News: Nature Conservancy and Brothels, a natural love...
The Army Corp of Engineers loves to build stuff. They also love to build very unnecessary stuff. From 1950-1960 the corp worked in Nevada to transform the meandering Truckee river into a straight, concrete sided, less flood prone canal. In 2000, the Nature Conservancy began a multi million dollar project aimed at returning the Truckee to a more natural path, and encourage the return of native species to river. A final piece of that plan fell into places early this year as the BLM transferred ownership of The Mustang Ranch, a former brothel situated along the river, to the Conservancy. The ranch was siezed by the IRS several years ago. The buildings and the name were auctioned off the highest bidder, who relocated the structures down river and reopened the ranch.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/15/science/earth/15ranch.html?_r=1
Go Here: Isle Royale NP
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
The largest island in Lake Superior, Isle Royale is actually closer to Canada than it is to the states. Lucky for us the Canadians are laid back enough to let us steal this gem away from them. Accessible only by boat (or a long cold swim) Isle Royale sees only about 15,000 visitors annually and is the 5th least visited National Park (the top 4 are all in Alaska and American Samoa). Random fact: Isle Royale is the only known place where moose and wolves live together without bears. It is probably kind of cold there right now, but it is never too early to start planning a Spring expedition. Just make sure to bone up on your moose dodging skills.
The New Cowboy Orchestra
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Cowboy Orchestra has been a fun side project for a long time. Unfortunately, new posts have been erratic and have been entirely focused on my on adventures. Over the next few weeks Cowboy Orchestra will begin to evolve into something greater. The adventure stories will be only a piece of a much broader site. Our posts will cover gear reviews, stories, getaways, outdoor/environmental news, and other randomness. Post will be much more frequent, with updates at least 4 times a week. Additionally, yours truly will cease to be the only writer. We have recruited several additional outdoor nuts, professional gypsys, gear heads and lovers of nature to contribute. Additionally we will be updated the look, feel and navigation of our site, before formally moving to our own domain name sometime after the new year. So come along for the ride, and if you have something good to contribute don't hesitate to get in touch with me.
Driver
Video of Sasquatch (or Summer 2009)
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
So there is a dirty rumor that there is extensive video footage of this past Summer's adventure. This is 100% valid, but still dirty. Honestly, I have not even begun to look through this footage. So for now, here is a teaser of some of the best footage...or the worst...seriously I have no idea...it's pretty much the first few minutes of footage I found...there...you happy now?Lightening So Bright it Hurts My Eyes
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Day 3 in the eerie, prehistoric backcountry of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. In the heart of the Wallowa Whitman National Forest in Northeastern, OR, Eagle Cap is relatively remote, and seems to have escaped the bump in popularity seen in many comparable western mountain regions. On a day of hiking in Eagle Cap you can easily find yourself dwarfed by old growth pine forests, sweating through temperate rainforest, wind burned along alpine ridges, and trying to keep your feet dry in knee deep snow. Eagle Cap has everything; everything except lots of other people. So actually, forget everything I just told you. That place is really boring, there is no TV and certainly not internet and you really should never ever go there.
So, day 3 in Eagle Cap, our group of 2 leaders and 10 campers huffed it the approximately 10 miles from North Minam Meadows to Swamp Lake (about 2,000ft higher). This hike has a taste of everything I described above. I have a pretty big head, and at one point during this hike a toad the size of my head casually plopped itself down on the trail in front of us, stared us down, licked its lips (do toads have lips?) and then casually plodded off down the other side of the trail.
We arrived at Swamp Lake around 3pm, and quickly set up camp in anticipation of impending wet weather from clouds that had been threatening all day. Swamp lake is surrounded on all sides by some of the highest peaks in Eagle Cap, and directly framed along one edge by 30 foot high cliffs. This was early July, and there was still a lot of snow at elevation, making our site selection a little more difficult. Eventually we erected our tents perched atop the cliff lined side of the lake, one of the only dry spots. -->
At about 8pm that night the clouds, that had only been threatening until that time, broke open upon our camp. Hunkered in our tents we fell asleep listening to the rain testing the water proofness of our little shelters. The sound of the rain was periodically drowned out by booming claps of thunder, as a major system passed over us.
