The Flying Cloud Eco-DiscoveryTour

Visit us at Modernism Week-Palm Springs February 25-27!

2011-02-19T10:14:00.000-08:00

The Eco-Discovery Tour is pleased to announce that we have been chosen to participate in a very special Vintage Trailer display at Modernism Week in Palm Springs! We are proud to be one of only 18 vintage trailers chosen to display for their special features during this week long celebration, which according to the Mission Statement on their website:

"Promotes public awareness of the desert's mid-century modern design and architecture. Modernism Week celebrates the post-war design aesthetic and culture through educational and charitable activities"

We invite everyone to come visit us in Palm Springs! For more information, visit the Airstream Life website: Airstream Life or the Modernism Week website: Modernism Week

We hope to see you there!

Get Off The Bottle!

2011-01-22T12:45:00.000-08:00

Bottled Water...many of us use it everyday. But all of us know that not only are the bottles one of the most prolific forms of plastic pollution on the planet, the water is no better for you than most tap water, it is expensive, and there is fear of chemical leaching from some types of bottles.

As we travel, staying hydrated is very important. To solve the problem of using and disposing of plastic bottles, we decided on a very simple and cost effective solution. First we purchased a Britta Filter Dispenser that fit in our fridge. Next we visited REI and bought two stainless steel reusable water bottles that have a very nice resealable drinking nozzle. Every morning before we hit the road we fill our bottles and refill the dispenser so that we will have plenty of water for the day.

At the average price of about 25 cents a bottle, and the average consumption of 3-4 bottles a day per person, we will pay for our investment in about 40 days. Even with the cost of new filters, this will still keep the cost of water way below the plastic bottled kind and none of our bottles will end up in a landfill. Preserve has instituted a recylcing program for used filters and Whole Foods among others now has a drop-off for used filters in their stores.

We urge everyone to look for a solution to their bottled water consumption. If you don't feel guilty, you should!

For more information on bottled water visit:

5 Reasons Not to Drink Bottled Water

Get Off The Bottle!

And for a little fun:

Don't Go Near The Water!

Plastic Into Oil-Update!

2011-01-11T08:58:00.000-08:00

In July of 2009, we reported on the technology we found in Oregon that was able to convert recycled plastics into oil(Our Visit to Agri-Plas). My good friend Ed recently made us aware of some new technology coming out of Japan that makes this process possible on a micro-scale that could eventually be available to everyone (Man Invents Machine To Convert Plastic Into Oil).

According to the developer, "The machine produced in various sizes, for both industrial and home uses, can easily transform a kilogram of plastic waste into a liter of oil, using about 1 kW·h of electricity but without emitting CO2 in the process. The machine uses a temperature controlling electric heater instead of flames, processing anything from polyethylene or polystyrene to polypropylene (numbers 2-4). 1 kg of plastic produces one liter of oil, which costs $1.50. This process uses only about 1 kW·h of electricity, which costs less than 20 cents!"

The potential for this is huge. Imagine a world where many homes are equipped with this machine, and apartment dwellers or neighborhoods share a machine together. The resulting oil could then be returned to collection centers where it can be reused in the production of hundreds of petroleum based products including plastics that could then be recycled again and again. The potential reduction in CO2 emissions is remarkable and much of the waste that currently ends up in a landfill or the ocean could be eliminated. In Third World countries where plastic waste frequently ends up directly in the environment as the means for disposing of waste are not always readily available, the plastic waste could be converted directly into oil used for heating and cooking or kerosene for light.

This new machine is compact, can be easily transported, and the technology appears to be relatively simple. Combined with the advances that are being made in plastic materials that are not made from petroleum (Bio-Plastics, Biodegradable Plastics Made From Plants) , there is hope!

Our Lady of Guadalupe

2010-12-12T17:49:00.002-08:00

Pojoaque Pueblo
English Pronunciation: "Po-wock-ee or Po-hock-ee"
Traditional Name: PO-SUWAE-GEH

Our temporary home in Santa Fe, NM is located on the edge of the Pojoaque Indian Pueblo, home of the Pojoaque, one of the eight Indian tribes of Northern New Mexico. Today they were celebrating the festival of Our Lady of the Guadalupe, the Patron Saint of the Pueblo. After a traditional Catholic Mass at the nearby adobe church, the Pueblo celebrated with an even more traditional Buffalo Dance, and the entire community turned out for the event. The sinuous lines of exquisitely costumed dancers ranged in age from the very young to the elders of the tribe, and they executed a remarkable dance choreographed by tradition across the dusty lot in front of the church, while a small band of solemn faced men set the beat with their chanting and their tom-toms.

This is a deeply religious occasion, and unlike the dances that many of the Pueblos do for the tourists, the crowd remained completely silent, there are no photographs allowed, and it is a truly moving experience. On the outer edge of the lines, warriors dressed as Elk with a large rack of horns on their heads and sticks adorned with pine boughs in their hands, move along bent over on their sticks in stilted motions, simulating the movement and the bony front legs of the animal. Inside this outer line, dancers in full-headed buffalo costumes dance along in unison. Watching, one could almost feel the Buffalo moving as they once did in vast numbers across the prairies of the American West. Feel them moving like they did long before the white man came and slaughtered them in such numbers that the bones were piled high beside the steel rails that brought indiscriminate death to both the Buffalo and the way of life of our native people. Behind these dancers came the hunters with their bow and arrows. They too are there to kill the Buffalo, but unlike the white man, they understand that the Buffalo is life, and to kill for sport instead of sustenance is to rape their Mother Earth, and will not long sustain them.

For tens of thousands of years the Buffalo gave the Indians food, shelter, clothing, and tools. In just a few short years after our arrival, the white man eradicated them from the face of the earth. Not only for sport and pleasure, but in a premeditated effort to deny these noble people that which not only sustained them, but was also sacred to them in every way. Today the Buffalo are gone and the Casino provides them their way of life. Soon the Whales and the Polar Bears will be gone as well, and the native peoples of the North will join their Southern neighbors in a way of life that offers much less hope and much less beauty than the life they had before they became “civilized”.

For just a moment today I got to see a small group of these people forget what was done to them and cherish their traditions. Tomorrow they will go back to work at the Casino, or the liquor store, or the WalMart, or any of the other blessings which the white man has been so generous to provide. But for just one beautiful moment today…they danced.

Amarillo to Santa Fe

2010-12-02T10:34:00.000-08:00

The next morning came rather early, as the trucker who shared our discreet location as a good place to spend the night, fired up his diesel at 3am and prepared to hit the road. We drifted in and out of sleep until first light and then prepared to hit the road ourselves. As we were now into the much less dramatic scenery of Western Arkansas, and headed toward the rolling hills and plains of Oklahoma and finally the doldrums of the Texas Panhandle, we decided to take a little detour side trip and visit “POP’s” on old Route 66 in Arcadia, OK. As we left Interstate 40 and approached old HWY 66, a police car came screaming down the two lane highway. With lights flashing and siren blaring, we assumed that some dire emergency was taking place. Following not far behind the police car was a lone Hearse. Surprised by this I tried to imagine a scenario in which a dead man needed a high speed police escort to get anywhere in such a hurry. Perhaps he was late for his own funeral, or maybe he was just dying to get buried? Anyway I pulled to the side as they screamed on by and into the distance without further explanation or even so much as a fine how do you do.

Shortly thereafter we were greeted by the 66ft tall soda bottle in the driveway of Pop’s, a large gas station/drive-in and soon found ourselves immersed in an odd blend of a nostalgic 50’s roadside soda fountain and a modernistic designer soda shop.

The old gas pumps have been replaced by state of the art, and somewhat art deco pumps, and the soda fountain boasts a dazzling array of craft brewed sodas from around the world. The glass walled building is completely lined with a huge array of colorful soda bottles that reflect the light and create an almost soda pop cathedral like feel to the building. Needing some lunch and deciding to kill two birds with our stop, I chose a Portobello Mushroom Turkey Burger from the totally non-traditional diner menu, while Kate indulged in a huge Chicken Melt sandwich. Both were complemented by soda fountain milkshakes made with the old fashioned boat motor style milkshake machines.

Unable to resist the lure of such soda pop label icons like Moxie, and the old Doctor Pepper bottles with the 10-2-4 motto (remember that?) still emblazoned on them, I staggered happily away with a six pack of assorted unhealthy and decidedly decadent sodas with such titles as Parrot Punch, Route 66 Root Beer and Flat Head Lake Cherry Cola. Feeling totally bloated and totally guilty for our indulgence, we waddled back onto HWY 66 until it merged back onto the much more modern and urban HWY 40 and headed east for Amarillo, TX.

Having called ahead to assure ourselves of a “camping” spot at the Walmart in Amarillo, we pulled in with confidence to the store. We were quickly greeted by a security officer who asked us if we were planning to spend the night. Briefly taken aback by the reception, we answered yes and that we had called ahead to make sure it was acceptable. He quickly assured us it was no problem and simply wanted to point out the areas of the parking lot where we were welcome. He then added that there would be security on site all evening and to let them know if there was anything we needed. Now that’s a Texas welcome! We were joined in the lot by a diverse group of fellow vagabonds, some in six-figure motorhomes, some in rag-tag trailers, and some in beat-up old vans with newspapers stretched across the windows to keep out the parking lots bright lights. It was obvious that other than the folks in the motorhomes, this was the only place to spend the night for some of these people and that this recession/depression was far from over. We spent yet another surprisingly quiet night there and rose early to begin the last leg of our journey.

If you have followed our blog, you know that we have spent quite a bit of time in Texas, a State so large that when you drive across it you usually have no choice but to spend quite a bit of time in it. As it is such a large place, the diversity of the landscape there can be amazing, the hill country, the modern and hip city of Austin, the Riverwalk in San Antonio, the Gulf Coast, Big Bend, and the list goes on and on. But for the most part, the large parts of Texas across which the Interstate Highways run is miles and miles of nothing, and the sooner you get through it the better. Having driven back and forth across the state more times than we like to count in the last year, we were pleased to cross it at the Panhandle, which blessedly is the narrowest part. What’s weird is, and I am not quite sure how or why Texas ended up with this appendage sticking up like a giant middle finger between Oklahoma and New Mexico, but as you leave the rolling hills of Oklahoma, and before you reach the colorful wind blown plateaus of New Mexico, you have to traverse the completely flat and nearly featureless prairies of the Texas Panhandle. It’s almost as if when they handed out the land, the early mapmakers took a look at the Panhandle and said “OK, this part sucks, we will give it to Texas”. Don’t get me wrong, if you look hard enough there is some scenic beauty, like the Palo Duro Canyon just outside of Amarillo. Texans boast (as Texans are known to do) that the Palo Duro is the “second largest canyon in the U.S”. This is a boast they fail to temper by telling you that means in overall size, not depth or length, and that the 120 mile long and 800 ft. deep canyon has a bit of a ways to go to reach the 277 mile length and 6,000 ft. depth of the Grand Canyon. Nonetheless, it is a thing of beauty in a land of flat plains, but you have to drive a considerable distance off the Interstate to find it, and we were just happy to see the “Welcome to New Mexico” sign in our windshield and the “Welcome to Texas” sign in our rear view mirror.

Within hours we were approaching Santa Fe, and were welcomed by the brilliant blue sky and brisk cold temperatures. Santa Fe is a gem in the desert, and the “City Different” as it is known is not only one of the oldest in the country but one of the quirkiest as well. We look forward to enjoying it for a bit.

On the road again!

2010-11-28T17:56:00.000-08:00

Once again I am sorry for the long absence, but after spending the last seven months doing very hard, but very rewarding hands on construction work and consultation on the eco-friendly restoration of a historically significant 214 year old Ferry House on the Eastern Shore of Old Virginia (that’s another story that shall be told!), Kate and I are on the road again.

After saying our fond goodbyes to the wonderful family who had adopted us while working on the house, we hooked up Doris Mae and hit the road. The first thing you do when you leave the Eastern Shore is cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, a spectacular feat of engineering that spans the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay and connects Delmarva Peninsula with the mainland of Virginia. The brisk wind, which can be fairly incessant across the bay, was whipping the water into whitecaps, and the seagulls were gliding seemingly magically motionless at the edges of the bridge railings as they caught the updrafts from the boiling sea. It was a fitting farewell to our home of seven months.

Our destination on this trip is Santa Fe, NM where we will meet up with some friends to establish a new base of operations for the time being and hole up for the winter. We realize that spending the winter at 7500 ft is probably not the warmest place to be, but Santa Fe is gloriously sunny and spiritually uplifting, and just like the batteries in our solar system we will use the sun and the energy to recharge ourselves.

Departing somewhat from our usual methods of travel, this trip we are simply trying to make good time. Because many of the parks and campgrounds that we normally inhabit are closed for the season we decided to try an old RVer’s trick and spend the night in the parking lots of various big box stores that are willing to accommodate us travelers. The two main choices are Walmart and Cracker Barrel. Not being big fans of Walmart we thought we would give the Cracker Barrels a try. Arriving in Asheville, NC on our first night out, we found the local Cracker Barrel, and much to our surprise in this economy the place was packed. We headed down the road a few miles and found the nearest Walmart and realized that their vast parking lot was a far better choice. Exercising proper etiquette, I checked in with the young man and young lady at the customer service counter to make sure that this location allowed overnight stays. With a thick southern drawl they both assured me that we were more than welcome, and the young man actually apologized for not having the RV hookups that he had heard some of the Walmarts were equipped with! Being as we are, solar powered and fully self contained, I assured him that that was not a problem and thanked them for their gracious Southern hospitality.

After 10 hours on the road we were ready for a couple of beers, and a nearby sports bar within walking distance provided just the ticket. After a few relaxing beers, we soon settled down for the night under the harsh glow of the sodium vapor lights rather than the warm glow of the moon we were used to. Tired as we were, we quickly fell asleep and other than a few late night shoppers who had obviously had a few more beers than we, spent a quiet evening there

Hitting the road early the next morning under a light blanket of fog, we streamed through the limestone bluffs of North Carolina and the rolling hills of eastern Tennessee toward our day’s destination just outside of Little Rock. Much to our surprise in the home state of Walmart a large sign with “No Overnight RV Parking” greeted us at the first two Walmarts we came to. Running out of options and daylight, we found a small Mexican restaurant full of surprisingly beautiful brightly colored hand carved tables and chairs, and sitting next to a huge but finely dressed and well mannered extended Mexican family, we enjoyed a quick meal while we pondered our options. Having spent more than a few nights in some interesting but unorthodox locations, we soon found a deserted side street just around the corner from the restaurant, and feeling pretty comfortable that there were no local police to roust us in the night, we settled down for another quiet evening under the street lamps. I soon discovered that in addition to the free nights lodging, we also had free wireless internet courtesy of the nearby medical clinic as well. Free internet, free camping, all we needed was a free breakfast and this is as good as life gets! Thinking that if we wandered in to the nearby Day's Inn and just acted liked we stayed there our free breakfast could be within reach we quickly drifted off asleep and dreamed of our next day’s adventures.

The End of the World As We Know It

2010-06-26T04:31:00.000-07:00

I apologize for being so quiet the last month or so, but as the events in the Gulf of Mexico have unfolded I have found myself not only broken hearted but speechless as well. As the amount of oil that scientists estimate is spilling into the Gulf continues to grow larger, and the time it will take BP to stop it grows longer, the gut wrenching pictures of seabirds and turtles covered in oil have made me feel that perhaps everything we have been trying to do on our journey across America has been for naught.

With today’s revised estimate of the spillage now up to 60,000 barrels a day, it is possible that well over 100 million gallons of oil have already poured into the Gulf and the end is nowhere in sight. BP has said that they will soon be able to capture up to 28,000 barrels of oil per day, that is still less than half of the current estimate, but over 5 times as much oil as BP has admitted is destroying these precious waters. Barring some kind of miracle, or perhaps the use of nuclear weapons, oil will continue to flow until at least late August, and at the current rate at least 300, maybe 400 million gallons or more will soon be mixed with the clear blue waters in the Gulf and things there will never, ever be the same.

Whether you believe in Peak Oil (for more info click here) or not, there is virtually no one on this planet that doesn’t understand that sooner or later we will begin to run out of oil, and long before that day we will begin to run short of oil. While very few seem willing to admit it to themselves or say it out loud, the fact that we are drilling for oil over a mile beneath the sea, and over three miles below that to reach the oil, and stripping the forests of Canada bare to expose the oil sands so that we may continue our unsustainable and unjustifiable use of this finite resource shows just how desperate we already are.

The oil we squeeze from the sands requires more energy to produce than it generates. This is like putting $1.00 into your bank account and getting $.75 back. Not only would that be foolish, sooner or later you would run out of money. Many of the offshore wells like Deepwater Horizon will eventually produce oil that is much more expensive than the current price of oil will support. The oil companies know this, but they also know that sooner or later, the price of oil will rise to meet the dynamics of supply and demand and they are simply hedging their bets by drilling these wells in advance with the profits from some of the easy money wells around the world.

The worst part of all this is that our entire way of life, and all of our economies the world over, have since the first commercial oil well was drilled in 1859, become completely dependant on oil. Nearly everything we use as a modern society, from the obvious like the cars we drive and the gas and electricity that heats and lights our homes, to the less obvious like clothing, paints, medicines, cosmetics (for an astounding and more complete list click here ) is made from oil. More importantly nearly our entire food supply is dependent on the use of petrochemicals in every phase of its production from seed to market. In fact, the overpopulation of our planet today, is a direct result of the availability of cheap oil and resulting abundance of food that can then be transported over large distances. Just think about it, in 1859 a mere 150 years ago, virtually nothing on this planet was made from petroleum based oil. There was a large industry in whale oil, but the number of products made from that oil was relatively small, and by 1859, the world’s whale population was already declining from the uncontrolled slaughter of these magnificent creatures for commercial use. “Peak Whale” was reached in the mid-19th century, and just like Peak Oil, it eventually spelled the end of the industry. But we are talking about a time when the worldwide population was fairly stable at about 750 million souls. With the advent of chemical fertilizers and other dramatic changes made possible by the discovery of petroleum, the world’s population has skyrocketed to over 6.5 Billion in that same 150 years,

Can we sustain our current population without petroleum? The answer is a resounding NO and the evidence suggests that with the end of cheap oil, the population of this planet will again need to be reduced to the more sustainable number of 750 million or less (for more info click here). That means that unless we do something to change it, in the not too distant future whether through famine, war, or other manmade and natural disasters, about 6 billion of us will eventually be weeded out. This will be nature’s way of resetting the clock and dealing with an unsustainable population caused by the unsustainable availability of cheap oil. I believe it can happen to humans, it happens to other animal species all the time when they become overpopulated. The only thing that has both saved and doomed us so far is the readily available supply of oil.

While every prophet, cult or religion that has ever predicted the “end of the world” have so far been wrong, I believe with certainty that what we are seeing now, and what we will be experiencing in the decades to come truly is “the end of the world as we know it”. That it would seem is not that hard to predict. Drilling deeper and deeper and turning the sands beneath our forests into garbage bags and lipstick will only prolong the agony. Unless we develop, and develop rather quickly new ways or rediscover old ways to do almost everything we do, we will eventually run out of both oil and time. The “tipping point” is coming. The prospect of the Gulf oil spill affecting not only the Gulf, but the global food chain and weather patterns is very real and we won’t know what has happened until the damage is done and it is already too late. This is the wake up call that we cannot afford to ignore, and yet I fear that most of us will simply roll over and hit the snooze button.

Racing into the Future

2010-06-03T14:34:00.000-07:00

This is a very thoughtful and well done video from an unlikely source! Leilani Münter is a professional race car driver and environmental activist. She holds a bachelors degree in Biology specializing in Ecology, Behavior and Evolution from the University of California San Diego. Leilani adopts an acre of rainforest for every race she runs and is a long time vegetarian and eco activist.

The Nature’s Head Composting Toilet

2010-06-01T09:45:00.000-07:00

Throughout our travels and from our website and blog, one of the most frequently asked questions is “How is your composting toilet working?” So by popular demand here is an update on the toilet!

It seems like the very thought of a composting toilet is both intriguing and intimidating to most people. All of us are used to the flush and go toilets (or is it go and flush?) we have used all of our lives and really don’t think that much about it. However with the increasing awareness that the availability of clean water (already an issue in many parts of the world), is going to become a global issue, and that the wisdom of using fresh clean drinking water to flush our waste seems doubtful, more and more people are becoming open to the idea of composting toilets.

For us and for all self-contained mobile travelers, there is also the issue of disposing of the nasty mixture that spews forth from the infamous “black tank”. As any one who has lived in RV or trailer will tell you, this is certainly one of the least enjoyable parts of the experience. While the Nature’s Head composting toilet is not without maintenance, it does a pretty nice job of separating the liquid and solid wastes, thereby making the job of maintenance and disposal much less disagreeable. Combined with the fact that you can feel good about conserving precious water resources, the upside of using a composting toilet far outweighs any discomfort you might have about dealing with your waste in a little more hands-on manner!

The first question most people ask is “does it smell?” The answer is definitely “No” Not only does it not smell (there is a slight but not unpleasant earthy odor when we add new peat moss), but there is a complete lack of the usual chemical odors associated with the conventional RV toilet much like you would find in an airplane toilet.

People also want to know we handle the waste. First of all, there are several different types of composting toilets. Some use heat to remove the liquid waste from the solid waste. This requires not only additional electrical energy, but also a larger tank as well as longer composting times. The Nature’s Head toilet cleverly separates the liquids from the solids, making the disposal of liquid waste as easy as emptying the tank, and the overall size of the toilet much more suitable for smaller living spaces like an RV or cabin. Both types of toilets have their advantages and disadvantages depending on the application. If you are considering a composting toilet for your home as opposed to an RV, boat, or cabin, I would look into some of the units designed for that application as the Nature’s Head is best suited to those other situations.

As for what we do with the waste, this depends on how much we are using it, and where we are. While traveling and using the toilet full time, the liquid waste needs to be emptied every three to four days. This is usually done in a pit toilet if we are at a campground. If we are boondocking, I do not have a problem with emptying the liquid waste directly into the woods. Just like the wildlife that lives there does, the liquid waste is natural and biodegradable. It is only when it is mixed with solid waste as in a conventional RV toilet that it becomes toxic. To insure that it is filtered by nature, we do not empty it near any bodies of water. If we are camped in the city, it goes down a conventional toilet, but this requires only one flush for three or four days of liquid waste giving the old adage “if it’s yellow let it mellow” a whole new time frame!

The solid waste is a little more complicated, but still way less annoying and toxic than having to empty the foul mixture that comes out of the conventional RV black tank. The Nature’s Head toilet works by composting the solid waste in a small tank containing peat moss. The peat moss acts as a medium to begin and maintain the composting action. There is a small handle that is used to stir the tank after each use. This stirring aerates the mixture, accelerates the composting and keeps it from becoming too dense. In addition there is a small fan that operates on the 12V system of the RV (ours is solar powered), and helps keep the mixture dry and odor free. When it is time to empty the toilet and renew the peat moss, it is a simple matter of removing the tank, dumping the compost, and adding new peat moss to start the process over again. As with the liquid waste if we are camping, the compost is easily disposed of down a pit toilet where it will rapidly finish decaying. In the woods, digging a small hole away from any water and covering it with dirt will do the job. And in the city, unless you are staying at a place where you can add it to someone’s non-vegetable compost pile, it usually ends up in the landfill where it will quickly and safely finish the process of decay.

As I said, becoming a little bit more involved with our waste is not something everyone may be comfortable with, but when you think about it, we should be! Just like everything else we do, from our electrical use, our water consumption, and our use of petrochemical products, all these things have an impact on our planet, and the more we understand, evaluate and reduce that impact, the better off we will all be.

For more info on the Nature’s Head Composting Toilet, visit their website at:
Nature's Head Composting Toilets

Captain Ed’s Eco-Tour

2010-05-18T18:29:00.000-07:00

While we were in Apalachicola, I met up with Captain Ed Daniel who operates a small tour operation out of the Scipio Creek Marina that he calls the “Eco-Explorer” and he was kind enough to invite me on his boat for an afternoon cruise. Captain Ed is not only an expert on the history of the area, he knows the swamps like the back of his hand, and gives an excellent non-stop narrative as he takes you first along the towns old waterfront, out to the mouth of the harbor, up the Apalachicola River and finally into the swamp and marsh areas nearby. For over two hours Captain Ed treated us to dolphins as they played in the waters at the mouth of the bay, the nesting places of a number of birds, and my personal favorite two huge alligators nestled in the reeds and basking in the sun by the side of the channel.

