, Oregon to the San Francisco Bay. That day, I chased a storm that cleared to the east as I drove through the redwoods of Northern California. With the 2010-decade then only days away, a foggy future in my mind mirrored the many fogbanks I observed during my drive. With fear running rampant on TV cable news and the lips of many people, what might the coming decade bring?

 

On January 1, 2010, most people who own a working timepiece and live in contemporary world culture believed that the day marked the beginning of both a New Year and a new decade. It was time for predictions, prognostications and perhaps, some new personal resolutions.

 

Paraphrasing Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg, “Now we are engaged in a great decade, testing whether this Earth, or any Earth, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure”. If you wish to know now how this story ends, we cannot offer you satisfaction. We can promise, however, that by the end of this decade the fate of humanity shall be clear.

 

The outcome need not be apocalyptic, as the End of Days and 2012 Mayan Calendar doomsters seem to agree. What they missed in their dire predictions is the big joke that the Mayan placed in their calendar. Unspoken and unwritten, was knowledge that their calendar indeed ended, but that the continuum of a time-space reality here on Earth did not. After their calendar’s eons of noble service, creating a new and equally accurate one would be easy.

 

As we embark on the 2010-decade with 20/10 myopia, can we expect to disembark again in ten years with 20/20 insight and enlightenment? As we begin the 2010’s, no one knows for sure. The good news is that human spiritual enlightenment has been gaining ground in our world ever since East met West.

 

Once a particular issue gains enough momentum in human culture, it can appear to be unstoppable. Examples include fear of terrorism, the rapid spread of Islam in the world or the increasing frequency of terrorist acts. Concentration on any or all of those subjects will not help America and Europe win the supposed war on terror. Since the Jihadist mentality has had several decades to fester, we will continue to feel negative aspects of its momentum for some time to come.

 

Whether Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Buddhist, or none of the above, those of us who fall on the side of peace and tranquility can still change this world for the better. Our secret weapon in the war for peace is the personal resolution. Picture a Jihadist, praying to Allah at the close of Ramadan. Pausing to welcome the New Year, will he yearn both for self-love and for the death to the infidel, or non-believer? It cannot be. As mutually exclusive concepts, self-love and other-hatred cannot coexist in the same human being.

 

Photographs of human auras and of water molecules exposed to meditation and loving contemplation reveal brighter and more coherent vibrational emanations than do control samples. Thus, we might say that loving thoughts emanate energy that is a quantum level higher than thoughts produced during moments of fear, hatred or self-loathing.

 

This year, if all lovers-of-life resolve to approach their fellow humans with love and compassion in their hearts, they will create enough positive energy to dampen murderous thoughts in geographically disparate populations. With the strength and purity of its energy, love will trump and void hate every time. Under such a regimen, within ten years’ time, peace could prevail among millions, if not billions of humans who do not currently enjoy it.

 

It is not whether we humans win or lose our wars; but rather, how we play the game of love and life that shall decide our fate. No single human can reverse climate change or put an end to poverty or war. Collectively, humanity has the ability to do all of those things and more. All it takes is individual desire, coupled with the resolve to complete the required actions. These acts of goodness well may distract us from fear, hate and self-loathing. If so, ten years hence we could wake up to a more peaceful world and a healthy Earth to support us.

 

On the following day, as I completed my drive, the energies of the sun surrounded me. From Interstate I-5, four miles north of Westley, California, I observed cattle grazing on a green hillside. Whether the visual effect came from sunlight refracting through my camera lens or something entirely different, I cannot say. What I can say is that a bubble of new energy large enough to cover that field shown before me on that day. Smiling, I remembered that all is well in the universe and in the little 3-D world that we call our own.

Email James McGillis

 

By James McGillis at 04:09 PM | Current Events | Comments (0) | Link

Potash, Utah - That Sinkhole Feeling, Again - 2009

 

Potash, Utah - That Sinkhole Feeling, Again

During a 2009 visit to the Intrepid Potash - Moab, Utah website we were pleased to see new safety related information regarding the mining and processing of potash (potassium chloride) and salt (sodium chloride) crystals at their Cane Creek potash plant. In an earlier article, we had criticized the company for not providing holding ponds designed to catch leaks or overflow from settling ponds at a higher elevation.