Around 1am I was startled from my sleep, not by the thunder, which had long since become part of the background chorus of the night, but by a nigh on blinding light. The same light had roused my co-leader, Jagger, from his beauty rest. The two of us sat upright in our sleeping bags at opposite ends of the tent, silently listening to the rain, and the thunder, and bracing ourselves for the next bright flash. During a summer in the backcountry the tent becomes our office, our bed, and our refuge from the never ending questions of inquisitive 15 year olds. That night, the millimeter thin walls were a fortress.
After a few moments of sitting in silent wonder, I cautiously unzipped our tent door. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness it was quickly evident that the storm was no longer passing over us; we were in the thunder head.
My head fill with concerns that bounced around my noggin and fought each other for the front of the line.
How much longer? Campers? Lightening position? Flooding? Sasquatch? What do thunderheads taste like?
Hopefully not long. Sleeping, or awake and frightened. Pretty useless at this point. A few damp tents never hurt anyone. Definitely real. Somewhat mildewy.
Inside of a thunderhead there was little we could do. It was a helpless, but relieving feeling. Whatever happened, was going to happen, and we could only sit back and watch mother nature at her finest.
Around 4am the storm began to subside. The flashes began to dim, the thunder seemed to move away, and the pelting sound of rain on our tent fly began to ease. I took this easement as a chance to leave the confines of our tent to empty my bladder. Unzipping the tent door I slipped my sandals on, and stepped outside...into blinding whiteness. The rain had not really passed, but had turned to snow in the cool air left in the wake of the thunderstorm. I stood there in my underwear, sandals, and wool hat, frozen by the beauty...and the cold. After a few moments I realized that I was not the only one who had taken the opportunity as a bathroom break. Three of my campers stood outside their tent, frozen in awe as I.
It was one of those moments that I will never forget. It was a moment of pure beauty and power, one of those moments that many of us, who spend half our lives in tents, live for.
39 Days + 1 Lower Ballfield
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
On day 3 you notice how bad the van smells. On day 13 you can't really smell it anymore. On day 30 you still can't smell it, but other people sure can. That smell is what happens when 9 males spend 39 days together in a 15 passenger van. To be fair, only about 14 of those days were actually spent in the van, but when 7 of those 9 males are 15 year olds...well...the smell tends to build quickly.Its a smell I've become used to over 120 days of tripping during the past 3 summers. This summers trip was, like all others, an adventure. Unfortunately, this summers trip was also probably the smoothest...which means less crazy stories for me to share. But here's my shot at the top ten list from this summer. Stories to come soon...if I feel like it...which I probably will sometime around Thanksgiving.
1. Waking up in a thunderhead, peeing in a snow storm in the Eagle Cap Wilderness of Oregon.
2. Backcountry horseshoes in Eagle Cap Wilderness
3. Informing the leaders of a group of Canadian Girls Scouts with whom we shared a group campsite that their girls had some late night male visitors from town.
4. Epic thunderstorm on the drive into the Badlands on night one.
5. Swimming at the foot of a glacier in Berg Lake of Mt. Robson Provincial Park, B.C.
6. ...well that 5 for now...the next five to come soon...feel free to suggest your own if you were on trip with me this summer...
Not Dead Yet
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Once again I have utterly failed to update the blog with any regularity. Fortunately that means that I have lots of good, scandalous, and odd things to write about. Plus, with the economy continuing its delightful free fall I'll have plenty of time...in between updating my resume...to fill the gaps between May 8th and August whatever day it is.
Spring Schedule to date...lists satisfy my mild OCD
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Phoenix, AZ ()Telluride, CO ()
Fruita, CO ()
Moab, UT ()
Boise, ID ()
Yellowstone NP ()
Tetons NP ( )
Jackson, WY ( )
Badlands NP ( )
Bemidji, MN ( )
Endangered Sherpa Hamsters...