In the process, he gave us a detailed account of the area from the viewpoint of a man who clearly loves nature. The history of this river and the massive wetlands it supports is full of the misguided efforts of man to change it. In nearby Tate’s Hell National Forest, (named for an early settler who was lost there for ten days before stumbling out and exclaiming “I’ve just been through hell” just before he died), the loggers who had cut down all the Cypress trees which grow well in a swamp were left with just a swamp. Their disastrous attempts to drain it so that they could cultivate the faster growing Pine trees included building miles and miles of drainage ditches that today continue to hamper the efforts of naturalist to restore the swamp to its original state. In the middle of the swamp, Captain Ed pointed out a “cut” between two channels that some lazy fisherman had made a number of years earlier so that they could pull their boat between the channels. Although the channels run side by side only a few yards apart, they are at slightly different levels, and to this day, water flows from the higher channel into the lower one, disrupting the natural flow. A little deeper in the swamp we came across a couple of “hunting camps” that consisted of small floating barges with a shanty shack perched upon them. While not technically illegal, these hunting shacks push the limits in this protected area and local conservationists are pushing hard for their removal.

Captain Ed is not really an “environmentalist” in the traditional sense of the word, but more of a conservationist. Like many who have spent their lives on the water, his concern for the environment comes from his understanding that to continue to enjoy this natural beauty, we must protect it. I can only imagine his horror as the oil from this spill approaches. Having met Captain Ed, and the wonderful people of Apalach makes this disaster even more personal for me, and I wish them and all the residents of the Gulf Coast my best. If you find yourself in Apalachicola, look Captain Ed up and take one of his Eco-Tours, you will truly enjoy it.

For more info visit Captain Ed's website at:
www.ecoexplorercruises.com

For more photos of the Forgotten Coast visit our website at:
www.ecodiscoverytour.com

Apalachicola

2010-05-16T05:41:00.000-07:00

Apalachicola, or “Apalach” as the locals call it, lies at the end of the Apalachicola River where it gently meets the Gulf of Mexico. Although visited for hundreds of years by the Spanish and other explorers, the area was sparsely populated. Founded in 1831, the town was established to receive the huge shipments of cotton that would come down the river by barge and then be loaded on ships that would take this valuable cargo to points around the world. By the 1850’s, the town was bustling with activity, and three story brick warehouses lined the waterfront. The town continued to prosper, and was able to survive the Civil War when Federal troops blockaded the harbor to prevent the South from shipping out one of its few precious revenue producing crops and receiving goods from the British in exchange. However, with the advent of the railroad the business of shipping cotton by barge began to decline, and by the late 1800’s had all but disappeared.

Luckily for the town, but later on disastrous to the environment, the logging barons of the Northeast, having depleted the great forests of the North, then turned their eyes on the huge Cypress forests that graced the land. The town reinvented itself, and the cotton warehouses gave way to lumber mills, and soon the lumber barons were building the magnificent Victorian homes that still give this town its Southern charm and beauty. Logging continued for many years, but all too soon, the slow growing Cypress were also depleted, and the logging business moved on to plunder the newly opened virgin forests of the West.

Once again the town was struggling to survive, but by the end of the 19th century, the harvesting of seafood had rebuilt the waterfront with processing houses and the burgeoning oyster business brought much needed revenue to the area. The county now harvests more than 90% of Florida’s oysters, and about 10% of all the oysters consumed in the U.S. Known for their mild briny flavor, they are favored by chefs around the country. Shrimp, blue crab, and a variety of fish are also caught and processed here.

Today, the town retains the flavor of a small fishing village, and is still pretty sleepy for a tourist town. The people who come here come for the local flavor, not for the miniature golf courses, shopping malls, and big chain restaurants, as they are nowhere to be found. The wide tree-lined streets and the meticulously maintained homes reflect the pride and the spirit of the people who live here. Many of the old buildings have been preserved and the downtown is an eclectic blend of unassuming shops and unique restaurants where the chefs sometimes wander from their kitchen to the neighbors to get a taste what’s going on over there.

Despite all the challenges, the town is determined to stay alive no matter what gets thrown at it. When we were there however, the relentless volcano of oil that is now gushing from the sea floor hundreds of miles away was just another oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, and the name Deepwater Horizon had not yet spelled potential disaster. The last two hurricanes that came through here did a lot of damage, and there are still dozens of boarded up buildings and abandoned piers along the water. One gets the sense that it wouldn’t take much more to push this area over the edge and make another recovery damn near impossible, but these people are tough and resilient. Let’s just hope the chorus “Drill Baby Drill” is not their final swan song.

The Forgotten Coast

2010-05-15T05:45:00.001-07:00

After we left Texas, we decided to head back along the Gulf Coast and spend a little time relaxing along Florida’s Gulf Coast. With the recent oil spill disaster that is unfolding there, we are not only glad we did, but also painfully aware of the potential for massive ecological damage to an area that has already seen more than its share of both manmade and natural disasters. The Gulf Coast is already an enigma of pristine eco-systems and manmade trash. The oil industry is everywhere, and the sights and smells of its business are strewn across the land. The fishing industry, that has more to lose than anyone, has also made its footprint visible here. While virtually all of the small private fishermen cherish the waters from which they draw their livelihood, many of the larger commercial operations have poorly maintained facilities that can be an eyesore along the waters.

While we were there however, before the foul stench of crude oil and the heartbreaking sight of dead and dying birds, fish, and other wildlife began to become an almost inevitable certainty, the Gulf Coast was basking in the beautiful spring sun and the glistening white sand beaches were nearly devoid of the tourists that would soon come to enjoy the fine weather. But even then, before the spill, everywhere we went the double whammy of back to back hurricanes combined with an economy that has been pummeled not only by nature but by the winds of change in America, has left empty shells of businesses, vacation and retirement homes, and shattered dreams scattered along the coast like so many broken seashells.

As we left the populated areas around New Orleans and headed east along the coast, we decided to visit an area that has been dubbed “The Forgotten Coast”. Legend has it that the nickname came about as a result of a tourism brochure printed many years ago that extolled the virtues of Florida but completely neglected to mention this area that stretches for over a hundred miles from Panama City to just south of Tallahassee. With miles of sugar sand beaches, barrier islands, wildlife refuges, marshes, swamps, and teeming with wildlife, this area should probably consider itself lucky to have been forgotten. While there is certainly plenty of development, the economy managed to bring most of it to a screeching halt before the endless rows of condos and beachfront developments that plague much of the rest of Florida’s coast could completely envelope the area. This has left an area that with the exception of a few pockets where the ubiquitous beachwear and t-shirt shops, factory outlet stores, and scooter rentals have managed to take hold is still fairly quiet and holds a few treasures like the little town of Apalachicola, that we made the center of our visit there. Over the next few days, we would learn more about the people, the history, and the future of this paradise teetering at the tipping point.

Spill Baby Spill

2010-05-03T06:08:00.000-07:00

Having recently spent several weeks along the Gulf Coast stretching from New Orleans and through Pensacola, and then along the “Forgotten Coast” of the Florida Panhandle near Apalachicola, we are acutely aware of not only the natural beauty of the area, but also the fragile nature of the ecosystems there. Already damaged by the cumulative effects of mankind and the back to back damage from a series of devastating hurricanes, this area is now faced with a challenge beyond our imagination. Having experienced first hand the effects of an oil spill in an area not nearly as fragile or teeming with wildlife, I can only imagine what the long-term effects of this disaster are going to be.

With that said, I want to apologize for this disaster because it is entirely my fault. Yes, BP and Transocean are responsible for the failure of the equipment, and yes, our Government is responsible for the failure to regulate those responsible for the equipment, but in the end I am responsible for my insatiable appetite for oil that caused all this to begin with. I am not a big oil user by any means, so even more responsible, and soon to be crying for help are the fishing fleets that rely on big diesel motors to ply the waters and harvest the fish that will soon be dying by the millions. The day they stop using oil to power their boats is the day I will feel that they should be compensated for the losses they will suffer from this. The truth is none of us are innocent, and once again I include myself with my solar powered home and all my good intentions in this statement. I still drive a truck, I still have more products than I care to think of that are made from oil and I am still a major part of the problem.

So we can cry, and we can point fingers, but in the end there is only one culprit. You, me, and the horse (power) we rode in on. I don’t care how “green" you tell me you are, and I spend a great deal of time telling others how “green” I am. MEA CULPA. I am guilty, you are guilty, and now we will collectively pay the price. The government has said that BP will be responsible for all the costs associated with this spill. I know the birds and fish and turtles and all the other wildlife that teems along these shores are looking forward to receiving their first check from them.

I am not an oil spill expert, but I am smart enough to read between the lines of what our government and the scientists are telling us to realize that this is a disaster of epic proportions, and one that will hasten the tipping point for total global ecological disaster by a magnitude that will not be understood for years or even generations to come. President Obama, bowing to pressure from the Republicans, and desperate to find any other solution to our addiction to oil than actually kicking the habit recently proposed (much to my absolute shock and horror) an increase in offshore drilling to reduce our dependence on foreign oil.

There is only one dependence that can be reduced that will help in the end, and that is the dependence on oil and a high carbon footprint lifestyle. Drill Baby Drill only invites Spill Baby Spill, no matter who is in charge. Developing carbon free, renewable sources of energy on a scale equal to or surpassing the nuclear arms or race to the moon may be the only answer that will actually produce any results. So from the car we drive, to the lights in our house, to the plastic bags for our groceries, and a thousand other products we use everyday that we don’t even know are made from oil, like our food, we must all change our ways.

Texas Wildlife & Wildflowers

2010-04-27T06:29:00.000-07:00

Texas is well known for its wildlife, from the Coyote Ugly bars in San Antonio, to the beaches on the Gulf Coast, but from the moment we arrived in Texas, we realized that the wildlife here, in the form of birds, deer, turtles, turkeys, wild pigs, and even a panther or cougar of some sort that I saw and nobody could seem to identify, is abundant everywhere. From a maddening good hour before you wanted to wake up, the birds sang a cacophony of tunes that dazzled the senses. At the same time, some of them were predictable, and began each day with the same tune at the same time and led us to wonder, was it the same bird? At any rate, wherever you turned in Texas, there was wildlife in abundance.

One day I came across a group of wild sow pigs that were nurturing their suckling piglets. There were only perhaps a half dozen mamas or so, but there were easily 50 or more tiny piglets traveling aside, “How cute” I said as we drove by them. “Not really” my Texas companion replied. “These pigs are not indigenous to the area, and those 50 piglets will become 400 pigs within a year, and will eat everything in sight, causing huge environmental problem. There is an open season on hunting pigs year round, and hopefully, the landowner here will realize that they have a problem and come down and slaughter as many of these pigs as they possibly can.”

I love animals, and the thought of destroying them really bothers me, but man has created a situation where it is very easy for some of these life forms to get out of control. This includes deer, pigs, and turtles among others, and it breaks my heart to think of having to slaughter them, but we have upset the natural balance, and it seems that all the king’s horses and all the king's men will not make it natural again.

And then there are the wildflowers. Although we left Texas just as the wildflower season was going into full bloom, the flowers here are amazing. Everywhere you go the fields and roadsides are alive with color.

So there were snakes on the road, birds in the trees, deer in the bush, turtles in the ponds, pigs on the run, big cats in the bush, and wildflowers everywhere. Texas is blessed with a plethora of wildlife, but it also has a responsibility to it as well, and I think and hope that they will take it seriously.

SMUD

2010-04-20T15:29:00.001-07:00

The particular part of Texas that we found ourselves has an interesting type of soil to say the least. After a few weeks on the ranch, I nicknamed this glutinous substance SMUD. Somewhere between sand and mud, this stuff will suck you in, chew you up, and infiltrate every part of your vehicle and every other available pore and orifice that you can imagine.

Not long after our arrival, one of the guests managed to ignore the warnings to keep the golf carts that were available to them “on the roads at all times”. The reason for this warning is that the SMUD, quickly engulfed the poor little cart and proceeded to swallow it whole. By the time I arrived, the guest (clutching what appeared to be a cocktail) had already fled in horror, and the golf cart was quickly disappearing below the surface. No problem I thought as I headed over with my ¾ Ton Chevy pickup that in addition to pulling the Airstream is also fully capable of pulling a 100 foot tall Douglas Fir out of the ground by the roots .

As I drove ever so slightly off the road to attempt a retrieval, I suddenly felt the truck begin to sink faster than George Bush’s approval ratings. This cannot be happening I thought as I continued to sink further. In just moments, I was up to my axles in SMUD and hopelessly stuck. As the sun was already beginning to sink, much like I was, I decided to come back the next day before attempting to rescue my vehicle, hoping perhaps that tiny Texas gnomes would be kind enough to dig it out during the night. Much to my chagrin, there it was the next morning, still buried to the axles, and still going nowhere. Now I have been stuck in the mud before, but this SMUD is not like anything I have ever seen this far from the beach. I once watched a full-size pickup sink beneath the sand completely on the Oregon Coast, and for awhile, I was afraid that would be my fate as well. Pretty soon though, a few good souls but especially my friend Armando pitched in to help me out, and through a combination of manpower and horsepower, finally managed to free me from what I can only describe as quicksand.

Just a word of advice should you ever find yourself in the middle of Texas surrounded by SMUD. Stay “on the roads at all times”!

Armando

2010-04-19T17:32:00.000-07:00

One of the true pleasures of our stay in Texas was the opportunity to work with Armando. Armando was the lead ranch hand, and an indispensible part of the operations. Always there, always smiling, and always ready to do whatever it took to get the job done, Armando is the kind of guy you want on your team and easily did the work of two less dedicated people.

I am an early riser, but everyday when I showed up at the barn to get things started, Armando was already there and already working. God only knows what time he got started, and he was usually still working when I called it quits from shear exhaustion.

When my truck got stuck in the quicksand that they call dirt here, Armando jumped in with a shovel and helped me dig it out by hand. When a few of the cattle got loose on the road, Armando showed me how to use a combination of food to bribe them and brains to fool them into heading back into the pasture. And when we got ready to leave, Armando showed me that between his somewhat limited English, and my very limited Spanish, we had built a bond that I will always remember.

So here’s to Armando..Via con dios Amigo!

Get along little doggie!

2010-04-18T08:34:00.000-07:00

One day the ranch owner called and suggested I “go along” on a “calf tagging" expedition. The new crop of young cattle had just been born, and in preparation for eventually selling off these cattle so the land can be returned to a more natural state, all the young calves would need to be tagged. This of course is something which I knew only enough about to be pretty sure I don’t want to be involved, but what the hell, I grabbed a pair of gloves and met Paul out in the field. Paul smiled heartily as I told him that Carol suggested I “watch” them tag some calves. “Watch!” he laughed, “ain’t no such thing as watching!”.

This turned out to be true, and I soon found myself knee deep in mud and cow shit and watching in amusement as grown men tried to throw ropes around the necks of the baby calves. Much like archery, I didn’t have a lot of experience at calf roping, so I quickly decided that I would just grab one of the suckers. I was almost instantly successful, and in one of those “be careful what you wish for” moments soon found myself with a “small” calf that probably weighed a hundred pounds and was at least as strong as I was nestled in my arms. Needless to say, the calf was not overly happy about this, and I quickly found out that his thousand pound mama wasn’t either. Snorting and bellowing at me to let go of her calf, I found out that the best defense against an angry cow is a cowboy hat. Unfortunately I had left my cowboy hat, along with my cowboy boots and chaps back where I never owned them, and was grateful when Paul came to my rescue and chased mom off. We got that first calf tagged in short order and emboldened with my success, I soon grabbed another and another. While the Texans were having little success with their ropes, when all was said and done, three out of the four calves we were able to tag that day succumbed to my clumsy but successful technique. Final score JB 3….Cowboys 1!

On the other hand, one of the things I did enjoy was riding a horse, and whenever possible I tried to tag along on the morning horseback ride. These weren’t just horses, these were Paso Finos, and a more enjoyable, easy gait ride cannot be had. The 650 acres held a load of visual treasures in the early morning light, and I never grew tired of seeing the oaks or the cedars, the ponds and the turtles, or the other farm animals out for their morning stroll.

On the Job Training

2010-04-13T04:28:00.000-07:00

As part of the work we had agreed to do on the ranch, I became involved in some of the guest and day to day ranch activities. This led to some amusing involvement in things of which I had little or absolutely no knowledge. I keep a quote on my computer that says “I am very experienced at doing that that I have never done before”. Never before in my life has this been so true. It started out with little things, like when a guest requested a one hour “Archery Session with Instructor” that was offered on the website. As there was no instructor on staff, and the only one available was me, I quickly became the staff archery expert. As luck would have it, when I was a kid my next door neighbor and constant torturer David was an expert with the bow and arrow. Try as he might, like so many skills that I tried to acquire when I was young (baseball, roller skating, wrestling, etc.), I completely sucked at it. However, what I have learned is that 40 years later, much of the knowledge that I tried to absorb at that time but that my adolescent body was simply unable to use effectively, has lay hidden under the surface just waiting to surface. Apparently this is much like the pimples that at 56 ears of age one would think you are done with, but which still seem to erupt from time to time.

Anyway, as I nocked the first arrow in the bow and prepared to take a shot, all the while pretending that I knew what I was doing, the kids I was teaching watched in awe. Pulling back the bow I let the arrow fly and much to my surprise and their amazement, nailed a bull’s-eye on the first shot. OH WOW, they exclaimed! HOLY SHIT, I thought silently to myself while outwardly pretending that this is something I do everyday. “OK, now you try” I said, breathing a huge sigh of relief that I was now completely off the hook, and wouldn’t be required to prove myself again. From now on, anything I said was the gospel, and they just ate it up.

My next challenge turned out to be trap shooting. Once again I had never even tried this sport before I was required to be an expert at it, but being an excellent shot with a pistol and a rifle, I though “how hard can this be”. What I found out is that hitting a target that is moving across your field of vision at the speed of light with a load of tiny pellets is something like merging onto an LA freeway from an on ramp while towing a truck and Airstream that are over 40 ft. long and don’t exactly accelerate like a Ferrari. Something I do have experience with. It’s possible but not easy, and you may spoil a perfectly good pair of underwear in the process. Shotguns are a loud and messy affair compared to the guns I am used to and firing one is a rude awakening. Fire shoots from the muzzle and the stock slams into your shoulder with a force that is quite surprising. But once again, just like Leonardo Di Caprio in “Catch Me if You Can”, half of looking like you know what you are doing is successfully pretending you know what you are doing. Pretty soon terms like “lead the target” and “try and nail it before it reaches the tree line” that I had heard from Paul (a real expert) where rolling off my tongue. Before long my “students” where hitting clays like experts and all this from someone who has yet to fire a single shot at an actual target. Later I received a nice “thank you” note and a tip from one of the parties whose teenage kids I had “taught” to shoot. Will the wonders never cease!

Oddly enough, fishing was the last thing I had to look good at, and this is something I do know how to do. However having grown up a fast water trout fisherman all my life, fishing for bass and catfish in a pond was decidedly not something I was good at. In spite of that, I did manage to pull of a plausible lesson for some of the guests that day, but they did not catch any fish which is not all that unusual. Several days later when the real fishing instructor was able to show up, his guests caught a total of 15 fish (catch and release), and it was the first time they had ever done it. I was humbled, but oh well, I did pretty good overall, and as they say, two out of three ain’t bad!

Looking for the Heart of a Saturday Night

2010-04-09T17:36:00.000-07:00

Most Friday and Saturday nights were spent at Carol’s restaurant. Not only was it the best place to eat for miles around, it was pretty much the only place to eat for miles around. This does not include the Cat Springs Country Club, a converted gas station complete with the old gas pumps that apparently (since I don’t eat them) serves one hell of a good burger, except on Friday’s when they only serve catfish. Surprisingly, no major golf tournament has ever been held here. As a matter of fact there is no golf course, but if you need a warm burger and a cold beer somewhere halfway between Austin and Houston, this is the place.

Anyway, back to Carol’s. Carol, the owner of the ranch/B&B that we were staying and working at, has built a local clientele based on a very un-Texas like menu, a little good wine, and lots of good company. While we soon knew all the usual suspects that would show up on any given weekend, we never got tired of the way they welcomed us into their world.

We soon learned that the always impeccably dressed in his Texas best Poor Ol’ Bob’s wife G. Marie was a world class country music writer and singer who would often entertain us until late at night after most of the regular guests had long departed. We got to know Paul & Robin, close neighbors of Carol’s that loved to drink a little, OK sometimes a lot of wine and laugh and laugh. Paul soon became the natural target for some of my jokes, and was always able to flick it back at me in style. Paul is a giant of a man with a handshake, a smile, and a laugh to match. And who could forget Skeeter, a Pulitzer Prize winning photographer, Skeeter has adopted Carols ranch at Cat Springs as his home, and tirelessly helps Carol with whatever he can in exchange for an extraordinary place to hang his hat and practice his art Then there was Pete. Pete was a character that would show up after a couple of beers at the Country Club for a couple of more at Carol’s and liven up the party. He also has a heart of gold, and one night presented Kate with a beautiful hand-made “Sunday-Go-to-Meeting” walking stick made of Texas Crape Myrtle with a brass head and tip. Kate was stunned and it is just one of the mementos we will carry with us forever.

These are just a few of the wonderful people we would meet, and does not include Carol’s delightful staff. People like Gina who will soon be headed to Ireland to try her hand at acting in a country where she will stand out instead of being just another waitress/actress wanna-be that line the streets of New York and Los Angeles. Or Cindy who proudly showed us the pictures of her beautiful children including her 10 year old daughter who is preparing to break out of small town Texas and leave for Australia on a scholarship program for which Cindy worked her heart out to support her.

As much as they like to wave, most Texans we met also like to laugh. They have an open, no holds barred sense of humor that not only allows them to laugh at the rest of the world, but also at themselves. Not everybody can do this, and it’s one of the things that makes them so endearing. And when they laugh, Texans don’t let out a little guffaw, or a slight chuckle, the Texans we met preferred a great big belly laugh and a smile as big as their heart. While their sense of humor tends toward the more obvious, they seemed to love my sense of humor which tends toward the subtle play on words and the pun. While most of them did not tell that type of joke, they seemed to love them, and it was very rewarding to have a table full of Texans at Carol’s of Cat Springs laughing that big old Texas laugh.

The Texas Two-Finger

2010-04-08T17:52:00.000-07:00

One of the first things you find out about Texans is that they are friendly. They are very, very friendly and they like to wave at you. In fact, they like to wave at you a lot. At first we thought the maybe it was our Oregon license plates, or the classic Airstream we were pulling, but after we had been there awhile, we realized that they wave at everybody and it’s apparent that different occasions call for different waves.

First, there’s the graceful “Rodeo Queen” wave that you are likely to get from a total stranger sitting on their porch as you drive by. Then there’s the “Howdy Y’all” wave which is much bigger and more enthusiastic and is likely to be given when you pass a group of Texans out for a horseback and Lone Star Beer ride which they are frequently known to participate in. But perhaps my favorite wave, and the one that will damn near wear you out giving it, is what I call the “Texas Two-Finger” wave. This ubiquitous wave is given by most country-dwelling Texans to nearly every truck that passes by. I say truck because I never actually drove a car in Texas, and I’m not sure it has the same status as a truck, but when you are driving a truck, Texans honor you with this wave. It is a subtle little wave compared to the others, and involves clutching the top of the steering wheel and then raising the first two fingers of your right hand in a salute to passing drivers. Maybe it’s because the countryside is so vast out there, and just seeing another human being can be a cause for celebration, or maybe it’s because Texans are just so damned undeniably friendly. Either way it becomes a reflex after a while and something you actually miss when you travel out of state or go to Houston which apparently many Texans would like to believe actually is out of the state.

After three months in Texas this had become such a habit that I absentmindedly did this little wave as we headed east through Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, and finally into Florida. In some cases people just glared at me or I got no response at all, while in others I got the famous one-finger salute so well known outside of Texas. I finally had to make myself stop altogether as I was afraid I was drawing the attention from some of the local police. It’s funny how something like a wave can be so much a part of life in one place, and so out of place in another.

Welcome to Cat Spring Texas!

2010-04-04T08:42:00.000-07:00

Of all the States we have visited, one of those we least thought we would spend much time in was Texas. We had both “been” to Texas before, and although the people here were always very friendly, neither one of us had seen much here that we thought would bring us back. What we found out is that Texas, like California only even more so, is so big that you haven’t really “been” to Texas until you have traveled thousands of miles through all types of terrain.

We also found that the people here are not only very friendly, they have a ribald sense of humor, love to eat, drink and party together, and make everyone feel at home.

