Alles Für Die Katz!–Vernissage mit Aquarellen von Wolf K. im Vivarium in Höslwang am 13. Januar 2012

3.1.2012 von Inken.

Bilder der Ausstellung – Tiere und Architektur

Einladung

 

Armani Hotel in Dubai

Format ca. 80×100 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

 

Details

  

Schwan

Format ca 100×80 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

 

Detail

Katze

Format ca 100×80 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

 

Details

Frosch

Format ca 80×100 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

 

Details

 

Fisch

Format ca 100×80 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

Details

  

Hasen

Format ca 80×100 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

 

Details

  

Eule

Format ca. 80×100 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

 

Details

  

Hahn

Format ca. 80×100 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

 

Detail

Papagei

Format ca. 80×100 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

Details

  

Shady der Katz – unverkäuflich

  

Weitere Bilder, die wahrscheinlich nicht in der Ausstellung zu sehen sein werden:

Essen

Alle Format ca 80×80 Aquarelle

Preise auf Anfrage

    

Luxusschlitten

Porsche

Format ca 100×80 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

Mercedes Flügeltürer

Format ca 80×100 Aquarell

Preis auf Anfrage

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Die Bezwingung des Mount Leaf (gewidmet den Schwestern Kurp, Ihr wisst schon warum…)

13.11.2011 von Inken.

 

Beinahe jeder weiß, was der “Indian Summer” ist. Es ist die Zeit im Jahr, in der sich die Blätter in Neuengland (Sorry, und in Canada, Alaska und im Mittelwesten natürlich!) färben. Wer wissen will, warum sie das tun, und was da biologisch alles vor sich geht, wird auf www.wdrmaus.de und www.wikipedia.org belehrt.

Heute schwelgen wir mal gemeinsam ganz unwissenschaftlich in der unbestreitbaren Schönheit des Anblicks, wenn sich Millionen von Bäumen nach und nach in die strahlendsten Rot-, Gelb- und sogar Lilatöne kleiden. Menschen packen am Wochenende ihre Familien in ihre SUVs und fahren zum “leaf peeping”, also zum Betrachten der wundersamen Verwandlung. Hinzu kommt, dass das Wetter im Oktober hier sehr stabil ist, also nach dem ersten Frost eine Periode warmer und klarer Tage herrscht.

  

Aber wie es nun mal ist im Leben, hat auch der Indian Summer seine Schattenseiten. Irgendwann ist die Pracht vorbei und die Blätter, die sich eben noch tapfer in einer letzten Kraftanstrengung an ihre Zweiglein geklammert haben, um dem gnädigen Auge des Betrachters Freude zu bereiten, geben sich der Übermacht der Schwerkraft hin, um ihre letzte Aufgabe zu erfüllen: Beschäftigungstherapie für Gartenbesitzer.

Jedes Oktoberwochenende beinhaltet zumindest ein paar Stunden, während derer man sich mit mehr oder weniger motorisiertem Werkzeug der Entfernung der Blätter widmet. Hier ein paar Eindrücke aus der Nachbarschaft:

    

Bis letztes Jahr wurde es uns West Hartfordern noch relativ leicht gemacht. Wir konnten die Blätter einfach an die curb, also den Grünstreifen am Straßenrand, pusten, rechen oder schleppen, um sie dann der erbarmungslosen Saugkraft des städtischen Leaf-Vacuum zu überlassen. Nun ist unser ach so reicher suburb aber wohl so pleite, dass dieser Service nicht mehr bezahlbar ist. Ein bis zweimal Laubsauger hatten bisher den größten Teil des Problems beseitigt. Dieses Jahr wurde aber schon Ende August per Transparent am Ortseingang und in den einschlägigen Zeitungen das Motto des Jahres ausgegeben: BAG IT!

