Price of Admission

Alright, I admit it: This one’s a bit of a bait-and-switch. We start out with my daily walk, and end up confronting one of the big deal social issues of our time. Well, it’s a big deal if you live in an urban area at least. But just consider it the price of admission to my blog. Hey, it can’t be all NYer cartoons and silly internet memes y’know. So sit back, relax, and buckle yer seat belts. We’re almost ready for takeoff.

 

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Today’s journey along Sacramento’s River Walk begins innocently enough with a few nature shots of local wildlife.

 

Price of Admission - Goose Step.
I call this one “doing the goose step.” Honk!

 

Harbor seals sunning on a Sac River walkway.

 

In addition to sunning themselves, these seals like to bark. And let me tell you, they are louder than a bunch of drunken sailors on shore leave. (Apologies to any US Navy vets out there.) Now, we’ll put up with barking seals and geese that tend to sh*t where we intend to walk, because, well, they were here first, right? OK, hold on to that thought….

 

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The River Walk came into being when West Sac decided to try luring office workers over to Yolo County on the opposite bank of the river across from downtown Sacramento.  And the effort has been largely successful.

The Ziggurat Building is home to many CA State agencies, like General Services.
Clouds reflected in the glass of the CalSTRS building. Pretty, isn’t it?

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Remember I said “bait-and-switch?” Well, it’s time to pay the piper.

The Price of Admission - Camping Out.

 

Just on the other side of the I-Street railroad bridge, a mere stone’s-throw from the CalSTRS building, are reminders of the portion of the human population who are not office-workers.

 

 

See those clothes on the line, those toys? Families with children live here. Think about that for a moment and let it sink in: Children. Live. Here. I don’t know about you, but the thought of our indifference – when compared with our treatment of geese and seals – saddens me.

 

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On my drive back down I-5 to Sac on Monday, I was listening to the radio. And up popped a news story about oral arguments before the Supreme Court in a “camping ban” case brought against the city of Grants Pass, Oregon – a logging hub in the state’s southern mountains. It caught my attention because I had just driven through Grants Pass. So I was like… wait… WHAT?

“Camping ban” is a euphemism. The gist of these laws banning “camping” is to make it illegal for people to sleep in public spaces.  You know, places like on park benches or in libraries. People fighting against these laws say it is “cruel and unusual punishment” for being homeless. As such, it is prohibited by the 8th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. I’m no legal scholar, but I see their point.

The conservatives on SCOTUS (or as I like to refer to them, “The Voldemort Faction”) are focused on enforcement issues: How to implement these laws without undue burdens on average people. And the shrinking liberal wing of the court (whose number is now just three justices) are like, “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” This isn’t like gun ownership where you can take it or leave it. You know, “If you don’t like firearms, don’t buy them.” This is more a case of, if you don’t have a place to sleep, what are you supposed to do? Just not sleep?

 

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Ben’s company, ABD, moved offices last year from a spot near Portland’s waterfront to a place further uptown because, post-pandemic, it was getting unsafe for employees to walk the streets after the sun went down. And believe me, I am sympathetic.  But I will say this much: Homelessness is a real and present reality in urban areas where the climate is warm enough that people can stay through the winter. And moving out of downtown is simply not an option for everybody.

The solution to homelessness, some say, is affordable housing. Twenty years ago, they took the old downtown Denver YMCA and converted it into FREE housing for homeless people who used to spend most of their time in and out of jail and chewing through Emergency Room resources every time they got drunk enough to fall down and break something. And you know what? As a net average, the cost of simply providing those folks with a secure place to sleep, along with a pretty strict no-drugs-or-alcohol-on-site policy, was a net REDUCTION in expenditures by the city. Think about that for a moment: Free housing was cheaper than letting the chips fall where they may. (You can read about it here.)

Homelessness, along with abortion, immigration, and inflation, are the issues most likely to determine who wins the upcoming election in November. I’m no public policy expert; neither am I an elected official. (Or, as I often like to say, “I’m not even running for dog-catcher.”) But solutions like the one implemented at the downtown Denver Y are the kinds of things that can make a positive difference in people’s lives, whether they’re homeless, or office workers walking to their cars after sunset. Municipalities saving on costs at the same time? Sure sounds like a win-win to me.