We ended up in Texas for two reasons. One, you kind of have to go through it to get from Louisiana to New Mexico. Two, we had been invited to the tiny town of Cat Spring by the owner of a 650 acre ranch that also operates as a very unique Bed & Breakfast. Scattered across the acreage is a plethora of small cabins, cottages, and farmhouses available for guests. Each one is tastefully done in variety of themes, and guests come here to get a taste of ranch life and away from the big city. The ranch owner who is interested in returning a portion of the ranch to a more natural prairie state, and “greening” up her operations had invited us to visit and discuss a possible consulting position as she moves forward with her project. The opportunity to spend some time on the ranch and discuss the possibilities for the future was very tempting, so after spending the holidays in New Mexico with my family, we headed back to Texas.

The ranch is situated in the bucolic rolling prairie lands that begin at the edge of the Texas Hill Country. Studded with massive live oaks and dotted with ponds, the ranch is currently home to a small herd of cattle, some horses, chickens, peacocks, geese, goats, a pot-bellied pig, dogs and cats, along with a few emu, antelope, bison, a kangaroo, and even a camel. The long-term plan that they are working on is to remove the cattle and restore the pastures to their native prairie grasses and wildflowers. This is a process that is slowly gaining popularity in Texas, a place where cattle are king, and an exciting trend for the future. The ranch owner also wants to establish a wildlife preserve here where some of the native species such as fox and quail can return and flourish.

Sitting halfway between Austin and Houston, Cat Spring is a tiny little town with only one stop sign, a Post Office, a couple of Antique stores, and Carol’s at Cat Spring, an incongruous gourmet restaurant operated by the owner of the ranch. This would become our home and the source of our adventures for the next three months.

Three Rivers New Mexico-Ghosts, Rattlesnakes, Petroglyphs, and Trains!

2010-01-04T17:21:00.000-08:00

Our friends and artists Cameron and Pamela Blagg who we visited in Montana (Our Visit to the Blagg's) had told us they would be in New Mexico in December to give Sue Tassinari, their partner at their Art Gallery and Trading Post in the former Ghost Town of Three Rivers, New Mexico a little time off. As we were planning to be at my Mom’s in Albuquerque for Christmas, we figured we could fit a visit in. I love Ghost Towns and the history that surrounds them, so I couldn’t wait to get there.

As we drove past the Trinity Site where the world’s first nuclear bomb was detonated, the desert spread out in front of us for as far as the eye could see. I have always appreciated the stark beauty of the desert, but I’m thinking “not much of a place for an art gallery”! Much to our surprise, in the middle of this desolate landscape, Three Rivers jumped out of the desert and appeared like a shining oasis. This classic stucco New Mexico building with its jutting portico, exposed wood support beams, and bee hive shaped anteroom, just reeks of history. It has been everything from a Biker Bar, Restaurant, Post Office, Trading Post and God knows what else in its lifetime. The Blagg’s bought it in a severely run down condition, and have with the help of Sue and some of the locals, restored it to not only its former glory but a new state of beauty. Complete with an old schoolhouse, the town is a mere shadow of its former self. Once a bustling whistle stop, after the trains no longer stopped here for water, the town dried up and died.

Cameron greeted us with a big smile at the door, and we were soon parked out back with an absolutely stunning view of the snow-capped Sacramento Mountains. As it is winter, the trees that normally make the grounds surrounding the Trading Post green were barren, but from the pictures we had seen, you could tell that in the summer this place was gorgeous in that high desert sort of way.

The Blagg’s had invited us to stay as long as we wanted, which is a huge mistake when you are dealing with a couple of boondocking, Airstreaming, gypsies like us. After over 17.000 miles of traveling, I had some maintenance work to do, so we took them up on it. While we were here, we also wanted to do a little sightseeing, and check out the Three Rivers Petroglyphs Site in particular.

This area is known for its overly large rattlesnakes, but luckily it is too cold for them this time of year, so they were all hibernating. Sue told Kate some pretty good stories of her encounters with them. I like snakes, but prefer the non-venomous kind, and as I was about to spend the next couple of days lying on my back under the trailer, I was not too upset that they were nowhere to be seen.

Our arrival at Three Rivers had nearly doubled the current population here, and along with Cameron and Pamela, actually increased it five-fold from its normal high of one. As Cameron has been debating the installation of a new water system, we wondered if our arrival as terminally unemployed workers might somehow make the water project “shovel ready” and qualify the town for some much needed Obama Bucks! With a 40% unemployment rate (us), a few million bucks would go a long way here, and based on some of the other projects we have seen that have qualified, this would be money well spent.

As we settled in for our first night, we began to hear the trains. They started as faint ghostlike screams out on the desert and then rolled into long lonesome whistles and finally rocketed through the Airstream like an eight ball hammering into the corner pocket. It is a good thing we like trains, because they were frequent, long, and mighty close by. Having lived in a house in Bend for a short time that was so close to the tracks that over the years the framework of the house had actually gotten loose, the house would rock and roll like Elvis before he donned a white cape and got fat. So needless to say we were used to it, and it soon became part of the routine.

At the Three Rivers Petroglyphs site there are over 20,000 Native American Petroglyphs and I drove up to take some photos in the early morning light. As the first rays of the sun played across the rocks, I thought about the people who once lived here and created these works of art. What were their lives like? What inspired them to create these drawings? Was it a desert when they lived here? I later got a chance to chat with Joe Ben Sanders, a friend of Sue’s who is the premier expert on not just the petroglyphs in this area, but the history of all the native peoples and the settlers up through modern times. Joe is a true local, born and raised, and an unassuming gentleman who I never saw without his signature cowboy boots and hat. From his laid back country manner, you might think he drove trucks or raised cattle for a living, but Joe is a trained archeologist and I listened intently as he told me his theories about the Indians who once lived here. Joe has developed a somewhat controversial theory that the modern day Hopi’s are the descendants of these Indians, and bases it on years and years of studying the petroglyphs both here and throughout New Mexico. What most people see is a random scattering of drawings almost like graffiti, from a people who disappeared long ago. What Joe sees are the legends of the Hopi, still handed down today from one generation to the next. His passion for the subject and the area has spawned dozens of books on the subject, some of which are available at the Trading Post. You can see the Petroglyphs at my photo gallery on our website at: ……..

While we were in the area we took in the White Sands National Monument, the old mining town of Ruidoso, and Lincoln City, the hangout of Billy the Kid. We also stumbled across the ironically appropriate “Post Apocalypse Reclamation Center” in the nearly deserted downtown of nearby Carrizozo.

We ended up spending nearly two full weeks at Three Rivers as the Airstream repairs took longer then anticipated, and the hospitality and the ever-changing beauty of the desert were a joy indeed. If you ever find yourself on HWY 54 headed North out of Alamogordo (and who doesn’t!) stop by Three Rivers and say hello to our friend Sue. There is always a pot of coffee on, and as the two bikers who stopped by while we were there had heard, it is the best in New Mexico.

For more photos of the Petroglyphs and New Mexico CLICK HERE to visit our website.

Christmas in Cuba-New Years in Nowhere!

2010-01-03T16:25:00.000-08:00

My Sister’s family has a small cabin just north of Albuquerque in Cuba, New Mexico. Despite the fact that I managed to piss most of my family off through some disparaging remarks about Albuquerque after our truck was vandalized there, they invited us to spend Christmas with them anyway. That is the beauty of family, no matter what kind of grief you give them, eventually they always seem to love you anyway.

Snow had fallen the day before we arrived, and although it made it difficult to reach the cabin, it was beautiful. The storm had passed through and left some bitterly cold but strikingly blue skies behind. My sister had arranged for us to stay at a friend’s place just down the road and when we arrived we found a quaint little cabin nestled in the pines and glistening in the snow. Already pretty warm from the solar potential created by the large windows and brick flooring, the woodstove soon had the cabin cooking, and we looked forward to a quiet night in front of the fire.

As we settled in for the night, I thought about Christmas, which is a somewhat confusing time for me. I appreciate in so many ways what some people call the “true meaning of Christmas”. It is a time for family, for friends, for giving and receiving, and for cherishing the gift of life and all the people we know and love. On the other hand I am appalled by the commercialization of Christmas, from the ritual of “Black Friday” to the conspicuous over consumption that it inspires. As we are on the road full time and it is much harder to send or to receive gifts, we have been largely spared from participation this year. Our Spartan lifestyle on the road has also led us to find that what we really don’t need is more “stuff”. But my family managed to shower us lightly with gifts that we could use (food), gifts that we could love, (self-made art and music), and gifts that we could laugh at, then return (the Obama Chia Pet).

Christmas with my family was a joy and a pleasure. New Years spent with just the two of us on the New Mexico desert was a joy and a pleasure as well. Sometimes it is just another day, and sometimes it is full of meaning, but it is always full of life.

A Good Planet is Hard to Come By

2009-12-30T19:53:00.000-08:00

Nestled in the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains just outside of Tucson, Biosphere 2 rises from the desert like a gigantic diamond with thousands of jeweled facets gleaming in the sun. However all that glitters is not gold and Biosphere 2 is no exception. Plagued by controversy and labeled by many as a “failure”, this massive experiment has managed to prove that Biosphere 1, our planet, is an incredibly complex system, and that man’s puny efforts to replicate or control it often produce less than the desired result. We recently spent the day there and here is our report.

Funded by wealthy oilman Edward P. Bass, the initial project was designed to study how man might create artificial earthlike sanctuaries in space and on other planets, as well as to learn more about how our planet does what it does so seamlessly, flawlessly and seemingly effortlessly. What looks like a giant greenhouse, is in reality a complex set of systems designed to regulate the water, air and soil that was to be the key to the inhabitants survival. What they learned was that mother nature has spent billions of years, not millions of dollars to perfect her systems, and that there are so many pieces to the puzzle, that missing even the slightest detail like forgetting to seal the concrete which resulted in a gradual loss of oxygen, can be a disaster. But unlike Biosphere 2, where the occupants always had the option to open the doors and step back into Biosphere 1, we have no options when it comes to our survival.

As with any experiment, the outcome is not always certain, that is why you conduct it. So Biosphere 2 is considered by many, as living proof of how resilient life is on this planet, and yet how fragile, surviving only within a narrow band of environmental parameters. If, like the designers of Biosphere 2, we miss a few details about the impact of human activities on the ecosystems, the results may be, just like at Biosphere 2, the shutdown or collapse of those ecosystems.

When the first eight Biospherians were sealed inside the structure in 1991, the whole world was watching, and the problems began almost immediately. Food production was inadequate due in part to unusually cloudy skies caused by El Nino. Plastic used to reinforce the millions of cubic feet of glass reduced the UV radiation reaching the inhabitants resulting in vitamin deficiencies. Cockroaches, brought into the experiment as they were considered important for their ability to breakdown organic materials, began to overrun the place. And the people, both constantly under the microscope from the outside, yet hopelessly trapped with each other inside, began to breakdown as well. Yet remarkably, these eight people stuck it out, and for two years they worked and lived in this sealed goldfish bowl with no inputs from the outside world. The diminishing oxygen finally resulted in new oxygen having to be imported from the outside world, but in all other respects, they lived and breathed and ate and drank from the same materials, recycled endlessly, that they had entered with. When they left, they were all 25 lbs. lighter, their skin tone reflected the lack of natural sunlight, and while relatively healthy, they all looked like hell. I can only imagine the strength it took to tough it out.

By the time the second group of Biospherians entered the structure in 1994, many of the original environmental bugs had been worked out. However six months later the human factor would bring the entire mission crashing to an end, and Biosphere 2 would never again be operated as a sealed environmental test.

Today, time has taken its toll on the habitat within the structure. The various Biomes including the 850 square meter ocean complete with coral reef are in different states of health. The coral reefs, much like our own, have collapsed completely, and the science being conducted is now being changed to help us understand the effects that global warming may have on our ecosystems. The rain forest is slowly being dried out to replicate the effects of drought, and the CO2 levels in some of the other Biomes are being increased to study those effects as well. The University of Arizona now operates the project, and it appears they have saved it, at least in the short-term, from the destruction many thought would occur when a land developer who has plans for a resort hotel and housing development bought the property in 2007.

Stephen Hawking, the brilliant mathematician has said that the survival of the species may depend on our ability to leave this planet at some time in the future. I would argue that why should we waste our time and precious resources trying to find or create a new home on a distant or inhospitable planet, when we have a perfectly good one right here. Biosphere 2 has proved that it is not any easy job to steward a planet. We have a lot of work to do.

For more info and pictures, CLICK HERE to visit our website.

6 months, 17,000 Miles, 32 States, and One Lifetime Later

2009-12-21T20:02:00.000-08:00

As 2009 draws to a close, Kate and I find ourselves in the desert of New Mexico taking a bit of a hiatus from our travels. In part because we found that trying to do one of our shows or visits became more difficult as the holidays approached, in part because we wanted a chance to visit with family and friends, and finally because we needed a bit of a break from the rigors of the road.

So what have we learned in 6 months, 32 States, and 17,000 miles of traveling? Well, first of all it has been an incredible journey so far. We have met a multitudinous array of people, and virtually without exception, from North to South and East to West, these people have welcomed us warmly, treated us kindly and opened their hearts and their homes.

Sure, there were a couple of jerks, like the guy who sprayed the side of our vehicle with gravel when he became impatient in a line of cars and did a “burn out” next to us. Or the gal that sat there in front of a gas pump and finished a long cell phone conversation while our Airstream sat sticking our in the road and snarling up traffic. Or the vandals that decided to take a hammer to the side of our vehicle in New Mexico. But these were pretty minor annoyances in comparison to the hundreds of people that toured our Airstream, or the dozens that offered us a place to stay, a warm meal, or a hand with anything we needed. Many of these people were family, many were friends old and new, but many of them were complete strangers, and as we count the days to Christmas we are counting our blessings as well.

We also learned, and hopefully taught many others that you can reduce your footprint on this planet without giving up all the comforts we often take for granted. Yes, you have to make adjustments. Like turning the water on and off as you shower, which saves a remarkable volume and still leaves you feeling fresh and clean. Or how to operate a composting toilet, which although is a bit more work, the feeling you get from NOT flushing down several gallons of fresh drinking water each time you get rid of your excrement actually makes you feel guilty when you do use a regular toilet. But the biggest thing we learned is that although we lived with a lot less, we still lived in relative comfort and style, and that “giving up” things doesn’t have to be sacrifice, indeed it can be a joyful liberation.

Sometimes we learned that which we already should know. Like how the fact that our water is a finite resource becomes painfully clear when you have only a 30 gallon tank of it, and you have to think about where that next 30 gallons is going to and coming from. And as we predicted the Airstream has become for us a microcosm of the real world, and of our planets potential future. A world where water is in short supply, where our waste of all types must be carefully recycled, where when it gets hot or cold outside, it gets hot or cold inside, where a safe place to sleep at night is not a given, and where each of us considers more carefully the effects of our actions on the environment.

The first thing you learn from small space living is that no matter how few material possessions you take with you, you need less. During months of preparation for this trip, we carefully went through each item to determine it usefulness, and like many travelers we have been shedding items ever since. When you think about it, we are all just travelers on this planet. Here until the end of our journey, we will either leave it clean and ready for the next round of visitors, or trashed like some funky campground full of pop bottles, candy bar wrappers, and cigarette butts.

Our children and grandchildren are the next visitors to this campground people, what on earth will they find? We all use too much, we are all guilty, and if there is even a glaciers chance in hell of stopping catastrophic climate change, we all have to do more to use less. Here in this great country that we have been blessed to be born in, where nearly all of uses more than our fair share of our precious resources, will have to bear more of the burden for change or the less fortunate people of this world will suffer terribly as our resources become increasingly scarce.

Decidedly, not everyone we met agreed with our views. Indeed some disagreed passionately. But what was interesting is that everywhere we went, people were willing to talk about it. I remember in the 1960’s when the war in Viet Nam was raging and the struggle for civil rights had reached its peak, and it seemed like most everybody was on either one side or the other. War protesters and civil rights demonstrators were beaten in the streets by the police who were clearly aligned with the powers that be, whether it was the military industrial complex or the institution of racism, and meaningful dialog was hard to come by.

But today, and I believe due in a large part to the courageous struggles of the 60’s that changed our society forever, people seem at minimum willing to talk, and frequently willing to listen. However as they say, talk is cheap, and as we just learned in Copenhagen recently, we can talk a lot and get little or nothing done. The time for action is upon us, and personally we have decided to act. We hope from our actions will come results, and from those results, a chance to keep learning more about how we can shape the future. We hope you will continue to join us.

Best wishes from the road!

John & Kate

New Photo Galleries

2009-12-20T16:53:00.000-08:00

We've just added several new photo galleries for your enjoyment. To see hundreds of new photos, CLICK HERE!

The Gas Museum

2009-12-19T09:16:00.000-08:00

As we were headed toward Taos on our way to visit the Earthship Landing Zone, we passed an amazing pile of gas station memorabilia and a sign that said “Museum”. Intrigued, we pulled in and started to take some pictures. Before long we were greeted by a man who appeared from the back of the property. Surrounded as we were by the thousands of pieces of old gas stations and other automobile paraphernalia, I said “Wow! Nice collection! How long you been doing this? ” “Bout two weeks” he fired back, chuckled and wandered off towards an old Coca-Cola cooler that was sitting on the front porch.

Reaching in to the cooler, he wrestled around for a few seconds and came back up with a small wrapped package about the size of an ice cream bar. I had noticed the sign out front, in addition to saying “Museum”, also said “Moon Pies”. Having not seen a Moon Pie since some time in the 60’s, I assumed the sign was just part of his collection. But lo and behold, here he was clutching an honest to goodness Moon Pie! As he unwrapped it to eat, I couldn’t help but notice the Moon Pie almost looked like it had been around since the 60’s, but he happily began to munch on what had been one of my favorite treats when I was very young and before my Mom realized they probably weren’t the best snack food in the world.

His collection was incredible, and included everything from vintage gas pumps to oil cans and posters, and even an old typewriter of the same make and model I remember my Dad banging away on a few hundred years ago. With obvious pride he showed my brother-in-law Simon and I around the museum which was packed so tight you get barely get down the aisles. Out in the parking lot sat a nearly complete, although quite dilapidated small diner on wheels. Everything was still there, from the 50’s style bar stools to the sink and stove, and even some of the pots and pans. Johnnie, as I found out his name was, was planning on doing a full restoration this summer and selling some ice cream out of it to go with his Moon Pies.

Simon bought a small trinket, and I made a donation which I found out Johnnie gives to the local Humane Society each year. As we drove away, I realized that someday all the paraphernalia of the fossil fuel powered automobile age will end up in a museum. Perhaps Johnnie is just a little bit ahead of his time.

To enjoy more photos of the Gas Museum and New Mexico CLICK HERE to visit our photo gallery.

Earthships Land in the New Mexico Desert!

2009-12-18T15:01:00.000-08:00

While enjoying a visit with my Mother and my Sister and her family in Albuquerque, we took a little journey and headed up to Taos for the day to visit the “Earthship” community that is growing on the edge of town. The Earthship concept has been designed by Michael Reynolds who has been pioneering the development of eco-friendly housing for over 35 years, and whose innovative designs have been built around the world.

Nestled into the desert under the brilliant blue New Mexico sky, the Earthship community pops up from the sagebrush and juniper just outside of Taos. Located about a mile or so past the stunning Rio Grande Gorge, the community has been slowly blossoming on the arid landscape for over 20 years. If you are not familiar with the Earthship concept, the homes are built using a variety of readily available recycled materials, and feature solar and wind power systems, rain-catchment cisterns, gray and black water recycling, and are a showcase of low-impact living and design.

Visitors to the community are greeted at the visitor’s center and are shown a short video to familiarize them with the concepts. Accompanied by a guidebook (which you return before you leave so as to minimize their printing!), you then take yourself through the building on a casual self-guided tour. While not a complete or lived-in home, the tour allows you to see all the innovative details of the construction, as well as the energy and water saving systems incorporated in their design.

A 3000 gallon water cistern with an active water feature dominates the main room, and lush gray-water fed planting boxes in front of the passive solar windows were teeming with flowering plants and vegetables even in the middle of winter. Some of the stucco on the interior walls has been left unfinished to reveal the used tires and aluminum cans that along with the rammed earth with which they are filled, is the dominant feature of their construction. These three foot thick walls which are built into the earth on three sides provide the superior insulation that allows the passive solar features of the south facing structures to provide more than enough heat to keep the homes warm on the coldest of desert nights. Like many solar homes, getting rid of excess heat is sometimes more of a problem than using it, and the Earthships are graced with a plethora of skylights that not only bring a great deal of light into the recesses of the homes, but allow the occupants to release the extra heat when needed. The solar powered electric and the gray water filtration systems are also visible and described in detail. The very hobbit-like dwellings also feature a delightful use of recycled glass bottles which poke through the walls in intriguing patterns and send beams of colored light into the home.

Surrounding the visitors center, the rest of the Earthship community stretches out across the desert. However as a result of the south facing earth-berm design, from the tall windows that grace the front of the homes you see little of your neighbors except the floor of the desert that seems to crawl up the backside of their house.

After working tirelessly for many years, Michael Reynolds and the Earthship team is finally being recognized for their innovative designs, and was recently given funds by the State of New Mexico to build a new larger visitors center. They are also actively building pilot project homes around the world to help spread the Earthship mission and as we departed into the bright desert sun, we hoped for their success.

For more information and pictures CLICK HERE to visit our website.

The Lower Ninth Ward-The City Below the Sea

2009-11-27T12:04:00.000-08:00

While all of us have heard that the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans was devastated by Hurricane Katrina, few of us have actually seen it. What most of us are not aware of is that it was not devastated, it was utterly destroyed. After the flood waters receded, many of the homes had floated completely off of their foundations and were not necessarily even on the lot where they had once stood. Those that were still left standing had been filled with water up to the roof lines, and between the thick layer of mud that was left behind and the mold that soon blossomed from every surface, they also had to be demolished. What was left for nearly as far as the eye can see in some areas was block after block of nothing but the remnants of the fronts steps and concrete foundations upon which they once stood. For the most part, these were poor people before Katrina came and took what little they had to begin with. Over four years later, little has been done to restore these neighborhoods, and many of the residents will never return. Most have found new lives in places like Houston, a city that opened its arms to the busloads of refugees that poured out of the city.

We were not quite sure what to expect when we arrived on one of the rare cool and sunny days when the humidity is not stifling. We were there to tour the handful of homes that are being constructed by Make it Right, a non-profit organization spearheaded by Brad Pitt, and dedicated to helping rebuild this neighborhood. We were also there to answer the question that many of us ask ourselves. Should it be rebuilt?

As most of us are aware, the city of New Orleans sits on land that is largely below sea level. The wisdom of rebuilding a city that lies in such a precarious position, particularly in light of the potential for rising sea levels and increased hurricane activity associated with global climate change, has of course been questioned. As we toured the area however, here and there in the homes that had managed to survive, and in those that had been rebuilt, one could feel the spirit of this poor but once proud neighborhood struggling to rise from the ruins. In front of one of the few remaining FEMA trailers, a handwritten plea to the President and the people of this country not to forget that this was once a place where people lived and worked and had babies and died, stood as a stark reminder of that. Below it another hand painted sign showing the spreading base of a large banyan tree proclaimed “Roots run deep here”.

And deep they are for many of the residents and former residents of this area. Beginning before 1000 BC when the Mississippian culture built mounds and earthworks in their communities along the Mississippi and Ohio river valleys, and continuing when the French explorers, fur trappers, and traders arrived in the area by the 1690s, some making settlements amid the Native American village of thatched huts along the bayou, this area has been continuously occupied by a variety of cultures for thousands of years. Indeed the white settlers who came here considered what eventually became New Orleans, the “city that had to be built” lying as it does at the confluence of the Gulf of Mexico and one of the most important trade routes in the world, the Mississippi River. Today, many of the residents are direct descendants of the natives, French, Spanish, and African American slaves who helped build this city and its unique blend of cultures. For many of them, generations of their families have lived and died here, buried in the above ground catacombs made familiar to my generation by the acid-trip graveyard scene in the iconic movie of the 60’s, Easy Rider.

What is astonishing is the amount of work it took to build this city below the sea, and the equally incredible effort it takes to keep that sea and the rivers that feed into it from reclaiming it. From the bottom of the Lower Ninth Ward, the dikes and levees that hold back these waters rise way above your head, while the water itself on a beautiful sunny day like this is mere feet from their tops. One can only imagine the sights and sounds when the fury of Katrina breached those levees and filled these neighborhoods like a bathtub without a drain. In many ways this is sacred ground, and the occasional cross or memorial to the nearly 2000 people that died there are a stark reminder of what happened that day.

