Adventure 311: Panguitch, UT

Howdy, Hillary! Gimme a hand.

Thanks to my cousin, the daring Douglissimo, we found the rail trail to Big Rock Candy Mountain outside of Sevier, Utah during our first season in Frac. We rode the trail that first time in a cold, wet drizzle. It was still fabulous. Today, under blue skies and a small headwind, we rode the trail again. It served as a nice break midday and got us on the bike two days in a row. Up hill against the wind on the first leg earned us a breezy swoosh back down, which gave us ample time to enjoy the Sevier river as it tumbled out of the mountains. We arrived in Panguitch, Utah, a small ranching town turned tourist trap within easy driving distance of Bryce Canyon, Kodachrome Basin, and Zion National Park. According to Wiki-Leaks, Hillary Clinton arranged a pay for play agreement with the early settlers in Panguitch, who in 1864 realized their crops wouldn't mature. With their families starving, seven men headed out carrying designer quilts brokered through Hillary from, I think, Jeff Rovin. In any event, the seven pioneers ran into deep snow, and they used the quilts as stepping aides so their feet wouldn't sink into the snow. Forever grateful, the descendants of the seven vowed to faithfully vote Republican until the year Hillary ran for President, at which time, they promised to participate in a secretly rigged system fueled by private E-mails to award the state of Utah to a guy named McMillan. Early settlers were driven out of the valley by some disgruntled natives around 1867, but by 1872 the whites regained occupancy of Panguitch, thanks in part to weapons they acquired from Donald Trump's pithy partner, Vladimer Putin. The valley has been managed quietly ever since by a garrulous gal named Kelly Ann Conway. However, rumors fly around the valley that Conway, once a monumentally effective talking head, lost her wits because one of her former clients deniably groped one of the more attractive cows in the area. There is no evidence, but the stinky manure smell lingers over the valley like the the pompous pout of Sean Hannity. If all this seems a bit insane (And maybe not even plausible), remember that in two weeks anything can happen.
Author's Note: I apologize (And Judy disavows my rant), but my mind has finally snapped from the pressure of looking for the American Dream. I lost it somewhere, and I'm frantic that I may never find it again. NOT!
Judy and I continue to live the dream. We're grateful for our circumstance, and we have faith  that laws greater than men can create will serve us. Right now, we're nestled in a wonderful little town, whose ancestors did indeed save themselves by walking laying quilts on the snow. The men returned with supplies. Their starving families survived. In fact, they flourished due to their faith, their work, and their dreams. They knew as we know that life is good, especially today.

 Art shot yesterday.

 "Papa", our tandem, ready for the ride up Big Rock Candy Mountain.

 If you ride, few rail trails are better than this.

 Selfie: Happy (smug) grins whenever we're on the bike.

 There's that biker babe again. Is she wearing "yoga" pants?

"Hey, Ma! Think we can wait any longer for those supplies?"

 The view from the "Gem", a 1904 movie theater turned cafe. They make their own ice cream. Our lunch was pretty good, too.

 Try this. Bring a crowd.

 The home made cream is treated very well. In the summer, the lines flow out the door and around the block.

 Fric and Frac nestled in for a one night stop at the Hitchin' Post RV Park in Panguitch.

Adventure 310: Brigham City, UT/Post B

The grand old temple in Brigham City.

