Monumental

With my fellow-pilot friend Judy visiting from wet and gloomy Washington, it was imperative that I show her Arizona at its sunny February best.

We lifted off from Goodyear (GYR) at 8:00 am into sunshine and blue, blue skies. Perfect weather for flying. Payson (PAN) is located 45 minutes NE at the base of the Mogollon Rim, so we are climbing out of desert environment into Pine forests and – surprise – Snow!

We enjoyed a delicious breakfast at the Crosswinds Restaurant which included orange cranberry as a bread selection. Advertised as, “Home of the Million Dollar View”, both view and food were NOT overstated.

After a quick fuel stop at Show Low (SOW) for $4.95 per gallon AV Gas (yes, this is a very cheap price, these days). Tanks full to the brim, we turned direct north to Kayenta (047) in the Navaho Nation.

We talked to a pilot of a medical service King Air waiting for his passenger. I asked for a look inside.

Now it was time to reach our main goal for the day – Monument Valley.


From here all I can do is put up the photos and hope to give you just a hint of the feelings of elation we experienced flying among these icons of nature and Hollywood.

Approaching
Getting closer
Going Through

Elation!

Coming down from an adrenaline high, our route led us back south, this time to Winslow (INW). Lunchtime found us here enjoying blue corn enchiladas with green chili sauce. Hmmm. Then the long-awaited flight over the crater SW of Winslow. You might remember seeing it in the Film “Starman.” Another great photo op, not missed.

Total trip: 8:00 am to touchdown back home at 6:10 pm. Time in the air 7.3 hours
Goal achieved. Arizona (and a bit of southern Utah) showed at their best.
Downwind at Goodyear, lit by sunset.

Took a Vacation

Since retirement in early June I’ve been busy as a bee. Flitting here and there, intent on storing experiences; traveling, seeing, doing. Arrived at my AZ home just after Thanksgiving and since then have been doing, by my point of view, nothing. Okay. I’ve done that now and don’t have to do it anymore. Vacation over. Task one is to relate some tales of the places I’ve enjoyed.

Slab City – In Liberty.

I’d been hearing about this unique place, so placed it high on my list of places to go. You know you’ve arrived there when you see Salvation Mountain. Some of this is an adobe-like mixture of dirt and straw, but much of it is simply paint on compacted earth. I didn’t meet the artist, as people this dedicated to religion make me uncomfortable, but I understand that his work continues.

I’ve been trying to think how to describe Slab City. Freedom is the word that keeps coming to mind. Pull in and park where you like – its free. The year-round residents live as they wish, in whatever style of home they can manage. They are free to be what they will.

Winter visitors migrate here for fresh air, sunshine, inspiring sunrises and sunsets. Several traveling groups have established permanent presences here with club houses and meeting areas. I was invited to join one for their happy hour, a group called the Travel n Pals. Some in that group indicated they’ve been wintering here for 20 years!

Slab City offers some of the amenities of a city. On Saturday nights, at sunset The Range offers live music, welcoming anyone to sing or play. Sound system and lighting provided by Solar.

There is a library, internet café, and radio station. Art in many forms, is everywhere.

Before you visit, be aware that freedom has a price. Some of the people who choose to live here, may not fit your idea of ideal neighbors. There is a lot of trash around, which while considered property to some, would to many be unsightly garbage.

Go to Slab City with an open, non-judgmental mind. If you do, you will be welcomed openly and warmly, as I was.

Living here is free.

Real World Friends

While on I my recent trip, which I’ve dubbed “Goin East” I had an opportunity to meet a woman I’d gotten to know quite well, by following her blog. She told not of travels, but of her life. I cried with her, and celebrated, and learned from her comments on life. She started her blog as an outlet for her need to write, and write she does. Her posts are warm, funny, and powerful. How could I not stop and visit in person, especially when she extended an invite?

Not being the first person, I’d gotten to know online, I was comfortable with and looking forward to our visit. Not disappointed. She invited me into her home, introduced her husband and dog. A husband who trusts his wife’s instincts enough to welcome a stranger into his home, is quite a guy. He also makes a mean breakfast, and provided boots to take me exploring the Mississippi river behind their home.

My hostess (You’ll notice that I’m not mentioning any names, or places as this lady needs to keep her privacy.) took time out of her busy schedule to take me on a driving and walking tour of the big city near her home. I marveled at art in the public parks..



and grand homes in the historical district.

But as much as I enjoyed and appreciated all I saw, my fondest memory of the stopover is an unexpectedly warm, soft moonlit evening when we all sat on the front porch and talked.