I happened to be in Miami less than thirty days after Hurricane Andrew did its number on that city, and the damage was tremendous. However when I returned there again on business less than a year later, it was already becoming hard to tell that the storm had ever occurred. Because it was a fairly affluent and well-insured city, money poured into rebuilding Miami. In the more affluent areas of New Orleans like the Garden District, or the French Quarter, where money flowed to rebuild these areas like the whiskey flows to feed the tourists, there are virtually no signs of the damage. However, due to a combination of a lack of insurance, a federal government that has a damaged economy and two foreign wars on its hands, the fact that this was a poor neighborhood to begin with, and that the question of whether we should rebuild still remains, four years later almost nothing has been done to rebuild the Lower Ninth Ward.

While it may seem odd and almost like shaking their fist at them, Make It Right has chosen to rebuild only a stones throw from those infamous levees. Using some of the latest in green building materials, and constructing them on stilts that would have protected them from even the highest water in the area, each of these brightly colored homes is unique, much like the people who live here. As we toured the neighborhood, these residents waved at us from the porches and yards of their newly constructed homes. Only fifteen of these homes have been built so far, but what is plainly clear is that they are not just rebuilding homes, but attempting to rebuild a community.

Should we rebuild this city? I guess that depends on who you ask. For the people we saw stubbornly rebuilding their homes there, I would have to say the answer is yes, yes we will.

To learn more CLICK HERE to visit our website.

Grass to Gas

2009-11-21T18:19:00.000-08:00

As one travels through the South, the incredibly invasive species known as Kudzu is everywhere. If you have never been in the South and have never seen Kudzu, then you cannot imagine the havoc that this plant is causing on the landscape and the environment. When I say everywhere, I mean hanging from the trees, power lines, buildings, road signs, and even cars that are parked too long will soon disappear from sight as the vine crawls relentlessly forward. This stuff is unstoppable. It can grow over a foot a day and up to sixty feet a year and it will eat anything in its path. If you cut it down, two plants will spring up in its place. First introduced to the U.S. in 1876, the planting of this non-indigenous species was actually encouraged by the Soil Conservation Service from 1935 until the 1950’s when it was discovered that we had unleashed a monster. It now covers over 7 million acres of land in this country and will soon cover millions of acres more.

As we gazed upon this vast sea of bio-mass that not only needs to be removed, but is free for the taking, we wondered if Kudzu was a viable material for making cellulosic ethanol. A little research on the internet led us to Agro*Gas, a small company in Cleveland, TN that has not only looked at it as a source of feedstock, but has developed the technology to make it work. A few days later we were able to speak with Tom Monahan, one of the principles in the company, and an expert on bio-fuels.

Tom is passionate about the subject of bio-fuels, and we quickly discovered that he sees a future in which his grandchildren can still enjoy the same quality of life as we, but without the damage to the environment. Tom sees biomass every where, and Agro*Gas has developed a proprietary method for extracting the sugars needed to produce ethanol from a wide variety of feed stocks. The problem is, there is currently no money coming to these types of projects. Somewhere along the line, the powers that be decided that corn based ethanol was the way of the future. For those of you familiar with the story of corn in this country, and its complete control by the likes of Monsanto, Du Pont, and Cargill, this will come as no surprise. Apparently using readily available bio-mass that does not depend on genetically modified seeds, petrochemical fertilizers and pesticides, makes absolutely no sense at all.

Tom also made it clear the unlike the corn ethanol industry, his company not only does not seek government subsidies and financing, they abhor the thought. They have what they believe is a viable technology for producing economically feasible bio-fuels from a variety of feed stocks, and they will be damned if they will let the government get their hands on it and completely screw it into the ground like they have done with everything else. To be truly economically feasible, this technology needs to stand on its own, without the need for subsidies that support so many of the so-called “alternative” energy programs in this country. It’s amazing, they actually believe that if you don’t have a system that can stand on its own and start to make money from the get-go you don’t actually have a viable business model. In this day and age it is rare to see this kind of entrepreneurial spirit.

What really makes the Agro*Gas system different is that it is designed to work using almost any bio-mass feedstock for its input. Corn ethanol plants, upon which we have spent billions of dollars in research and subsidies, are designed to run on one thing and one thing only, corn. Corn is food, and unless you are someone like Cargill who will profit immensely from the process, the idea of turning food into fuel when there are millions of tons of non-food bio-mass just waiting to be used is insanity. The Agro*Gas process can turn almost any type of agricultural waste of which there are many and most of which the producers actually pay to have hauled away, into fuel.

In addition to fuel, much like the “cracking” process that turns a barrel of oil into everything from cosmetics to plastic bags, Agro*Gas sees fuel as only a small part of the chain of products that can be produced by the breakdown of cellulosic feed stocks. They are actively pursuing many by-products of the bio-fuel process that may be commercially viable. Indeed much like gasoline that was burned off as a waste product by the early refineries in this country, the fuel side of the process is actually not the center point of the production. There are a variety of products that can be produced from this process that can contribute to a commercially viable process. The entire business model revolves around small regional plants that can turn local produced bio-mass into regionally consumed products. This is Buy Local-Use Local defined.

Tom let us know that they realize that they may not get rich from their process, but they firmly believe that it is the right thing to do. Based on our evaluation of anything that bucks the trend of big business or government, and takes on the Cargill’s and Monsanto’s of this world, we would wholeheartedly agree with them that they will not get rich. Most probably they will get delegated into the realm of good ideas whose time will never come because it makes too much sense. It is our hope that the Richard Branson’s and the T. Boone Pickens of the world will recognize the difference between the world that Cargill creates, and the world of the sustainable future, and step up to the plate and actually make a difference.

Vintage Airplanes, Cajun Sushi and Southern Hospitality

2009-11-14T17:15:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, as we wandered the streets of Natchitoches, LA (pronounced I am told by the locals “Nack-a-tish”although it seems to be missing a syllable) I saw a poster for a Vintage Aircraft Fly-In and 1940’s Hanger Dance. Always a sucker for vintage aircraft, and looking for a place to spend the night, we decided to drive out to the airport where this event was scheduled to begin later in the day. We found the “terminal” as it were, a small nondescript building near the entrance, and I wandered inside. I told the young man at the counter that we were “here for the air show”, and asked if he knew if there was anyplace we could park the Airstream for the night. He did not, but he quickly introduced me to a very friendly gentleman named Larry, who it turned out was the Airport Operations Manager.

As soon as I mentioned that we were here for the show and told him a little about our vintage Airstream, Larry’s southern hospitality gene went into overdrive, and two phone calls, one locked gate, and a drive across the tarmac later we had ourselves a choice spot on the grass right between the hangers and next to a small lake! We also got a Welcome Kit from the Chamber of Commerce and two free tickets to the “Aviator’s Reception” party to be held that night at a local restaurant. We felt like royalty, and after a visit from some curious members of the staff at the airport, we set up camp for the night.

As evening approached, and armed with the secret code that Larry had given us for the automatic gates that control entrance to the airport property, we headed into town for the reception. We had met one of the promoters Marc earlier in the day, and as we came around the corner still nearly a block away from the restaurant, he began waving us down and then welcomed us warmly. We were beginning to understand that southern hospitality is more than just a cliché. These people are some of the friendliest folks we have ever met, and throughout the evening, people would come up and introduce themselves to “that couple from Oregon” and welcome us to their community.

The Aviator’s Reception was being held oddly enough in this land of Cajun and Creole, in a Japanese restaurant, and we were treated to a huge spread of Sushi and other Japanese delicacies. Before long a local band set up and began a great evening of cover songs done in a decidedly Louisiana style. I ended up on stage playing a tambourine for their rendition of “Brown Eyed Girl” and as we excited the building later that night, the lead singer called out his thanks to “John from Or-y-gone!”

After a surprisingly quiet night at the airport (not much coming and going here in this small town) the next morning we watched as the planes flew in and then wandered around the grounds looking at vintage aircraft and making some more new friends. Tonight we can listen to the Big Band sounds of the 40’s as the dance is in the hanger we are camped behind. Our special thanks to the wonderful people of Natchitoches!

Containers Become Homes in North Carolina

2009-11-12T18:21:00.000-08:00

We recently had the pleasure of spending a few days with our friend Jennifer, in Boone, NC. I met Jennifer through my work with the Sustainable Furnishings Council, and she is a joy and a pleasure and one of the inspiring young people I know who really cares about the future for her generation, and the generations to come.

While we were holed up at her cabin overlooking the hill country of North Carolina, we had a chance to visit with Ethan Anderson from Dwellbox. Ethan’s company is a East coast leader in the development of “container” homes, a small but growing segment of sustainable design that revolves around the use of used shipping containers. These shipping containers, of which there are thousands and thousands , just sitting around waiting to be used or recycled, are readily available, waterproof, structurally significant, and relatively cheap.

The containers can be stacked and welded together in a variety of configurations, and then various openings can be cut out for doors and windows. In a matter of a few days, the basic structure is up and ready for the finishing touches. Complete houses can often be built in less than 90 days, significantly lowering the cost per square foot, and using far fewer wood products in the process. Structurally, the containers are designed to ride on the deck of an ocean going vessel loaded with tons of goods, and riding out thirty foot waves and torrential rain. I’m pretty sure they are adequate for the average household.

Because of their modular design, and the fact that they can be cantilevered out up to 14ft without additional support, the opportunity for creative designs including, carports, overhangs, and rooftop gardens is tremendous. Advances in eco-friendly insulation, interior finish materials, solar, rain catchment and gray water recycling systems can all be combined to create a cutting edge small space home on a budget.

We met Ethan at his office in downtown Boone, and learned quickly that he is a rapid-fire talker, and full of enthusiasm for his buildings. We headed over to their first project, a spec home on the property next door to Ethan’s own home. A small studio style apartment with an ample deck sat over the small garage nestled below. Ethan, an avid mountain biker was renting the space to one of his buddies/bike mechanic, and apologized for the rather lived-in condition of the place, including a pile of bikes in the garage. We promised to look around it and spent the next half hour learning more about the construction details of the project.

Container homes are brilliantly simple, and Dwellbox has overcome many of the challenges associated with plumbing, electrical, insulation, and interior walls with creative solutions. Perhaps the biggest challenge was convincing the local building department who, unlike some cities on the West Coast, was unfamiliar with the process, and a bit skeptical to say the least. Through their perseverance, they finally got the city to sign off on it, although not without first having one of the inspectors, a large gentleman I am told, spend some time bouncing up and down on the solid steel sub-floors just to convince himself the thing was structurally sound.

After our energizing meeting with Ethan, we drove by one of their other projects, a 1600 sq ft home outside of town that they had recently completed. This home was a good example of what can be done by creatively stacking the containers.

In addition to residential homes, Dwelbox is working on a variety of other designs including a Mobile Learning Lab, and a temporary shelter design that could replace the use of FEMA’s famous toxic trailers after Hurricane Katrina.

For more pictures or to learn more CLICK HERE to visit our website.

Sending Out An SOS (Save Our Species)

2009-11-11T17:47:00.000-08:00

I participated in an interesting thread on FaceBook lately. My friend Sally had reposted one of my posts on a piece about the disappearing glaciers of Kilimanjaro. One of her friends had responded by calling bullshit on global warming. The exchange went back and forth and a number of other people stuck in their two cents, but in the end, it was essentially a conversation between me and another gentleman who does not believe that manmade CO2 emissions are something we should be particularly concerned with. He did not believe that science has enough evidence to call manmade CO2 a culprit in global climate change, or that it even exists, and he was adamantly against any government regulation to limit those emissions. His point was that we simply do not know enough about how things work to make a judgment call. We argued passionately back and forth, and in the end neither of us really changed our position much. We both still believe strongly that the other is wrong.

As a result however, I did come to realize, both through his arguments and some other things I have come to understand lately, that one thing is certain, and perhaps it is good news. We do not need to save our planet. In spite of years of arguments by treehuggers and conservatives, naysayers and doomsayers, recyclers and political extremists, pundits, hippies, weirdoes, whackos, and those that just want to cash in on a buck no matter which side they are on, rejoice in the fact that there is no doubt, THE PLANET IS GOING TO BE OK!!

One of the main points the gentleman I sparred with appeared to be making was that there have been plenty of periods on this planet when things were warmer or colder, or wetter or drier, or maybe just full of a lot more dinosaurs than we seem to have today. But the point is, things change and Mother Earth really doesn’t give a damn. She likes trilobites and dinosaurs just as much as whales and humans. However She also doesn’t really give a hoot when She decides to sentence one of us to extinction either. As it turns out, She likes Asteroids and Ice Ages, Global Warming and perhaps even Nuclear War, just as well. She will simply, through the process of evolution and adaptation, adjust the life forms to fit the current situation on the planet accordingly.

Now, this all works fine and good, unless you happen to be one the life forms slated for extinction. I am sure that if the Dinosaurs had had their druthers, they would have continued to rule the earth for another 500 million years. We on the other hand, apparently being the one of the first species on this planet which actually has a choice, appear to be generally unconcerned about Mother Earth’s possible rejection of our species in the not too distant future. The fact that we may have elected to take most other major life forms with us in this mad dash for extinction doesn’t really matter to Her either.

So, my point is that both we and Al Gore can totally relax. The planet will be just fine. Hotter, colder, drier, wetter, bombarded by cosmic rays, or covered in ice, She will survive. The question we must ask ourselves, and be darn glad that we actually can, is if whether or not We and many other life forms will survive and more importantly if We really care.

Our history and religions tell us that we seem to think we hold some special place in the Universe. If this is the case, we need to be working on our placeholder if we intend on staying there. You can bet that if the Dinosaurs had seen headlines in stone tabloids that screamed “Killers Asteroids Headed Toward Earth” they would only have turned away and continued to devour other life forms. We on the other hand can at least look at the large body of scientific data that is being generated and decide. Will we open our eyes and look at global climate change as the asteroid that may be bearing down on us, or will we go on consuming the natural resources and other life forms around us until our fate slams into the planet like a runaway train. Most dinosaurs had brains barely large enough to support their life systems. We on the other hand appear to have been blessed with an incredible quest for knowledge and new technology. In the end however, perhaps it will be the dinosaurs that were blessed. As the world around them changed irreversibly, they simply looked up and perhaps thought “strange weather we’re having”.

So,we all need to make a choice. Will you do what you can to help save not the planet, but our species, or will you bury your head in the piles of garbage we are creating until Mother Earth decides she is done with us and sends us to the trash heap of evolution. Personally I shouldn’t really have much reason to give a damn. I have no children, and the world I hand off to the next generation is their problem, not mine or my progeny. But much like the Lakota Indians we met on this trip, we believe in the circle of life. Kate & I both have nieces and nephews that are every much as part of our families as children might be and I think we owe it to them to try and do something. I suspect however that many of you may have children or grandchildren or hopefully someday great grandchildren of your own and that you might have a hard time explaining your apathy to or downright disdain of the increasing evidence for man-made global climate change to them. “What did you do Grandpa” they will ask as the world that supports their life changes around them. And just like the War in Viet Nam that my generation suffered through, I will be able to say “I fought. Not in the war, but against it. And I’m proud.” What will you say?

Return to Pine Ridge-The White Plume Saga Continued

2009-11-03T11:53:00.000-08:00

With all of our travels, I have not had a chance to finish the remarkable story of Alex and Debra White Plume who we were fortunate to visit at their home on the Pine Ridge Reservation. If you missed the first installment of this story, I suggest you visit these pages on our blog to catch up.

Bring Back the Way-Our Visit to the Pine Ridge Reservation

Our Visit with Alex White Plume

The Treaties and the First Crop of Hemp

The Bust

As the helicopters and Suburbans full of DEA Agents swept on to their property, Alex and other members of their family went out to meet them. Alex was determined that if they were going to steal his crop, they were going to have to arrest him in the process. He had contacted the U. S. Attorney for the area and invited him to witness the harvest so that everyone could see that this was industrial hemp and that no deadly marijuana was being grown here. Now this attorney was here to watch as the DEA destroyed the hard work of these people just days before they could reap what would have been their first commercially viable harvest.

Alex positioned himself in front of his crop until the DEA agents changed his mind by pointing their automatic weapons at his head. “Don’t make this hard Alex” the attorney implored him. Still determined to be arrested so that this action would end up in court and where he stood a damn good chance of blowing the DEA’s case for making illegal raids on a sovereign nation, Alex told the attorney he could either arrest him or Alex would “kick him in the shins” and began to dance around him taking little jabs at his legs. “Please don’t make this hard Alex” he implored and walked away as the DEA held Alex at bay with their rifles.

Soon the DEA had pulled down the crop and in the process of dragging it across the field, spread thousands of seeds and next years crop across the land. They then loaded up the White Plumes hopes and dreams and fled the reservation with their illegally confiscated goods.

This game of cat and mouse would go on for the next several years as the White Plumes continued to plant their crops and the DEA continued to steal them. The Feds finally came up with the idea of simply getting an injunction against them. This would allow them to put Alex in jail for violating the injunction without the benefit of a trial that the Feds knew they would lose. With this lose-lose proposition in front of them, the White Plumes finally relented, and stopped planting their crop. Some people think they have given up and wonder why they don’t take this case all the way to the Supreme Court. But that is easy to say when you don’t have to feed and cloth your family and even more importantly when your basic beliefs tell you that the Feds have no jurisdiction in this case and the Supreme Court is a white mans court and not applicable on Indian land.

The White Plumes struggle to grow hemp will continue and is being played out by farmers across the land. Nineteen states have now legalized the growing of industrial hemp, and wait only for the Federal Government to recognize the difference between hemp and marijuana.

Here are some excellent links to learn more:

PBS-Standing Silent Nation
Friends of the Lakota
Bring Back the Way

Some Rich Men Came & Raped the Land...and Nobody Caught Em'

2009-11-02T16:52:00.000-08:00

Recently we passed through the coal country of West Virginia and Kentucky on our way to Lexington. This is a land of sharp contrasts, steep canyons, tall limestone bluffs, and deep poverty. As we wound our way through the little towns that dot these canyons, many of them bearing dark black scars from the coal that is being ripped from the earth there, we passed a strange blend of boarded up businesses and run down houses right next to state of the art schools that seemed strangely out of place. We hoped the schools represent this areas hope for the future and that the people here understand that by educating their children instead of sending them into the mines to suffer a slow and painful death, perhaps they can carve out some kind of real future for them.

While coal will continue to be mined here for many generations, the process is being increasingly automated, and thankfully for their health but furthering their poverty, the number of workers needed continues to decline. In the meantime however, coal mining continues to dominate this area. Trains filled with coal line the tracks that run down the narrow canyons for miles. Black seams of coal protrude from the bluffs and the mine shafts and conveyer belts spring from the hillsides high over the towns. There is a kind of dark grey tint from the coal dust that covers everything. Every once in a while a Burger King or a Wendy’s pops up with it’s shiny façade designed to mask the bleak existence of these hard working people, but right next door the shuttered windows and rusting cars can’t hide the broken dreams of the businesses and people that once flourished there.

But by far, the most insidious thing that is taking place in this part of the country is the practice called MTM or Mountain Top Mining by the coal industry. It is more accurately called MTR or Mountain Top Removal by its opponents. Recently this practice has been receiving more attention as the likes of Daryl Hannah and other celebrities who are working to end it. If you not familiar with it, this method of mining will shock you to say the least. First any and all vegetation is indiscriminately removed. Then the blasting begins to remove the “overburden” which actually consists of the topsoil and any rock that lies on top of the coal. This overburden is then dumped into the surrounding valleys and becomes “holler fill” where it buries the small streams that run through them. The coal is then removed until all that is left of the mountain is a flat barren plain. Although the coal companies were originally supposed to return the mountains to their “pre-mining contours” in most cases they are given waivers allowing them to create "a level plateau or a gently rolling contour with no highwalls remaining." The Bush administration in one of their more brilliant moves further eroded any protections by changing the rules to allow the dumping of the overburden directly into the headwaters of the streams. Under these heinous violations of the Clean Water Act, as well as any sensible interpretation of the Environmental Protection Agency charter, almost 500 mountains have now been destroyed and over 1000 miles of streams have been buried. The EPA estimates that by the end of 2010, over 1.4 million acres will have been leveled with the permits they have issued.

I urge you to learn more about massive ecological damage being inflicted by MTR and to help end this practice. Our use of coal to generate over 50% of our energy is already causing us huge problems by releasing massive quantities of greenhouse gases as well as other pollutants like Mercury into our ecosystems, but MTR is like coal mining on steroids and the effects are devastating. Here are some excellent links to learn more:

www.mountainjustice.org
www.wikipedia.org
www.ilovemountains.org

Gaps, Hollers, and the Occasional Notch

2009-10-31T15:20:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up and reading some of the popular tales like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow that scared the pants off me with the Headless Horseman, I was always curious about what the heck a hollow was. Being from California, I was blissfully unaware that things like Hollows, Gaps, or the occasional Notch even existed. Now as I travel through the East and South, I find that they are everywhere! To me they look surprisingly like Canyons and Passes, but apparently there are subtle differences perhaps not visible to the untrained eye. But the real difference is the magical images the words invoke. I mean just imagine if Ichabod Crane had been pursued by the Headless Horseman through Sleepy Canyon. It just doesn’t have the same ring to it, and the story would have flopped.

When I was a kid, my Dad used to take us on long hikes,and when we got tired he always reassured us that we were almost there by saying “it’s right through that notch”, so I sometimes cringe when I hear that word. But now as we head into the fourth month of our journey I keep thinking to myself “it’s right through that notch”. Thanks Dad.

Bluegills and Bluegrass

2009-10-20T08:02:00.000-07:00

After meeting Ronnie, I took a little walk around the backwater lake by which we are camped and will spend the next couple of nights in preparation for a show in nearby Lexington. This little park is operated by the city of Shelbysville and is a favorite fishing spot for the locals who began to filter in around 4 o’clock and take up their positions at the various docks and benches that dot the shore of this tiny deep green lake. Ronnie had wet my appetite for fishing and I was wondering what they were catching and what they were using for bait.

As I wandered around the lake in the gathering dusk, watching the fisherman cast their lines, I stumbled across a large green fruit with a convoluted skin that looked something like a human brain. I picked one up and found that it had a strong but not unpleasant odor similar to a slightly sour orange. I had never seen one before and took it with me as I continued along the trail that ran along the bank.

Still curious about the fishing, I approached a black couple who had parked their chairs by the side of the lake and were quickly filling their bucket with fish. “Evening” I said, “Catching anything?” “Got some nice Blue Gill and a few Crappies” the man answered as his companion kept up her serious fishing without so much as a glance in my direction. “Watcha using for bait” I queried as I had never actually fished for either one. “Red wigglers” he replied and held up a can that had small red worms busting from the rich dark soil it contained. As worms are easy to come by, I was already planning the next evenings’ possible fishing trip and asked him how he cooks them. “Just cut the heads off and fry em’ up good” he laughed. I could just imagine the look on Kate’s face as the smell of fish filled the Airstream. “Works for me” I replied with a slight grin at the image in my head.

Seeing as I had a local here, I held out the fruit I had dragged along with me “What the heck is this?” I asked. “Bodark” he drawled. “Least that’s what we call em’. Technical name is Hedge Apples.” “Never seem or heard of em’. Odd looking things, are they edible?” I wondered. “Nope, but they do a hell of job getting rid a bugs. Just quarter em’ up and stick em’ in the corners. No more bugs!” he exclaimed with a sparkle in his dark brown eyes as a smile spread across his face. “An they’s walnuts in them trees over by the outhouse and hickory nuts just down the road” he offered. I thanked him for the tips on the fishing and bringing me up to speed on the local fruit and nuts. “Names Johnny” he offered as I began to wander off and stuck out his calloused hand. “John” I said and he laughed. “Can’t be all bad then.”

Later I would find out that these fruits are also known as an Osage Orange and that they were used to grow hedge rows all over Kentucky before the advent of modern fencing. Prized for being “Horse High. Bull Strong, and Hog Tight” they were tall enough that a horse could not jump it, stout enough that a bull could not push through it, and woven so tightly that even a determined hog could not find its way through. Still an odd looking thing though.

Tomorrow I think I’ll grab my fishing pole and a bag for some nuts, and see what I can come home with. Perhaps there will be walnut crusted pan-fried blue gill on the menu at the Airstream Hotel!

Welcome to Kentucky

2009-10-20T07:53:00.000-07:00

As I set up camp tonight in Shelbysville KY, I was approached by a young man out riding his motorbike. He stared at our license plates and asked “Y'all from Oregon?” I answered yes, and that we were a long way from home. He pointed to the house down the road and let me know he lived "over yonder” and then wondered “So, did you hear that us people from Kentucky don’t wear no shoes and stuff?” I told him we have been traveling all over the country and that people are just people and we don’t pay much mind to what other people say about them. “Uh-huh, I ain’t never been outside of Kentucky” he mumbled hanging his head down ever so slightly. “They’s hickory nuts in them trees next to your trailer if you wan’ em, and we go fishing down in the lake most every day. Not today though, I got band practice, I’m learning to play guitar” “Good for you, keep it up” I encouraged him.