Das bedeutet nichts anderes, als dass man von seinem bereits unter anderem an West Hartford versteuerten Einkommen einen Stapel Leafbags kauft, standardisierte braune Papiertüten mit 30 Gallonen Fassungsvermögen (1 Gallone = 3,78 Liter). Diese sind dann zu befüllen, wobei strenge Vorgaben herrschen, was NICHT in die Säcke darf und auf welche Länge Zweige zu zerkleinern sind. Die vollen Säcke stellt man dann wiederum an oben erwähnte curb. Und am Mülltag kommt dann ein extra Wagen, der die Säcke einsammelt.

Im Prinzip ist das alles kein großes Problem. Gartenarbeit ist ja eine gesunde Angelegenheit. Man kommt an die frische Luft, hat ein wenig Bewegung (zumindest wenn man wie wir ganz altmodisch mit dem Rechen arbeitet…) und kriegt netten Kontakt zu den Nachbarn. Dieses Jahr hatten wir allerdings so viel Laub, dass wir entschieden haben, wirklich systematisch vorzugehen.

Eine große Plane wurde ausgebreitet und das Laub schweißtreibend darauf gerecht. Danach haben wir die Plane an den Wiesenrand geschleppt, um das Laub dort aufzuhäufen.

Und so entstand nach und nach der Mount Leaf:

    

Der Garten hinter dem Haus war damit erst mal erledigt.

Blätter haben aber leider eine Reihe von unsympathischen, da unberechenbaren, Angewohnheiten:

- sie fallen von ALLEN Bäumen

- sie fallen ÜBERALLHIN

- sie fallen über Grundstücksgrenzen (die Eichen im Nachbargarten haben dieses Jahr besonders ertragreiche Ernten eingebracht)

- sie wehen gerne über die Straße, um in unserem Vorgarten zu landen

Also, um Kräfte zu sammeln, erst mal ein Päuschen auf dem Schwiegermutterbankerl.

 

Und weiter geht´s mit der Schusterschen Planen-Patentlösung…

 

Erschöpft von so viel Aktivität entschieden wir, einen dieser privaten Kleinunternehmer anzurufen, sogenannte landscaper, die für enorme Summen (zwischen 75 und 150 Dollar pro Einsatz) mit saugenden, lärmenden Eigenkonstruktionen die Früchte der Arbeit einsammeln. Das sähe dann so aus (man beachte den Konjunktiv und entschuldige die Unschärfe):

  

Kleiner Zeitsprung von Sonntag auf Mittwoch…

Diane hatte wie fast jeden Mittwoch nachgefragt, ob wir mittags zum Sushiessen gehen wollen. Nun hatte sich aber genau für diesen Tag einer der landscaper nach Telekommanier “wir kommen zwischen neun und sechzehn Uhr” bei mir angemeldet. Da noch Kartoffelsuppenreste da waren, lud ich Diane dazu ein. Und wie es nun mal so ist, wenn man eigentlich den ganzen Tag nichts zu tun hat (auch das widme ich Diane, auch hier weiß sie warum…), ging die Kartoffelsuppe in Kaffee über, dazu Toffifee und Schokobananen und viel, viel, viel Gesprächsstoff. Oooops, schon vier? Und weit und breit keine Spur vom landscaper? Was nun?

Diane, wie immer unbremsbar in ihrer Energie, entschied einfach für mich. Wir fuhren los und kauften Leafbags. Erst mal nur 25, was sich als grobe Unterschätzung des nach einigen Tagen in sich zusammengesunkenen Mount Leaf herausstellte…

Mit viel Bücken und bewaffnet mit Arbeitshandschuhen (man weiß ja nie, ob sich nicht eine Schlange im Haufen häuslich eingerichtet hat) machten wir uns ans Werk und gaben nach Kurzem an Gustl den Auftrag weiter, auf dem Heimweg noch weitere Säcke mitzubringen.

Das Ergebnis waren 51 prall gefüllte Säcke, die wir zuklebten, damit nicht, wie im letzten Jahr, Hundebesitzer die Hinterlassenschaft ihres besten Freundes darin versenken konnten (dog poop nennt man das hier).