 

Their website now states that, “the solar ponds are lined with heavy vinyl to prevent valuable brine from leaking into the ground and the Colorado River. A series of holding ponds have been constructed to catch any spills and return potassium-rich brine to the ponds.” Whether these safety features existed all along, or are recent additions, we do not know. Either way, Intrepid's release of more information about their operation, rather than less is laudable.

 

In the event of a catastrophic failure at the upper ponds, what percentage of the brine might the holding ponds catch and retain? With the continued absence of information regarding holding pond capacity, we can only guess and hope that it is adequate. “Adequate for what?” you might ask. We can think of at least two scenarios in which a catastrophic failure might test Intrepid's holding pond design and capacity.

 

First is weather. What is the expected level of water flow into the settling ponds during a “one hundred year flood”? What about the "one thousand year flood"? In order to determine the size of a one hundred or one thousand year flood within the Shafer Basin and Potash, researchers must consider both historical data and paleoflood records.

 

Now that a drier climate in the Four Corners region is an established fact, we can expect storm and flood activities to increase in intensity, if not in number. Lack of an historical record does not preclude the formation of larger storms there in the future. In that regard, we would not be happy with a holding pond system that provides less than full containment of all settling pond brine.

 

A second threat at the Cane Creek Plant and its ponds results from the solution mining of potash itself. The Intrepid Potash - Moab Utah website indicates that, “water from the nearby Colorado River is pumped through injection wells into the underground mine. The water dissolves the potash from layers buried approximately 3,000 feet below the surface.” Missing from the company’s website is information on injection well locations, and their proximity to the fragile holding ponds.

 

In order to understand the importance of proximity, we need look no further than the City of Carlsbad, New Mexico. According to a recent Los Angeles Times article, New Mexico mines used a solution-mining technique similar to that of Intrepid, at Moab. Over the years, six million cubic feet of brine solution mining has been extracted from a salt deposit located directly beneath Carlsbad.

 

Although there has not yet been a collapse at the Carlsbad mine, in 2008 two similar mines north of the city experienced catastrophic failures. With the collapse of the overlying rock, each of those mines became a sinkhole four hundred feet across and one hundred feet deep. Since the mines operated within state and federal guidelines, there does not appear to be easy recourse against them. The state and the mine operators can simply call these unexpected events “Acts of God” and then proceed to disown any further liability.

 

In the case of Carlsbad, New Mexico, a collapse under the busiest intersection in town is a real possibility. Rail lines, an irrigation ditch and a mobile home park are now under threat of collapse. In the case of Intrepid Potash – Moab, Utah, no one knows how likely a catastrophic mine collapse might be. In an event similar to the Carlsbad scenario, might the solar ponds disappear into a sinkhole? Worse yet, could gravity cause the brine to cascade downhill towards the holding ponds and the Colorado River below?

Email James McGillis

 

By James McGillis at 06:36 PM | Colorado River | Comments (0) | Link

Help Conserve Moab's Water - Drink Rare Utah Wines - 2009

 

 

Help Conserve Moab's Water - Drink Rare Utah Wines 

During our October 2009, visit to Moab, Utah, we noticed that fall color had arrived in the Spanish Valley. The deciduous trees showed bright yellow leaves, but the scarcity of freezing weather had produced few of the burnt-orange or flame-red leaves we had hoped to see.

 

Before the sun drops behind the Moab Rim, there is often good light to the north and east. From my vantage point at the Moab Rim CamPark, the Slickrock sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Likewise, the Moab Rim reflected light along the length of its crest. To the east, clouds shaded the La Sal Range. Dark green foliage faded into dark gray granite near their summit. As the cloud formation moved slowly across the sky, its virga veil trailed below. With the recent warm, dry weather, there was no snow, even on the highest peaks. In the high country, autumn was over, but winter had not yet begun. From the top to bottom, the relict forest of aspen seemed to have dropped its leaves all at once, leaving behind only a trace of color.