“My name’s John by the way” I offered. “Ronnie” he said and looked back toward his house where a pickup truck was pulling in as the sun settled over the lake behind us. “That’s my Pa, I gotta’ go. How long you gonna be here?” he asked. “Until Friday, see ya around?” “Yea, see ya” he said as he kicked over the reluctant motor on his bike and searched for first gear. “Can’t never find first” he complained and drove off down the road. I suspect I might see a little more of Ronnie over the next few days. Maybe he will take me fishing, and maybe I can teach him about solar power.

The Blue Ridge Mountains

2009-10-14T14:10:00.001-07:00

We spent two gorgeous days in Virginia winding down the spine of the Blue Ridge Mountains along a meandering route known as Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway. Here the riotous colors of fall that we have followed down the eastern seaboard from Vermont were stealing across the verdant landscape. I learned that rather than “turning” colors in the fall, each day as the chlorophyll drains from the leaves, the vibrant shades of red, yellow and gold emerge from the leaves where they have lay hidden under the cover of green. For almost 225 miles we traveled along this narrow winding ribbon of road and marveled at the unspoiled beauty that spread before us.

The only commercial enterprises in the entire length of this drive are operated by the National Park Service, and are quietly placed there with only a small park style sign to mark their presence. Other than these few discreet interruptions, there are no fast food joints, no tourist traps, no billboards, and very little else to distract your eye from the natural beauty of the area. In many areas, the deep dark forests roll over the hills for as far as the eye can see, and it is easy to imagine this magical place as it was when only the early inhabitants wandered through here to hunt and gather. Deer are abundant, and although it is strictly illegal to feed them so that they will remain as wild as possible, they have little or no fear of man as they cannot be hunted here either. Walking through the forest on the first day, I came across two bucks grazing on a luxurious patch of grass. As I emerged from the woods, these two large animals with their imposing rack of antlers were less than ten feet away from me and at first I believe I was more surprised by them than they were by me. They nonchalantly looked up at me, then dropped their heads to the grass and resumed their quiet chewing.

When we returned at last to a small city on the edge of the park, I was dragged kicking and screaming back into civilization and reminded once again of the impact we have on this planet. Like an island in the sea, this small oasis is a treasure and a reminder that “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children”.

Frank & Barbara's-Sabillasville Maryland

2009-10-12T14:01:00.000-07:00

Before he died in 1985, my Dad was married to Barbara. Although we had only met her a few times, she is a intelligent and charming woman and along with her husband Frank they opened their home just south of Gettysburg to us. We felt a little guilty about showing up when we did as Frank was recovering from surgery, but they assured us that it was OK, and indeed we felt very welcome there.

Frank, in spite of his surgery was a firecracker and regaled us with stories and jokes while Barbara plied us with wonderful food. The setting was spectacular, and we found out that we were literally just over the hill from Camp David where the Presidents of the United States enjoy their holidays. Luckily Mr. Obama was not in residence, or I might have been tempted to drop by and give him my two cents worth. My feeling is however he would probably have told me to keep the change. As I was still attempting to get caught up on my writing I took advantage of the solitude of their rural Maryland home to do so.

On Saturday we took the train into Washington D.C. and spent a great day at the Green Festival where we got to see our friend Summer from Envirotextiles, and run in to Ed Begley Jr. whose TV Show “Living With Ed” I had done a guest appearance a while back. The highlight of the day however was Summer’s “Green Fashion Show” which featured a variety of hip hemp clothing. For more about the Green Festival, go to (Washington DC Green Festival).

Sunday we took a drive past Camp David and through the Catoctin Mountains where we stumbled across an Antique Car Show. While antique cars are not particularly "green", they are a form of recycling, and hold a place in my heart next to antique Airstreams.

The next morning as we headed off for the Blue Mountains, Frank and Barbara wished us well and sent us down the road with a nice bag of new potatoes, one of the other perks of visiting friends and family!

The Green Festival-Washington D.C.

2009-10-11T15:28:00.000-07:00

Our timing was perfect to attend the Washington D.C. Green Festival. One of five festivals, they are held in San Francisco, Seattle, Denver, Chicago, and D.C. We took a train into D.C., (an experience in itself and only $4.70 round trip!) and arrived at the train station strategically located just beneath the Convention Center right on time. Our friend Summer from Envirotextiles and Vice-President of the Hemp Industry Association (HIA) was going to be there and the HIA had a new Hemp Pavilion inside the show. Summer also let me know that she would be doing a “Hemp Fashion Show”, but that in no way influenced my decision to attend!

The new Hemp Pavilion occupied a large section of the floor and was a showcase for a wide variety of hemp products including clothing, food, soaps, cosmetics, pet products, and building materials. It was very well done and throughout the day speakers and vendors from the HIA gave short presentations to the crowd. On the whole, the presentations were entertaining and well done and Adam from Capitol Hemp in D.C. kept the crowd laughing while he educated us on the benefits of Industrial Hemp. All in all, I thought that the Hemp Pavilion was the highlight of the show, and quite frankly was a bit underwhelmed by the rest of the displays. It sort of had your typical Home Show feel with a little dash of green.

The show was fairly busy from the start and the crowds continued to grow throughout the day. I ran into Ed Begley Jr. whose television show “Living With Ed” (click here to visit)I had appeared on a while back. Ed was very gracious and thanked me for helping his wife Rachelle with the project she was working on. We also got a chance to rub elbows with Ralph Nader when he paid a visit to the Hemp Pavilion. We only had the day in Washington, so we had to work the floor fairly quickly. Other than a pretty cool solar oven, a self-contained bio-diesel distillery, and some innovative vehicles, nothing really struck me as setting the world on fire.

The fashion show was a blast however. Summer had rounded up a ragtag group of volunteers, and without exception they put their heart and soul into the show. Summer narrated while the wanna-be models hammed it up and paraded around the stage in the latest in hemp fashions.

We soon jumped back on the train and headed back to Maryland to prepare for our next adventure.

Gettysburg Pennsylvania

2009-10-09T13:58:00.000-07:00

Gettysburg as we all know from our history class was the scene of one of the most horrific battles of the Civil War. The town itself is full of beautiful historic buildings but is largely overrun with tourist traps of every description. The battlefield is a solemn place where you can feel the ghosts of the more than 50,000 men who were killed or wounded there in just three days. The Civil War is infamous for these huge casualties due in part to the advances in weaponry, and in part to the lack of advances in medicine at the time.

As I stood upon the fields with familiar names like Gettysburg and Antietam where another battle that claimed more than 23,000 victims in just twelve hours raged, I reflected on the incredible waste of war and the sad fact that more Americans died killing each other than in all the other wars we have ever fought combined. Now almost 150 years later as we enter the eighth year of war in Afghanistan I wonder if it will ever end. I’m not sure why we feel compelled to visit places like this. It didn’t make me proud to be an American, it made me sad.

Andy & Beth's-Philadelphia Pennsylvania

2009-10-08T13:55:00.000-07:00

Off to Philadelphia and the City of Brotherly Love where we caught up with my friend Andy. Andy and I were inseparable during Jr. High and High School and Andy actually lived in our home after his parents moved from California to Philadelphia. He wasn’t happy there at first and amazingly my parents agreed to take him into our home. After a life full of adventure and a million hours playing drums, he eventually returned to Philadelphia and now resides there with his wife Beth and their son Michael.

Beth whom we had never met welcomed us into her home and wined and dined us like old friends. Their son Michael who has a degree in Environmental Science was very interesting to talk with, and once again I took hope in the next generations ability to take on the mess they are being given and help solve our looming environmental problems.

We did a quick tour of the city with them and I was thrilled to see the buildings, sit in the chairs, and walk on the steps where people like Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and many more hammered out remarkable documents like the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights. The city just oozes history and makes it come alive.

Andy is an incredible drummer and also has the most amazing collection of music I have ever seen. That evening we shared a few songs and some old memories over a few glasses of wine. All too soon we were on the road again and headed toward Maryland by way of Gettysburg.

Alex & Shirley's-Bethlehem Pennsylvania

2009-10-04T13:35:00.000-07:00

Kate’s Aunt Shirley and Uncle Alex live just outside Bethlehem, PA where we were scheduled to do a show at Home & Planet, an eclectic home furnishings and art gallery in an up and coming section of the old downtown. Bethlehem is an iconic symbol of the destruction of jobs and the disruption of lives that has occurred here in the heart of the Rust-Belt. While the industries that were destroyed here were anything but green, they represented both the ingenuity and work ethic of the American worker, and the arrogance and greed of the companies owners and executives that eventually caused their destruction. To me it also represents the opportunity we have to rebuild our industries with a new ecologically sound model and bring jobs back to the American people who are willing and able to work again.

Alex worked for Bethlehem Steel for almost 20 years when he lost his job as the company began the long slide from the largest steel producer in the world to its ultimate bankruptcy and eventual closing. During our conversations, Alex shed some light on the “glory days” of the American Steel industry and some of the causes of its demise. As one of the company’s top engineers, Alex helped manage the maintenance and logistics of the massive infrastructure that supported its operations. As we drove by the now empty shell of the 34 story building that used to house its headquarters, Alex shook his head and began to describe some of the perks and privileges that the same executives that had failed to see the handwriting on the wall received. This symbol of excess was actually built at a time when the industry was probably already in serious trouble, and while this same privileged group of executives completely failed to realize it, they continued to be rewarded for their incompetence. Alex described in detail the perks these executives were given. The private jets, golf memberships, and maintenance and upgrades on their homes at the company’s expense were just a few of the things they took for granted. They continued to stumble forward while their business dissolved around them, and the jobs that had once made this area a good place to live and raise a family were shipped overseas.

Unlike some of the cities we have been through that look almost like the bombed out remains of Europe after the war, Bethlehem has struggled but managed to remain as vibrant as possible under the circumstances. Although there are depressing rows of dilapidated houses in some areas, they are doing their best to reinvent themselves and create new jobs to keep their young from leaving. For the most part, these are people with a very strong work ethic, and while the Unions can also be blamed for many of the problems that led to their downfall, these are people who want to work and are willing to work hard. If only some of the billions of dollars we spent to prop up some of the worthless scum on Wall Street that got us into this mess had been spent to create new green industries in these hard hit areas, then perhaps there would have been real job creation in this country. I firmly believe that America can be a leader in creating these new green jobs, and these are the people who can do them.

Our show at Home & Planet(www.homeandplanet.com)was a huge success as the people of Bethlehem poured into the streets for this formerly run down business districts "First Friday” celebration. The crowd was predominately younger, but there was a good mix of all ages. At many points throughout the evening there was a line of people waiting on the sidewalk to view the Airstream. Up and down the boulevard people were playing music, eating food and getting pretty mellow on the wine that was being served in some of the shops. We stayed open until 10pm and really enjoyed our visit with the gracious people of this great American city.

We spent a couple of more days at Alex and Shirley’s while I did some maintenance on the Airstream. Their daughter Miranda graced us with a visit, and Shirley who is a Pillsbury Bake-Off prize winner and an excellent cook kept us well-fed. Alex helped me with the trailer and a few martinis to help ease the pain.

Jim, Jean and Marilyn-Andover New Hampshire

2009-10-01T13:28:00.000-07:00

After Vermont we headed to New Hampshire which according to New Hampshirites is not very “fah” from Vermont. We had arranged to meet my Mother who was there to do some “leafing”. She was staying at the home of her travel companion Marilyn’s brother in law Jim who lives in a historic 200 year old farmhouse in the New Hampshire countryside. Although we were complete strangers, and possibly in the eyes of this conservative New Englander, complete whackos, he welcomed us with open arms.

We spent an interesting evening discussing a broad range of subjects, on many of which we certainly disagreed, but Jim is a sharp, engaging and open minded individual, and his staunch conservative upbringing has not prevented him from listening to what we had to say and learning some things in the process. It was a learning experience for us to hear his ideas and opinions as well, and I think we all came away with a broader perspective. This process of sharing with people from all walks of life has become an important part of this trip and and a special part of making new friends. All in all it was a delight to see my Mom and meet her friends in the land where people either "Live Free or Die"!

Michael & Janet's-Charlotte Vermont

2009-09-27T13:04:00.000-07:00

Next we visited with Michael,his wife Janet, and their lovely daughter Allie who live along the shores of Lake Champlain in the rustic little town of Charlotte, Vermont. Michael was a childhood best friend whom I had not seen in over thirty years. He had just returned from sailing the Atlantic from Maine to Ireland (you can read about his adventure here), so he could really relate to the small space and the on board systems in the Airstream. He also relied on solar power for most of his equipment, and was delighted to see our home on wheels. Having never been a sailor, I was in awe of the guts it must take to sail the open ocean in a boat not much bigger than our trailer.

It's amazing how thirty years can go by in a minute and I felt bad that I had not stayed in touch with Michael, but then I realized he had not stayed in touch with me either, so then I felt better! The stay was all too short as we were headed off to do a show, but we had a nice meal at their home and did as much catching up as time allowed. Don't tell Kate, but I hope Michael will keep me in mind when he looks for a crew to sail from Ireland back to the U.S via Africa!

Steve & Teresa's-Woodstock Vermont

2009-09-23T12:47:00.000-07:00

We visited Steve & Teresa, friends who live in the country outside Woodstock, Vermont. Steve and I used to work together and have stayed in touch over the years. They had a great little spot to park the Airstream, and Teresa is an excellent cook who loves to pamper her guests!

In between some local sightseeing and a visit to the farmers market, we got a chance to share some of the eco-friendly systems with their two children Kavi & Neela, as well as one of the neighbor's kids who had dropped by. They were fascinated by the solar power system, and I gave them the complete tour from roof top panels to the under the bed batteries. Despite their young age they already had a remarkable knowledge of how it all works and asked a lot of good questions, and it was encouraging to see the next generation accepting these things as a given part of their future.

Teresa keeps chickens, and every time I turned around their curiosity got the best of them. If I didn't close the door I had chickens in the trailer, if I opened up the truck, I had chickens in the bed. If it wasn't for the fresh eggs, they might have become roast chicken! Actually they were lovable, and the "girls" as Teresa calls them were an interesting distraction.

Fall in Vermont is incredible,and seeing Steve and his family made it even nicer.

Badges? We don't need no stinking Badges!

2009-09-22T15:33:00.001-07:00

Here I am in Vermont and not three miles from the border that separates us from our strange neighbors to the North, when I see that Homeland Security, fearing that I may make a desperate run for the border after having failed to qualify for the “Cash for Clunkers” program, was doing their job and on the alert in this sleepy little border town. “Damn” I thought, “these guys will track you down everywhere”.

Unlike the border towns of Mexico, where a small but influential part of my misspent youth was indeed spent, Vermont border towns do not consist of a hundred bars, a dozen brothels, and thousands of street vendors just waiting to sell you everything from a taco that you will later regret, to a tattoo that you will later wonder where the hell it came from. Instead of Tequila and fireworks, you will find maple syrup and cheese. Although they are wonderful and friendly people, you might say that the residents here were “born to be mild”. One charming young lady we met on a Friday night was headed off to a Corn Maze, the living on the edge excitement of which most of us can only imagine.

Deterred by the presence of the J.B. Police, we turned back from the frontier and re-entered the safety and warmth of rural Vermont.

Near Disaster in New York-Or "It Could Have Been Worse"

2009-09-18T15:05:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in new postings, but as we headed through the Adirondacks, I suddenly noticed smoke beginning to pour out of the left rear wheel. Within seconds, as I began to maneuver the Airstream toward the side of the road, I watched in horror as the wheel completely separated from the trailer and spilled out onto the road. This left us careening down the highway on one wheel and we soon ended up off the road and stuck in the soft dirt there.

We would later find out that the hub of the axle had suffered a catastrophic failure which caused the wheel to separate. Stuck in the middle of nowhere on a Sunday night, and hopelessly stuck in the ditch, it was about four hours later before we were able to get the trailer up on the flat bed tow truck that came from the little town of Old Forge, NY twenty-five miles away. The driver said he knew of a small shop in town that “builds trailers”, so he dumped us in their lot and we spent the night there waiting for the shop to open the next morning.

Steve from East/West Trailer Sales arrived at work early and after surveying the damage for a moment, declared that “Yup, we can fix that” and sauntered off to get his tools. Several hours later we had everything apart and considering the intense violence of the hub failure, were surprised to see how little mechanical damage we had sustained. Unfortunately, we had suffered a small amount of body damage as the wheel excited the wheel well. Kate is one of these “it could have been worse” people, but surveying the damage I was hard pressed to think of how. Steve could fix the axle, but could do nothing to make our silver beauty whole again.

We had to order parts, so we spent another night in the back lot of the trailer shop. In the morning a family of deer sauntered through the lot on their way to the nearest watering hole. Our parts were not due in until the afternoon, so we spent the day working on the website and looking for someone to repair the body damage. As luck would have it, my friend Steve from Vintage Trailer Supply knew a guy in nearby Plattsburg, NY that he highly recommended. One phone call later, and we had set up an appointment for the next day with Colin Hyde, an expert on vintage Airstreams.

Our parts arrived as we had hoped, and by 5pm we were back on the road, a little bit worse for the wear and tear, but moving none the less. We spent the night on a nearby lake, and made our way to Colin’s place the next morning.

As we approached the shop, there were a half dozen or so Airstreams strewn about the lot and it was obvious we had found Colin. Inside the shop another group of Airstreams were in various states of disassemble and awaiting their repairs. Colin grabbed his floor jack and was soon drilling away at the rivets that, like an airplane hold an Airstream together. For the next three hours, we swapped Airstream lies as Colin cut away the offending bits of metal, and replaced them with some salvaged aluminum sheet from a previous repair. Once complete, he gave the spot a quick polish to match the rest of the trailer, and although clearly a visible repair, “it could have been worse” as Kate loves to say, or “it is what it is” a phrase Colin and I discovered we both share.

By mid-afternoon, we were back on the road, took a ferry ride to Vermont, had a Martini in Burlington, and settled down for the night by the peaceful shores of Lake Champlain. As I drifted off to sleep, I realized that just before the axle failed, I had looked back at the wheel and thought that something just did not look right. Next time I will listen to the voices in my head!

Organic Valley-Organic AND Farmer Owned

2009-09-09T11:24:00.000-07:00

The first thing you notice when you pull into Organic Valley’s (www.organicvalley.com) headquarters in La Farge, WI is the large array of solar panels that dominate the front of the building. Recently installed and built with the help of students from the Midwest Renewable Energy Association (MREA) the panels are just part of their efforts to reduce the carbon footprint of their operations. The power from this impressive array is pumped directly into the grid, thereby reducing their dependence on power generated by the power company with fossil or other fuels. Immediately inside the front lobby sits a computer station that monitors every aspect of the array’s performance. Anyone can see at a glance how much power it is generating at the moment, for the day, month year, and how much CO2 that would otherwise have been generated it has reduced. Way cooler than my little control panel in the Airstream!

We had arranged a tour with Jennifer Harrison, the Sustainability Program Manager for Organic Valley. If you are not familiar with the company, they are the largest Co-Op of Organic Farmers and Dairies in the U.S. Their products such as milk, cheese, butter, eggs, juice and produce are available in many groceries throughout the country.

Jennifer greeted us in the lobby and gave us an excellent tour of the facility that began with the solar panels and the fields of Camelina and Sunflowers that grew nearby and from which they produce bio-diesel for their vehicles. They not only generate fuel for themselves, they also have a “mobile” bio-diesel distillery which they are using for a pilot program to help teach their Co-Op members how to produce bio-diesel on their farms from the waste they generate. We did not get to see the distillery in action as it was out in the field doing its work! This program has been very successful so far and it has inspired a number of their members to begin their own programs. This has the duel effect of reducing their waste and their dependence on fossil fuels.

Unlike many companies that prefer to use carbon offsets to reduce their impact, both the Solar Panels and the bio-diesel distillery are part of Organic Valley’s commitment to develop and use programs that make a real measurable difference. These programs include a van-pool for employees living in outlying areas, free bicycles for the use of the employees, and a community garden.

We then toured their building which was built in 2004 to LEED Silver standards. We did not get to meet George Siemon, one of the original founders of Organic Valley and now the self-styled “C-E-I-E-I-O” as he was out, but we did see his unassuming office which included reclaimed barn wood floors, and a view of the community garden that he has been known to wander out and weed the less diligent members plots to improve his view.

After meeting some of the other members of the staff, we were treated to lunch in the company’s cafeteria, where Organic Valley products such as milk, cheese and juice are available at no charge to the employees. Lunch itself is very inexpensive and based on weight. The more you eat the more you pay!

We continued to chat with Jennifer while we ate and covered a wide range of subjects including their efforts to reduce or capture the methane produced on their farms, ongoing social responsibility programs, and one of my biggest concerns, Genetically Modified Organisms or GMOs (Wikipedia-GMOs). GMOs are genetically engineered crops which now constitute up to 90% of certain crops like corn and soy grown in the U.S. The use of these monster seeds is very controversial, and many believe that it is not only potentially disastrous, but may also be linked to some strange goings on like the sudden collapse of bee colonies around the world (Wikipedia-Colony Collapse Disorder). Jennifer indicated that they were very concerned about these issues, and were actively involved in efforts to regulate their use and developing a “seed bank” to prevent the loss of certain strains and species of plants. Many plant species are already under pressure and hundreds of them are already lost. Most of the GMO seeds come from the supplier already infused with pesticides and are sterile so that the farmer is forced to buy new seeds each year. Many fear that these sterile plants will unleash an Armageddon in the plant world that will leave us with plants unable to propagate themselves. Should something then go wrong with the supply of GMOs, or further research proves that they are indeed as harmful as it is feared; we may find ourselves unable to replace them with the plants that our ancestors ate (Article-GMOs Threaten Food Supply)

While we were eating, an email was circulated inviting the employees to come visit the Airstream, and we were delighted to show it to a number of them after lunch. We hung for awhile then bid Jennifer adieu and drove off through the verdant farmland of SW Wisconsin.

Knot for Naught

2009-09-06T15:27:00.000-07:00

When I think back on my Boy Scout days, it’s a miracle that I can even light a fire.

During the first initiations, we were sent on a wild goose chase by the older boys to go find a “blue & white smoke-shifter” which was apparently stored down the road. Our absence from the camp was then used to mess with all our stuff including the usual sophomoric pranks like “short-sheeting” our beds. If you are not familiar with this, it involves folding the lower sheet of your bed in half then re-making the bed. The supposed point of this is that when you go to get in bed, you feet are supposed to tear through the sheet and ruin your bed. I never really saw it work, but the tradition carries on never the less.

The next ritual we had to endure was the venerable “pink-belly”. The first night of camp us newbies sat quivering in our sleeping bags, knowing full well the older boys were going to pull this inevitable torture on us, and waiting for the raid to begin. Sure enough just as we finally began to drift off to sleep from pure exhaustion, our tent flap was flung open and in sprang a couple of the oldest and meanest Scouts in the Troop. They threw us on our backs and began slapping the tight young skin of our bellies with considerable force. It was excruciating, and the eventual outcome of this openly sadistic and probably clandestinely homosexual ritual is a very pink and very sore belly. Luckily for me, my tent mate started crying and was of course subjected to far greater torture than I.

The list goes on. Little tricks like dipping a sleeping boys hand in warm water, causing him to wet the bed, and substituting various nasty substances for things like salt and sugar. Of course the Scout leader who I now realize probably had questionable sexual intent as well was indeed the leader of the pack.

But just like getting a “wedgie” from the older boys in Jr. High School, over time, these tortures subsided as the next round of newbies came in, and you were expected to join in the fun of terrorizing the next generation of Scouts. I quit the Scouts for this and many other reasons, foremost of which was the fact that I discovered that these were BOY scouts, and I was becoming a lot more interested in what the GIRL scouts looked like under those crisp green uniforms.

However, in the meantime, I dove into earning merit badges, and learned all kinds of things that I have come to appreciate over time. Tonight as I watched my neighbor struggle to light a campfire, I had one blazing in a matter of minutes. On the other side of our camp a young couple tied their rain tarp up with enough rope to hog tie a horse, only to have it crash down around their heads, while I can tie knots that would baffle Houdini.