    

Nachdem wir Frauen die schwere Arbeit übernommen hatten, spielten wir, inzwischen wieder hungrig, weiter Rollentausch. Dianes Mann Günter bekam den Auftrag, lecker Puttanescasauce zu köcheln und damit bei uns anzutanzen.

Der Tag fand damit einen gemütlichen Ausklang mit der Erkenntnis, dass ich darauf bestehe, eine Wohnung im vierten Stock (mit Lift) und großer Terrasse zu beziehen, wenn wir wieder in München sind. Keine Nachbarn mit Eichen und Pinien (die Nadeln sind e-kel-haft!!!), keine Ahornbäume auf dem eigenen Grund. Nur hübsche Terracottatöpfe mit Oleander und Hortensien, damit man die warmen Oktoberwochenenden in Bayern genießen kann, ohne zu schuften!

Sollte also jemand einen heißen Tipp zum Thema Traumwohnung für uns haben… Wir kommen im Oktober 2010 zurück und bevorzugen den Westen von Sendling bis rüber nach Pasing oder Obermenzing…

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Neue Bilder vom Knie

26.5.2011 von Inken.

 

Wenn man im Herbst oder Winter in ein Haus mit Garten zieht, stehen einem im Frühling und Sommer viele Überraschungen bevor. Seit März geht im Garten am Knie die Post ab, zumindest was Pflanzen angeht…

Ich habe im Dezember an einem sehr warmen Tag ca. 300 Zwiebeln gepflanzt. Alles andere wurde mit gemietet. Die Bilder sind also nicht alle aktuell, sondern stammen aus eben jenem März und den Folgemonaten.

So sitzt man, wenn man bei uns sitzt.

 

oder auch so:

 

oder so:

eine Hängematte gibt es auch noch irgendwo…

Und hier wird gegrillt:

 

Und die beiden sind total relaxt auf ihrem Yoga-Plätzchen unterm Zwetschgenbaum:

Wir haben also einen Zwetschgenbaum.

  

Und wie wir inzwischen wissen, haben wir auch einen Kirschbaum.

 

Viele Narzissen und Tulpen (die man hier noch nicht sieht). Da sie inzwischen verblüht sind, bitte ich Euch, Euch einfach viele Tulpen vorzustellen…

 

Wenn man lange nicht den Rasen mäht, erscheinen Myriaden von Gänseblümchen und Vergissmeinnicht.

   

Und was nicht im Garten wächst, wird in Töpfe gestellt.

    

Eine reizende kleine Überraschung sind Distel und Klatschmohn.

Und das bisher unidentifizierte Gestänge vor dem Garten erfüllt auch endlich einen Zweck.

     

Nicht halb so erfreut sind wir über die Thuyenhecke, hat einfach was von Friehof. Vielleicht find ich ja noch ein wirksames Gift…

Ach so, ja, some minor improvements inside…

Der versprochene pinke Vorhang hängt jetzt.

Und die Küche wird immer grüner.

 

Der Flur im 1. Stock wird immer oranger.

So viel für den Moment. Mehr gibt es bald!

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Ich hab’ Dein Knie geseh’n…

11.2.2011 von Inken.

Für alle Neugierigen und die, die uns (noch) nicht besucht haben, hier ein paar Eindrücke von unserem neuen Zuhause “Am Knie”.

Unser Haus steht in Pasing, also im Westen von München. Umme Ecke ist der Stadtkern von Pasing, was natürlich sehr praktisch ist. Und Gu hat nicht weit zur Arbeit, was mir persönlich ja wurscht sein könnte, aber es ist auch schön, abends einen nicht über den Verkehr meckernden Mann heimkommen zu sehen… Über die Erfahrung mit den öffentlichen Verkehrsmitteln in diesem Winter sag ich jetzt lieber nichts ohne Rücksprache mit meinem Anwalt.