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Also know as the American Pika is verging on extinction according to backcountry.com who got their information from outhere.freedomblogging.com who got their info from the US Fish and Wildlife Service. So essentially I am ripping this off from three different sources. With that said, I have adored the Pika for years. This little half prairie dog, half hamster, half ground hog that dots the mountains of the American and Canadian west is simply freakin adorable. Sadly, however, global warming is going to mercilessly slaughter every last adorable and likely delicious Pika. So the next time you idle your car for 30 minutes to warm it before your five minute drive to the asshole factory where no one recycles and all the lightbulbs are totally 90's regular old fashioned inefficient bulbs just remember that you personally kill 14 of these happy little hamster monsters. And just because of you I won't get the chance to gig one of these guys and roast him over a backcountry camp fire...bastard.
That hissing sound when your knife penetrates the torso...(Part 2)
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
As promised, the second installment of our epic tale of frog murder.
As the sun sank slowly below the horizon, and with only one confirmed frog kill, I was beginning to wonder how successful out overnight foray was going to be. I sat on the ground chowing down on some tamale pie and chili that C had brought along, and watched G assemble our weapons for the rest of the evening. The encroaching darkness meant that C's .22 was nearly useless, but I was assured that there would be many more kills that night. What G was putting together were three gigs. These gigs were essentially 6 ft long steel rods topped off with a nice little 15350 picture to the right. At the non-business end of each gig was a loop of elastic PVC tubing which could be hooked around the users top hand in order to add an extra level of thrust and accuracy.
After digesting the gastrointestinal bomb C had supplied for dinner we suited up in waders, strapped on headlamps and headed for the edges of LMT. I watched closely as C and G employed various tactics in attempts to sneak up on the weary bullfrogs. The general method included a mix of creeping along the gravely banks, wading cautiously through the shallows, and intermittently shining the bright beams of the headlamps along the bank and edges of the pond. After observing for a bit, I slowly crept into a shallow bay along one end of the tank and began what would prove to be a frustrating and invigoration game of cat and mouse...or human in waders and over sized invasive habitat destroying bullfrog. After about a half and hour of attempting various methods, I managed to catch the glimmer of a set of frog eyes about a foot from the edge of the tank. Holding my light steadily on the frog in order to keep it frozen, I waded cautiously in its direction and began to aim my gig and apply tension to the PVC tubing. With the frog still frozen by the glaring beam of my headlamp and the three pronged tip of my gig just inched from his beady little eyes, I let the tension release and the gig struck the frog with surprising force. After holding the frog pinned against the bottom of the pond for a few moments, with one prong thoroughly through its back and the other two pressed against its sides, I flipped the frog kabob onto the bank. Before it could make an escape, yes they are that resilient, I grabbed its hind legs and fumbled for my the knife strapped to my waders. I pulled the knife from its sheath and plunged the blade into the frog approximately where its shoulders were...if frogs have shoulders...but you get the idea. I slowly slide the knife from one side of its back to the other, slicing into its spine and releasing a strange hissing sound. The sound was a strange mix of what may have been a last gasp for breath and pockets of air inside its torso. It was a sounds I would become quite familiar with as the night continued.
After another 45 minutes or so, and with 5 kills between us, we packed up and headed out to another tank. This tank was about a 20 minute drive, and a 30 minute walk, and would turn out to be the motherload of bullfrogs. 25 yards from its banks our lights cast out across the pond, and were reflected by countless sets of golden iridescent frog eyes. For the next two hours we would stalk slowly along the edges and banks of the ponds. From time to time we would pause, turn our lights off, and stand utterly still hopeing to lure the spooked frogs back to the surface. These periods of silence would often last 15 or 20 minutes, punctuated by the occasionally hoot of an owl, the distant howl of a coyote, or the low hum of a border patrol helicopter.
When we eventually called it a night was had a garbage bag full of about 25 frogs ready to be dissected and discarded the next day.
I have been in some odd places and situations, but this nears the top of the list...kneeling on the bank of a stock tank, deep in the mountains, cutting into the back of a bullfrog, listening to the hissing sound as I split its spine, while border patrol helicopters circle overhead and the border wall itself twinkled in the distant valley.
Hail storms, gallons of poop, and broken derailers...