Midges, pelicans, hawks, black tipped seagulls, ducks, geese, cranes, and more tiny birds hiding in the grasses serenading us with gobbles, chirps, whirrs, and caws: more flying life than you can imagine, including a least a gazillion hungry mosquitoes. (I hold most of God's creation in high regard, and although I don't really like spiders, I always warn them not to be hanging there when I return, but the dreaded skeeter is different. I kill them on sight. Their incessant buzzing, their indecent treachery, and their disgusting penchant for biting, then sucking warm blood from spots unseen and unfelt until the itching begins, makes them, in my view, the most horrid of God's creation. Their only virtue may be that they're good bird food. And while I'm at it, the thing I hate even more than their blood sucking bite, is their swarming. Oh, how I detest mosquitoes.) But I love birds, and Bear River is a migratory refuge for birds of all kinds. We're just a bit early to see the long necked trumpet swans that stop here in November, but we did see a small flock on our drive down yesterday. It gave us hope that they may arrive early, but none were to be found today. But this morning we saw many other birds: some in flight, some swimming, many hiding so we could merely sense their presence from their sound. We scared a number who rushed from the reeds in a swoosh. We scattered a few ducks who wiggled their butts across the top of the water, half swimming, half running to the safety of reeds across the way. We even saw quite a few birds on our tandem ride out, swooping, fluttering, and soaring on the wind. It's twelve miles or so from Brigham City out to the start of the Auto Tour. The tour tract itself is twelve and a half miles of gravel road that circles about one tenth of the entire preserve. The Bear River flows from the mountains down to help form a great delta West of the Great Salt Lake. If you have never stopped, it's well worth your time. The weather gods were kind to us today. We got our tandem ride in between rain showers and before a steady breeze of about 18 knots kicked up. It was a good morning. After lunch, I tinkered with the bike, since it sat idle on the back of my pick up all last week. Like a farmer, I like rain on my terms. Last week the bike got drenched several times, but unlike beans and hay, which need fair weather to dry, the bike simply rusts, regardless of the weather. It welcomed a little cleaning and lubing. While I did that, my bunny went to wash the truck, which is a thankless effort that makes her feel better (It also makes the truck look better--for a short while). So, tomorrow when we head down the road to our next adventure, we'll be a little cleaner. This just in! Judy grumbled as just as she got back, "Well, it was a piss, poor job of a car wash, but I did get about three acres of mud off the wheel wells". No matter, it still makes her feel good, thankful for small pleasures, even the poor ones, and we appreciate that life is good, especially today.

 Check that biker babe out in her "yoga" pants.

 Notice the wire spikes. I'm not sure if they're there to help or hinder the mud nests, which are simply works of art.

 So many worlds. Wouldn't it be nice to know the names of the grasses, and which bird species they attract.

 The auto tour road. I'm half tempted to go back at dusk to see a few flocks fly in for the night.

 Art shot of the day.

 There's water, water, everywhere, and small islands of tall grasses, too.

 This, I believe, is part of the Bear River channel.

And there it goes, on its way to the Great Salt Lake.

Adventure 309: Brigham City, Utah/Redux/Post A

God willing, we'll pass this way again.

Bouyed by an excellent mid-day Sunday dinner, happy reflections of a wonderful week, and a delicious peek into  a few of the fabled Hooley family stories of long lasting pranks between brothers and sisters (Even Gram got into the act), we took our leave from Stoney Brook. Although bittersweet, our exit simply promised a quick return. The sale, as I predicted, overtook the previous record by a whopping ten grand (This year's total: $44,000). Obviously, everyone expressed joy, though drooping eyelids signaled the fatigue a week of frantic effort produced. At the Hooley home alone, the baking crew (Loey, Sarah, and Judy) had 4 cherry pies baking by 4:15 A.M.. The factory total for the week included 54 pies, 30 pans of sticky buns, 3 batches of semel, 6 loaves of rosemary/walnut bread, and 36 loaves of whole wheat bread. In addition, this group served three lunches for the "crew" at the church. So basically, these "sluggards" slept less than six hours per night, baked in the pre-dawn, worked the floor at the church all day, and not once did anyone throw a "pink fit". I had reported earlier that the term was "pig fit". It has since been corrected. It seems as if I heard incorrectly. However, there is still as yet no offered definition as to what a "pink fit" entails. I would suggest anyone interested mail a request for information from the dame of Stoney Brook Farm, Mrs. Gary Hooley (Lois by name). Our drive to Brigham City was uneventful, and we'll stay here another day in order to ride our tandem through the Bear River Migratory Bird Preserve, more on that tomorrow. I'd like to take a moment to reflect on the effects of our time spent with the Hooley family. Despite the fact that we're shirt tail relatives at best, we hold the Hooleys in our hearts as dear friends. Judy expressed the reason best when she described the dance she, Loey, and Sarah performed each morning. Joey said to Judy, "it's just like having a sister in the kitchen." Speaking of sisters, we also count Loey's sister Pat and her husband Tom as our newest dear friends. Everything I know of the Hooleys, the Lossers confirm. It illustrates not just the openness and frankness of life at Stoney Brook, but it suggests that this is just the way life is in Filer. For me, I couldn't help but notice the gentleness. Gary and Andy, who I imagine to be as nervous as teen boys on a first date as they wait for a weather window to bring in their primary crops, kept any sense of anxiety away from the surface. Instead, they kept their steady pace, performing their jobs and chores faithfully. Many of us can procrastinate. If a grower "takes a day off", there is a stiff penalty to pay. I guess what I'm saying is that these men show grace under pressure. My favorite part of the "non-working" week was Gary showing where he grew up. Two things are clear. He has great pride in his heritage, and he loves nothing more than sharing "his" land with others. In fact, this characteristic sums the group: Each member of the Hooley family is welcoming, selfless, and loving. We certainly felt loved, we certainly felt welcomed, and we benefitted the entire time from a group who model the selfless true love that Jesus preaches. I think it's safe to say, we'll invite ourselves back soon. In the meantime, we'll practice as much of the Stoney Brook Farm lifestyle as we can because it most certainly proves that life is good, especially today.