There are of course other smart solutions to this problem. Many of them, like IHN where I once worked, or the Salvation Army, are faith-based initiatives serving the needs of the last, the least, and the lost. It certainly isn’t one-size-fits-all. IHN caters to (mostly) single-moms with kids transitioning to home ownership, while the Salvation Army fills a gap for (mostly) hard-core homeless men in dire need of temporary shelter. And of course, there’s the fine low-cost housing work of Habitat for Humanity, made famous by ex-POTUS Jimmy Carter and his wife Rosalynn. What all such successful efforts feature is a focus not just on needs-of-the-moment, but on getting people on a sustainable long-term path to housing, health-care, and gainful employment. As a famous itinerant preacher once said, “Against such there is no law.”

 

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Thanks for listening to my rant.

As always, comments are welcome,

even from the Voldemort Faction.

After all, if you made it this far,

you’ve already paid the price of admission.

Tillamook Head

Tillamook Head is just south of Seaside, due west of Portland, on the Oregon coast. Our hike yesterday, here, and by the numbers:  Four miles RT (to the top and back) took us three hours, with over 1000′ of elevation gain. The trail was very steep and hella muddy, with lotsa primeval-looking ferns and ginormous root balls sticking up from fallen old growth trees. I Googled it, and it says some of these Sitka Spruce are over 800 years old. For those of you keeping score at home, that means they were saplings long before Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes made Shakespeare in Love.    😉

All this and some way-overpriced beach-front real estate: Who could ask for anything more? On a cool mid-April Sunday that threatened rain early but turned out sunny, the hike itself was definitely worth the price of admission. Thanks for the tour, Ben. I fear our muddy sneakers will never be the same.

 

Tillamook Head

Root balls and ferns.
Way overpriced Pacific beachfront properties.
Tillamook Head - Ben.
Ben says “Hi” from Tillamook Head.

 

Ben doing the “Kate Pose.” I said to him, “Show us your 7′ wingspan for scale.”
Didn’t believe me about “The Pose?” From Kate’s recent UK Lake District tour. There are many others, but you get the picture.

Ron and Nancy’s Rental

I was walking the streets of the Fab 40’s yesterday after a stop at TJ’s for yogurt pretzels, and I almost missed the Blue House because I was on the phone with my real estate agent. (Our third showing @392 Midstream is today @2:45.)  For what it’s worth, if you smell smoke in the Fab 40’s like I did yesterday, it’s probably some rich retired guy firing up a fine Cubano, not some stanky hip-hopper with sagging shorts smoking weed. Just FYI.

 

Real Estate - THE Blue House.

For those of you on the outside looking in, “The Blue House” was made famous in the movie “Lady Bird,” Greta Gerwig’s breakout hit –  and a “love-letter to Sacramento” –  before she made the Barbie movie.

Also a blue house, but not THE Blue House. But hey, it’s in the Fab 40’s, so it’s still special.

 

Last but not least…

 

Real Estate - Ron and Nancy.
Ron & Nancy’s rental place at 1341 45th St. sold for $5 mil in ’22. The listing is here.

 

1341 45th was a rental real estate property back in the late 60’s and early ’70’s. A nice couple named Ron and Nancy lived there. He worked for the State, while she practiced astrology and kept small dogs. It was nothing special by Fab 40’s standards, but they seem to have liked it. Later on they moved to DC after Ron got a promotion.  In latter days they retired to Bel Aire in SoCal where they finally achieved the American dream of home ownership. That’s where Ron lost his marbles and Nancy continued with the dogs and the astrology. The things some people do, eh?  Ah well, it beats living in a rental at least.  😉

 

“Rex”, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, with Ron & Nancy.

 

Heading up I-5 to Portland today to visit Ben and see what kind of trouble we can get into this weekend. Stay tuned for details on your late local news @ 11.

Sacred Heart

Thank G*d for Sacred Heart. Three miles into my Sunday morning walk from Pachamama to the Fabulous Forties and back, I was overcome with the effects of a second cuppa joe. Having stopped here before to use the facilities, I knew right where to go once inside. That’s a good thing considering the labrynthine layout and the urgent state of my distended bladder.

 

Sacred Heart
“Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” Um, well, a rest-room, at least.

 

Yes, G*d is truly gracious  🙂

And if you’re on the way to view totality today,

may G*d grant you clear skies.

 

Last but not least, for all my friends in Indy.

 

Boulevard Park

Welcome to today’s Boulevard Park hike. Where’s Boulevard Park, I hear you ask? Just east of Mansion Flats and north of Midtown in Sacramento. Why is it called that? Because all the north-south streets have a wide grassy median.

 

Boulevard Park

 

My walk was completed after Farmer’s Market on Saturdaty. Despite the forecast for rain, the sun came out eventually. There must have been a thousand people there, feeding their appetite for fresh produce.  And for pastries too, of course.