Unser neues Zuhause also:

Durch ein Tor kommt man erst mal in den Hof. Links ist die Garage (und das nicht so sehr fotogene Mülltonnenhäusl). Zwischen Garage und Hausmauer seht Ihr einen Durchgang, der auch genau dafür genutzt wird: um durchzugehen.

Die Blumentopfsammlung wartet auf Bepflanzung, und ich warte auf den Frühling…

Wenn man also durch den Durchgang durchgegangen ist, biegt man rechts ab und steht vor dem Garten.

 

Auch hier warten die Töpfe auf Oleander und Co. Der Garten ist rundherum mit Hecken (meine Haßliebe zu Thujen kann ich jetzt hegen und pflegen) umzäunt und ist weder zu groß noch zu klein.

Fragt mich bitte nicht, wozu das weiße Gestänge gut sein soll. Im Moment dient es als Teppichstange und Halterung für Lichterketten. Im Sommer wird hoffentlich die existierende Kletterrose und ein bis fünf Glyzinien das Ding zuwachsen.

An prominenter Stelle der Grill, wie Ihr seht. WENN wir irgendwas typisch Amerikanisches adoptiert haben, dann die Liebe zum BBQ. Und wenn ich an Gu’s Räucherrippchen denke, hab’ ich spontan eine Pfütze auf der Zunge…

Und wenn Ihr Euch jetzt einfach umdreht, dann steht Ihr vor unserer Haustür, die sich nicht zur Straße raus befindet, sondern eben auf der Gartenseite.

Die Häuser sind Doppelhäuser, wobei unser Nachbarhaus im Moment leer steht und zu vermieten ist. Also falls jemand sucht, ist wohl grade frisch renoviert.

Nu gemma mal rein.

In New Orleans nennt man so was ein “shotgun house”, was bedeutet, wenn man vorne rein schießt, fliegt die Kugel, falls niemand im Weg steht, ungehindert auf der anderen Seite wieder raus.

In München nennt man so was ein Haus ohne Garderobe…

Links geht es direkt ins Gästeklöchen, das ich mit freundlicher Unterstützung meiner Schwiegermutter so kitschig wie möglich gestalte. Von ihr stammen der Trockenblumenstrauß und ein auf dem Bild noch nicht sichtbarer Porzellankerzenhalter, bei dessen Anblick einem sofort und spontan die Augen einfrieren, ganz wunderbar. Das Rosenmotiv wiederholt sich dann noch auf einem Porzellanbild, das manche von Euch bereits kennen. Der Kitsch ist also gewollt. Ansonsten ist es halt ein Klo.

Links geht es direkt die Treppe hoch, aber dazu kommen wir noch.

 

Rechts kommt man ins Wohnzimmer mit Blick auf den Garten, klein, aber gemütlich. Neue Couch und so weiter…

Den Durchgang zum Esszimmer behütet unser neues Haustier.

Und hier wird gemampft.

 

Die heiß geliebten Amerikanischen wall cabinets fehlen mir hier wie ein Stück Brot (auch die darin befindlichen, Pullover klauenden Geister irgendwie). Aber Deutsche Wände sind nun mal nicht hohl, und deshalb musste dringend Billy mit Glastüren her.

Die Bar ist trotz “Austrinkparty” wieder gut gefüllt.

Hier fehlt noch ein großer Spiegel quer über die Kommode. Wenn also jemand was Hübsches sieht, sagt doch bitte Bescheid.

Natürlich hängt auch der Beweis für die Vergänglichkeit allen Seins wieder an der Wand. Interessant ist, wie sich Bohrlöcher hier verhalten. Wir verfügen über selbstheilende Wände. Wenn man ein Loch bohrt und den Bohrer wieder rauszieht, geht das Loch durch nachfallende Kieselsteinchen wieder zu. Um aber trotzdem noch zu wissen, wo das Loch sein sollte, platzt dafür der Verputz in unvergleichlich großzügiger Weise ab.

