Rock Art and Sun Spirits

This weekend was the big solar eclipse in So. Utah.  Harold and I decided to drive down to view the rare annular eclipse, initially heading to the Kolob, but, freaked out about the numbers expected in that area, decided to try the lesser known Parowan Gap.  I'd been there years ago with an old friend, Tom Gardner (anthropologist, architect, and sheep herder from Paragonah) in his old pickup truck with two dogs, two joints, and a six pack.  Sadly, Tom is gone, but his memory lives, and that long ago adventure proved valuable in out search for the ultimate eclipse view spot.

We arrived early, and spent some time checking out the numerous petroglyphs in the area.  Apparently the Parowan Gap was an early native astrological site, wonderfully significant for the day's future event.  What follows are a bunch of photos of these petroglyphs.  As usual, click on the pic for a bigger display.

There was a fair amount of traffic through the gap, people enjoying a Sunday afternoon drive, climbing the rocks, checking the petroglyphs.  We spent a little time trying to convince the young girls that at the moment of full annular eclipse, we needed to rip off our clothes and cavort around in the ancient Indian rituals.  We didn't really get anywhere with this, at the time, perhaps because there were several local County Sheriffs with drug sniffing dogs looking for drug addled hippie pervs thinking what we were thinking.

Kinda strange having three patrol vehicles and an ambulance for the small amount of folks gathered, mostly families and the Ogden Astronomical Society, but then...  to serve and to protect...  

We decided to drive down another road away from the main group so we could engage in drug addled hippie perv activities...  at least try to achieve some shade from the direct sun.

Finally the big moment arrived...  the moon would take nearly an hour to traverse the sun to the point where we could view the "ring".

Somewhat disappointingly, it did not get dark as the full annular eclipse took place, but the light did change in a strange and wonderful fashion.

And then the full annular eclipse...

Suddenly a bevy of naked and nubile young women lept upon us, ripping off our clothes, and ravishing us in unmentionable ways.  At the height of our pleasure, they plunged obsidian knives deep into our chests, then ripped out our hearts, and tumbled our bodies into a nearby ditch, left for the coyotes to devour in finality.  And so was created another myth passing into the history of the Parowan Gap.

Geezers Get Gone...

Cinco de Mayo, and the annual trek to the San Rafael desert.  More sadness this year with the passing of the event's founder, Harry Sellers.  But a great turnout just the same, as nearly everyone is now retired and ready to play.

To stake our territory and ward off the uninitiated, we called on Rafael, patron saintess of the Cinco weekend.  She need some preparation for the task at hand.

And then to desert bondage, all in the service of a successful weekend.

But perhaps this sacrifice was not enough, because soon, due to a wrong turn, the arriving shitter got stuck (the BLM essentially mandates some sort of portable bathroom facilities for campers).  However, a group effort retrieved the essential trailer and soon it was up and operational.

With campsites up and running, it was time to let the games begin.  Out came the beers and tequila.  The party was on, and the women ran screaming from booze crazed pervs.

Tequila makes you taller...

But the booze did not distract us from the beauty of the San Rafael desert.  

Soon it was sunset, followed by the full moon rising...

The next day was the 5th of May, with a "supermoon" expected that night (actual full moon and the closest to earth in some time).  

As has become traditional, Cinco de Mayo is transformed into Cinco de Maui, with our hosts freely pouring Mai Tai's for cocktail hour.

And the celebration was on, with appropriate treats and costumes...  

The supermoon came out, but we were no longer capable of capturing great photographs.

The evening ended around the campfire, with music and more drinking.

But the next morning, the usual toll for the evening's festivities had to be paid.  The empties, staggering from the tents, the listlessness, the pain...

But salvation was at hand...  the elders found their flock and served sacrement...

And, well, that's all folks...

(stay tuned for pics from the big hike)

SLC Punk

A bit of a rip from the movie, but since I've been into punk rock a bunch lately, I thought I'd post some thoughts and some links to a few rare but incredible punk tunes by SLC groups.  While judging the rock category for the Utah Arts Festival, I noticed that many groups sounded accomplished, reasonably listenable, and occasionally notable; however, nothing really impressed me.  "So what" was my continuing comment for all the groups.  Something was just missing.  Then I heard an entry from group of teenagers singing something about "forgot to take my medication", and suddenly I knew I had found the group that cut through all the bullshit and put something on the rock and roll table.

They basically played punk rock.  They weren't particularly accomplished, but their songs were intense and related directly to their experience.  The essence of rock and roll.  All the way back to rockabilly...  simple, direct, hard, fast, forget any complicated crap.  Drill to the heart of the matter.  That's why I was attracted to the punk groups of the 70's (and I was one of the first to play punk on the radio during my KUER-FM days as god's gift to radio).  Once I'd made the connection between rockabilly, garage, and punk, things made sense.  Rock loses it's significance once it strays from the simple and basic.  If you can't say what you feel with just two chords and few words, there's nothing to say.  And it can't be pleasant...  Teenage angst.  That's the essence of rock and roll.

Punk endures, I think because it always connects to basic emotions  (and certainly doesn't require all the talent in the world).  Just scream it out...  people will get it.

Back in the late nineties, I was connected to a couple local punk groups.  The first, the Classic Assholes, didn't play that much, never got a CD out, but I do have the master tapes from their studio effort.  Planned for the CD was a cleaned up live cut...  perhaps one of the top ten punk tunes ever done...  Big Truck.

The Classic Assholes evolved into a more politically anarchistic group:  Nu Speak.  Again, no CD but the studio master tapes exist.  Here's an example:  Anti-DisChaos Youth.

Back in the late 70's, the Atheists played during the American Atheists convention in town.  I've posted previously on this group.  Their performance that night finished with their theme song:  There is No God, There's Only Noise.

Some day maybe the full recorded repertoire of these bands will become available.  Stay tuned.  In the meantime, punk lives!

Railroad Geneology

Well, it's not a pretty picture.  The end of the line in many ways.  But this has family significance for me.  Inspired by the railyards of the Hi-Line in Havre, I dug up this old pic taken by Jeanne Hill.  It's from the mid-70's taken while drinking at the SLC freight yards.  Probably listening to the local Triple A team on the radio...

My grandfather worked the Soo Line for many years.  It also was a "Hi-Line", running through Minnesota and probably lower Canada.  While my grandfather hailed from Prince Edward Island, Canada, my grandmother was Swedish...  they met in Minnesota where my father was born.  They retired to Boston where I was born (making me a life-long Boston/Milwaukee/Atlanta Braves fan).

This all makes sense, if you follow the grain.  Northeastern Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, and lower western Canada are all big grain producers.  The Soo Line hauled the grain to Boston, where it was loaded onto freighters for world-wide shipping.  So the family connections make sense.

Some of this grain connection is explained in "Merchants of Grain" by Dan Morgan.  Written 20 years ago or more, it is a very revealing tome on the business of grain and the closely held companies, such as Cargill, that nearly monopolize the market.

The old memories persist in the hearts of dedicated railroaders...  The Soo Line has its own web page.  Whenever I see one of the Soo Line cars,  I'm reminded of my grandfather teaching me a few morse code letters, the telegraph an essential part of railroad communications in his day.