 

O.M.G. Midtown Farmer’s Market is bigger and better than ever.
I got there late, so this was the last wreath, the last salmon, and the last rye.
There were, however, still plenty of oranges and flowers available.
Lions in Boulevard Park.
I told Anne maybe our house would sell quicker if we got a couple of lions for the front stoop, like this place in Boulevard Park.

 

There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Hey, it’s gotta be worth a shot.

Like a Mack Truck

With 36″ of snow predicted – half of it already on the ground and the other half expected to fall over the next 12 hours –  today most schools and even some businesses and restaurants are closed.  So when I rolled out of bed this morning it seemed like a good day to stay indoors by the fire and reflect rather than venture out.

Today, same as every day, a This Day in History email appeared in my inbox. But my attention was particularly drawn to a brief blurb about the demise of one of the founders of the Mack Truck company on this date in 1924.

 

John “Jack” Mack, who co-founded Mack Trucks, Inc. — then known as the Mack Brothers Company — is killed when his car collides with a trolley in Pennsylvania on March 14, 1924.

 

After the Mack brothers sold their company to investors in 1911, it continued to flourish. In fact it became one of the world’s largest makers of heavy-duty trucks. During World War I, Mack built thousands of trucks for the American and British governments. The company acquired its trademark bulldog logo when British soldiers said the truck’s blunt-nosed hood and durability reminded them of their country’s mascot, the bulldog.

 

In 1922, the company was renamed Mack Trucks, Inc. And in 2001, Mack was acquired by Volvo of Sweden. Today, the expression “it hit me like a Mack truck” – meaning something that creates a powerful impact – is a standard part of the American lexicon.

 

 

And then it hit me… dare I say it? – like a Mack truck: The founder of Roxborough Park, Henry S. Persse, also died in a pedestrian versus trolley collision in downtown Denver in 1918. What are the odds? The full Persse story is here.  My photo of his iconic stone house from a past hike in Roxborough State Park is below.

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Like a Mack Truck? Henry S. Persse homestead.

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Despite the striking coincidence, I somehow doubt if the phrase “It hit me like a trolley car” is likely to catch on. Y’think? Just not enough trolley cars around these days. But I will say this much: If on the fateful day both Jack Mack and Henry Persse had stayed indoors rather than venturing out into harm’s way, history might have turned out very differently.

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Beware the trolley, y’all!
And, snow or no snow, let’s all be careful out there.

Election Year Twist

Today’s Elk Valley hike comes with an election year twist. From the pictures below, see if you can be the first to guess the particular type of abandoned farm implement and its relation to the 2024 election. Extra credit if you have ever used one yourself. 

 

Election Year Twist - The Melvin Head place.
From the inside looking out of the old Melvin Head homestead in Elk Valley.

 

Election Year Twist - DC-5.

You are here: To get to Elk Valley, follow Douglas County Route 5 heading south until you can’t go any further and the road veers west steeply uphill.

 

Looking north from DC-5 you see the edge of Roxborough. The view south, it’s all horse farms as far as the eye can see.

 

Looking east from DC-5 you see Swallowtail Ridge and the bluest of blue skies. The road west is more than a bit steep, with one small ray of afternoon sunshine.

 

Still snowy; and no, the snow plow never makes it this far.

 

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And now the moment we’ve all been waiting for: What’s this abandoned farm implement? And what does it have to do with the 2024 election?

 

Election Year Twist - horse manure!

A closeup of the tail end may be all the help you need to win valuable prizes:  Good luck!

 

Election year twist: Don’t let flying horse manure hit your head!

Harrowing

In spite of t-shirt temps, today’s hike up Bear Creek Cutoff from O’Fallon Park near Kittredge was icy and steep enough so as to be positively harrowing. Not half as harrowing, however, as it was for the unlucky mule deer whose fresh femoral and tibial remains I spotted trailside.

 

Mmmmm…. fresh jerky.

 

Without exception, the hikers I passed all lamented having left their spikes either “in the car” or “at home.” Talk about unlucky. Truth to tell, I would never have attempted this hike without spikes and poles – and maybe also an ice axe.

What, you think I’m crazy?  Well, think again.

The dogs accompanying said hikers invariably had facial expressions ranging from weary acceptance to outraged disdain. “Stoopid hoomans: Why aren’t we at home stretched out by the fire?”

 

Harrowing hike - take me home!
Take me home, please. Now. I mean it.