I learned to start a fire with just a stick and some moss, and how to filet a freshly caught trout with a pocket knife. And once I caught that fish with nothing more than a piece of string and a paperclip. By the time I was in my early-twenties I used to go on week long “survival” trips with just a sleeping bag and a drop line. All the hazing I went though to get there is perhaps an integral part of the learning process, and that which does not kill you makes you stronger.

The Boy Scouts made me stronger. Hopefully time has made me wiser. Either way, I sure got a nice fire.

Hwy 61 Revisitied

2009-09-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

Kate’s home town of Red Wing, MN welcomed us with open arms. After a quick explanation to Kathy Silverthorn from the local visitors’ bureau of what the tour was all about, we soon received a string of emails from the Chief of Police, the Public Works Dept., and Brian Bombach who coordinated the blocking of a string of parking spaces for us in Downtown Red Wing. Everyone was enthusiastic about having us and on Saturday morning we set up our show by a colorful mural in the Historic District of this well preserved Mississippi River town. The town sits on Hwy 61 and houses the boys reform school about which Bob Dylan penned his famous song.

As we got ready to open, a little old gentleman stood patiently waiting. He must have been in his eighties, and had read about us in the local newspaper. As soon as we were ready for guests, he politely asked if he could come in and take a look. He was completely intrigued, and was particularly interested in the composting toilet. He poked around for awhile and soon whipped out a digital camera for a few pictures.

The downtown was busy that day with out of town tourists who flock to the town in the summer to go antique shopping and spend a day by the river. The newspaper had done a story on us a few days earlier, and this brought a steady stream of locals, including some of Kate’s old friends from school.

As we were getting ready to close, the little old gentleman who had been our first visitor of the day came back. “Remember me?” he asked. “I went home and talked to the wife, and we have a few more questions about the toilet” he told me. With a smile on my face, I answered his questions, and as he ambled off into the distance, I realized that this is when the shows become truly rewarding. Thank you to the City and the people of Red Wing for having us.

Viroqua, WI-Amish Buggies and Organic farms in SW Wisconsin

2009-09-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

Steve at Home Green Home(www.homegreenhome)/ in downtown Viroqua had invited us to park in front of his store on Saturday morning, which is Farmer’s Market day. We pulled in early to try and get a spot before the market shoppers filled things up. Despite being early, the spot we needed was already taken, and we decided to wait for it to open up by parking in a yellow zone. Within minutes, a local policeman let us know that while he didn’t really care, his boss was going to be wandering around the market at some point and he needed to do his job. He then told us we could hang out until the spot opened up and wished us well on our show. The spot soon was clear and we opened the Airstream up for visitors.

Viroqua is at the center of one of the largest groups of organic farmers in the country, and the people here have an open mind when it comes to things like our project. We were soon quite busy with visitors, and were quickly the talk of the town. The Farmer’s Market which is about half occupied by Amish vendors and is very popular, drew a nice crowd for us. We met people like Chuck Sinclair who got his wife on the phone and told her to get down here and see this Airstream. They are working on their plans to build a small, eco-friendly home after they sell their farm and retire, and had a ton of questions about the systems, materials and features we had incorporated. We also met Sonya Newenhouse from the Madison Environmental Group who immediately fell in love with our wool bed. Her group is working on some pretty cool designs for small living spaces. You can learn more at:
www.madisonenvironmentalgroup.com

We took advantage of the market to pick up some fresh maple syrup and a couple of ears of corn from one of the Amish vendors, and thoroughly enjoyed our visit to this charming little town.

Family & Friends-Part 2

2009-09-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

Kate’s sister Peg, her husband Bryan, and their charming but rapidly growing son Ben, live at the dead end of a rural road in the historic community of Frontenac, just outside Red Wing. Having caught up on our blog, we now needed to make some much needed repairs to our vehicles. Bryan has a full shop in case I needed anything I hadn’t brought along for just such an occasion. After realizing I was in over my head on trying to get a “Service Engine” light to go off, Kate’s nephew Rick, an experienced auto mechanic came to my rescue and helped me make that and a few other necessary repairs.

Between the auto and trailer repairs we ended up staying a week with them, and besides all the help with the repairs, the delicious meals that Peg just wouldn’t take “no” to, and the chance to see some of the rest of Kate’s family, we had a wonderful visit.

Kate comes from a family of eight, so sometimes keeping up with all the family is a challenge for me, but while we were there, we were treated to visits from 3 Sisters, 2 Nephews, a Niece, a Cousin, and a stream of associated husbands, wives, kids, grandkids, and more! We also saw our old friend Peggy, and made some new friends as well. This included Art & Andrea Hamilton who lived in Frontenac, owned a vintage Airstream and after having read about us in the newspaper drove every street in town until they found us. You can check out Andrea's blog at: Andrea's Web Log

As we were leaving, Kate’s nephew Rick brought us some fresh tomatoes and a loaf of Zucchini bread his wife Beth had made for us. Once again we were delightfully reminded that when you really need them your family and friends are always there.

Family and Friends-Part 1

2009-08-31T07:30:00.000-07:00

One thing you find out on a trip like this is how important your friends and family really are. Toward the end of August, after nearly two months on the road, we were in need of some time off the road to catch up on our blogging, and some much needed maintenance and repairs on the truck and trailer. The dusty, bumpy back roads we had traveled had taken their toll on the Doris Mae, and she needed a rest!

We pulled into La Crosse, WI where Kate’s sister Terri, her husband Todd, and their precocious 7 year old daughter Stella have their home. Todd is a master craftsman at Dave’s Guitars which houses one of the largest collections of classic electric guitars in the world. Terri is a full-time Mom, and is home schooling Stella with an enthusiasm and curriculum that any school district would be hard pressed to duplicate. We pulled Doris Mae into their driveway and set to work on catching up on our blog. For the next couple of days we would enjoy their hospitality and make the best of our time off the road.

Stella is a joy and a wonder every time we see her, and this time was no exception. I delighted in showing her the large toad I found living under their front porch. I also learned first hand why you should never let a 7 year old girl help you wash your truck, unless of course you need washing as well!

Maybe it was because I was family, but not someone she sees every day, or maybe it was because we had named the trailer after her Grandma, but one evening Stella came in while I was alone and said “Can I ask you something?” Having never had children, I was about as comfortable with this as the average parent is talking to their children about sex! But what the hell, I decided to give it a try. “Why did Grandma die?” she asked. I took a deep breath and answered back, “Why or how?” She thought for a minute and said “How?” “She got cancer” I said “and that’s what happens sometimes.” “Oh” she said, tears welling in her eyes “I miss her”. “We miss her too” I croaked trying hard to keep from exploding into tears, “Boy do we miss her”. This seemed to do the trick, and she gave me a big hug and trotted off to play. Having seemingly passed a children test with little or no experience, I prayed I wouldn’t be around when the time comes for the sex talk!

We had scheduled a public showing in nearby Virouqa, a small farming community that is near the center of one of the largest groups of organic farmers in the country. We were also going to drop in on the headquarters of the organic dairy cooperative Organic Valley just down the road in La Farge, WI so that we could learn more about their extensive operations and innovative programs.

After five days of enjoying their superb hospitality we bid them farewell, hit the road, did our show, and toured Organic Valley. But the “Tour De Family” had just begun. We were soon on our way to visit Red Wing, MN where Kate grew up, and where most of the rest of Kate’s family still lives.

Natural Wool Sleep Systems Fresh from the Farm

2009-08-30T07:23:00.000-07:00

One of the real pleasures of our trip has been sleeping on our natural wool bed. We had a chance to stop by and see The Wool Bed Company at Kerry Hill Farm in Oconomowoc, WI. This beautiful little town is nestled by the side of the lake it is named for, and many dignified older homes grace the shore of the lake and the towns’ tree-lined streets. Kerry Hills Farm is just a little ways out of town on a scenic plot of land that includes a lovingly restored farmhouse, the workshop where the beds are assembled by hand, and all the other accoutrements of a farm, horse barn, silo, etc.

The “Surround-Ewe” wool sleep system that we are using is the brainchild of Susan McCourt, and her proprietary process is unique in the world of conventional foam bed alternatives. This unique process is what gives her bed its delightful sleep properties. This is our first experience with an all wool bed, and I can honestly say that I have slept better for the last two months than I have slept in many years.

Our interest in wool beds began with our developing awareness of the toxic chemicals that are present in virtually all conventional mattresses. Once you learn that between the polyurethane foam that underlies most mattresses, and the fire retardants and other chemicals that are used to treat them, you are literally swimming in a toxic soup while you sleep, you will as we did want to look for alternatives.

Wool it turns out, in its pure form and free from chemical treatments, is the perfect material for a mattress. Its natural properties, which include the ability to wick moisture, to stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter, to be insect repellent and naturally anti-microbial, insure a safe, natural and wonderful nights’ sleep.

We were fortunate to have arrived on a day when they were getting ready to crank up the “new” wool batting machine Susan had recently purchased. 67 years old, this machine was brought in from Minnesota, and carefully reassembled in Susan’s barn. Machines of this kind are becoming a rarity in this country, and watching this Rube Goldberg device roar into life with dozens of spinning gears and belts, things popping and clanking back and forth and chewing up raw wool at one end and spitting out luxuriously soft wool batting out the other was a thing of wonder indeed. How machines like this ever got invented is beyond me, but it is a classic example of American ingenuity. Just keeping this thing running requires constant vigilance, so we tried to stay out of the way as the first wisps of wool appeared magically out of the machine and began to gather onto a large rolling wheel where they soon gathered into a thick wool batt.

One of the really inspiring features of Surround-Ewe bed is that it is entirely made in the USA. From the sheep from which the wool is gathered, to the cotton in which it is sewn, and the machines on which it is produced, you are getting that which is becoming increasingly rare; a handmade product that is made by U.S. workers, from natural materials that are made here as well. Since the company grows and cards its own wool, and manufactures its own product, they have complete control over what goes into the finished product. As we saw through the tainted paint scandals that plagued some large US toy companies who make their product overseas, this can be very important to the consumer.

We watched while the employees assembled a new bed before Susan invited us over for some dinner. Fresh chicken from her farm and some local corn, along with some wine for Kate and Susan and a couple of martinis for me, soon had us chatting like old friends while we solved the world’s problems. Funny how those solutions never seem as brilliant in the light of day! We spent the evening under the stars listening to the gentle sounds of the farm. Sleeping peacefully on our wool bed, we were soon awakened to the sound of Susan’s rooster welcoming the dawn. Bidding Susan farewell we headed off into the Wisconsin sunshine and watched wistfully as her silo and the farm faded from view.

The Treaties and The White Plumes First Hemp Crop

2009-08-28T06:57:00.000-07:00

We came to understand that the Treaty of 1868 means a lot to the Lakota people. To them, these were instruments signed in blood and that the Lakota people gave their word to live by. To the White Man and our ancestors, it appears, the Treaty was all well and good until Gold and Silver were discovered in the Black Hills, part of the land guaranteed to the tribe under the treaty. Then it was time to renegotiate.

The struggle for the rights to this sacred land continues today. As far as the Lakota are concerned, there is no issue. The Treaty gave them clear rights to the land for all time. As far as the White Man is concerned, business is business, and we will be damned if we are giving back Deadwood! Once again the differences in our culture are blatantly clear. The Lakota have been offered hundreds of millions of dollars to settle the issue of the Black Hills. But this is money that still remains in trust as some of the poorest people in the country righteously refuse to take blood money for their sacred land.

As part of the Treaty of 1868, the tribes were also given sovereign rights. In 1998 the Tribal Council segregated the growing and possession of Marijuana, which is illegal on the Reservation, from Hemp, which is not.

The White Plumes, inspired by the decision and looking for a profitable future for their family that did not include the degrading reliance on the Casino, or the downward spiral of the bottle and began to formulate the plans for an enterprise that would look toward that future.

After having examined the per acre yield from a variety of crops suitable for their parched soil, in 1998, they planted their first crop of Industrial Hemp on 1.5 acres of their families land. With little experience at farming, the first crop didn’t make it. In 1999 they tried again but still had problems producing a viable crop. Learning from experience, in 2000 they planted again and this time the crop was successful, with the plants soaring into the brilliant blue South Dakota sky. Although the White Plumes had invited the U.S. Attorney to witness the harvest, at the end of the growing season they awoke one morning to the sound of helicopters. Armed with machine guns the DEA raided their farm, cut down their plants, and turned their dream into a nightmare.

As the DEA descended upon their farm, Alex went and took a shower. “If they were going to arrest me, I was at least going to be clean”.

But arrest him, they did not. The events that would follow next would be comical if it were not for the fact that they impacted people’s lives. Not just “Indians on the Reservation”, but Alex & Debra White Plume, their family and their friends. These are real people, and I am proud to have met them.

Next in this series: The Lakota Way

Alex White Plume

2009-08-26T07:30:00.000-07:00

We drove down the mile or so long dirt road that connects the White Plumes property with the main road. Pulling into the drive we saw a man standing by his pickup, and some large hemp plants growing nearby. This must be the place.

We were greeted by Alex, who was examining some damage to his pickup. We saw that his right arm was swollen like an overgrown zucchini. “Danged Buffalo tore up my truck!” Alex exclaimed. Sure enough, the front bumper of his Chevy was hanging down, and the headlight was smashed to bits. Never having had a run in with a Buffalo myself, but having seen what an Elk or Deer can do, I thought he got off pretty easy. He then explained that he had been trying to herd a wayward member of his stock back to his property from the nearby town of Wounded Knee where it had wandered off to and refused to come home from.

Apparently convincing a Buffalo to come back to the ranch is not an easy task. I asked him about his arm, and yes the Buffalo was responsible for that too, having caused him to crash his four-wheeler in another attempt to corral the huge animal. “Take a look to your left on the way back in to town” he told us. “He will probably be up on the little hill there.” After having seen what a Buffalo can do to a pickup, if you ever lose your Buffalo, my advice is to let him be.

We were invited into his back yard to sit and talk, and were greeted by a small pack of dogs. “These dogs take care of themselves” he told us. “We don’t give them no food.” Having never seen what amounted to a feral dog, I was surprised by their gentle demeanor and apparent health. Cats still know how to hunt, but for most dogs it is a lost art, one which they apparently can relearn.

Sitting among the hemp plants which grow wild around their yard, Alex lit up a hand rolled cigarette and began to tell us the story of his family’s battle to grow hemp, and in a way, telling a small part of the story of the American Indian to survive. What we would learn was in some ways just as appalling as the liquor stores we had passed. But in this case it was about how the U.S. Government continues to suppress and harass the Lakota tribe, just as it has done for the last 150 years. Alex reminded us that his ancestors were great warriors, and as we know they were responsible for the defeat of Custer’s 7th Cavalry at the Little Big Horn. “After the Treaty was signed, we were forced to become farmers” he said. “Now that we want to become farmers, we are forced to become warriors”.

Next: The Treaty

Bring Back the Way-Our Visit to Pine Ridge

2009-08-24T08:51:00.000-07:00

The contrast was staggering. After miles and miles of neat as a pin Nebraska farms and corn fields, just south of the Nebraska-South Dakota border we came across the town of White Clay. With a population of 22, this town sells an average of 12,000 CANS OF BEER A DAY. Not because the locals are big fans of Budweiser, but because at 9am when we pulled through, the Indians of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation whose borders begin another 500 yards down the road, were lined up with their brown bags, and already heavily into the days drinking. This city is a crime, and the citizens of the Pine Ridge Reservation are not the criminals, they are the victims.

We were on our way to visit Alex and Debra White Plume, Lakota Indians that have been trying to grow Industrial Hemp on their property in the Sovereign Nation of the Oglala Sioux since 2000. As we pulled through the dusty, dirty and utterly depressing town of White Clay we wondered what we had got ourselves into. After years of protests, and efforts to eliminate this blight from the face of the earth and the profiteering that allows its businesses to extract from the blood of the Indian Nation it borders, White Clay still exists. This is a travesty beyond excuse, and the people and the government of Nebraska should be ashamed.

Having been to a number of Indian Reservations throughout the country, particularly in the Northwest, and Desert Southwest, I was not surprised by what I saw. For so many of us, the image of the “drunk Indian” is all we know about life on the reservation. But like so many clichés, there is so much more here than meets the eye. Later in the day we would talk to Alex about the problems with alcohol on the reservation, but first we would get to drive across the Pine Ridge Reservation that is just a small part of the Indian Nation, and see that there is as much diversity here as anywhere in this country.

The town of Pine Ridge was not much to look at, and we soon found ourselves on the edge of town where we saw a member of the Tribal Police struggling to change his own flat tire. I wondered how many policemen do that. As we passed through Wounded Knee, we came across a couple of young girls who couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 years old, attempting to herd a group of horses running wild across the road. We slowed to a crawl and realized while observing them that this was just a part of their everyday life. The horse, as it was 150 years ago, is still an integral part of life on the reservation.

This was only the first of a series of experiences that helped teach us about the basic and intrinsic differences between the day to day lives of the Indians on the Reservation and our own. As we spent the day with Alex and Debra, we continued to learn about these differences, and they range from the melodic and enchanting language that they speak, to the way they think about the natural world.

When they spoke about the past, what we call “history” (because I think it gives us a good way out of any guilt by association) it was as if it only happened yesterday. When Debra spoke of how their people ended up on this particular piece of land, she said “this is how WE got here”, not “that is how the Indians ended up at Pine Ridge”. It was in the first person, it was alive, and it was intense. Alex and Debra let us into their home, rebuilt after a devastating fire that destroyed not only everything they owned, but also years of research and documentation for the projects and causes they have heralded. They also let us into their lives by sharing with us the struggles they have been through and those that lie ahead.

Over the next few hours, through a combination of words and pictures, some in English, some in Lakota, we would learn many things about the ongoing battle to “Owe Aku”, or “Bring Back the Way” in the language of the Lakota.

Next: Alex White Plume

The "Register Cliff"

2009-08-23T16:26:00.000-07:00

We stopped by the “Register Cliff” outside Guernsey, WY. This is a fascinating spot where not only can you see the ruts carved in solid rock by the countless wagon wheels of settlers headed out West, you will also find a cliff where hundreds of them carved their names. Seeing dates like “1878” and the names carved next to them, makes them feel like real people. Not just a lesson in a history book, but living, breathing people. Touching the rock where their wagon wheels carved ruts, some of them 6 feet deep or more helps you understand the relentless and inevitable onslaught of settlers that soon overwhelmed the native peoples of this land. I don’t believe the settlers wished the Indians harm. And I don’t believe the Indians meant the settlers harm. They were both just pursuing their dreams. Unfortunately for all of us, those dreams collided, and at these cliffs, you can see the remnants of that collision first hand.

Sustainable Brewing Born on a Bike!

2009-08-22T10:47:00.000-07:00

When we arrived at New Belgium Brewing in Fort Collins, CO and saw the shiny Airstream sitting in the parking lot, we knew we were in the right place! The Brewery is as well known for its sustainable business practices and advocacy as it is for its delightful beer. Despite the fact that we showed up unannounced, we were warmly greeted by Jennifer Orgolini, the “Sustainability Steward” at the brewery and given a quick tour and overview of their sustainability initiatives. The passion for the company’s efforts is apparent at every level, from the gentleman that greeted us at the door and pointed us in Jennifer’s direction, to the wonderful folks in the tasting room who spread the word around the brewery about the “cool Eco-Airstream” that was parked out in the lot.

This is a company that has a clear vision about their efforts to reduce their impact on the environment. Guided by the vision of their founder, they have set clearly defined goals and benchmarks for their sustainability programs, and understand that it is a journey not a destination. Their corporate culture helps its employees understand and wrap their arms around their vision. The company is a shining example of making a real effort, providing transparency on what they do, and looking toward the future. I urge you to visit their website (www.newbelgium.com)for what I consider to be one of the most well thought out Sustainability Statements that I have ever seen. Here are some of the highlights that we found on their site.

It begins with a clear mission statement that defines their sustainable business philosophy:

We believe, to be environmental stewards, we need to:

• Lovingly care for the planet that sustains us.
• Honor natural resources by closing the loops between waste and input.
• Minimize the environmental impact of shipping our beer.
• Reduce our dependence on coal-fired electricity.
• Protect our precious Rocky Mountain water resources.
• Focus our efforts on conservation and efficiency.
• Support innovative technology.
• Model joyful environmentalism through our commitment to relationships, continuous improvement, and the camaraderie and cheer of beer

It then outlines the achievements they have made so far.

• Increased efficiencies in the brewing process
• Utilized green design throughout our building
• On-site energy production
• Wind-powered electricity since 1999
• Employ a High Involvement Culture
• Sustainable Eventing
• Actionable Advocacy
• Constant benchmarking
• Partnering to support innovative technology

And finally they define clear goals for the future.

Below are the lofty goals we've set as we continue to learn and grow:
• To reduce our carbon footprint by 25%*
• To reduce our water usage by 10%
• To increase our landfill diversion rate from 89.5% to 95% (note: brewing by-products like spent grain and yeast are NOT included in these figures. If they were included, it would be 99%).

If your company is interested in reducing your carbon footprint, reducing waste, reducing water usage, and creating social responsibility programs within your company, New Belgium Brewing is a shining example of how it can be done. And I love their beer!

Before we left the tasting room for the next leg of our journey, the wonderful folks who were serving that day hooked us up with a couple of hemp T-shirts, and a six-pack containing one of each of their beers. As I sat around the campfire that evening I remembered our visit fondly with each sip!

A Toast to Solar Roast!

2009-08-21T09:44:00.000-07:00

We had heard about a company that was roasting coffee using solar power when they had brought their roasting machine to our home town of Bend, OR for a promotional display. Still in the early developmental stage at that time, we were anxious to see their 4th generation machine at work. We took a little detour to see them at their new home in Pueblo, CO, where we found brothers Dave & Mike Hartkop at their coffee shop in downtown Pueblo and anxious to share their solar story with us.

After spending a little time chatting and drinking some of their excellent coffee, we headed a little ways out of town to see their amazing roasting machine. The roasting machine is the brainchild of Dave, an inventor and master tinkerer who was persuaded by Mike to use his talents to create this masterpiece. The recently completed roaster is the 4th generation of roasting machines they have built, each larger than its predecessor, and it is impressive to say the least! With over 700 mirrors focusing the sun on the collector box, this 11 ton gleaming monster produces 20,000 watts of power, heating the air in the collector to over 900 degrees Fahrenheit! The hot air is then pumped down to the roasting machine where it turns out 30 lbs of fresh solar roasted coffee every 20 minutes or so.

After a few minutes spent getting the mirrors focused on the blazing Southern Colorado sun, Dave grabbed a 2X6 board and jumped up on the machine. He then gave us a demonstration of the roasters incredible power. Holding the board up into the collector, it began smoking within seconds, and then burst into flames almost immediately!

We soon left Dave & Mike to roast, but as we drove away we were left thinking. When you realize how much power you can generate with just one solar array, the potential for generating solar power and eliminating our dependence on fossil fuels is mind-boggling. What is even more mind boggling, is that with all this power streaming down from the heavens, why we aren’t doing more? Yet again another opportunity to create jobs and help the environment. I guess it makes more sense to give money to GM to continue to build crappy cars.

Find out more about Solar Roast at: www.solarroast.com

Boondocking in Boulder-A New Urban Opportunity?

2009-08-20T14:24:00.000-07:00

The night before we did our show at REI in Boulder, CO we had arrived in town a bit late and were having trouble finding a place to park for the night. As we were cruising around looking at a couple of potential campsites, I noticed what appeared to be an abandoned restaurant off to the side of the road. Hidden behind some trees, and sitting in a parking lot that had 3 or 4 inches of grass growing up through the cracks in the asphalt, it was obvious no one had used it in several years. I decided that no one was going to even see us there let alone tell us to move. We pulled in, snuggled up behind some trees and bedded down for the night. Other than a couple of lost cars that passed nearby, and a man walking his dogs in the morning, we spent a quiet and uneventful night.

The next morning we pulled into the REI, where we had made arrangements with the Outreach Director to do our show in the parking lot in front of the building. Being a Saturday in Boulder, the REI was busy from the moment it opened, and despite the lack of pre-event publicity, thankfully so were we! Boulderites on the whole are very eco-conscious and there was a steady stream lined up to see the Airstream. Perhaps because of their above average awareness, they asked a lot of great questions and we ended up staying an hour longer than we had originally planned. All in all, a splendid time for all!

That day, as we were leaving Boulder, I realized that the current economy had left literally dozens of empty buildings in and around the city. Surely this is being repeated across the nation. Had I found a new source for mobile urban living?