Diese Lampe ist mein ganzer Stolz und ich bin verliebt wie ein Teenager. Auf welche Weise und mit welchem Zeitaufwand sie allerdings dort gelandet ist, wo sie jetzt hängt, ist eine Geschichte für sich. Gustl erzählt Euch davon sicher gern…

Wird langsam zur Tradition, dass wir in Häusern mit Rundlauf wohnen. Vom Wohnzimmer geht es ins Esszimmer…

… und vom Esszimmer in die Küche, von dort in den Flur, und dann wieder ins Wohnzimmer.

So, und weil ich nach wie vor froh und glücklich darüber bin, endlich wieder über eine Küche zu verfügen, die den Namen verdient, hier `ne Menge Bilder davon.

Natürlich gäb’s hier auch wieder Grund zu meckern, aber ich lass’ es jetzt einfach. Passt scho, ist eben gemietet…

 

Wenn man dann wieder im Flur angekommen und noch immer nicht schwindlig ist vom Ringelpietz des Erdgeschosses, dann geht es die Hühnerleiter hoch in den ersten Stock.

 

Man landet am Ende der Treppe in unserem Badezimmer. Das war damals im immoscout als “Duschtempel” inseriert. Nun, da es nur eine Dusche gibt, ist das auch nicht komplett gelogen… Es scheint unser Schicksal zu sein, entweder ein nettes Bad ODER eine nette Küche zu mieten. Aber das Bad erfüllt seinen Zweck, auch wenn ich persönlich keine Fliesen in Bahamabeige, oder eine Duschkabine aus Kunststoff aussuchen würde. Na Hauptsache, wir kriegen den Körpergeruch in den Griff…

Schöner als das Bad ist der Flur, der hinter der Treppe in den zweiten Stock in einem kleinen Nischchen mündet, das jetzt als meine “Bibliothek” dient.

  

Ein bisschen aufräumen muss ich noch, und ein Schaukelstuhl muss noch weg, und ein grätzig pinker Vorhang muss noch hin, aber sonst ist sie fertig, die Leseecke.

Die Tür zwischen dem großen Spiegel und den Bücherregalen führt ins Schlafzimmer. Dort fehlen noch Bilder, aber es schläft sich hervorragend drin. Naja, immerhin hängt die “Schwebende Kuh” schon…

Das Fenster geht zum Garten, wir werden also im Moment von Vogelgezwitscher und dem Krächzen der Krähen geweckt.

  

Das Bett aus Bali hätte sich wahrscheinlich auch nicht träumen lassen, mal in München zu landen.

  

Im ganzen Haus hängen Deckenlampen, die unserem Vermieter gehören. Nicht alle sind schön, wenn ich das mal so sagen darf. Aber die im Schlafzimmer finde ich ganz gelungen.

Das Zimmer nebenan ist mein Büro und das Schrankzimmer. Gustl bestand auf Glastüren, damit ich nicht wieder mit Malerarbeiten anfange, wie sonst bei IKEA-Schränken…

 

Der alte PAX durfte trotzdem mit. Ich find ihn immer noch klasse.

Und da ich ja nicht malen darf, hab’ ich einen Arbeitsplatz.

 

Von hier aus sieht man die Gleise der Linie 19. Es ist aber dank Schallschutzfenstern sehr ruhig.

Ein paar Taschen hatten keinen Platz mehr im Schrank.

Und meine Sammlung blaues Glas steht auch wieder rum. Irgendwas muss den Staub ja fangen…

Und nun für alle, die noch atmen können, der Aufstieg in den zweiten Stock.

Hier gibt es ein Vorzimmerchen, das noch nicht seine endgültige Bestimmung gefunden hat.

 

Und natürlich gibt es ein Gästezimmer, klein aber gemütlich, Nut- und Federbretter machen es möglich (naja, mein Geschmack ist es nicht, aber erst mal tut es seinen Dienst).

