Eulogies and Dead Horses: Adventures and Interesting Situations in the Life of a Traveling Geologist

By Michele Murray

INTRODUCTION

As a geologist, I travel to remote regions of the world. “Eulogies and Dead Horses” is a collection of some of my travel adventures. The stories focus on the beauty that surrounds us during poignant moments when life is in a fragile state. An underlying theme in this book is the presence of Mortality as

• Language: English
• Publisher: Much More Murray
• Release date: Dec 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9780692603130

Michele Murray

Michele Murray lives in South Park in Central Colorado. She is a professional geologist (sometimes reflected in her stories) and freelance writer. Her articles on outdoor living have been published in Mountain Gazette (she has been a contributing editor for 12 years), as well as in Discover the Outdoors, EQUUS, Fly Fishing World, Native People's Magazine, New Tribal Dawn, The Aquarian, International Double Reed Society, and other literary journals. She also writes fly fishing stories for http://www.coloradofishing.net/ and www.wyomingfishing.net. Michele's stories are included three anthologies: "Colorado Mountain Dogs," published by WestWinds Press - The Pruett Series, an imprint of Graphic Arts Books, 2014. "Comeback Wolves: Western Writers Speak for Wolves in the Southern Rockies," published by Johnson Books, 2005. "Hell's Half Mile: River Runners' Tales of Hilarity and Misadventure," published by Breakaway Books, 2004. Michele is an enrolled member in the Pembina Clan of Ojibwe of the Turtle Mountain Agency in North Dakota -- home of her father. She is also part Scottish. She draws on both sides of her ancestral heritage to write compassionate, technically correct stories that relate to these two ancient histories.

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Eulogies and Dead Horses

Eulogies and Dead Horses

Adventures and Interesting Situations in the Life of a Traveling Geologist

Written by Michele Murray

Eulogies and Dead Horses

© 2015 More Murray Productions, Lake George, Colorado

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

For my bun.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1.       The North Fork of the Humboldt River (Nevada)

2.       Tornado Watch (South Park, Colorado)

3.       Things in Loyra’s Purse (Louisiana)

4.       The Wheelbarrow (Admiralty Island, Alaska)

5.       Cowboy Bob (Victor, Colorado)

7.       The River Calf (Northern Nevada)

8.       The House Sitter (Lake George, Colorado)

9.       Faith (Peru)

10.     Pocket Hamster (Aurora, Colorado)

11.     Silver River (Cripple Creek, Colorado)

12.     Brandi and Bert (State Bridge, Colorado)

13.     Elk Spirit (Victor, Colorado)

2.       Belmont Road (Central Nevada)

3.       Midnight’s Contribution (Taylor Canyon, Nevada)

4.       River Diva (Arkansas River, Colorado)

5.       Shoshonite Mountain (Gillette Flats, Colorado)

6.       An Expensive Dinner

7.       Fleeing Ghana (West Africa)

8.       Yucca Mountain, Part I: Crows in the Desert

9.       Yucca Mountain, Part II: The Desert Chicken

10.     Yucca Mountain, Part III: The Desert Spider

11.     The River Chickens of Tameapa (Sinaloa, Mexico)

12.     What Good is the Old Woman?

13.     The Pelicans and Crows of Wildhorse Reservoir (Nevada)

TABLE OF FIGURES

Figure 1. Location of the story.

Figure 2. The north-draining valley on the west and the south-draining valley on the east of Independence Mountain.

Figure 3. Headwaters of the Humboldt River below the mine.

Figure 4. Creeks flow to the east like teeth on comb into the Humboldt River but they converge from opposite directions - southward and northward -- before turning to the east at Devil’s Gap.

Figure 5. Devil’s Gap

Figure 6. Ponded Humboldt River above the Haystack Ranch.

Figure 7. Humboldt’s willow-lined bank below Double Mountain.

Figure 8. The Humboldt River in its entirety.

Figure 9. Lahontan Cutthroat trout.

Figure 10. The Owyhee River where it drains from Wilson Reservoir.

Figure 11. The Tornado that found me.

Figure 12. Bijou in Monroe, Louisiana.

Figure 13. The Sitka deer resting by the boxes of core.

Figure 14. The North Wind watching over my shoulder as I log core.

Figure 15. Blanche Burton’s historic cabin above Grassy Valley where Bob Womack used to ride Whistler.

Figure 16. Cowboy Bob on Thunder.

Figure 17. Scenery these young men saw on that day.

Figure 18. One of my superstitious yet remarkable observations.

Figure 19. Herbie holding a little Herbie (not really) and his niece.

Figure 20. Guffy getting preparing to roll on the ground.

Figure 21. Guffy in his pasture during his last days.

Figure 22. State Bridge (1990).

Figure 23. Bert in his outer space clothes.

Figure 24. Elk herd in the distant valley.