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Spent five days in CO/UT working the Bikerpelli tour on the Kokopelli mountain bike trail. It was an epic four days doing logistical support for 90 riders as they rode the 142 miles from Fruita, CO to Moab, UT. Try to imagine sending 90 riders off in the AM, meeting them for lunch as the stagger in over the course of 4 or 5 hours, then meeting them for dinner...doesn't sound too difficult eh? And truly it wasn't, but only for the near perfected system designed over the years by the tour director.
Not sure where really to begin with this one, so I will try to pick out the juicy...and often smelly details. The event itself was a tour, not an event. The distinction here simply being that our focus was on group support and less on individual attention. This meant that there was no on trail support, just bike repair areas at the aid station at lunch and at camp in the evening. While the riders were on trail we spent our time driving the riders gear, our gear, and often several riders in two full size budget rental box trucks and a fifteen passenger van. There are photos to come, but just to paint a picture these roads were often four wheel drive only and one included 22 creek crossings.
At lunch, in addition to a bike repair area, we setup several tables with a nice make your own sandwich lunch spread, put out a variety of camp chairs, and generally attended to the condition of the riders trickling into the station. The evening was another matter. The goal was to arrive to camp an hour or so before the riders at which point we unloaded 90 large duffels, and 90 camp chairs, before setting up our gear in preparation for cooking that nights dinner. In addition to the tables, stoves, food etc. needed for cooking, we were also charged with setting up toilets. 90 people is by no means my definition of a low impact backcountry group, but in an attempt to minimize the footprint we setup 5 toilet areas. These were a relatively simple system of "bathroom doors," signs staggered some 50 yards from the actual toilet areas, followed by a trail of orange flags leading to the toilet. The toilets themselves were generic 10 gallon buckets, with plastic snap-on toilet seats. Next to each toilet was another bucket of kitty litter. After using the bathroom, the user was supposed to cover his/her product with a scoop full of kitty litter. Although far from preventing all odor, the system worked relatively well. Picking out scenic and private spots for the toilets became something of a challenge and was even entertaining. Picking up the toilets in the morning was a much less pleasant process...carting around 10 buckets of human waste is 100% as unpleasant as it sounds.
During the day I filled multiple rolls, but was spent most of my time driving what we referred to as the "SAG" wagon. This was a 15 passenger van available at breakfast and lunch for riders wishing the skip the next segment of trail. Occasionally the van was used to shuttle riders from the lunch spot passed a portion of the afternoons ride. On our last day we shuttled riders passed a 6 mile sections of uphill pavement to the trail head of the next section. I managed to drop off one load of riders...in 40 degree temperatures and heavy hail...before the afternoon ride was called. Those eight riders, ranging in age from 22 to 52, sat in the van at the trail head for about 20 minutes before communally peer pressuring each other into going for it. As one rider relayed to me later "even after you left we circled on our bikes at the trail head, waiting for someone to chicken out or take the plunge. After about 30 minutes one of the other riders let out a loud "fuck it!" and tore off into a dark muddy unknown." About 6 hours later those eight riders trickled into our evening camp, coated head to toe, tire to tire in mud.
Included are a few pictures from the journey. Unfortunately I was only able to snap a few quick shots with my iphone, but one of my epic 8 muddy riders has promised to send some of his along.
That hissing sound when your knife penetrates the torso...(Part 1)
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
"...we stand a good chance of preventing reproduction this year and heading off emigration into Scotia Canyon from that direction." Something about the level of professionalism in the email did not really convey the full depth of the upcoming experience. It was complete with full punctuation and capitalization, correct grammar and spelling, and an excessively tidy electronic signature. All indications were that this would be a very proficient and highly technical operation.In Arizona, there are a number of relatively devastating invasive/exotic plants and animals. They take many forms, from buffle grass to the "quagga" mussel. For our purposes the target of our aforementioned efforts to prevent reproduction would be the bullfrog. The bullfrog, although highly sought after by princesses seeking a prince, has a surprising devastating impact on the already fragile Arizona desert ecosystem. The scientific details, although intriguing, are not of much consequence to this story. You can read more about it an older National Geographic article...or just google "Arizona bullfrogs." Three Dog Night sang of Jeremiah who was a bullfrog, and apparently also a good friend. He may very well have been a terrific guy by bullfrog standards, but in Arizona he still would not have been welcome.