We’ve all read the horror stories about people using the internet to do mischief. So I feel the need to mention that being careful is important, but don’t let fear stop you from reaching out to others. Maybe all you’ll do is become email buddies, but maybe you’ll be as lucky as I have, and make new friends that you can meet in the real world.

Thank you for the opportunity to be a part of your life, my new friends.

Another 15 Minutes.

While visiting with Joyce in Indiana, a local reporter came out to interview us.

Lydia Beers was a delightful young woman just starting her career who showed a lot of interest in flying and asked good questions. Joyce and I enthusiastically introduced her to airplanes and flying and ourselves, sharing our flying stories with her.

It had been our intention to take her on a flight as well, but she was unable to meet us at the nearby airport, and we didn’t feel a take-off from a short grass strip with tall power lines at one end was an appropriate introduction to flying. Rule one is, of course, never scare the passengers.


I just learned that the article has appeared in The Pilot News. How could a newspaper with that name not cover our unique story?

Artisans

In the Pioneer Village gift shop I spotted a section of small brooms. I’d been looking for one to use in Liberty as full-sized brooms do not work well in small living spaces.

Meet Pat Haight – official broom maker at the village.

He invited me into his workshop and demonstrated the process, which was captivating.
This equipment holds the stick so the broom straws can be wired on.

A press of the foot spins the entire assembly allowing the wire to wrap smoothly and tightly.

The first layer is on, a second being added.

Then a reversed layer is added which is bent back over to create smooth shoulders.

Final wire wrap is held in place with a small nail.

Here the broom head is stitched so it lays flat.

Final step is the trimmer which efficiently chops the straws to an even length.

Pat makes a variety of brooms for different uses, and has added dyed broom straw for his Fall and Christmas versions.



In this same building is another artisan.
This is Fran Curtis. She uses an antique loom to make rag rugs.


I own several made on a similar loom by my grandmother and consider them far too precious to place on a floor where someone might actually walk on them. Memories of Grandma making these rugs has long since vanished, so I was thrilled to spend time watching Fran at work. Like Pat, she is proud of her creations and excited to share the process.

It is with this treadle (foot powered) sewing machine that Fran pieces together the long strips of fabric.

Here is some of Fran’s completed stock.

I purchased this one in shades of pink and told Fran that while I would treasure it, I would put in on the floor next to my bed. She laughed and said that many people use these rugs as table runners or on sofa backs rather than risk foot traffic.

The fun story here is the playful competition between these two craftsmen. Pat walked me over to Fran’s area and introduced me, adding “And she bought one of my brooms so I’m ahead.” It seems they keep a tally of dollar amounts sold. Pat however says, “I have to work much harder, as I must sell two brooms for every one of Fran’s rugs.”

After visiting with Fran and watching her work, I bought two rugs and she gleefully planned how she would tell Pat that now she was ahead!

Pat and Fran love to demonstrate these old skills to school groups that come through the museum, and are justifiably proud of their work. I will remember the enthusiasm, generosity and warmth of these two fine people every time I sweep or climb out of bed.

The Loom Story (as copied from the tag on my rug)

This loom was built by John Abrahamson, who lived southwest of Axtell, Nebraska. He used the beams of his sod house which was built in 1867, and torn down in 1878. It was fitted and pegged together, as looms and buildings were in the days before nails were common.
Mrs. Abrahamson received 10 cents per yard for making rugs from rags furnished by her folks for whom she did weaving with this loom.

Home and Occupied

As you know, I started traveling the US at the end of August. Upon my return to AZ on Friday the 14th, I’d visited 27 states. In those states I talked to people, lots of them. From rich to poor, old to young. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, and Native American. I didn’t find a single person that wasn’t worried. The economy, government control, taxes, politicians that don’t listen, education, environment, big corporate control, health care…I think that covers most concerns.

I didn’t start these “political” discussions, but was a bit surprised at the number of citizens who did. We the People are worried, mad, scared, disgusted, and sick about the direction our country is going.

As a pilot of a small plane, I land at small airports (for the most part) and thus visit small towns. Towns where the depression has hit hard. In every single one I saw closed businesses. In one, while walking 2 long blocks I passed 3 closed down motels – on the main street. I met a car salesman who has taken a second job as people aren’t buying. People in their 30’s with good educations who are applying for jobs where they are one of several hundred. In bigger cities like San Antonio and Atlanta the signs are not as obvious, but the conversations were the same. Jobs, healthcare, end of war, fuel prices, rising food costs.