The Future of Hemp-Part 3 of 3

2009-08-19T11:34:00.000-07:00

Having learned a great deal about the history and the current status of hemp production, we asked Summer about the future of hemp both in the U.S. and worldwide. As a textile manufacturer, the answer we received from her was a bit of a surprise. Although the U.S. was once one of the major textile manufacturers in the world, most of those mills have now shut down, and the jobs have gone overseas. While many of us would like to see those jobs come back, from Envirotextiles perspective, they believe that each region of the world should focus on the production of hemp products that best fit the infrastructure they either already have in place, or that can be readily converted to use hemp as a raw material. As many of the textile mills in this country are not only shut down, their looms and other machinery have also been sold off or scrapped as well. The machines that do remain would require significant retooling to make them suitable for hemp.

Other countries such as China, Romania, and Mexico are already producing textiles, and this is providing jobs in those countries. In other parts of Europe, there is significant production of rope and twine, and in Canada, they industry has focused on seed and seed oil production. Australia has begun a commitment to become a leader in hemp composites and plastics. As we look to the future and consider a worldwide economy, it only makes sense to preserve the jobs we have in some areas and to create new ones in others.

According to Summer, this leaves the U.S. with a golden opportunity to create jobs and fill a missing gap in the worldwide hemp product assortment. With the infrastructure already in place to produce paper, particle board and other composite construction materials, and with many of these factories sitting idle and requiring little tooling to switch to hemp, the U.S. could rapidly become a world leader as of supplier of hemp building materials. This would create a vast array of jobs, for farmers, workers in the mills, manufacturing the machinery needed for production, worldwide distribution of the materials and much, much more. It would also allow us to preserve the slow growing forests that we need to so desperately to help in the fight against global warming, in favor of the rapidly renewable and ecologically friendly production of hemp.

The other clearly obvious use for hemp as a renewable resource is as a source for fuel. Hemp is the number one biomass producer on the planet, producing up to 10 tons per acre in just 4 months. Here again the opportunity to create jobs and replace fossil fuels’ is just crying for attention. Instead we spend 3 billion dollars on the “Cash for Clunkers”. A program designed to support an archaic auto industry that deserves to die for failing to research and develop sustainable fuel alternatives and high mileage vehicles despite the clear knowledge that fossil fuels are a finite resource and well on their way to being depleted.

Paper, textiles, fuel, food, plastics, the list goes on and on. And the list itself is the reason for hemps “seedy” reputation. Take my word for this, and I have some experience from dealing with the companies that are responsible for the insanity that soy and corn production has become, the minute that big agriculture figures out a way to control hemp production, it will be legal in a minute, but right now these companies have all their eggs in soy, corn and petroleum.

Once again, I urge you to learn more and do more to make hemp a huge part of a sustainable future.

The Story of Industrial Hemp in the U.S. Part 2 of 3

2009-08-18T16:15:00.000-07:00

Summer from Envirotextiles is the Vice-President and a member of the Board of Directors for the Hemp Industrial Association (HIA), and she gave us an update on the battle to legalize its production. The HIA is just one of a growing number of people and organizations that support the legalization of hemp production in the U.S. Others include a diverse cross section of society ranging from pro-marijuana groups, farmers from around the country, and a number of politicians including former Presidential candidate Ron Paul.

With consumers becoming increasingly exposed to and aware of the use industrial hemp in a variety of products, it is surprising how many people are not aware that it is currently illegal to grow industrial hemp in the United States without a special DEA permit. As it is virtually impossible to get a permit, the growing of hemp is effectively illegal. The history of how and why hemp was controlled dates back to the 1930’s, and involves some of the most powerful people and companies in America. And like so many things in this country, it is all about money. As the story of hemp has been told many times and in great detail, I will only give the short version here. However, I urge you to learn more and there is an excellent series of articles available online at: www.hempnowbook.com.

From the early 1600’s and up until the 1930’s, hemp was grown freely in the U.S., and was prized for its incredible array of uses. An article from the 1930’s extolled the virtues of hemp and stated that there were over 20,000 potential industrial uses for the crop. By that time, it was being made into a huge variety of products including rope, paper, textiles, and food products. Today it is believed that we could use hemp in over 50,000 products, and the list has grown to include many items that are made from petroleum based materials including plastics.

But somewhere along the way, the powers that be decided that the products that were being made from hemp would be better made from the raw materials that they controlled like oil and timber. With the development of natural fiber substitutes made from petroleum and the vast tracts of western timber to feed the paper mills, several powerful lobbies including the DuPont and Hearst companies pushed through the Marijuana Tax Act in 1937. This began the effective illegalization of hemp by making it prohibitively expensive to produce. Working closely with William Randolph Hearst who had permits from the federal government to log large tracts of federal land to supply paper to his newspaper empire, they began a smear campaign to convince the public of the evils of Marijuana. This was accomplished through a tabloid type campaign conducted by Hearst’s newspapers that blurred the lines between “pot” that contains the psychoactive ingredient THC, and industrial hemp, which does not. The classic film “Reefer Madness” to which many of us were subjected in school is representative of these efforts. Having scared the crap out of the public, Andrew Mellon who was not only the banker for the DuPont family as well as Secretary of Treasury, had Harry Ansligner who was married to Mellon’s niece appointed as head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics which would later become the DEA. Together they helped pushed through the tax stamp legislation that resulted in the demise of the hemp industry in this country.

And the powers that be are still at work. Having spent the last couple of weeks driving the back roads through the heartland of America, past miles and miles of genetically modified corn and soy, for which the seeds, fertilizers and pesticides are supplied by companies such as DuPont and Monsanto, we were reminded daily of the clout these companies hold. As Hemp requires no pesticides or fertilizer and very little water to grow the production of hemp threatened these interests in every way, and this fact alone doomed its commercial production in the U.S.

In the 1930’s DuPont had developed an “improved” process for making paper from trees that used of course the chemicals supplied by DuPont. Also being developed were many new plastics and natural fiber substitutes, which were taking advantage of the cheap oil that the large corporations like Gulf Oil (Secretary Mellon was a major shareholder) had begun pumping out of the ground. The potential use of hemp as a source of fuel for the growing automobile industry was particularly threatening to them. As many of the richest Americans were making their fortunes from oil and timber, they made sure that hemp would be eliminated from the list of raw materials available to American industry. They were hugely successful in this, and the ban is still in place after over 70 years despite the overwhelming evidence in favor of its growth.

The more one reads about hemp, and I hope you will, the more one realizes that is nearly the perfect crop. Every part of the plant can be used in one form or another, and it is very beneficial for the environment. As of this date, 11 States have approved for their farmers to grow hemp under close regulation. However,the Federal Government continues to ban its production. Each year the DEA spends millions of dollars eliminating hemp, which grows wild in many parts of the U.S., despite the fact that it has no intoxicating effects. Until such time as the grassroots efforts (no pun intended!) combined with the growing number of States that realize both the ecological and economic benefits that growing hemp can bring, becomes stronger than the “big boys” efforts to squash it, it will no doubt remain illegal. You can do your part to end this travesty by learning more about hemp, and writing your Congressman and Senator to let them know where you stand on this issue.

Next-The Future of Hemp Production Part 3 of 3

What goes around......

2009-08-16T18:45:00.000-07:00

Today I bought a couple of ears of corn from a young Amish gentleman who was parked by a Mexican restaurant we were about to frequent with his horse and buggy selling corn. He had waved at us as we pulled in, and he was either fascinated by the sight of the Airstream or just wanted to sell us some corn.

After we finished a pretty darn good Mexican meal for the middle of the Midwest, we stopped by and bought two ears of fresh picked corn off his buggy. As he was used to selling a dozen ears or more at a time, we had to explain that we only had room for two in the trailer. He quickly did the math in his head and told us that we owed him fifty cents. I handed him the dollar I had in my hand and said "how about a dollar." After advising me that he could certainly make change he gratefully accepted the dollar that I offered.

On the way back to the Airstream while watching his horse wait impatiently in the shade, a lonely dollar bill floated down the street and landed at my feet. Looking down I said to Kate.."look at that, there's a dollar". It wasn't until I had a chance to reflect on it that I realized that the dollar I had given the Amish man without him asking was coming back to me. The lesson was clear.."as you sow, so shall you reap", or as we say now "what goes around comes around". Either way I think, the more we give without asking, the more we get without expecting.

Envirotextiles-Part 1 of 3

2009-08-15T18:41:00.000-07:00

Envirotextiles in Glenwood Springs, CO, is a pioneer in the development of hemp and hemp blend textiles. We were fortunate enough to spend several days with them recently and not only had a chance to learn more about their business, they shared a bit of their philosophy with us as well. Spearheaded by their tireless and charismatic founder Barbara Fillipone, they are leading by example the efforts to improve corporate responsibility and transparency in manufacturing processes and labeling. Her daughter Summer, through her work with the Hemp Industry Association, in addition to running the day to day operations, directs their efforts to help legalize industrial hemp production in the U. S.

Working out of an old log church which they have lovingly rescued from a state of disrepair, Barbara, Summer, and their dedicated staff, designs, imports, and distributes a beautiful array of hemp and hemp blend textiles to manufacturers here and abroad. Barbara’s expertise in all aspects of the textile trade, and her dedication to sustainable manufacturing practices is reflected in the company’s products and culture. Barbara splits her time between their operations in Glenwood Springs and their manufacturing partners overseas. Her “hands-on” approach to every aspect of their business, from the raw materials to the social equity and manufacturing transparency policies of their suppliers insures both the quality of their goods and the quality of life of their suppliers’ work force. When we arrived, Barbara had just returned from Mexico where she is working on a variety of projects to benefit the locals many of whom work on her products, often at her own expense. Her passion for her products and the people that help make them is inspiring.

There are so many stories that can be told about both Barbara and the company she leads, that it is hard to know where to begin. What started out as a one day visit, soon turned into several very enjoyable days trying to absorb all the projects they are involved with. It also helped lead us to our next stop, but that’s another story.

Barbara is currently leading the charge in developing a “Product Information Transparency” system that includes detailed information for the consumer on how and from what a product is made. We soon found that we shared a common distrust for the plethora of “organic”, “green” or “eco-friendly” third-party certifications that seem to be sprouting up everywhere. As we found out from our work in the furniture industry, these are often nothing more than thinly disguised front groups for the industry they are supposed to be regulating.

Others seem to start out with good intentions and principals, only to lose track of their goals through the necessity of raising money to fund their operations. Frequently the best source for these funds are the companies that are mostly interested in obtaining a “green” stamp for their products from a marketing standpoint, and may or may not be truly dedicated to improving how they run their business. From the consumers’ standpoint, it is difficult to know the difference between a product that comes from a company that is truly doing their best to reduce the impact of their manufacturing and distribution operations from one that is simply interested in the label. Barbara’s proposal focuses on complete transparency, and allows the consumer to make a choice based on clear information. She shared with us some of the product labeling she has designed for this and which will be rolled out for public comment in the near future.

We were impressed by the detailed information this labeling will provide and agree that letting the consumer decide, similar to the way the food industry was regulated through the product labeling system developed for that industry is the best way to go. Third-party certifications, as we found out can range from good to meaningless, and the consumer being hard pressed to know the difference, will often develop distrust for all of them. Clear, detailed product information is hard to fudge, and gives the consumer what they need to make a choice without the layers of bureaucracy or the potential for the wolf to be guarding the hen house. The information contained on the label ranges from where, how, and from what it is made, the social responsibility of the company that makes it, its uses and biodegradability, and more.

For the consumer who really doesn’t care, they can just buy it because they like the product. But for the increasing number of consumer’s who want to know, the information is right there and there is no need for a stamp to tell them it is “green”. We applaud Barbara for her efforts in developing and pushing for the adoption of these standards.

Next-The Story of Industrial Hemp in the U.S.

Recycling on the road and Cash for Clunkers

2009-08-14T09:06:00.000-07:00

Likely to disappear altogether under the budget cuts necessitated by the current economy, recycling in the State Parks of Washington and Oregon is something we have taken for granted for some time if you live in those areas. Most of the Park systems in both states have extensive on site recycling. Once we left for points east however it was a different story. Both Wyoming and Montana it seems do not recycle glass at all. Not at curbside, not at the dump, let alone at the parks. Nada, zip, zilch. This made it difficult at best to recycle glass and liking as I do a beer or three now and then, we found ourselves accumulating bottles. Recycling like everything else still has a ways to go.

Recently Congress appropriated an additional Two Billion Dollars to keep the “cash for clunkers” program going. I think of how many recycling programs TWO BILLION DOLLARS would fund and then I remember, glass bottles don’t vote or contribute to campaign funds for politicians. The people that run (into the ground) the automotive industry in this country do. I don't know about you, but I see the program as just another thinly veiled bailout for the auto industry. The amount of energy required to build the new cars that will replace the old ones eats up all the difference in the mileage between the two. And this program does in reality nothing to compell the auto makers to improve the fuel economy of their vehicles, but I'm sure they hope it will sell some cars and get some votes.

The Mountain Pine Beetle-Part 3 of 3

2009-08-12T19:32:00.000-07:00

Our conversation moved on to the subject of what the Forest Service is doing about the problem, and what their long-term strategy may be. There sheer magnitude of the problem and the reduced demand for the wood, means that millions of these trees will not be able to be harvested before they either fall over or become commercially unviable. In many areas they are already too hard to get out without causing other damage to the eco-system.

The Forest Service is therefore focusing its efforts on removing those dead trees that pose a threat to people or property. For the rest of the trees, nature will have to take its course, and in many cases that natural course will be fire. Like the beetles, under normal circumstances fire is a friend of the forest. It will burn out the undergrowth and allow more light into the forest. The heat will actually germinate and not kill new seeds. A healthy forest will often survive and then thrive after a fire. However, many years of man-made fire suppression has left many forests full of dead undergrowth and teeming with fuel. This supports the kind of fires that “crown-out” in a forest and kill almost everything in their path. These fires may pale in comparison however to the fires that will come in the future when the dead pine trees will provide a mountain of fuel.

One thing is abundantly clear. The nearly endless pine forests of the Western U.S. will never look the same in our lifetime. Not in our children’s lifetime. Maybe not in their children’s lifetime. These forests take 100 years to mature and the disruption to the eco-systems that global warming could create may mean these forests will never return. Only time will tell, and it may be running out.

The Mountain Pine Beetle-Part 2 of 3

2009-08-12T19:11:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, in the case of the Mountain Pine Beetle, the worst is yet to come. Those trees that cannot be harvested, and there will be millions of them, may continue to stand for 15-20 years. Eventually wind will knock them down and the fuel will pile up. Finally, when something like a lightning strike triggers a fire, there will be so much fuel that the scope of these fires could be staggering. In western British Columbia alone, there are over 30 million acres of dead trees. And in the U.S. the number of affected acres is growing at an astonishing rate. What I did not know, and what shocked me even further, is that in most cases the mortality rate in these affected forests will approach 100%. That means that in many areas, every living pine tree as far as the eye can see will be dead. This will not only have a huge effect on the environment; it will completely change the look of those areas and the lives of the wildlife and people that live there.

Right now the standing forests of red trees and the pockets of affected but not yet dead green trees, still creates the illusion of a forest. At some point however, the illusion will fail and we will be left with a landscape bereft of pine trees.

There are other severe consequences of this. These forests are sequestering massive amounts of CO2, both on an active and passive level. Once they die, they will no longer be doing this job. Indeed their carcasses will begin to give up all the CO2 they have been quietly holding for many, many years. At a time when we need all the carbon sinks we have, many of these dead trees will become CO2 emitters.

I asked Andy point blank if the any of the forest management practices used by the Forest Service were responsible for the current situation. He thought for a moment and gave us an answer that basically said “no”, but with the caveat that we also just don’t know. If anything he felt that some of the practices such as thinning and prescribed burns may have helped lessen the impact. I am not so sure. I see an eco-system that is stressed. And that stress may just be some of the first really visible signs of the coming disaster that is global warming. But admittedly, I don’t know, they don’t know, nobody knows. But something is terribly wrong in these forests.

Next-Where do we go from here?

The Mountain Pine Beetle-Part 1 of 3

2009-08-07T21:08:00.000-07:00

We spent a couple of days with our friends Jennifer & Michael in the lovely but sometimes sulfurous town of Steamboat Springs. Here the hot water bubbles out of the ground and in addition to the large Hot Springs Resort downtown, there are a number of natural hot springs in the area as well. Jennifer & Michael took good care of us as we worked laboriously to catch up on the website and blog. When you are traveling nearly every day, it can be hard to get some writing done!

While we were there, we got a chance to meet with Andy Cadenhead who is a Timber Management Specialist with the U.S. Forest Service in Steamboat. In every state we have been in since our departure, we have seen the ravaging effects the Mountain Pine Beetle is having on the Lodgepole Pine forests. In many areas stretching from Oregon to Colorado, the Pine Beetle has severely damaged or in many cases destroyed vast tracts of Lodgepole Pines. We wanted to learn more about the cause of this epidemic, as well as the short and long term consequences. Andy was an excellent resource for this information, and we spent about an hour with him one afternoon. This turned out to be a somewhat long but interesting story, so I am going to break it into several blogs.

For those of you who have not seen a forest affected by this, let me tell you, the sight is both shocking and depressing. Where once stood miles and miles of beautiful green trees, now stands a dead or dying forest that first turns red as the pine needles begin to die, then ultimately just becomes a bunch of dead tree trunks waiting to either blow down in the wind, or turn into a raging inferno when they catch fire.

Our first questions centered on how and why this current epidemic has gotten so devastating. We quickly found out that the Pine Beetle is not an invasive species, and that it has coexisted with the pine forests here for as long as anyone knows. In a healthy forest, it helps kill of the weaker trees so that the healthy may proper. It is only when the pine forests become distressed that the beetle will get out of hand and cause this kind of wide spread destruction. Historically, there have been periodic increases in the population resulting in some damage every 20 or so years. This time things have taken on a new dimension, and the scope of the kill is without precedent in modern times. The causes of this are not completely understood, but here are some of the things that are believed to have contributed.

First, in the early 1860's, and then again around 1879, there were some very large fires in some of the pine forests of the western U.S. It is unknown what triggered these fires, but it could have been the result of a previous beetle kill leaving large tracts of dead forests. At any rate, this resulted in large areas of deforestation, and eventually reforestation all occurring in a relatively short time frame. As pine trees begin to become mature at around 80 years, and then ripen into old age around 120 years, they become more susceptible to the beetle. With large tracts of trees all maturing around the same time, as opposed to the more natural mix of young and old trees, these forests become a breeding ground for the beetle which is normally kept in check by the healthier young trees and the cold winters.

Next over the last decade came some long periods of drought. The trees natural defense against the beetles is sap, which they produce at the points where the beetles enter the bark in an attempt to drive them out. For a healthy tree, this is usually enough to keep the beetles at bay so they do not end up killing the tree. However under drought conditions, the tree is not able to produce enough sap to stop the beetles, and in its already weakened state becomes a target.

And lastly, a series of mild winters, triggered perhaps by the effects of global warming, reduced the normal mortality rate for the beetles by 1-2% resulting in more larvae making it to mature beetles, which then have more offspring and so on.

The combination of these three factors, plus perhaps some of which we do not have a clue, resulted in the perfect storm. The pine beetle population has skyrocketed, and the stressed forests are falling victim. Everywhere we go, and in some areas as far as the eye can see, the red forests stand as a grim reminder.

Next-The Worst is Yet to Come

The Glenwood Springs Post & Aspen Times Cover the Eco-Discovery Tour!

2009-08-06T15:33:00.000-07:00

We are spending a couple of days with our friends at Envirotextiles in Glenwood Springs, Co. While we were here, the local paper came by and did a quick story on us. This inspired quite a few locals to drop by and see us! You can check it out at:

'Eco-Discovery Tour' rolls into Glenwood Springs

and Bears...OH MY!

2009-07-29T08:38:00.000-07:00

In the last two weeks, we have seen such a plethora of wildlife it is hard to know where to begin, so I will start with the big stuff. Our first major wildlife encounter was with a Moose, who came strolling across the highway directly in front of us. Stopping 45’ combined feet of truck and trailer on a moments notice for a moose will pucker the sphincter.

Unfortunately, this graceful but oddly physically awkward creature that is a cross somewhere between a horse and a rhinoceros, moved so fast I was not able to get a picture before he headed off into the woods. But beautiful he was.

Our next major encounter was with a mama bear and two cubs. We were in Red Lodge, MT on what appeared to be garbage pickup day, and she apparently was teaching the kids to dumpster dive. This is the constant dilemma between man and nature. As the bear moved through the neighborhood checking out the garbage cans, one of the neighbors came out with his gun. While I hope he was just shooting to scare the bears, and not at the bears, I am not sure. Anyway, the bears come down to the city because the man leaves his garbage out there, so the man shoots at the bears for eating the garbage…brilliant.

I got a couple of shots of mom and the kids at a respectful distance before the gunfire scared them away. I hate to think that that is how mom is teaching them to survive when there are hundreds of square miles of forest around them, teeming with quality bear food sources including myself, but I suspect that is the case.

Survival of the fattest.

Montana & Wyoming

2009-07-28T08:25:00.000-07:00

Montana & Wyoming are states of staggering beauty, dramatic contrasts, and unfathomable distances. If you have never been to these states you owe it to yourself to do so. If you have only been through these states on the Interstates, you have not seen the most beautiful of these places. There is not only abundant geological beauty, there is wildlife and wildflowers that although you have to look carefully in the rocks for them sometimes, they are everywhere and in variety that boggles the mind.

Today we drove by rocks that were over 3 Billion years old. Just down the road they were in the process of straightening out the beautiful curvy old road (one of the Stimulus Packages shovel ready projects?), and blasting through these 3 billion year old rocks.

Those rocks have been there for need I say it again, 3 billion years. Who are we to move them? The only comfort is that after we move them, they will still be somewhere nearby in another 3 billion years. But I suspect that we, and the nice new straightened out road will be long gone.

Victims perhaps of our own arrogance.

Sustainable Practices and Darn Good Beer!!

2009-07-25T08:51:00.000-07:00

We pulled into the Red Lodge Brewing parking lot late Friday afternoon. Lindsey, who had been kind enough to field our last minute request to do a show on Saturday, met us as we pulled in and greeted us warmly. With their permission, we parked the Airstream in their parking lot for the night and listened to the last happy patrons leave as we drifted off to sleep that night.

The next day, we did a little grocery shopping, and cleaned up the Airstream for the afternoon show. Although we were scheduled to start at 4pm, by 2 o’clock, people were asking if they could come in, so we went ahead and opened. From that point on until we closed at 8pm, there was a continuous stream of visitors. Some who had seen the sign in the brew pub, some who had gotten an email from Lindsey, and some who just caught a glimpse of the Airstream as they were passing by and had to stop. The people of Red Lodge are very friendly, and the show was a resounding success. Over the next few days as we hung out in Red Lodge to get some work done on the website, people would knock on the door and ask to see the Airstream as they had heard about it from a friend, gotten the email but couldn’t attend, or just saw the Airstream and were curious. Red Lodge is a great little town.

The reason for our visit to the Red Lodge Brewery, was their commitment to reducing their energy needs, and recycling not only their waste products, but some of their customers as well. The owner Sam has obviously invested considerable time and money to achieve this.

The first thing you notice when you pull up outside is the huge solar array. As we would find out later when Sam gave us the tour, these panels heat water that is then used for a number of purposes throughout the brewery.

The list of energy saving initiatives at the brewery is impressive. In addition to the solar array that provides warm water for the brewing process, and heats the taprooms radiant floor heating, they also operate their vehicles on bio-diesel made from the waste oil they are able to recover from their restaurant customers. This is a beautiful symbiotic relationship. They deliver the beer in the trucks that run on the bio-diesel they make from the oil they pick up when they deliver the beer! We also learned that the spent grains from the brewing process are given to a local rancher for use as feed, who then donated the barn wood from an old barn on his property that warmly decorates the taproom. Taking advantage of the cool, no, make that frigging cold Montana winters, they also keep their energy consumption for cooling the beer down by pumping cold air in from the outside. According to Sam, this cools the beer without additional energy on up to 160 days of the year.

Red Lodge Ales is a shining example of what a company can do to reduce its footprint. It is obvious that the investment the Sam has made here will take some time to pay off in dollars, but the payoff in karma is both instant and obvious.

Taking Refuge in Bozeman

2009-07-24T08:47:00.000-07:00

We paid a surprise visit to Dan & Mary at Refuge the other afternoon in Bozeman, Montana. One might not think of Bozeman as a hot bed of sustainable building, but we were pleasantly surprised to find a well-stocked, beautifully merchandised green building supply here inside of a rustic barn wood building on the edge of downtown. We actually drove by it at first and had to come back around as we were distracted by the huge solar array on the building across the street that turned out to be a Yoga center that heated its hot water for their showers with solar. Not having been through Bozeman in some thirty years or so, we were impressed by the way things have changed!