 

The next morning, Carrie McCoy and I set off to explore in and around the Spanish Valley. Our first stop was at Johnsons on Top, a mesa bounded by Mill Creek Canyon to the north and the Spanish Valley to the south. Several years ago, Grand County and the State of Utah approved a low-density, high-end residential development on that mesa. When the real estate market dematerialized, that project, known as Cloudrock went on hiatus.

 

Since last year, the only “improvement” to the mesa was additional signage admonishing off-road vehicle drivers to stay on the road. For years, the access gate at the road has made it look like an entrance to private property. Only the locals and a few Moab old-timers know that there is an undeveloped mesa at Johnsons on Top. It follows that marauding outsiders probably did not make the many off-road tracks we saw that day. More likely, some locals felt entitled to make a social road wherever and whenever they pleased, even if it was across Utah Trust Land.

 

At the far rim of the mesa, we snapped our “MoabLive” outdoor portraits. From that high ground, we saw Mill Creek Canyon below. The dust storms of spring 2009 had hastened snowmelt upstream in the La Sal Range. Pools of sand, terraced in the streambed, provided an illusion of flowing water. A photo of the La Sal Range that we took from that spot one year prior showed a snowpack at high elevation.

 

When the creek went dry, the Grand Water and Sewer Service Agency (GWSSA) had to close its Sheley Diversion Tunnel from Mill Creek. When water no longer flowed down the tunnel to Ken’s Lake, the reservoir had no other replenishment source. By October 2009, demand for irrigation had drained the reservoir almost to the elevation of its outfall pipe. Over-subscription and overuse of Ken’s Lake water resources are now a fact. If early snowmelt becomes the norm, future years may bring only one brief shot at filling Ken’s lake. As the major source of irrigation water for the Spanish Valley, that resource may now be too valuable to support large-scale alfalfa farming in the desert.

 

Using data collected in 2001, the Utah Department of Environmental Quality/Division of Water Quality (DEQ/DWQ) found increased temperature to be the major “pollutant” present in Ken’s Lake. Blaming it on solar heating alone, the DEQ/DWQ petitioned the U.S. EPA to reclassify the lake as a “warm water fishery”, rather than to find ways to retain its old designation as a “cold water fishery”. In so doing, they ignored the fact that only 400 acre feet of water is normally present in Ken's Lake at the end of any summer season. Perhaps it was not obvious to the state agency, but such a small pool of water exposed to the summer sun near Moab would rise in temperature.

 

The solution to this dilemma rests largely with farmers in the Spanish Valley. By leaving a higher residual waterline in the lake each year, that larger mass should not heat up as quickly as the smaller pool now does. That would require a "conservation mentality", rather than the current "extraction mentality". In October 2009, there was barely enough water in Ken's Lake to support a small warm water fish population. It would soon drop to its minimum level, after providing Spanish Valley grape growers the final shot of irrigation water necessary to protect their rootstock from the coming winter freeze. In less than ten years, Ken’s Lake has gone from full to empty and from cold to warm. If spring 2010 again brings dust storms to the La Sal Range, expect to see hotter water and less of it at Ken’s Lake. With the recent spate of regional dust storms and the continued drying of the western climate, we believe that the new pattern of rapid snowmelt is likely to continue.

 

Departing the mesa, we came upon a ridge overlooking the Spanish Valley. From there we saw a high desert environment, sprinkled with irrigated fields, ranchettes and homes. With the Pueblo Verde Tract directly below us, we scanned the valley for other signs of irrigated life. In the center of the valley, we saw greenery that was the vineyards at the Spanish Valley Vineyards and Winery. According to their website, the estate comprises several acres of vineyard and its attendant small farm winery, both of which are owned and operated by the Dezelsky Family. There, they grow and produce wines made from Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Gewurztraminer and Riesling grapes, as well as a unique cherry wine.

  

Having found the tasting room closed Sundays, on a Monday afternoon we made our second attempt to visit the winery. Located on Zimmerman Lane, just off Highway 191 South, the winery would benefit from a “cultural location sign” on the highway. In California, each wine-growing county provides tasteful highway signage directing motorists to local wineries. Perhaps Utah will see both the economic and the environmental light and then begin promoting their rare vineyards and wineries.

