Pawnee Buttes

I had originally made an attempt to post this entry a week ago – I thought I had been successful, I mean I swear I saw it a few days later, but apparently it disappeared? Anyway, I shall try again.

Pawnee Buttes

Northeastern Colorado doesn't particularly evoke images of idyllic campsites, nor is it a place where I'd prefer to spend much of my time - I've driven through the region en route to Indiana on multiple occasions ... there's nothing there! Well, that's not entirely true; it's the location of Pawnee National Grassland.

 

In the early 1900's, the now desolate towns of Keota and Grover were once booming as homesteaders and settlers migrated to the area in search of grazing land and farming opportunities. In 1918, the population of Keota peaked at 140 ... before the onset of a deadly influenza epidemic, several droughts, and frequent periods of inclement weather producing tornadoes, deep snows, and hail. Farms were literally blown away as this "Dust Bowl" area became a virtual desert.

A record amount of snowfall has found its way onto our mountains this year, which means that it's still too chilly to enjoy camping anywhere beyond the foothills. So, Justin and I (as well as our pup, Kona) traveled east to the grasslands on Mother's Day weekend in anticipation of warm weather and pleasant conditions. However, instead of warm, we found hot - I mean, above 80 degrees hot! It was also windy - as grasslands typically are. But, we managed to find an ideal windless campsite, and even a few splotches of colorful wildflowers on the yucca and cacti-studded terrain. Once the sun began to set, everything became unusually still ... I have never experienced a peace and quiet like it. We slept sans rain fly with a prime view of the stars above, and upon waking felt extremely refreshed and well-rested. Initially viewed as a lesser alternative to mountain camping, Pawnee is unique and desirable in it's own right and I do want to return when the landscape is just a bit more lush and green.

 

Liberation

A few random, albeit important and somewhat profound, thoughts have been taking up space in my mind for the past few weeks now. I'd wanted to do each one justice (in the form of one blog post per thought), but time is not on my side while the MCAT looms over my head. So, this entry will serve as a forum for which the contents of my mind will arbitrarily pour out, giving no precedence to any one issue.

One. The world is too large. Until recently, I have perceived this to be an unfortunate yet undeniably true fact. A person may be well-read (that is, they have gotten their hands on a wide genre of reading material from varying fields of study, literary movements, and cultural backgrounds); well-traveled (they recognize value in the customs and heritage that define any given location, while also spending time in said location); or well-versed in music and art (they have acquired an appreciation for different styles, approaches and techniques). However, it is impossible for such a person to read every well-written book, visit every interesting place, listen to every great song, or see every beautiful piece of artwork; the world is simply too large. This fact is particularly true when we account for the not-so-good books, places, songs, and artwork that we encounter. So, what to do? Really, this isn't so unfortunate - it's liberating! The pressure is off to finish that huge stack of unread or unfinished books ... we must simply take our sweet time and thoughtfully explore each one we get a chance to pick up. More importantly, to me anyway, is the ability to take pleasure in each place we visit - to learn the culture, speak with the people, and allow ourselves to be transformed by the experience. I came across an NPR article about three weeks ago that I found to be an enlightening read. Not only did it address this anxiety of mine about the world being too large, but it opened me up to the idea of surrender (from which liberation naturally emanates). Enjoy!

The Sad, Beautiful Fact That We're All Going To Miss Almost Everything

Two. Osama bin Laden is dead. This concept is a bit hazy in my mind; I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. The dominant emotion seems to be sadness ... but isn't that opposite of what nearly every other American is feeling in response to this news? Maybe. It's difficult to express ... I'm taken immediately back to 9/11 - to the firefighters, to the victims, to their families, and to our country. I feel sadness. Of course, I do believe this represents an important 'victory over evil' for America, but I want to be clear that it shouldn't be considered a victory built upon revenge. It's a victory steeped in pride, patriotism, and love for our country. Perhaps many of us will see this as a sort of closure, but the image of a man who was shot in the head for what he did will never evoke happiness for me, only sadness. 