In South Dakota while visiting cousins I heard about the occupation of Wall Street. I heard about the 99% movement and I rejoiced. We the People are getting up off our fat butts, turning off our televisions, game consoles and computers and doing something. Not just talking about it, not just complaining. I cannot remember how many times I’ve said that if we do not stop being complacent sheep, we cannot be surprised when led to the slaughter.

Yesterday, at Cesar Chavez Plaza in front of Phoenix City Hall I was proud to join with a lot of Americans at “Occupy Phoenix”.

Who was there? Babies, toddlers, Moms, Dads, Grandparents. One thing was the same about everyone there – they were mad as hell and didn’t want to take it anymore. I wandered through the crowd talking, listening, reading the signs. Speakers were supported with cheers. Signs were laid out for those who had none.

This man's sign speaks for seniors..

This one for many...


A grandmother brought her granddaughter to learn about American Freedom.

Volunteers wandered passing out and refilling water bottles. A group supporting peace setup a food line and served a fine lunch to hundreds. People’s stores popped up with clothing, shoes and books free to those who needed them. Representatives of many causes took the opportunity to hand out literature.

One group arrived on the north edge of the plaza and started a confrontation. I heard it said that they did not feel they were appropriately represented at the Occupy. Some occupiers faced them, but others encouraged “Don’t engage, turn and walk away.” “Let’s keep it peaceful here.” And it was.

Phoenix police were everywhere. I had never before seen so many patrol cars and other police vehicles in one place. I counted 45 in 3 blocks. Wearing all black uniforms with gas masks and billy clubs hanging from their belts the officers remained along the north and south sides of the plaza, many standing in the 105 degree sun. They didn’t look happy to be there, and must have been afraid of what might happen. I read this morning that when the Rally moved to a local park, arrests were made and pepper spray unleashed.

I would encourage us to remember that police officers are just folks like us, doing a job to support themselves and their families. Each officer who is issued pepper spray in my county in Washington is required to take a heavy spray direct to the face so they know exactly what the people they must spray will be experiencing. Are there officers who enjoy pushing their weight around? Sure. The same as with any other position of power – some jerks exist, but I firmly believe, from personally knowing many officers, that they are just doing a difficult job, and doing it fairly more often than not.

Citizens were polite, considerate and helpful to one another. The few exchanges resulting from strong differences of opinion were of short duration. Sign carriers, and those in costume cheerfully posed for photos. Video cameras were everywhere. The atmosphere was upbeat, a party atmosphere with people seeming to feel hopeful that what they were participating in would make a difference.

I’d like to think they were right. I encourage all of you to watch for local plans for 99% or Occupy events. Get up and go. Write to your electeds. It usually seems like they don’t care, and simply respond with a polite form letter, but if we keep trying…it couldn’t hurt…and it just might help.

Discovery in Nebraska

Since September 9th, I’ve traveled across much of the country. I’ve visited a lot of interesting places, and had some unforgettable experiences. Starting to sound like the journey is over, and this portion is winding down. I’m now in Minden Nebraska which is roughly 800 miles from the Arizona house. I’ll probably make that run in two days flying.

But meanwhile, let me tell you about what I discovered here in Minden. The Pioneer Village Museum. The creation of Harold Warp, a Nebraska native, entrepreneur and visionary. With the success of his plastics business he made the decision to collect and preserve our history and achievements. He started with 20 empty acres and built his museum, bringing in historic buildings, and beginning the process of finding, collecting and housing a shopping list of Americana.

Geesh, I’m starting to sound like a brochure. What I want to get across is that from the outside I found myself thinking “Well, I’m here, so even though it doesn’t look like much, I’ll check it out.” A few steps inside the main building and I found it hard to keep my mouth closed as my jaw kept dropping. 2 ½ hours later I’d managed to almost see most of that one building. Thank goodness they have a reasonably priced hotel I’d already checked into. This is a museum that takes, no demands, a full day plus to see it all. Admission automatically includes the second day. For RV travelers they have a large, free parking area (no hookups).

I took several hundred photos and would like to tell you what display was my favorite, but cannot – too many to choose. Every facet of the American way of life, every tool and machine is represented all laid out in chronological order. Depicting laundry, for example, starts with washboards and then presents what has to be every form of washing machine invented up through the 60’s. Here is one that is dog powered!

I’ll post later about some special people I met here, but meanwhile want to encourage you to put The Pioneer Village on your list of must-see places. I can, without reservation, say this museum is the “Smithsonian of the Mid-West.”