No, I don’t have writer’s cramp, nor am I lacking content as “they” say in the literary field, whoever “they” are.  I’ve just been really busy making memories, not to mention that this blog stuff takes time.  And even after some considerable coaching from Motorbike Mike, I still can’t seem to trim down the content to help keep the prose more current.  Because, after all, when one lives life on the road, there’s always plenty of candy for the senses, and it would be borderline criminal to leave something out.  Besides, I have a reputation of being slightly particular, if not verbose, and I intend to upkeep that reputation.  Sorry, Chet…perhaps I am uncoachable after all?  So, there you have it, the ramblings will continue until morale improves, as the saying goes.  😉

January in Arizona and Southern Utah was a blast but it was time to head to the mountains for a little celebrating and a requisite handful of face shots.  We set up home base at Carmen and Paul’s estate in PC, and hunkered down for the celebration to beat all celebrations…MJ’s 50th birthday party.  It was an epic evening at the Martin-Sanden residence, so thanks again to all that attended, and thanks again to Carmen and Paul for hosting.  And although February is relatively early in the year, I’m fairly certain that I’ve clinched Husband-of-the-Year for 2019 (again, and for the record, 16 years running).  Happy Birthday, MJ!

February was a good month for snow, and we certainly took full advantage by making the pilgrimage to Powder Mountain.  The snow was light and deep, and we gobbled up the face shots to satisfy our souls.  You’re welcome, MJ, again.

With our temporary fixes of pow, we decided to head south for some warmer weather.  We coupled that with the delivery of my beloved Jeep Wrangler to it’s new owner in Las Vegas, Chet’s nephew, Hunter.  The Jeep had treated me well (315,000 miles-well), but it was time for her to move on.  Storing the Jeep made no financial sense, nor did keeping her idle.  She was born to run.  So, we dropped the Jeep off in Las Vegas and then headed to the massive Lake Mead and Hoover Dam.  We spent my birthday touring the dam and hanging around a few breweries in Boulder City, just east of Las Vegas.  The Hoover Dam is a massive display of engineering prowess, and if you’re into that sort of thing, you should go see it someday.  And if you’re lucky, you might run into Pamela Anderson cruising the shorelines of Lake Mead.  She apparently forgot it was my birthday.

The weather wasn’t cooperating with us all that much, and we were jonesing to do something new.  So, I simply pointed the rig west and we headed to Joshua Tree National Park in California.  Although we didn’t exactly get much better weather, it was a very cool pilgrimage to yet another funky part of California that we had yet to see.  Wait, strike that… ALL of California is funky.

The weather in the California desert wasn’t exactly warm either, so we spun around and headed back east toward Arizona, extreme Southern Arizona.  We made a beeline to Tucson and we were glad we did.  Plenty of sunshine (and sunsets), cool camping, respectable mountain biking among the giant Sonoran cacti, spicy food, and plenty of craft beer.  If this place had big, dumb fish and a little bit of skiing, it would have serious potential.  Rest in peace, Mr. Bourdain.

We headed north to spend a few days in the Phoenix/Mesa/Scottsdale area, and specifically to see the greatest band on the planet, Muse.  Actually, it was the ongoing celebration of my month-long birthday party, so thanks, MJ, for making it special.  We also made a quick diversion to sample some of America’s finest wood-fired, Italian pizza at Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix.  And Peter Reinhart was indeed right…Chef Chris Bianco definitely has it going on.

At the end of February, we moved into one of favorite spots, Cottonwood, Arizona.  The camping here is very cool, the mountain biking is excellent, the beer is cold, and there is even an outstanding wood-fired pizza joint right in town.  We ended up spending about 10 days here in total, biking our asses off nearly every day, and enjoying happy hours at the brewery in town, aptly named “That Brewery”.  That Brewery has some great pieces of “fine art” on the walls, and the witty quotes on them always make me laugh out loud with a beer-belly-sort-of-laugh.  Funny how that happens, but perhaps it’s only me.  And you know you’re in a routine when you have exactly two sour beers and one imperial milk stout before you saddle up on your mountain bike and haul ass back to your camp spot.  And at 10.2%, that “That” imperial milk stout gets you there fast, literally and figuratively.  We also managed to do some sightseeing in the area as we toured the Indian ruins at Tuzigoot and Montezuma Castle National Monuments.  Tuzigoot is located right in town, and Montezuma is located just on the east side of I-17.  Both are highly recommended if you are ever in the area.  We will see you again soon, Cottonwood, for you have become one of our favorites in a long list of favorites.

Well, for those of you who are still with me on this long, cheesy post, you’re not even going to believe this, but we headed back west (again) to the Oregon coast.  The weather forecast was great, the camping there is always special, and BKW was overdue for a dose of steel.  We blasted back through western Arizona and drove due north on I-5, straight through California, making minimal stops except as necessary.  For example, we stopped in the Central Valley to pick up a 10-pound sack of fresh oranges.  Short story is that it was worth the stop…easily the best oranges we have ever had.  And considering we had 10 pounds of them, let’s just say that we didn’t get any colds on this trip.  We skidded into Brookings, OR in the middle of March, and we managed to snag one of the best camping spots overlooking the bluff toward the mighty Pacific.  We spent the better part of the week in Brookings enjoying the sunsets, drinking the beer at Chetco Brewing Company, and I even got the nod to wet a line in the mighty Chetco River.  And although the water was “steelhead green”, there were no steelhead to be found.  We made the one-hour trip up the coast to Gold Beach, where the mighty Rogue River meets the Pacific.  We parked the rig on a large gravel bar and I went to work on putting on a steelheading clinic while MJ went to work on her spring tan.  It was an epic afternoon on the Rogue as I went 2-3 for steelhead, both of the hatchery variety.  You know it’s going to be a good day swinging flies for steelhead when you hook a fish before all your line is out and set for the swing, and that’s exactly what happened.  And, unfortunately, there are no gratuitous pictures of me holding insanely large fish, for it seems that my photographer was too busy working on her tan.  No worries, the memories are permanently etched inside my little pea-brain.  I dare you to ask me about it sometime.  Once the clinic was over and my steelheading soul was satisfied, the sea fog rolled in off the ocean signaling that it was our time to head back to Park City for the biggest twin birthday celebration of all time.  Carmen and Paul, it’s your turn to shine!   Thanks for reading along!  Over and out!