Three. What is art? It was not until my freshman year of college that I noticed how much this question perplexed me. As a medieval studies major, I made my way through Gothic Art, Medieval Art, Northern Renaissance Art, and even Modern Art; I spent a large part of my time looking at and discussing artwork as well as visiting various museums and galleries. While I couldn't argue with the exquisite detail and obvious beauty in more classic works, I had every problem with modern art. I'd always thought of it as 'non-art' - most of the pieces appeared to be so simplistic that anyone could slap something together and call it art. What I had yet to learn were the influences behind the style - modern art is now fascinating to me. But, we can still ask what establishes art as 'art' ... Aesthetics? Skill? Creativity? Emotion? Truth? The artist's intentions? The viewer's perceptions? Who knows!? Arguments can be made for and against each of these characteristics, plus some. I guess the only thing I can say for sure is that art is by no means an absolute; there are not really objective criteria for which to judge. Just as each person perceives beauty differently, each piece of artwork will shout 'beauty' to some and 'ugh' to others. So, I am no closer at answering my own question; but I am also no longer perplexed by or concerned with it. Rather, I am merely happy that art exists in this world, and okay with the fact that I won't get to see most of it :) 

Four. On poetry. I came across the following words in one of my MCAT verbal passages the other day, and I think they're profoundly beautiful (thus, worth sharing). A bit on the random side, but somewhat connected with my discussion on the way artwork can be defined:

'There are many who are not gifted with the power of giving expression to the deeper sensibilities, who nevertheless experience them throbbing in their hearts. To them poetry appeals'

Wine, Food & Relaxation: the heart of Napa Valley

Despite three-hour long MCAT classes twice a week, and studying madly in between, I realize that I should briefly address my recent trip to the west coast (primarily through photos). The week can be described in a few simple words: wine, food & relaxation - everything a true vacation should be. We dined at world-class restaurants (including Bottega and REDD ... we decided to skip the notoriously overpriced French Laundry ...), tasted ridiculously good wine of many different grape varieties, and visited several interesting and unique vineyards during our stay in Yountville.

Domaine Chandon

Quixote Winery

Wine, cheese, olive oil, and chocolate tasting at Gabrielle's private estate & vineyard ~she also makes her own organic lavender products~

Napa Valley offered us a lovely time; I am happy to say that each visit to this region (November 2008 and now) left me feeling both refreshed and energized. From Napa, we drove through Sonoma and Point Reyes, where we opened a bottle of chardonnay on Limantour Beach, to San Francisco. Dan and Traci are doing so well, and little Bryce is the most adorable baby I could possibly imagine! It was such a treat to spend time with family that I don't see all that often :)

Enjoying a bottle of wine at Point Reyes National Seashore

Golden Gate Bridge

A gorgeous California poppy

California is a lush and beautiful place; I look forward to returning in June :)

'To find a queen without a king, / They say she plays guitar and cries and sings ... la la la'

Going to California (Led Zeppelin)


Welcome to Yountville

The link above will tell you anything you'd like to know about Yountville, California (at the heart of Napa Valley and, of course, wine country). I have been looking forward to this vacation for several months now, primarily because I'll be traveling with my parents. This is the equivalent of luxury - an idea I was somewhat accustomed to growing up ... an idea that has been overshadowed in recent years by a greater desire to explore the unfamiliar and exotic, to learn about the world on my own ... on a budget.

We leave on Thursday morning, and will be spending our first four nights at the Vintage Inn in Napa Valley. My father is an internist at Kaiser Permanente, and his well-chosen neurology conference is making this stint in gorgeous wine country possible. Thanks, Dad :)

On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, we'll be in San Francisco visiting my cousin Dan, his wife Traci, and their new baby boy, Bryce. I love this city and, despite getting violently ill on my last visit, I cannot wait to return! Dan and Traci are two of my favorite people on earth, and I am so anxious to meet baby Bryce (the photos and videos that I've seen are ADORABLE, and I don't typically find babies cute).

So, I guess I'm going to California!