And thus, after several months of hearing stories of the epic battle against the bullfrogs I was invited along on a foray to the front lines in the war. Late in the afternoon we piled into a Forest Service green pickup truck (a color that cannot be described, but is instantly recognizable) and headed off into the depths of Coronado National Forest. The frogs had taken up residence in several stock tanks around the national forest, as is common throughout the state. Here I will not get into an explanation of the disappointing relationship between the forest service and ranchers other than to say that I find it less than ideal and relatively typical of an often backwards agency like the forest service. There, only one sentence, albeit a run on, bashing the forest service. They also do lots and lots and lots of good work, and employ lots and lots and lots of good people.
Anyway, after a long and uncomfortable ride on what were often barely passable 4 wheel drive roads with 3 of us packed into the cab if the truck and a radio awkwardly positioned where the middle passengers legs should have rested, we arrived at Lone Mountain Tank (LMT). LMT was hardly more than a mud hole at this point; it doesn't really rain in Arizona from about mid-August until late June. My associates in the war on the frogs, who for our purposes will be known simply as C and G, climbed out of the truck and immediately began surveying LMT through binoculars. I fell somewhat helpless at this point as I had not anticipated binoculars to be a key piece of bullfrog slaughtering equipment. After a few short moments of squatting on the banks of the tank, the sun quickly disappearing over the ridge to our west, we managed to spot five frogs. C, a former army sniper and current volunteer for the forest service, setup a standing position behind a small mesquite with his .22 rested between two branches. A long silence fell over the area as G and I crouched on the bank anxiously watching C zero in on a frog bold enough to breach the surface no more than 20 yards away. From our vantage point only the frogs bulging eyes were visible as he floated, basking in the last rays of that days sun. A sudden popping sound tore through the silence, and the frog exploded from the water from an combination of self propulsion and the impact of a hollow tip bullet.
A few hours later, with night almost fully upon us, dinner in our stomachs, and full waders on we advanced on LMT once again. We retrieved the victim from early that day, floating near the edge of the tank, and tallied out first kill for the night. The rest of the slaughter would be done from much closer range, and would require a combination of stealth and cunning that would make the border patrol agents who patrolled the same forest envious. TO BE CONTINUED...
Back to the Future II
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
More in my continued effort to recover some of the video of the past two years. Here is the first half of the video from Summer 2008.Back to the Future...
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
With my extra week of leisure time here in Southern AZ I've decided to attempt to compile the videos of my last two summers here on the blog. Unfortunately, due to a hard drive crash a few months back I have lost the originals of the JL 2007 and PNW 2008 videos. So to start things off, here is the video from summer 2007.PART I
PART II
PART III
False Start...
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Departure date delayed approximately a week for reasons to be disclosed later. In the meantime, enjoy the following video of one of the most epic sunsets I have ever witnessed. This was the sunset in Hereford, Arizona back in late February. Stick around until the end, its worth it.Cowboy Orchestra Rides Again!
Posted by
Madden Driver Coghlan
|0
comments
Or something along those lines...So far I have failed entirely to update this page with an regularity. Thus, the adventures of the past few months have gone largely undocumented. Maybe some day when I have a bit more time I will attempt to fill in the holes from June 2008 until April 2009. For now I want to focus on trying to keep up with at least semi-regular posts about my current adventures. All that needs to be said for now is that summer 2008 was terrific. Turned out to be an epic summer and an epic Pacific Northwest trip! Since then, I've worked a couple jobs, most recently for the Nature Conservancy. My tasks during this latest employment have included trail maintenance, construction, some plant removal, a little forest thinning, and even a little bullfrog homicide.
For now, those are the only details you get. After all, this blog is about on the choicest of ridiculous stories from my travels...not about the boring details of my life...I wish to avoid becoming one of those people who feels the needs to share the play-by-plays of daily life.
With that in mind, I set out on my next adventure in just three days. I'm hitting the road for some traveling, a couple roadtrips, a bit of work, and finally a return to TBird to lead the JL trip once again. I will attempt to update this more often, but only with the best of what are certain to be a series of absurd stories one can only experience while traveling. Cheers!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)