A last look look East from the driveway at Stoney Brook Farm. A few warm dry days would be welcomed in order for the hay and beans to dry.

 Farmers are creative by necessity. Here, Andy displays a pair of denim booties (Created by Sarah), which first and foremost keep the floor clean, but also dismiss the necessity of him having to remove his work shoes every time he comes in from the fields. 

 Patty, all grins as she showed off her new remodel. Andy did the work as  part of his commitment to tithe ten percent of his time during the winter months. Last year, he blessed his Aunt Patty.

Patty's new state of the art kitchen complete with soft close doors, a dedicated coffee station, and so many hidden nooks and crannies, it would take a TV show to display them all.

She and Tom wanted to create a throwback style to their home. Featured prominently is her mother's restored chair and davenport set. Also notice the huge gas fed fireplace.

 It's fitting in a throwback style home that Tom's "man" shack remains in tact.

 Robert Frost talked of two roads diverging in a yellow wood. The Hooley clan shows us that there is but one path worthy.

Adventure 308: Filer, ID/Stoneybrook Farm/Post H

Thanks for the memories, Stoney Brook.

It's our last day at Stoney Brook, so I thought I would channel my inner farmer and predict the future. First, it's not much of a stretch to claim that this year's sale will stand among the best ever, especially if the two day total of $28,000 is added to in a measurable way. Patty Losser (Loey's sister), who takes charge of the pantry reported that she already had a little more that $2,000 with today's take yet to come. It's quite amazing. The pies fly out of the church like frizbees on the quad of any university in America. One story observed a man who bought two, ate one in his car, and came back to buy more! The breads, cookies, and sweet treats enjoy much the same fate. I also predict that the clean up after the sale will go well, maybe even set a time record for restoring the church to its Sunday morning splendor. I can offer this because once again the "Many hands make light work" adage will be in force, but with the added joy of a job well done. Next, I predict that those involved at the highest level in the sale will allow themselves a little rest time, a little reflection time, and a little time to recharge. They may even take a nap. In addition, I think (Thought often becomes prayer.) things will go well on the farm. The weather will cooperate so the final measures of hay and beans can be gathered, processed, stored, and sold. Finally, I think the Hooleys, the Mennonite Church in Filer, and the whole set of able volunteers will carry on regardless because that is what people of faith do, and besides, they're much like Archie, the Hooleys' pup, who continues to grow, learn, live, laugh, and play at life in a way that rejoices in what happens, whatever it may be.. And if all follow his example, they will accept nothing less than first place. They'll leap up to the back of the first truck in the parade, and stick their noses into the breeze, welcoming every aroma, and accepting it for what it is. For Judy and myself, we've been blessed to experience this week of manic activity. We've pitched in where we could, we've been accepted in the way a faithful dog loves its master, and we'll leave tomorrow filled with firm faith in the notion that life is good, especially today.