 

When nearby Arches Vineyards and Winery ceased production, the Dezelsky’s bought their remaining stock of bulk wine, finishing it under the Spanish Valley Winery label. In 1998, the owners of Red Cliffs Lodge purchased Arches Winery, collocating it with the lodge and renaming it Castle Creek Winery. When Castle Creek Winery opted to purchase grapes from outside of the state, that left Spanish Valley Winery as the last which grows, produces and bottles only Utah appellation wines. In almost any state other than Utah, that alone would be enough to elevate the winery to the status of a cultural landmark. In a state which legalized bonded wine making only in 1988, the state's overall attitude towards wineries and wine making remains one of indifference and neglect.

 

One needs to look only as far away as the Mimbres Valley near Deming, New Mexico to find St. Clair Vineyard and Winery producing and bottling a fine New Mexico Zinfandel, among other varietals. Luna Rossa Winery also grows and produces in the Mimbres Valley, at an elevation similar to the Spanish Valley. Both valleys sit atop large aquifers. The sensible way in which New Mexico supports desert viticulture provides an example of how Utah might support its own growers and producers.

 

As a bonded winery, Spanish Valley Winery represents a way of life once thought to have great promise in Southeastern Utah. Our friend Jim Farrell told us that his Moab Rim Campark used to include the phrase “and Vineyard” on its highway sign. Patrons of the RV Park loved the ambiance that the vineyard provided. When interest in viticulture waned in this century, Jim redeveloped the vineyard into a row of rental spaces for recreational vehicles. Although he enjoyed being a grower, economics dictated that Jim sacrifice romance for economic necessity. 

In the 1970s, a University of Arizona viticulture survey found great promise in the Spanish Valley. With its highly mineralized, gravelly soil, hot days and cool nights, the study concluded that the Spanish Valley had potential to become one of the premier viticulture areas in the country. That survey, plus the backing of one Utah state agency encouraged locals to plant grapes. In the late 1980s, just as the first viable crops matured, another state agency declared that winemaking was illegal in Utah. By 1988, when winemaking became legal in Utah, many of the early growers had abandoned or removed their vineyards. The few stalwart growers remaining near Moab have only Spanish Valley and Castle Creek wineries as outlets for the sale of their grapes.

 

More recently, former Governor Jon Huntsman pushed the Utah legislature to rationalize Utah's liquor laws. Until then, the unofficial stance by the state was disdain for Utah winemaking and sales at its wineries. Since the 1970’s, whenever latter-day Utah wine makers went up against the moral strictures of the Latter Day Saints Church, the winemakers lost every time. Even now, one cannot taste or purchase wine on a Sunday or holiday at any Utah winery. An official summary of Utah Liquor Laws does not even mention wineries or their tasting rooms. With almost sixty days of forced closure each year, how can any business expect to prosper? This is ironic in Utah, which retains a state monopoly on the sale of all packaged liquor, except for beer. With politics, morality and economics stacked against Utah’s small farm wineries, is it any wonder that this potentially rich viticulture area grows alfalfa instead of grapes?

 

As of this writing, the Spanish Valley Vineyard and Winery is offered for sale. For over twenty years, the Dezelsky’s have either worked for or owned the operation. By their choice, it is time for them to move on. A sale of the property will allow a new owner to build on their solid reputation as producers of Utah appellation wines. For less than two million dollars, a new owner could own acres of cultivated vineyards, an abundance of high tech equipment and facilities that could handle far larger production.

 

In 2009, the Christian Science Monitor wrote that the Four Corners area is already hotter and drier than it was fifteen years ago. Not since the Great Disappearance of Pre-Puebloan Indians around 1200 CE, has the climate been this hot or dry. With that knowledge, the State of Utah should actively encourage, rather than discourage its citizens from growing grapes and producing wine. An easy way to show that they care would be to allow bonded wineries to offer tasting and retail sales on Sundays and some holidays. For the moralists among us, the overall consumption of alcohol in Utah would not rise perceptibly. Raising water-stingy grapes with drip-irrigation might then become a viable economic alternative to growing water-thirsty alfalfa in the desert. Additionally, Utah should allow tasteful highway signage, directing visitors to each rare and unique winery in the state.