Dan and Mary graciously showed us around the shop and happily took in a tour of the Flying Cloud, asking a lot of great questions. All too soon it was time to get back on the road, but we enjoyed our visit and have some new friends in Bozeman! We applaud them for their efforts to bring sustainable building to the old west.

For more information visit their website at: www.refugebuilding.com

Kalispell and Indika Organics

2009-07-23T08:32:00.000-07:00

On to Kalispell, where thirty one years ago to the day I came to visit Kate while she was picking cherries in an Orchard there. We were still just seeing each other off and on then, and I decided to show up for her birthday. She was staying in a little log cabin on the property, where I found newspapers from the 1920’s stuffed in the cracks for insulation, including one that told of the arrest of Al Capone. We spent a few nights there together sleeping in the cabin or out in the orchards under the stars. Shortly after that, she came back to my cabin in Oregon, and the rest as they say is history.

Kalispell is also the home to Indika Organics, an organic textile manufacturer whom we had dealt with through our furniture company Zola. In a small unassuming warehouse in the back of an industrial complex just outside of Kalispell, MT, Indika Organics manufactures and imports a line of custom made organic and natural textiles. We have dealt with Indika for some time as a supplier for Zola Furnishings, and it was nice to put a face with a name at last when we finally met Patti from Indika. Although they were not in production on the day of our visit, Patti gave us the nickel tour. Next to the wide array of looming, weaving and sewing machines, there were stacks of brightly colored yarns waiting to be woven, and stacks of equally bright fabrics waiting to be shipped.

Besides their line of custom woven textiles, Indika manufactures and imports a line of custom made Organic Turkish Cotton bath towels. We can tell you from experience, that these are the softest most luxurious towels you will ever experience, and they hang proudly in the Doris Mae!

Visit their website at www.indikaorganics.com

Environmental Disaster in Libby, MT

2009-07-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

On our way from Troy to Kalispell, we passed through the town of Libby and stopped there to fix a balky lock on the Airstream. Kate had done a little research on the town and found that they were in the process of cleaning up one of the worst industrial pollution disasters in the country.

The EPA had determined that the town was literally swimming in asbestos that was a naturally occurring element in the Vermiculite ore that was mined there to make among other things home insulation.

Over the years, the town had not only become permeated with the dust, but many of the homes had been insulated with it as well. Over 274 people have died, and many more are sick. W.R. Grace, the company responsible for the mess has somehow been exonerated in the matter, but has agreed to reimburse the EPA for some of the over $250 million dollars spent to remedy it.

But for a quaint little town nestled in the mountains of Montana, the residents are the ones who have really had to pay the price. Two documentary films, Libby, Montana, and Dust to Dust, and three books (An Air That Kills by Andrew Schneider and David McCumber, Libby, Montana: Asbestos and the Deadly Silence of an American Corporation by Andrea Peacock, and Fatal Deception by Michael Bowker) have been written regarding the Grace asbestos tragedy in Libby.

On June 17, 2009 the EPA declared its first public health emergency. This emergency covers Libby and nearby Troy. It will provide an additional $130 million dollars in cleanup and medical assistance. For more information on this go to: EPA to Cleanup Libby, MT

Shelter Designs-Troy, MT

2009-07-21T10:13:00.000-07:00

We took a little detour off the beaten path to the town of Troy, Montana to visit with Shelter Designs. Here Vince Godby and Hays Daniel hand build Yurts. While many people would assume that most Yurts would fall into the category of eco-friendly design, and indeed most do fit many of the criteria such as use of small space, sustainable building materials etc. Shelter Designs is working toward taking the Yurt one step further in terms of eco-friendly and sustainable design and construction. Using as many locally and sustainably harvested materials as possible, they are carving out a niche market from people who want to know a little more about where the materials in their Yurt come from and how they are processed.

We got the recorder the first time we called, and it looked like we might just have to roll on by. We tried again a bit later however and got Hays on the phone. After a brief explanation of what we were up to, he invited us out to see the operation. "We are twelve miles out of town on old Hwy 2" he instructed. "Just look for the lumpy straw bale house, you can't miss it". Sure enough twelve miles, two deer, and a million pine trees later, here was the lumpy house. We were greeted by a barefoot little girl who immediately asked us if were missing any goats or sheep. As we were not, we said no, but that we were looking for the "yurt guys". She offered to take us there and down a sandy little path we went, followed by the dog. "My daddy makes violins" she informed us, and we were surprised to find a violin maker in this remote location. But that's the beauty of this trip, you never know what you will find.

We soon came across a large shop with an even larger addition obviously in progress. Vince, Hays and their assistant Gary soon wandered out to meet us. Not getting a whole lot of visitors out here, they invited us into one of their Yurts that serves as their office, and we got a chance to learn a little more about them and their vision.

Not to be outdone by the Airstream, Vince offered us a tour of the "lumpy house", his straw bale home that sits nearby the shop. This was truly a work of art and love and Vince was rightfully proud of it. He took particular pride in showing us the basement, where underneath a sheet of plywood lay yet another subterranean cavern where he explained in the sub-zero weather that plagued them while they began, the only sand that they needed for the construction that wasn't frozen solid was available. The resulting hole will soon become a root cellar.

All too soon we were on the road again. To learn more about Shelter Designs Yurts visit: www.shelterdesigns.net

Pee Like a Girl

2009-07-21T10:04:00.000-07:00

It took me awhile, but I have finally learned to pee like a girl. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with peeing sitting down. In fact it is quite comfortable. It just takes a little getting used to for a man. After over fifty years of being a pointer, it is hard to become a setter! The other slightly disconcerting feature of the composting toilet is that because the liquid is flowing into a receptacle, it sounds like you are peeing on the floor. This is particularly alarming in the middle of the night when the darkness makes this a distinct possibility to begin with. But just like sitting down to pee, one soon gets used to the splashing sounds

The Blaggs

2009-07-20T09:32:00.000-07:00

On the way from Missoula to Troy where we hoped to meet with an eco-friendly Yurt company, we were blessed to spend the afternoon with Cameron and Pamela Blagg.

Cameron is a well-known Western Artist that we were fortunate to have met over 25 years ago in Bend. He was touring the western art show circuit at the time, and although we barely had a pot to piss in, we were taken by his paintings and purchased two striking portraits of American Indians. One has a pure black background and depicted “Inashah”, a Yakima Indian whose piercing eyes and stern expression jumped out at you from the canvas as if he were alive. In stark contrast, the other painting of the Sioux warrior “American Horse” with brightly colored feathers braided into his long dark hair was painted on a pure white background, and the two paintings hung beautifully together.

They have been with us all these years, and now that we are on the road, they rest peacefully on the walls at our dear friends, Gary and Cheryl Plagmann. They have promised to take good care of them and visa versa.

The next year, Cameron was back and we were in the mood for another painting. Cameron is an avid Indian artifact collector, and at the time we had acquired a small Indian rug collection. He was very interested in our rugs, and agreed to come by the house with some paintings. He was soon the proud owner of a nice swastika emblazoned Navajo rug, and “The Taos Elder” had joined our group of distinguished gentleman on the wall.

We didn’t see Cameron again for about 15 years. By then we were living just outside of Denver, and happened to see that there was a Western Art show in town. Not even thinking about Cameron, we decided to take in the show. As soon as we arrived, we saw that Cameron was on display and immediately headed to his booth. We hadn’t seen him in so long, we weren’t sure we would even recognize him, however when we walked into the booth, he turned and said “Hi John & Kate, long time no see!” We were astounded, but apparently as a portrait painter, he has an uncanny knack for faces. It was a delight to see him again, and although we did not add to our collection that day, it was inspiring to see how his talents had matured over the years. From the struggling artist we had met in Bend, he was now quite well known, and his works were bringing in considerably more than we had paid. We were very proud to have some of his “early works” as they are considered quite collectable.

After the show in Denver, we once again lost track of Cameron, although we would hear tell of him from time to time. When we were getting ready for the road, it was necessary to have the paintings reevaluated for insurance purposes, so we once again contacted him. We told him a little about our trip, and he invited us to stop by if we were in Montana, or perhaps in New Mexico where he and his wife have purchased a small ghost town that they are in the process of turning into a roadside art gallery. We promised we would, and today we were able to fulfill that promise with a visit to their remote mountain top cabin near Bull Lake in the Cabinet Mountain range of the Kootenai National Forest.

After hearing that their cabin was “two miles up a narrow mountain road”, we parked the Airstream by the side of the road on the main highway and headed up to the cabin. After a short but spirited drive we saw the small hand painted sign that said “Blagg” and arrived at the green metal roofed and stone faced cabin that serves as both the Blagg’s home and Cameron’s studio. There was a spectacular view of the Cabinet Range out the front window, and besides the attraction of Cameron’ studio, the Blagg’s home was tastefully decorated with a plethora of Indian art, artifacts, rugs and of course Cameron’s painting and sculpture.

We were graciously welcomed by the Blagg’s, their dog, and Cameron’s warning that he “can’t hear a damn thing”. We had never met his wife Pamela, an American Indian of Salish decent, and a member of the Flathead Indian Nation, but she welcomed us with open arms and the pot of coffee she had promised in the emails we had exchanged.

The next four hours went by very quickly as we shared but mostly listened to some of the best stories we have had the pleasure to hear in some time, including the ceremonial purging of the plethora of mischievous spirits that apparently inhabit their property in New Mexico. They had heard from not only the previous owner, but a host of others in the area as well, that their new home in an old ghost town was full of these previous but no longer mortal inhabitants. They arranged to have Victor Mandan, a close relative of Pamela’s, a full-fledged Medicine Man and apparently quite a character, release the spirits from the town. The ceremony involved blacking out one of the rooms so that no light could penetrate, and the application of various traditional Indian talismans such as feathers, shells and tobacco offerings tied in colorful cloths. As the ceremony progressed, Cameron standing in the darkened room and now both deaf AND blind distinctly remembers suddenly seeing little tracers of light flit in front of his face and wondering what he was seeing. After the ceremony, as the group of largely Indians, some of whom had traveled quite some distance to attend sat down to enjoy a traditional meal of Kentucky Fried Chicken and Biscuits, Cameron related what he had seen. There was a bit of laughter as some of them told of the actual spirits they had seen departing the building through the “great hole that had opened up in the floor and the ceiling”, including two spirits that had “come right up and looked in the eyes” of one of the participants. My feeling is that they had a fuller frame of reference for what they were seeing, and the flashes of light were just Cameron’s way of trying to assimilate it. Either way everyone agreed the ceremony was a success.

The story continued when not long after, the Blagg’s were contacted by one of the other inhabitants of this remote part of New Mexico who demanded to know what on earth they had done! Apparently, like many of the other New Age residents of that State, she had moved there for the spirits, and now they had gone and chased them all away. Friends she complained were getting hard to come by.

After a delightful lunch of homemade chicken soup and a few more great stories, it was time to get moving, pick up the Airstream, and find a place to camp for the night. We soon settled down in a lush grove of trees on the shores of Bull Lake and relished the diversity of our friends and how lucky we are to share this planet with people like the Blagg’s.

Nearby Cameron’s place we stopped at the Bad Medicine Campground. Pamela had told us the story of how the area got its name. Seems that many years ago there had been a small Indian encampment along the lake there. An earthquake had struck and buried the entire camp save for one Indian maiden. This was very bad medicine, and the name stuck. Somehow I’m picturing years later when the white men asked the local Indians for a good place to camp, they said “right here”.

The next morning we took a walk through the Ross Creek Cedars, a rare large grove of old growth cedars that was nearby. These are truly spectacular trees, with many of them 500 years or more old. Just another reminder of why we are on this trip.

The Green Light-Missoula, MT

2009-07-18T11:48:00.000-07:00

Back in the woods again and a brief encounter with a moose, we took a couple of days camping to get to Missoula, Montana. For those of you who have never been there, this is a great little college town with more bars per capita in the downtown area than Seattle has Starbucks. The “Drunken People Crossing” sign in the Downtown also showed they had a sense of humor.

Struggling again with a place to stay that was close to the place we would be doing a show early the next day, we again decided to stay in the city. Finding a little backwater street behind the old train station that was now a swanky office building, we set up camp. Like most of Montana, people really don’t give a damn what you do as long as you don’t bother anybody else. It is a good policy, and it has served them well.

What we didn’t realize however until a little later in the evening, is that this parking area also served quite a few bars at night. In retrospect, I think most of the parking lots in Missoula serve bars at night, but we didn’t know that yet. Sometime around 3am, the patrons begin to file out and we were once again treated to an exuberant cacophony of noise and some nice comments on the Airstream. It was good to be back home!

The next day was Farmers Market in Missoula and we had arranged to do a show in front of a local green retailer (The Green Light) just down the street from the market. The show was a resounding success, and it was refreshing to show some of the good old boy ranchers and farmers about solar power and composting toilets. The most rewarding thing was that they were truly interested, and could actually see how those things could fit into their lives.

The Pataha Flour Mill

2009-07-15T11:36:00.000-07:00

Glancing off to the side of the road as we meandered down Highway 12 in SE Washington State, we caught a brief glimpse of a large old wooden structure with the fading sign “Pataha Flour Mill” painted on its side. Managing a quick right turn at the next intersection (no small feat when pulling a 22’Airstream), we motored in across a small wooden bridge and made our way to the gravel parking lot.

Up close, this was an imposing structure and was over five stories tall to accommodate the machinery, chutes and storage bins needed to process the grain. As we entered through the front doors we found that it now housed a restaurant. After hearing that we “just wanted to see the building” the nice young man at the front counter headed toward the back and said “let me show you the museum!”

Pushing through the wooden saloon style doors, he invited us to have a look around and be careful on the ramps. And look we did. Immediately in front of us stood the largest collection of vintage cameras we have ever seen. There were hundreds of cameras, of every type and vintage, and ranging in size from the smallest handheld to large format portrait cameras. Every one seemed in almost new condition and the scope of the collection was both unexpected and staggering.

From there it was on to what a small sign declared to be Delbert Neibel’s Branding Iron collection. While not as large as the camera collection, we can honestly say that we have never seen a larger branding iron collection, or any branding iron collection for that matter! Each one was carefully translated from Cowboy to English (S Bar S, Rocking Y Ranch, etc.) for the novice Branding Iron Museum visitor. One left the room knowing that somewhere, Delbert Neibel was smiling.

Next we began to climb a series of steep and narrow wooden ramps that led up through the various floors of the mill. As there was minimal powered equipment available at the time, the mill relied a lot on gravity to move the grain through the process of sorting, grinding, sifting and finally bagging the finished product of flour. Huge, largely wooden machines powered by leather belts strung throughout the building did most of this work and the ingenuity of the machinery was impressive. This was particularly true of the sifting machines which were large wooden beds, suspended from a frame work which were then jiggled back and forth repeatedly until the fine flour dropped out through the screens and on down into the bagging chutes.

When we reached the top, there was a small office for the mills owner, with a tiny door cut out next to the main door. Apparently the owner had been fond of Ferrets as they helped to keep the rat population at bay, and had given them full run of the place. There was also a door on the side of the building five stories up that simply entered out into space. It was marked “Mother-in Law Door”.

We finished the visit by descending through the massive “cribs” where the raw grains had been stored and excited out into a bright Eastern Washington sunshine, where the Airstream sat gleaming in the sun. The solar panels on its roof were a sharp contrast to the belt driven machines of yesterday, but once again one had the feeling that good old Delbert would be pleased.

Toppenish

2009-07-14T11:31:00.000-07:00

We made a brief stop in Toppenish, Wa. a small town known for its colorful murals that festoon the downtown buildings. The brightly colored paint was having a hard time disguising the empty store fronts however, and it was obvious that the recession, depression, whatever you want to call it had hit here as well.

Sleep Tight!

2009-07-13T11:27:00.000-07:00

I haven’t always slept that well. Sometimes it has been the pressures of work, money, or the physical pains that plague us as we get older, but I usually would wake up a 3am or so when the voices in my head just became too loud to let me sleep. So I don’t know how much of it is the 100% natural wool bed that we now sleep on, or how much of it is the change in lifestyle we have created, but I am sleeping like a baby and it is a delightful change. Through our work on developing eco-friendly upholstered furniture, we became aware of the toxic chemicals that are present in the average foam mattress. Between the polyurethane in the padding, and the fire retardants that are sprayed on the synthetic covering materials, you are literally swimming in a toxic chemical soup. It is comforting to know that we have eliminated those toxins from our nights.

Greek Pastries

2009-07-13T11:17:00.000-07:00

As we headed toward East on Hwy 12 toward Idaho, we came across a sign that said “Greek Pastries and Monastery”. Sure as heck, here in the middle of nowhere some Greek Orthodox monks had built a monastery that they were helping to fund by running a small bakery, gift shop and deli by the side of the road. I mean, who couldn’t stop. Inside we found a delightful array of pastries and a staff of Greek monks dressed in traditional robes manning the store. As we contemplated our purchase, we were surprised to hear the conversation they were having was about buying real estate. It seemed odd to hear such a banal conversation in this house of God & Goodies! Armed with a small tray of Greek Pastries we headed down the road and bedded down for the night in a park nearby.

The Solar System

2009-07-12T10:39:00.000-07:00

Everyday, if we listen carefully, we can hear the sound of the solar day. In the morning when the solar controller detects enough energy from the panels to activate the charging sequence for the batteries, there is a subtle “click”. Right now, in the summer, this usually occurs around 6am or so, and since the controller sits right under the bed, it acts like an electronic rooster, letting us know the day has begun. In the evening right around dusk, the same “click” is heard as the panels shut down for the day, and no more electricity is being produced. It makes us acutely aware of how much and when the sun is beaming down on us, and it sets a solar rhythm for the day.

The City of Roses

2009-07-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

Backtracking again to Portland, we did an “Encore Performance” at Eclectic Home Furnishings. (Flying Cloud on Display at Eclectic Home)The shop is located in area known as the “Alphabet District” either for its alphabetized street names or the soup kitchens, I’m not sure which. In our efforts to stay on the cheap, avoid abusing our friends, and move the Airstream about as little as possible, we decided to just go ahead and spend our nights camped in the parking lot in front of the store. This sounded like a pretty good idea at the time, but we quickly found out that camping on the streets of a major city presents some challenges.

First, city people never go to bed, ever. Second, the later it gets, the louder they talk. Third, when drunk they think nothing of pounding on the side of somebody’s Airstream in the middle of the night and proclaiming at the top of their lungs that it “looks like a f*&#ing spaceship! And last when confronted with a tousle haired man in his pajamas carrying a large bucket of urine, they think nothing of it. We ended up staying five nights here, showing during the day and working on the website at night, and by the end we were pretty well known in the hood!

Once safely out of Portland at last, we headed back up the Columbia River Gorge and we spent a finally uneventful and quiet night by the spectacular waterfalls that grace this area. Without the buses and the sirens, it was kind of hard to get to sleep. We were forced to settle for the babbling of the brook and the hooting of the owls, supported only by the occasional train that rumbled through along the Gorge.

Computer Disaster!

2009-07-08T10:07:00.000-07:00

Before we left Bend we had decided to upgrade our laptop with a chunk of new memory. The installation seemed to go okay, but by the time we reached Seattle the computer was decidedly not feeling well. By the weekend of the 4th it crashed completely, leaving us unable to work on the website or blog. Hence the reason you are seeing all these "catch-up" posts coming your way. Turns out the brand new memory was defective, and $130.00 later we were back up and running, but seriously behind. We appreciate your patience!

On to Seattle

2009-07-07T09:49:00.000-07:00

The ferry took us to Seattle for a show at One Earth One Design (Flying Cloud on display at One Earth One Design)

After the show a friend of ours invited us to stop by his condo for drinks and conversation. Lacking a place to park the Airstream at the condos, he suggested we park down on the waterfront park just below his building. He had seen other RV’s parked there on previous occasions, and indeed that night we were not alone.

When I say not alone, I mean not only were we joined by fellow travelers, we were also joined by a procession of bikers, joggers, dog walkers, bottle gathering bums and late night drunks! Unfortunately, prior to our departure from Bend, the blinds we were planning on using for the Airstream had been delayed. Thus we found ourselves on the streets of Seattle with little to shield us from the eyes of the public. It also became quite apparent that when you backlight yourself from inside the trailer at night, you put on a pretty good show. After getting up for an early morning pee, I know for a fact that there is a least one dog walker in Seattle who will never forget the Airstream.

Bainbridge, Marysville and World War III

2009-07-05T09:32:00.000-07:00

After a night spent camping, our next stop was Bainbridge Island, just across the water from Seattle. Once again our friends Woodie and Moira treated us beyond well, and we enjoyed a couple nights of barbeque and friendship on the banks of the Puget Sound. We camped in front of an abandoned Country Store by their house, and with all the “For Lease” signs we see on empty businesses locations everywhere we go, it seemed very appropriate.

We had taken the Airstream on a Ferry ride across the Puget Sound and ended up at Kate’s sister’s place in Marysville, WA where we planned to finish some work on the Airstream. Although this was rapidly turning into a “Tour De Friends” we were still kind of on a “shake down cruise”, and still working out a few bugs with the trailer.

Kate’s sisters’ place is on the edge of the Tualip Indian Reservation which is famous for its fireworks. Being just before the 4th of July, there were literally hundreds of fireworks stands within a mile or so of the house. For days before the 4th, the fireworks would begin going off around dusk and continue unabated until 11pm or so. They finally reached their crescendo on the 4th, and from what we were told, through some sort of bizarre arrangement with the State, any fireworks left at the stands on the evening of the 4th had to either be sold or “destroyed”. This led to World War III breaking out on the night of the 4th. At one point, fireworks were going off so hot and heavy that the debris was hitting the Airstream like pelting rain. Since we had had some pretty good rain, that’s actually what we thought it was until we walked outside into an unmistakable cloud of gunpowder and a torrent of ash. Finally around midnight, somebody signaled a truce, and we got some sleep.

When we drove by the stands the next morning, they were completely abandoned and tons of fireworks debris was strewn everywhere. Perhaps a little odd when you think about it, Indians celebrating the 4th of July, until you learn that this is where they are forced to make the bulk of their income for the year.

Agri-Plas, Hood River

2009-07-04T09:04:00.000-07:00

Stopping on our way to visit Agri-Plas (Eco-Discovery Tour visits Agri-Plas), a company that recycles plastics into oil, we headed down the road to our good friends Ed & Christy who live in Hood River. Hood River is a magical little town east of Portland, and is world-renowned for its first class wind-surfing. The hospitality flowed again and all too quickly morning came and we were back on the road.

The Continuous Traveler

2009-07-03T09:56:00.000-07:00

On the way out of Eugene, we had stopped at the Oregon DMV to change our driver’s licenses. Kate had discovered a little know fact that the State of Oregon has an official designation of “Continuous Traveler” Even the woman behind the desk had never had to do one before and it took her and her supervisor some time to figure it all out. Soon we left clutching the coolest drivers’ license in the world. Emblazoned on the front where one would expect to see an address, is the classification “Continuous Traveler”. Makes it kind of fun when people ask…”So, where do you live?” We just whip out the old drivers license and say “Well...right here…for now.” Zaphod Beeblebrox would be proud.

The Start

2009-07-02T08:50:00.000-07:00

When we were planning this trip, we weren’t really sure where we would end up staying most nights. Part of the “plan” was to have no real plan. As it turns out, this plan seems to be working pretty well, but it has led to us staying in some rather interesting locations. Needless to say, some have been better than others, and some we have simply had to say “it is what it is” and enjoy it for just that! We will try and share the highlights with you.

Things started out on a pretty normally. We left Bend early that first morning with hardly a glance back. Without getting into details, Bend has proven to have a bittersweet relationship with us twice now, and we were ready to bid it farewell again.

The first night on our grand adventure we stayed with an old friend of Kate’s who had 40 acres outside of Eugene. Coincidentally, it was only a few miles from where my first off-grid handmade cabin that I lived in when Kate and I first met was located. Barb was a gracious host and pampered us with dinner that evening and breakfast the next morning and we were both thinking “boy, this is going to be easy!”.

The big breakfast prepared us for the show we had planned at the King Estate Winery that day. This certified organic vineyard and winery that also boasts 30 acres of organic vegetables and fruits, sits in an absolutely beautiful setting nestled in the rolling hills outside of Eugene. The weather was perfect and we had a very good show (Flying Cloud on display at King Estate Winery)

From there we kind of backtracked up the McKenzie River to attend a memorial party for a close friend of mine who had recently passed away. We got to say goodbye to him, as well as a number of good friends who attended as well. We spent the night in a lovely campground on the McKenzie, one of the more beautiful rivers in the world.