The Colorado Renaissance

No, I'm not talking about the Renaissance Festival in Larkspur, but something far more interesting ...

Bishop Castle seen from Highway 165

Considered the most impressive one-man construction project in the country (and, so claims Jim Bishop, perhaps the world), Bishop Castle is a testament to determination, beauty, obsession, and insanity ... in the most bizarre way imaginable. The castle itself is located in the mountains of south central Colorado, west of Pueblo, and is the still unfinished outcome of Jim Bishop's physical labor and creative musings, and Jim Bishop's alone.

When he was fifteen years old, Bishop purchased land for the price of $1,250 and began construction on his castle in 1969. Now, the castle features intricate wrought iron walkways and bridges that weave between its towers, spiral staircases, a fire-breathing dragon made of recycled hospital trays situated at the apex of the great hall, and stained glass windows ... all made by hand without the use of machines. But a castle cannot be complete without a moat or a dungeon ... Bishop's latest ongoing projects.

Although it can be seen on an official map, and even labeled on nearby road signs, you won't find Bishop Castle in any Colorado travel brochure, which is entirely due to the tension that exists between Bishop and the government. The man is known for passionate political and anti-government rants as well as his crude language; various signs throughout his property display these viewpoints.

The guy may well be off his rocker, but his work is undeniably incredible. As I climbed up narrow staircases en route to the highest towers, I couldn't believe I was putting all of my trust, and my life, in one man's hands. But it was absolutely worth every second - go experience this place!

The highestmost point on Bishop Castle ... WAY up there

Details: The castle is open every day during daylight hours, and it is free (donations requested). Bishop spends about seven months of the year working in his iron shop in Pueblo, otherwise he can be found on site, still building additions to the already ridiculous structure.

Pahá Sápa

The Black Hills (called Pahá Sápa in Lokota) make up an isolated mountain range in North and South Dakota as well as Wyoming. They are separated from the Rockies, and are something of a geologic anomaly considering the desolate and relatively featureless grasslands surrounding them. In the midst of a barren and monotonous landscape, the Black Hills are like an oasis of green ... an island of trees.

Justin and I (as well as our 9-month old Shepherd mix, Kona) left around 6:30 Saturday morning for South Dakota, a state neither of us have had reason to visit before now. It takes just as long to get to Telluride and the San Juans in southwestern Colorado as it does to drive to the Black Hills of South Dakota. So, why not? I don't know about the rest of the state, but this area is truly beautiful.

The Black Hills/Black Elk Wilderness

We chose a 13 mile loop hike beginning and ending at Big Pine Trailhead to explore Black Elk Wilderness, which derives its name from an Oglala Lakota Sioux holy man, and to see Mount Rushmore. Heading out on the Centennial Trail around 1:00 pm, we arrived at our campsite after four miles or so. Black Elk Wilderness is a part of the larger Black Hills National Forest, which is unlike any forest I've seen in Colorado. The ground is covered entirely in pine needles making it soft and bouncy; granite cliffs and irregular mountains are scattered randomly; and sunlight radiates through the trees and illuminates the forest floor with a soft golden glow.

Centennial Trail (#89)

Horsetheif Trail (#14)

Thank God for Daylight Savings Time ... and the arrival of spring! We found the perfect campsite, cracked a beer {New Belgium Trippel for me, Stone IPA for Justin}, and began climbing to the top of a nearby rock outcropping; we had a good three hours before dark. The view was spectacular (see the first photo). We also thought we'd have premium seats to the 'Supermoon' (a full moon that coincides with the point at which the moon is closest to the Earth in its orbit ... this year it would have been the largest full moon in nearly twenty years). But, no such luck - it was too cloudy. Despite this, we were still able to enjoy a gorgeous sunset from one of the higher cliffs. Two games of mountain bocce ball, a blazing campfire, and several Avalanche Ale brats later, we were in our tent for the unseasonably warm 40 degree night.

Our chosen campsite

Sun setting over the hills

Kona playing bocce with us

The next morning, we prepared to trek the 8-9 miles along Grizzly Creek back to the trailhead. The faces of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln greeted us after a few hours.