Figure 25. Story location.

Figure 26. Detailed location map of the area I went exploring.

Figure 27. Frozen mountain range.

Figure 28. The beauty that surrounds me.

Figure 29. The pitiful mustang mare.

Figure 30. Her band.

Figure 31. Her band looking at me.

Figure 32. Her band leaving me.

Figure 33. TCR saloon.

Figure 34. The house I rented.

Figure 35. Arnold and Ralph lived in these cabins.

Figure 36. Camping on public land near the mine.

Figure 37. The Sky’s Gala Event.

Figure 38. Honest to God occupied trailer house – tilted and twisted.

Figure 39. World Trade Center on 911 – souls leaving.

Figure 40. The old white horse.

Figure 41. Dust from the haul trucks near the gates.

Figure 42. Using machetes to trim the lawn.

Figure 43. The friendly photographer…

Figure 44. The mine compound (Photo by P. Mostert)

Figure 45. Me visiting the compound hospital.

Figure 46. River chickens comrade: river pig.

Figure 47. Hanging out at Wildhorse.

Figure 48. Our camping vehicle at Wildhorse Reservoir.

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Introduction

As a geologist, I travel to remote regions of the world. "Eulogies and Dead Horses" is a collection of some of my adventures. These stories focus on the beauty that surrounds us during poignant moments when life is in a fragile state. An underlying theme in this book is the presence of Mortality as an almost sentient, omnipotent being. The situations are described with humor and, in some cases, a bit of geological observation as well. Each story is either about people or about animals experiencing some stressful condition and the subsequent resolution. These situations demonstrate the likely existence of a larger plan along an obscure path leading through a mire of challenges. That said, these stories are really about life.

I am reluctant to use the word, mortality, in this introduction because it usually triggers a predictably adverse reaction in most people. A natural response would be to avoid that topic, do not enter here, and close this book. This subject, however, is part of the world. Mortality is simply an ever present condition of living. In this respect, Mortality is an aspect of life. I describe my travels with an appreciation for the austere world that surrounds us, not only for humans but also for animals. I write these narratives from the perspective of an observer, like a witness.

This is a collection of (hopefully) uplifting and, in some cases, humorous stories about drastic situations I've been in. I present these stories for the reader who is on their own journey. The title is designed to catch the eye of someone who is in that special moment when they are looking for a new and interesting book to read. I want to offer this interesting collection of introspective narrative essays for this person. My book should be waiting in an airport kiosk. It should be sitting on a rack in the window of a small mountain town bookstore. My book is for people who have lived an interesting life with some loss, some humor, and some firsthand knowledge of what happens when mortality comes calling. There is a rich life to be lived. Fortunately for all of us, there is also beauty in every turn of the planet spinning on Her axis.

People who read this book will probably be intrigued as to why there are stories written about eulogies in the first place and how can this topic (Mortality) offer enjoyable reading material? The reader might be curious what this book has to do with horses. The person who reads this book is probably an avid reader of literary essays and enjoys a well written humorous story. These readers are interested in contrast: serious-versus-funny; Mortality-versus-life.

As the author, I expect to share my belief that the presence of death is not a fearful element to be shunned, rather our own existence and the changes that come with Time make life sweeter, more precious. The poet, Wallace Stevens, wrote, ‘Death is the Mother of Beauty’... By that, he meant that without Mortality and the natural passing of all things with TIME, we would have no appreciation of the world around us. There would be no art. No music. There would be no reason to love or pine or have desire. Everything would have the same worth. Without death, everything would have the same value day in and day out. There would be nothing grown dear to us. Nothing would be precious. There would be no Beauty.

In summary, these stories uphold the positive nature of people.

1.          The North Fork of the Humboldt River (Nevada)

It’s all about mortality: everything’s about mortality – mortality is about mortality. I should go fishing….

That’s my take on what it is. I was north-bound with an open agenda when I fell through a worm-hole ripped in the side of the universe and have been wandering ever since in a stupor around this hilly, cold region of northern Nevada for nine months. I am totally out of touch with the universe and forces of my life that normally bond me to society -- bonds like job, family, house, friends -- out of touch, man. ‘Mortality is about mortality.’ That’s my mantra whether or not I need one.

In Northern Nevada, I roam the wide stretches of unpopulated terrain after work. I leave the local gold mine in my small blue Subaru and head east to explore dirt roads that are shown on maps supposedly leading to rivers (blue dashed-lines). The Great Mountain of Gold bears down on sage-covered plains in every direction. This specific geographic domain lies on the east side of the big mountain where alluvial fans of gravel skirt the Front Range in hilly aprons of cobbles and dirt. These soft hills are dissected by intermittent rivulets of rain water running in the arroyos during spring and rare summer cloud bursts. Natural weathering processes erode channels in the soft dirt and leave behind steep banks for badgers and rodents to burrow in during dry times. It’s important to keep your bearing in Nevada, i.e. north, south, east and west. One can get really turned around if you rely on the direction of the river or a mountain range, as they change orientation in short distances.

