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While the photo above does not portray the erosion of the road which threatens to lock us into a very poor and sporadic alternative route, it does show the same severity of creek erosion at the very heart of this latest concern. You can see the wide and biting swing of the creek into the road bank above it. The creek has condemned as much as a half mile of road at a time with its ravenous appetite. Such stretches of road on our private lands were never restored for grazing by their principal users when they no longer served their immediate purposes. In other words, we were losing ground on both sides; to the wild and unpredictable creek and to those who sought to avoid it at the cost of our good and solid lands.
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I cautiously stepped a few feet closer to the edge to show you what happens when the creek takes another bite and the clay walls submit to the logical consequences. Sometimes you are warned of imminent collapse when you see a long stress crack three foot in from the bank's top, sometimes not. It might support a mega-ton rig as it did this morning or it might let loose under something as light as our pick-up truck.
In these latter days, lawyers are driving to limit their corporate liabilities and their bean-counters are pressing for foolish nickel and dime cost savings. They are trashing previous policies of helping landowners in other non-cash ways and I am wondering if we should close access to roads on our private land which they build but refuse to maintain to reasonable safety standards. To me, liabilities exist on both sides of the fence but I see mostly us on the giving side lately. Any advice and suggestions on this one?
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In the meantime, we made our trip up top to explore new home site options. In a future post, I will show the site which Mark, Slim and I selected during Thursday's drive around. It is still highly tentative and largely rests in the hands of the newest and very rude gas player out here as to its feasibility at all. This new outfit has even appalled and ruffled the usually unflappable Slim with its 'because we can' attitude of insufferable arrogance and its shameful under-handedness so far. The bad apple has arrived and the rest of the barrel will suffer from their greed and callousness.
Photos above and below show part of the new access road if we choose to relocate. It is uniformly wider than the road we have endured for two years now and has the advantage that it does not traverse the creeks and wide washes that our current road does. It winds down from the mesa top to the canyon bottom and crosses the killer wash with the help of a very respectable bridge which is open 24/7. This is the same bridge which we hope to reach after enduring the goat path.
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If the Rat can make it out on our own crumbling canyon roads, then these roads will be a snap to navigate with minimal damage. The question is, will it make it that far without serious damage or complete disaster?
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Today's Pre-Ramble: It was with great satisfaction that I did the rounds of my blog friends late last night and found that many of them had touched on the same subject of stopping long enough to smell the flowers along the way, a call to "Carpe Diem". For those of you not as well versed in Latin as I, let me translate: it means "God Fish", not to be confused with "Goldfish" which would likely be expressed as "Carpe Aurum". Do NOT confuse this with "Crap Diem" which has something to do with a sandwich and "Poop du Jour". See? It pays to be well versed in the Romance languages. Considering how many European languages were so heavily influenced by the Roman Empire, how did we end up with our current definition of the English word "romance" or even the French word 'roman' (for a novel)? When I think of the Roman Empire, I tend to imagine vast legions of Italian good ol' boys raping and pillaging their way across the known reaches of the ancient world, lock-stepping in very ugly leather footwear and Fuller Brushes on top of their helmets - hardly what I would consider a romantic notion. But that's just me. Today's title, by the way, is French for 'Valley of Death". Any other linguistic mysteries to tackle while we're at it? But I digress. Just remember to Carpe Diem! a.k.a "Seize the catfish!"
But I am not the Fool of the Tarot deck and realize that someday you will grab the carp and get punctured by its infectious barbs. This profound realization also hit home late last night. Yes, it certainly was a busy night for philosophical indulgence.
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The new invaders by day
As I completed my blog visits, I glanced at the clock and noticed that it was well past 1AM and that I had sorely tempted the generator to run out of fuel. As I shut down the computer, I heard an unusual bang which also commanded the intense attention of Brou and Beautiful Dave the Cat. I was hoping that something had not exploded in the new addition but when I stepped out there to light the propane heater, the room was in order and quiet. When I returned, the sound had morphed into a curious hissing/mechanical whir which I would expect from a 19th century automaton and was clearly coming through the slightly ajar hall window. This window still opened despite the thick icy condensate and I poked my head out into the cold night air to pinpoint the location of the noise. As my vision adjusted to the scant moonlight offered through a canopy of light clouds, I saw a thick cloud of gas rising unfettered from one of the nearest gas wells. I thought of the open-flame furnace I had just lit and of the many open flame pilots burning in the Rat and I prayed "Dear Jesus, please don't let those billowing death clouds envelope us!". I squinted into the darkness once more and saw that the forming layers of gas were now slowly drifting away to the West, towards the new and unannounced gas drilling rig like a great curtain of menace. I will admit to a volley of conflicting feelings as it drifted away from us and towards our canyon's latest invaders. But they were not feelings of hatred and revenge, more of a great sadness for this entire situation. I cannot feel anger towards the poor souls who eke out their livings in this harsh clime even though I resent the callousness of their corporate masters. In the end, I left it to the wisdom of those with greater insight than mine, shut the window as tightly as I could manage, shut down the furnace and the generator and retired to bed. A few minutes later, the hissing ceased and all returned to the canyon's usual quietude.
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The new invaders by night
This was the second of our close calls in having to live with the gas industry in our back yard and I will recount that first and more dangerous episode next.
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It has been bitterly cold here for the last week, the thin air of great altitude denying any healing warmth the sun has to offer lately. The insulated heat sink under the Rat has been depleted and our piping has finally ceased to provide us water. Still, we can't complain; there are others whose much better appointed homes have long since suffered the same fate. And we remember the two bleak previous winters where we had no water at all for months.