 

When dust bowl storms swept across the Great Plains in the 1930’s, the federal government Shelterbelt Program encouraged farmers to plant trees as windbreaks, thus retaining loose soil in their fields. Farmers and ranchers in Southeastern Utah should likewise be encouraged to plant grape-arbor windbreaks adjacent to their fields. By doing so, the arbors could help diminish the intensity of regional dust storms that now plague the area. At Monument Valley High School, Utah, a small plot of grapes grows near the athletic field. Could this signal a renaissance in viticulture in Southeastern Utah? For the sake of the few remaining warm-water fish in Ken’s Lake and all of us who love Utah wines, we hope so.

 

After leaving the winery, we spotted a large American Bison resting in the well-watered yard of a home on Spanish Valley Drive. In the 1870s, bison herds were so large that transcontinental rail traffic often halted for hours so that the animals could cross the tracks. Despite their historically large numbers, they did not destroy their natural environment. As the wheels of off-road vehicles sink ever deeper into the soft soils of Johnsons on Top and other mesas, we must face facts. Creation of new social roads in the desert threatens both our soil and our water. Inadequate water conservation threatens to leave us like that lone bison, resting under the desert sun on the last patch of irrigated soil in the Spanish Valley.

 

When off-road enthusiasts eschew new social roads, alfalfa farmers take less water from Ken’s Lake and all of Utah begins supporting its homegrown wine industry, we may yet again see balance in the water cycle of the Spanish Valley, Utah.

Email James McGillis

 

By James McGillis at 12:58 PM | Environment | Comments (0) | Link

 

The 24 Hours of Moab Bicycle Race - 2009

 

On October 10 and 11, 2009 we were Behind the Rocks near Moab, Utah covering the fifteenth annual 24 Hours of Moab off-road bicycle race. In 2008, we had written about Dax Massey of Boulder, Colorado and his teammate Dean Miller of Littleton, CO. Among the eighteen Duo Pro teams in that contest, Dax and Dean had pedaled the farthest and fastest, thus assuring their class victory.

Watch the Video, "24 Hours of Moab 2009"

 

 

In order to allow an injured kidney to heal, Dean Miller has sidelined himself for the 2009 season. Dean’s temporary retirement required Dax Massey to create a new team or go solo in Moab. In a lucky break for all, veteran rider Rebecca Tomaszewski joined Dax, forming the #86, Niner - Ergon - Bach Builders team for the 2009 24 Hours of Moab.

 

From experience, we knew to arrive at the racing venue about two hours before the start. This allowed us to speak with Rebecca and Dax before they entered their race-mode. When the two posed for a picture with Kava, the bear-like dog, we could see immediately that the pair made a natural team. They were comfortable with themselves and accepting of the arduous task that lay before them.

 

With Suzuki’s departure this year as a sponsor, the lack of a huge stage structure made the racing venue appear smaller and more intimate. After the “24 Hours of Dust” event last year, we were pleased to see Knut & Sons water truck liberally dispensing its liquid organic dust control agent.

 

Carrie joined me at the race this year, and thoroughly enjoyed both days of the event. We watched the Le Mans start, and then drove back towards U.S. Highway 191. We had invited friends to the Moab Rim RV Campark for dinner that evening. Our comfort while sharing food and wine with friends stood in stark contrast to Rebecca and Dax’s evening pedaling into the darkness on a high desert plateau.

 

Before we departed the venue on Saturday afternoon, we stopped where the racecourse crossed a sandy dry wash. As second-lap riders started their own first lap of the day, they soon approached a dry wash, cut into the mesa. After a brisk ride across the mesa, riders faced a steep cut, dropping about fifteen feet to the bottom of the wash. As ever more riders arrived at this point, they poured over the precipice. This continual flow of humans and bicycles reminded us of an old movie, showing hundreds of lemmings dropping off cliffs and into the sea.