 Frac has been happy here at the Stoney Brook RV park.

 I love the idea that Loey expressed, "We marry our machines for a lifetime and beyond."

 Despite the many extra hours of "Sale" work, the farm work never ceases. Here's Loey responding to the morning lowing of the hungry herd.

 Around the farm, memories are enshrined on the premise that nothing should be discarded, that everything has value, and that what you come from is what you become.

 Even natures as opposite as cats and dogs find a way to balance their differences.

 Gary said the sand dunes near his boyhood home have moved more than a mile. It helps us remember that our time is short, our mark is small, but like votes in a democracy, every life matters.

 Archie often rides with Gary to do chores. Inexplicably, he licks the truck, or he smells for Loey at the back door. It's as if his main role is shepherd for the family.

Keep smiling and keep running, Archie, you're the DOG now.

Adventure 307: Filer, ID/Stoneybrook Farm/Post G

It seems as if every member of the Hooley family has a "project" on the side. That is, something that occupies their spirit besides the full time work maintaining the farm requires. For Sarah, both her passion and her collegiate studies concerned the notion of 'peacebuilding'. According to John Paul Lederach, author of The Moral Imagination, peace building (Conflict resolution in its simplest form) condenses to a single, complex question: How do we transcend the cycles of violence that bewitch our human community while still living in them? Lederach calls this question a statement of the problem, and after twenty-five years of delving in the the mystery of human interaction, he believes anyone who enters into the noble work of peace building must eventually face this question. Sarah's approach is to build peace through reconciliation, or relationship recovery. Her tiny house is a practical expression of her effort. She uses the space as a retreat so that those inclined can mend their personal relationship with their own essence. The tiny house, and the peaceful nature of the farm, along with the natural balance of things around the farm provide her clients a chance to grow personally in terms of accepting themselves. As most of us know, accepting ourselves is no easy task. At times, we're even most critical of our own efforts. This is one of many "side interests" Sarah has. She's also interested in peace building economically with her work with Ten Thousand Villages, especially the annual sale at Filer Mennonite Church. She also has (As yet) unformed thoughts as how to peacebuild through food. Right now, she's molding ideas in her head for ways to include peace building through food, such as using small groups of battered women as gardeners. As she says, "Nothing heals like repetitive tasks." I have no doubt she'll improve the world in some way, which gives the rest of us an example of a human being's best nature. In that light, how can anyone not believe that life is good, especially today.

Sarah's tiny house nestled back among the trees.

A back view.

A front view.

A kitchen view.

A storage view.

A view of the sitting room.

A view of the cooking gear.

An explanation of the composting toilet (Even this natural act is peaceful, especially from the earth's point of view).

A view of a most certainly peaceful morning.