Figure 1.  Location of the story.

There is another valley on the OTHER side of the mountain running parallel to this eastern basin. On the west side of this mountain range, Independence Valley tilts downward to the north hosting a drainage system of creeks named the Owyhee River (pronounced, oh-WHY-hee -- rhymes with Hawaii). The Owyhee reaches a confluence with the Snake River just over the Nevada border in Idaho. Eventually, this Nevada-to-Idaho-bound stream joins with the Columbia River flowing westward along the border of Washington and Oregon and finds its way through spawning salmon to the Pacific Ocean, where Orca invade the bay to feed on seals and ocean-going trout. It is amazing to me to wade in the headwaters of this creek in Nevada when it is still just the rain’s accumulating puddle at my feet. That is the birth of a river in its infancy.

Figure 2.  The north-draining valley on the west and the south-draining valley on the east of Independence Mountain.

That said, on MY side of the mountain -- the east side -- the North Fork of the Humboldt River flows to the south. It trickles ankle deep through a cow pasture below the mine’s mill and evaporation ponds in Foreman Creek. The water gains momentum and depth as other streamlets add to its girth: Sheep Creek, the Mahala, and Gance Creek –all flowing to the east shed off of Independence Mountain like teeth on a comb.

Figure 3.  Headwaters of the Humboldt River below the mine.

Oddly, from Elko (from the south) another system of streams also flow off of Independence Mountain but they run head-on (flowing north) into the North Fork of the Humboldt River. These streams are the Pie, Eagle Rock, McClellan, Dorsey and Willow Creeks.

Figure 4.  Creeks flow to the east like teeth on comb into the Humboldt River but they converge from opposite directions - southward and northward -- before turning to the east at Devil’s Gap.

This odd confluence of streams converging from opposite directions is a phenomenon of opposite-tilting basement blocks of rock underlying the valley floor. The converging waters of the Humboldt take a wild jag to the east cutting through Devil’s Gap. The river cuts a chasm through dark red volcanic rock. Cows go in the canyon at Devil’s Gap and emerge with creative ideas. They become wild. They climb the rocks like goats. They’re not afraid of anything. Cougars live in shadows along the cliffs and hide under great bushes of sage. It’s a crazy place in the middle of what I thought should be a mostly flat, barren terrain.

Figure 5.  Devil’s Gap

I started fly fishing on the Humboldt River just off the Mountain City Highway across from the mine next to the Haystack Ranch. This area is all Bureau of Land Management (BLM) public land (something like 90% of Nevada is public land covered by the Humboldt-Toiyabe national forest -- at 6.3 million acres, this is the largest national forest in the lower 48 states). Before the ranchers pulled open their wire-gates and loosened their winter-fed cows on the public land for spring grazing, I had the entire Basin and Range geological province to myself. The cows congregate at the river between the mine and the Haystack Ranch because the river dumps out of a canyon in the volcanic rock at the base of Double Mountain and backs up into an easily accessible pond above the ranch.

Figure 6.  Ponded Humboldt River above the Haystack Ranch.

Downstream from Double Mountain, some hidden geological structure forms a chasm in the volcanic rock through which the Humboldt River flows under thick willows, through shadows on pools of water ponded behind big round boulders. The steep bank is hard to walk on because of the loose broken rock shards and scree. The canyon slopes are littered with small animal skulls, femurs, teeth, claws and vertebrae from Eagles’ dinners, having fallen from high above where their huge nests cling to the tall cliffs. Chukars (a wild bird that looks like a striped chicken) live there, too, as well as sage grouse, rabbits (five species: cotton tail, both the black-tailed jack rabbit and the white-tailed jack rabbit, snowshoe hare, and the wonderful little pygmy rabbit), fox, coyote, badger, marmot, mice, crows, ravens, ducks, geese, mule deer, pronghorn, and cougars. I’ve seen them all in my reconnaissance of this river. Further to the north there are also elk and wolves, though no bears. That is one lucky aspect about camping and hiking in northern Nevada: no bears to worry about.

Figure 7.  Humboldt’s willow-lined bank below Double Mountain.

It is just beyond the Hay Stack Ranch, that the south-flowing Humboldt River runs headlong into the north-flowing streams and makes its sharp eastward turn through Devils Gap. It disgorges on the other side of the dark canyon through the Keddy Ranch, then continues running eastward alongside Lost Wallet Rim and joins larger streams -- the Beaver, the Cottonwood, the Horse, Indian Creek – all the while growing and meandering. The river eventually turns southward again and then westward, flowing through Elko, Carlin, Battle Mountain and beyond, flowing into tomorrow and flooding sometimes, as well.