 

As the intensity of race activity increased, bicycle brakes were useless on the slope. One either rolled out on to the mat at the bottom of the hill, or went head first over the handlebars. Already, at this early stage of the race, the non-woven mat intended as a viaduct across the sand was out of place. Riders either bulled their way across the sand with main strength or dismounted and ran across the arroyo beside their bikes.

 

Later, we heard that the accident rate at this year’s race exceeded that of all fourteen previous 24 Hours of Moab races. Although most accidents happened in darkness, paramedics and emergency medical technicians were often busy stabilizing injured riders and transporting them to Allen Memorial Hospital in Moab.

 

With all of our technology and expertise, why should accidents and injuries at the race reach an all-time high? We believe that the continued deterioration of the course is the main problem. In order not to destroy any more of the desert than the existing racecourse already has, only minor course changes occur from year to year. With evermore loose soil and erosion throughout the course, tire traction fails and spills become commonplace.

 

If organizers change the course to a new track, that will create yet another scar on the land. Yet, the longer the race runs on the old course, the more dangerous it will become. Is there a logical and cost-effective solution to both the environmental and safety issues that now exist? Yes, but it will take a paradigm shift for race organizers and environmentalists alike.

 

Granny Gear Productions is proud that after each race, they leave the venue in as close to a natural state as they found it before setup. Previously used for cattle grazing, the area is far from pristine. Still, the lack of barriers along the entry road invites campers to create new entrances into the campground at will. On the racecourse, temporary ramps and rubberized viaducts shift easily, but staking down the mats would create an additional hazard for riders.

 

After fifteen consecutive years, the 24 Hours of Moab is a tradition that appears to have staying power. Environmentalists can lament the long, slow process of deterioration at Behind the Rocks, or they can get involved and help create solutions. In and around Moab, there is more trail rehabilitation expertise than almost anywhere in the country. With as many jeep trails, bicycle tracks and social roads that exist in the area, trail restoration has become the non-profit cottage industry of choice.

 

Organizations such as Red Rock Forests, Plateau Restoration, National Public Lands Day and others have local experience in such matters. If they were to collaborate with Granny Gear Productions and the Bureau of Land Management, a working restoration and maintenance plan for the entire venue could easily arise.

 

To leave the plateau in its current state of mismanagement, invites further destruction of the local environment. If the environmental and bicycle racing communities do nothing, the plateau will become a vortex for dust storms even larger than the one that hit on race day 2008. Directly downwind of Behind the Rocks are the La Sal Range. Already in 2009, the La Sal snowpack received two major dust storms from as far south as Monument Valley, Arizona. The more dust that falls on the snowpack, the quicker the snowmelt and the less water there will be available to irrigate the Spanish Valley and Moab.

 

As we returned to the venue on Sunday morning, the air was clear and bright. Rebecca had finished her eighth and final 14.9-mile lap of the race. She admitted to us that at around 4:00 AM, her resolve and composure had vanished in the night. Somehow, she had retained enough energy to finish that lap without incident. As the new day dawned, she went on to complete two more circuits of the course.

 

As we arrived, Dax was out on the course, completing his final lap of the race. With only two minutes remaining before the gun sounded, Dax completed his team’s final lap. Throughout the previous twenty-four hours, his lap times had never varied by more than fourteen minutes. As Dax rode into the scoring tent, the intensity of the moment was apparent on his face. Until he logged in with the scorers for the final time, there was no letdown in his intensity.

 

As we had hoped, Rebecca Tomaszewski and Dax Massey not only won their class, they placed thirtieth overall in a starting field of 365 teams. Of the twenty-five teams that completed seventeen laps, Rebecca and Dax were the fastest. Although the course was challenging and they had stretched their physical and emotional endurance to the limits, Rebecca and Dax graciously accepted their award. When it was over, their convincing victory at the 2009 24 Hours of Moab thrilled their many fans, including Carrie and me.

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By James McGillis at 03:33 PM | | Comments (0) | Link