The caustic voices of the winds pummeled their way through the windows yesterday and the little gas heaters could not fend off their chilling call. It dropped to -15F last night and took the last of the water with it by this morning. But it will be all right for Slim is coming to dinner tonight and no such miseries shall deter us from having a wonderful supper. I scrounged 6 small filet mignons from the freezer and they are thawing now in expectation. The oven will bring the inner Rat temperature up to a comfortable level as the potatoes bake. Slim's refreshing countenance will add the remaining necessary warmth. What more could we ask for?
The Rat retains three of its four large 70s era single-glazed windows. Replacing them was not in the budget and we have covered them over with sheets of very effective mylar coated bubble insulation at night ever since we have been its occupants. But even the bubble insulation cannot hold up to these sub zero temperatures for long and we were greeted by a heavy frost on each as we pulled off the insulation this morning. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the patterns which Jack Frost had quietly painted over the course of the night. I simply had to share this with you.
Here is the view which Jack Frost saw this morning (minus the long early morning shadows of the Rat).
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Here is the impressionist painting Jack Frost created from that view.
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Do you really stop long enough to marvel in the miracles of this far too short dance here? Don't run beyond the end of your dance card with regrets, ever. Take every step and every breath into account, miss nothing so eloquent but subtle that nature has to offer. It is not confined to our vast open spaces here; it is everywhere, it is with you always. See, absorb, rejoice and be ever grateful.
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General update:
Activity on the new gas well across the street has resumed. This is the current view from our front window; frac tanks all in a row awaiting that next step in the process. Apparently that will not be a pleasant experience for us. Today brings the laying of gas pipe to bring that well on-line. With luck, I will have a post on that with more details later.
Oh joy of joys beyond those extant: an unannounced NEW gas well site has sprung up in the view beyond the barn on our leased grazing lands. Apparently the courtesy of a heads-up notice on so-called 'multiple use' lands is not deemed necessary.
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My apologies; I have not been making the rounds of my blog friends as often as I so love to do. Regrettably, I have not been feeling as well as might be preferred. There is so much more that I wish to share with you and there seems so little time to do so.
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Okay, enough frivolity for now. We both enjoyed your comments and it helped shake off our winter blues out here at the Rat but I had better get back to catching up on our serious journaling before the renewed activity at the dreaded gas well across the road takes precedence once more. Oh yeah, they're back at it all right.
It wasn't long after Mark's very close call in the late Spring that we decided to beef up the front of his Dodge Ram. For those of you who haven't read our older accounts, it will help if you read Hit and Run first.
Much as we expected, the gas field did NOTHING to produce the culprit even after the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) weighed in and broadcast the incident. Nor have they done anything to make their increasingly anonymous gas field trucks more identifiable and accountable. Plausible deniability seems to be a valuable and growing intentional tool for such large corporations - and it is getting old real fast out here. I normally don't like to rant publicly but I suspect that they plan on pushing the limits of that neighborly envelope REAL soon. Here's the big industry salve on this earlier incident; we were told that the gas field makes budgetary accommodations for a 'hit and run' on a rancher's cattle. That certainly would have been a consolation if that idiot had driven Mark off the road to his death. In the meantime, we're living with the damages they inflicted rather than claim it on our own insurance and endure the increased rates after the claim. Nice. And they wonder why landowners develop 'an attitude' after a while.
In face of the obvious forthcoming bureaucratic frustrations, we chose to get proactive where it counts in the end - better protection from head-on collisions with idiots. The mesas, rabbit brush and curves provide plenty of blind corners and I have had my own share of split-second judgment near-misses on these roads. I don't even wander out that often! We were looking for something stout, something to give Mark a bit of an edge should the gas field throw another lead-foot truck driver at him again. If we have learned anything from Red, it is how to research the living daylights out of a new quest. We queried ranchers, outfitters and field people on what they liked in the way of truck front-end protection. We found some cheap 'knock-offs' but eventually settled on the "Ranch Hand' grill guard and bumper. Fortunately, he hasn't had to use it for self-defense from other vehicles but it has held up very well when gently nudging the odd belligerent cow forward and out of the way (more on that down the road). It also served well when Mark ran the Ram's front end dead on into the creek's eroded far embankment in his attempt to cross our running creek. The conclusion of that story can be found under Part 2 and Part 3.
You playing chicken wi' ME, Bub?
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While the photo above does not portray the erosion of the road which threatens to lock us into a very poor and sporadic alternative route, it does show the same severity of creek erosion at the very heart of this latest concern. You can see the wide and biting swing of the creek into the road bank above it. The creek has condemned as much as a half mile of road at a time with its ravenous appetite. Such stretches of road on our private lands were never restored for grazing by their principal users when they no longer served their immediate purposes. In other words, we were losing ground on both sides; to the wild and unpredictable creek and to those who sought to avoid it at the cost of our good and solid lands. 
I cautiously stepped a few feet closer to the edge to show you what happens when the creek takes another bite and the clay walls submit to the logical consequences. Sometimes you are warned of imminent collapse when you see a long stress crack three foot in from the bank's top, sometimes not. It might support a mega-ton rig as it did this morning or it might let loose under something as light as our pick-up truck.
In the meantime, we made our trip up top to explore new home site options. In a future post, I will show the site which Mark, Slim and I selected during Thursday's drive around. It is still highly tentative and largely rests in the hands of the newest and very rude gas player out here as to its feasibility at all. This new outfit has even appalled and ruffled the usually unflappable Slim with its 'because we can' attitude of insufferable arrogance and its shameful under-handedness so far. The bad apple has arrived and the rest of the barrel will suffer from their greed and callousness.
If the Rat can make it out on our own crumbling canyon roads, then these roads will be a snap to navigate with minimal damage. The question is, will it make it that far without serious damage or complete disaster?