Adventure 306: Filer, ID/Stoneybrook Farm/Post F

The rosy fingers of dawn reaching for the day

Trust and Obey. In Mark's gospel, Jesus says to Peter, "I tell you the truth, today before the rooster crows twice you yourself will disown me three times." Well maybe Peter had some things to answer for, but there was no denying God's love around here this morning. The faithful bakers were up well before any rooster crowed making pies: peach pie, plum pie, Aunt Wilma's rhubarb pie, apple pie, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, cherry pie, and then the sticky buns came out along with semel, whole wheat bread, and that's just the goods the Hooley house contributed to the sale, which began today. By the time we transported the fresh, warm baked goods to the church, people were already flocking through the doors. By days end I heard the sales total neared fifteen thousand, and Anna, the organizer could be heard lamenting like a night owl that she would end up losing sales because she didn't have enough merchandise. In her defense, it's as difficult to predict as Andy Hooley's seed business where he has to predict three years out what varieties will be needed, what the yields will be, what the weather will be, and what the price of wheat will be. It's not mandatory that a grower be a Trust and Obey Christian, but I can hear a few verses wafting through the breeze around here. There was little for me to do during the day shift, so I tagged along with Gary. We first toured Andy's operation, which he dumbed down enough for me to make some sense of. He was in the process of cleaning a few "cans" (Each can holds a ton and a half) of soft white wheat outside his huge storage building (Which holds 500 or so cans). His cleaning machine, which he designed and built himself, was busy shaking the beards and chaff off fresh soft white kernels. And while we were there, he took time to zip around in his Hyster forklift, more specifically known as "Wiggins", to dump a few tons of clean seed into the semi-truck of one of his customers. The whole event took about fifteen minutes. Andy guided Wiggins toward a can, scooped it up in the two steel arms, scooted outside to the waiting bed of the semi, raised the load, and skillfully twisted the can so the grain poured out perfectly. Not a kernel spilled. He was also simultaneously treating some of his wheat for different customers who needed a wheat variety that would grow in soft sand as a cover crop. After the load of grain left, Andy loaded ten cans of dry beans that had been grown and harvested earlier by the Hooleys (All are involved: Gary, Loey, Andy, Sarah) onto the flatbed semi-truck they call "Rio". It's a venerable seventies vintage Diamond Rio that Gary bought used. It ably hauls beans (And other crops, I would guess) to the bean warehouse that Gary has done business with for thirty-five years now. I rode along just for the cultural experience (As Andy phrased it). Gary coaxed Rio's gears the whole four and a half miles to the KelleyBean Company Warehouse. He nosed Rio onto the scale, where the workers danced along a catwalk probing the grain for a sample. Others walked along beside the truck with labels to identify the grower, the bean variety, and the date. Inside, they determined moisture content and the "tear" (Amount of dirt, rocks, sticks, and other debris) from the probed sample. Gary gets paid for the tonnage of what's left after the tear is shaken out in the mill at the warehouse. We took two loads, and during the whole season, Gary averages a little over ten trips to the bean warehouse. Today, we didn't have to wait, but at the peak of the season, there's a line waiting for the scale. So you see, even on days when the ground is still to wet to be worked, there is work to be done. As usual, I peppered Gary and Andy with questions, which they politely answered because they're on their best "guest behavior" ( and because that's how they are). I'm fascinated by the complexity of the farming process, and as I'd willingly tell anyone who'd listen, "I couldn't last two days working as hard as these guys do."  Around 4 P.M. Judy and I went back to the church to help with the night shift. I made myself useful as the greeter at the door (I can handle small jobs). When people come through the door, I say, "Welcome, please write your name and address on the mailing slip so we can send you a flyer about next year's sale". It's the kind of banter I'm good at, so I enjoyed doing it. Tomorrow, we'll be needed for longer periods at the sale, and a repeat of the pre-dawn baking process will happen. As we speak, Judy is baking semel, and undeterred, Loey will be up before the rooster crows to once again signal that life is good, especially today.

 The Hooley baked goods amounted to about half of the goods displayed this morning (And the same will happen tomorrow).

 I think this is Loey's imitation of me doing Tai Chi.

 Andy at the wheel of "Wiggins"

 Andy and Archie in a rare (Posed) moment of pause.

 Bottom line: "The check is in the mail".

 "Rio" sidling up to the scale.

 A partial view of the Andy's cleaning machine. (He took some offense when I called it a Rube Goldberg contraption, I guess because Rube's machine never worked). Andy's works well, and it can even shut itself off when it gets full. Amazing.

 Wiggins dancing out the big door of Andy's shop.

This handful of dry beans has what the growers call "tear". Gary's goal is to have about four percent tear per ton. Regardless, he's paid for what they get after milling.

Andy's machine cleans the wheat seed to less than one percent of chaff. This handful shows some treated wheat. Year to date, Andy has moved around one million tons of various soft white wheat varieties through his operation.

Besides semel and rosemary walnut bread, my bunny had time to core a few apples for tomorrow's pies.