In the geological past, the western edge of the North American continent (California, Washington and Oregon) was sliding like a conveyor belt super-fast over the top of the Farallon oceanic plate (which used to be the sea floor of the Pacific Ocean). The continent completely slid over that oceanic plate. Currently, the Farallon Plate, (which was totally over-ridden), is trapped under the continent floating like the bottom layer of a chocolate cake. The North American continent is floating on top of the Farallon plate, which floats on top of the molten lithosphere – yeah, the Farallon is lying on top of molten rock and is therefore melting. The continental crust, (the surface of which we live upon), is still slowly migrating westward headed for China but it is being stretched thin in that direction. As a result, the western United States has become attenuated (over-stretched) and is becoming thinner and thinner in the area of Nevada.

(HERE IS A LINK TO A GREAT EXPLANATION FOR BASIN AND RANGE FORMATION http://shelf3d.com/TvvWqAdNV84#Basin and Range Structures)

As a consequence of this crustal spreading and subsequent thinning, basins of wide open plains and valleys are opening up and at the surface, huge rocks the size of mountains have cracked off from one another and popped up like bobbing serpents to form ranges. Sadly, as a result of these uplifted blocks of mountains, the Pacific-bound (westward) mouth of the Humboldt River eventually became cut-off from its ocean. The Owyhee still continues to find its way to the ocean by means of trickling northward and then westward into the Columbia River, but the Humboldt just ends dried up in a basin in western Nevada. The newly formed mountain ranges of western Nevada created obstacles to the Humboldt River’s westward drainage and the new basins swallowed its momentum. Now, this high desert river loses its yield of water to the sands of the Humboldt Sink - a great dry lake bed, remnant of prehistoric Lake Lahontan 13,000 years old located somewhere south of Winnemucca and Lovelock, in one big lonely landscape.

Figure 8.  The Humboldt River in its entirety.

A species of cutthroat trout once lived in the original ocean-bound water of the Humboldt River. These trout used to migrate to the Pacific Ocean to grow into large salmon, which then returned to the upper plains of Nevada to spawn. When the Humboldt River was impeded from its Pacific connection, the trout became land-locked. In ancient archeological times, the Shoshone and Neolithic people knew this trout. They caught these trout in Lake Lahontan, which is now dry. The trout became even more confined to live solely in the river. In this modern decade, fingerlings of the Lahontan cutthroat trout have been reintroduced to the headwaters of the Humboldt River in the vicinity of the mine and THAT is the primary reason why I explore and fish the ranchlands and basins in northern Nevada: I want to catch (and release) a Lahontan Cutthroat trout.

Figure 9.  Lahontan Cutthroat trout.

When I was traversing around northern Nevada in the vicinity of Independence Valley looking for Lahontan Cutthroat trout, I was surprised to learn how many people live out in the wilderness. They are weathered, haggard kind of cowboy types, both old and young ones. Many are of Basque descent but a lot more of them are Mexican, Montanan, Wyomin’, Chicago-an, and other places where men get the urge to leave their kin and head for the open country. At first, these people are looking for ranch work in order to subsist, but eventually they acquire the skills and taste for cowboying. They are hard-rode men (and women) with outdoors kind of skin on their faces and arms, resilient whiskers (men only), and incredibly tough hands. They’re nice people with decent morals and hard-come-by standards. Their priorities are based on experience more so than what they had been told to do by adults when they grew up. I used to be afraid I might come across a bad guy out in the boonies, like maybe someone who kidnaps women and steals stuff from parked cars. Not anymore. A bad guy wouldn’t survive out in the Nevada Hill Country. Bad guys disappear.

The weather moves around Northern Nevada in independent storm cells like errant gangs of bullies. The sun will be shining brilliant, hot, and the air hanging still. Then, a black cloud pops over the horizon. All the animals watch the thing to see where it is headed on its angry path. Heavy darkness falls on the misfortunate mountain stuck by its stony roots to the ground unable to run. Cloud bursts pummel the rocky hillsides with lightening, hail, and wind. Hell falls from the belly of the storm cell in invisible walls of wind to whip birds and tumble weeds around and fling them across the road. You can watch this assault from across the basin on top of a different mountain under warm sun and understand that it’s going to be a rodeo to drive back on the muddy road below.

I found a seriously troubled lizard under these circumstances. In the spring, it snows every day in Northern Nevada, at least in the morning. That is a given: somewhere in Northern Nevada during spring it is snowing. When I first saw the lizard, I thought it was a toy like an ornament on a key ring stuck in the dirt. Half a body sticking straight up – about two inches exposed. It looked like a plastic lizard. Since it was only half showing, I didn’t want to look too closely at first. That said, Death sometimes offers up morbidly fascinating scenes from time to time if you dare to examine the details. Such was the