I've never had any desire to go out of my way to see Mount Rushmore. The sculpture is a bizarre sight, and it has an equally bizarre history. Construction on the memorial began in 1927 as an effort to "communicate the founding, expansion, preservation, and unification of the United States with colossal statues of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt" (Gutzon Borglum, sculptor). Although it leaves a legacy to our country, a shrine of democracy and freedom, Mount Rushmore excites plenty of controversy. The land upon which it resides was seized from the Lakota Sioux tribe in the late 1800's, and Borglum was an active member of the white supremacist organization, the Ku Klux Klan.

The memorial is not at all what I expected. It's smaller and less remarkable than the images I'd conjured up in my mind. Also, it's a bit eerie ... especially when you catch a glimpse of it from the heart of the wilderness, much less so when you view it from the road in your car. Although this isn't something that necessarily impresses me, I do appreciate the grand scale on which it was ideated and created.

Mount Rushmore from Hwy 244

After we arrived back at the car and snapped a photo of the four presidents from the road, we were on our way to the Badlands. The landscape here is most unique ... I'd say it resembles what I believe Mars or the moon to look like. Furrowed cliffs, gnarled spires, carved ravines, and grass-capped buttes ... It's an area of raw and rugged beauty. John Evans, a government geologist dispatched to the Dakota territory in 1849, likened the area to a "magnificent city of the dead, where the labor and genius of forgotten nations had left ... a multitude of monuments of art and skill." I imagine the Badlands to be a severe and sinister place, but the warm glow of the setting sun during our evening drive transformed the landscape into something rather inviting. 

"The bad lands to cross"

Our final stop required us to drive back into Wyoming where Devils Tower, a vertical column of volcanic rock, rises dramatically above the surrounding terrain. Mostly, it's a rock climbers haven. But it also has a special significance to Native Americans, who have regarded the tower as a sacred site long before climbers found their way to the area. Indian stories and legends of the creation of Devils Tower vary, but my favorite goes like this: Seven sisters were playing in the meadow when bears began to chase them. They all climbed atop a rock and prayed to the Great Spirit to save them. At that moment, the rock rose up towards the Heavens as the bears left deep claw marks in its side (which correspond to the columns we see on the tower today). When the girls reached the sky, they were transformed into the seven-starred constellation, the Pleiades (or Seven Sisters). Once again, gazing at the tower, I sense a connection to something bigger ... and it too feels quite eerie. This may be intensified by the fact that we arrived at Devils Tower in the middle of the night, and to see the dark silhouette of something so massive suddenly appear on the horizon sends chills down your spine.

Justin and I near the base of Devils Tower

I cannot believe we packed so much in to less than three full days. Each place that we visited maintains extremely strong ties to the American Indian heritage ... I feel blessed and priviledged to have been a part of that culture, even if for a brief moment. As I said before, it's pretty eerie - in a good way. Although the landscape is beyond beautiful, and ridiculously unique, nothing compares to the history that you can learn about a place and its people or the feeling it gives you to be in the midst of it all hundreds of years later.

♣ Love Thee, Notre Dame ♣

This day, dedicated to St. Patrick, is one of my favorites of the year (after Christmas of course, and maybe my birthday ...) I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be the case had I not attended the most Irish university in our country. They know how to celebrate anything Irish at Notre Dame, and I miss the place more than ever on this day. But, each year, I feel my connection to the university so strongly. I think of tailgating and green beer, the Victory March and bagpipes, but I also remember my friends, the Notre Dame family, and the meaning of loyalty, faith, and love. Above all else, it brings a sense of belonging as well as a feeling of contentment and comfort. Today, everyone wishes they were Irish. I get to be Irish everyday!

Notre Dame, Our Mother

Notre Dame, our Mother


Tender, strong and true


Proudly in the heavens,


Gleams thy gold and blue.


Glory's mantle cloaks thee


Golden is thy fame,


And our hearts forever,


Praise thee, Notre Dame.


And our hearts forever,


Love thee, Notre Dame.