 

Ah well. Just be glad you aren’t a mule deer.

Two Bobcats

Yesterday during my tramp through the swamp along Plum Creek I saw not one but two bobcats. They were hunting – or maybe fishing – while I was following a couple of horseback riders down a small side trail I hadn’t noticed before. That’s how I ended up in the swamp – silly me. In any event, the big cats were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. At 40 or 50 yards distant, they were still magnificent creatures – though, I admit,  not as striking as this fine fellow appearing close up in a neighborhood tree a few years back.

 

Not One But Two Bobcats.
Photo on Roxborough Park Foundation’s site.

Smile – You’re on Candid Camera!

 

Yesterday’s two bobcats were not the first I’ve seen in the hood recently. Last week I ran into one along the fence while I was walking to my car parked down at the end of Surrey Trail. Before slinking away, he/she paused to look guiltily over his/her shoulder at me like maybe I’d caught him/her trying to break into my car. Not in a hurry, though. Just calmly walking away on big padded paws. Don’t mind me, just passing through. Nothing to see here, folks. Go on about your business.

 

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Not exactly sure why, but all this set me to thinking about various things ecological. For instance, this winter I’ve seen more rabbits hopping around these parts than I ever have before. And if there’s anything on the bobcat menu more appetizing than hassenpfeffer, I’m not sure what it would be. But three big cats in a week? That’s truly remarkable. (Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.)

It also set me to thinking about the differences between bobcats and mountain lions, since both are present here in the Rockies’ Front Range ecotone. (And if you’re unfamiliar with that term, see the definition, here.) Specifically, what features differentiate these two species? Read on if you’re curious.

 

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First: Size. Adult bobcats rarely grow bigger than 40 lbs. while adult mountain lions can be well over 200 lbs. Yikes!

Second: Diet. While bobcats eat mostly birds, fish, and small mammals, mountain lions prefer mule deer or even elk. And btw, while bobcats almost never attack people, mountain lions have been known to occasionally sample human flesh. So, intrepid hikers, take care: Word to the wise.

Third: Appearance. Bobcats look something like overgrown housecats with a spotted or mottled coat and a round face, while there’s no mistaking the solid-tan fur and square muzzle of a mountain lion. (Think “Nala” – not “Simba,” since there’s no mane – from Lion King.) Bobcat tails are always less than 10″ (hence the name) while a mountain lion’s tail can be 2 or even 3 feet long. Then there are the ear tufts: Present on a bobcat, absent on a mountain lion.

Fourth: Range. In the U.S.A. today, bobcats can still be found nationwide, while mountain lions only live from the Rockies westward. (There is a small population in south Florida and along the Gulf Coast where they go by the name “panthers.”) For what it’s worth, the last confirmed Pennsylvania sighting of a “Nittany Lion” (the panther, not the college football player) was in the 1880’s. But then again, some people claim to have seen UFO’s too, so there’s that.

 

All you Lion King – and Penn State – fans: Think “Nala” not “Simba.”

 

Bighorn Guard Ram

My daughter considers the hike up Waterton Canyon “boring.” And I guess for someone whose wanderlust has led her to explore the world from the Himalayas to Patagonia – and who now lives on an island in the South Pacific – maybe it is. But answer me this: Does a pristine trout stream with imposing two-hundred-foot granite cliffs on both sides which serves as the grand entrance to the 486-mile-long Colorado Trail from Denver to Durango strike you as “boring?”

 

Bighorn Guard Ram loves granite cliff faces too.

 

On a normal summer’s day Waterton sees hundreds of recreational users – bikers, hikers, fishermen, and even moms pushing strollers – on the 6-mile smoothly graded dirt road paralleling the South Platte between the trail head and Strontia Springs reservoir at the top of the canyon. Yesterday there were far fewer than that. But there were 2 trail runners exercising their donkeys. So that’s got to be worth something at least, right? And if that’s not enough, how about a bighorn guard ram in the front yard at the Denver Water caretakers’ cottage at mile marker 3.0?

 

Bighorn Guard Sheep

 

All this and water supply to over a million Denver area homes, plus hydroelectric power from Marston and Strontia Springs dams.

 

 

And a bonus bighorn guard ram too? Far from “bored,”

you can color me… well, positively electrified.

Also, well-hydrated.

 

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A related blurb on reservoir sedimenation from Denver Water is here. Of course the “sediment problem” is well downstream of other inter-connected and contributing ecological issues such as catastrophic wildfires and the fact that warmer temperatures allow over-winter survival of pine bark beetle larvae.