Und dann ist da noch unser eigener kleiner Chaos-Computer-Club, sprich Augustins Reich. Ich habe beschlossen, mich hier nicht einzumischen

 

So, nun wißt Ihr, wie es bei uns aussieht. Und wenn Ihr Euch zutraut, morgens vor unserem Duschtempel Schlange zu stehen, packt Eure Köfferchen und kommt uns besuchen!

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The Mother of all Trips

27.9.2010 von Inken.

Our trip comes to an end, today we flew from Seattle to Boston and tomorrow we will fly to Munich. Here are the last updates…

Total distance covered: 8058.55 miles / 12969 km   

plus 74 miles / 119,1 km during whale watching  

plus the flight from Seattle to Boston, but I don’t really count that

Longest stretch in one day: 682 miles / 1098,90km from Helena, Montana to Portland, Oregon

Highest elevation: 11320 ft / 3450 m

Lowest elevation: 0 ft / 0 m plus-minus a whale

Highest temperature: 100.4°F / 38°C

Lowest temperature: 37°F / 3°C

Time zones entered: 3

International borders crossed: 1 between the USA and Canada

  

Gas filled: 341.29 gal/ 1291,93 l 

Oil Changes: 1 in Roswell, NM. Probably lasts for a trip through the universe;-)

Breakdowns: none, but the “check engine” light is on, like always…

Meltdowns: well, one or two…

Casualties: one “big” roadkill, looks like a couple of dragonflies, whose lives ended in the middle of you know what…

And millions of smaller collateral damage

This little guy flew solo

Wildlife sightings: elks, bisons, three eagles, a coyote, mule deer, a fox and this little critter

AND: sea lions, harbor seals and Orcas!!!

   

And a rare species, the so called Rubber Duck, in their natural habitat, a furniture store

Most unreasonable footwear

Silliest hats worn (bought non of them!)

    

Cars sold: 1

And this is the map showing the route we took (click on the map to see it in full):

And this is how it looks from outer space:

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Rocky Mountains III – North America’s Backbone – From Boulder, Colorado to Cody, Wyoming

27.9.2010 von Inken.

A National Park a day keeps the doctor away!

Next Must See on our list was the Rocky Mountain National Park. Guess how we got there… Right! Winding roads and clouds in blue skies! Not that I want to complain, but I started to grow a little tired of that…

   

But however boring those winding roads get after a while, the Rocky Mountain National Park is definitely worth this luxury problem.

Rocky Mountain National Park is different from other parks, because nowhere else in the US can one see so much alpine country. And it is easy to access. I have seen some alpine landscape in my life, some definitely more breathtaking, but never felt to have all different kinds of scenery put together in such little space. The Rocky Mountain National Park is not small, don’t get me wrong, (I could express this better in German), but somehow it manages to present all its varieties along one road, which is (again, West Hartford!) in perfect condition. Traveling along the “Trail Ridge Road” makes it easy and convenient to access vista points that highlight the most stunning and amazing views. But see for yourself.

          

More than three million people visit the park every year. Whatever time they plan to stay here, a week or only a day like us, they get to see high peaks (78 of them exceed 12,000 ft), glaciers, or at least snow covered valleys between the peaks, alpine tundra, lakes left over after the big melt down of the last ice age. And with a bit of luck visitors get to see more wild animals than we did. We only saw some deer, nosy little grey birds (they didn’t introduce themselves, so I can’t tell you their names) and a single squirrel. But rumor has it that there are also bears, bighorn sheep and beavers.

 

What you will see in huge numbers, because they can’t run away, are pine trees. They are everywhere along the road and covering the lower boulders, standing close to each other like soldiers and, again like soldiers, all kind of looking alike.

 

The vista points and sights were dubbed with quite a bit of fantasy. There is “Farview Curve”, “Bear Lake Road”, “Horseshoe Park”, “Many Parks Curve” (the parks are mountain meadows), “Never Summer Mountains” and “Grand Ditch”.

The “Grand Ditch” is a manmade horizontal scar along the western side of the “Never Summer Mountains”. It was made to divert water from the wetter western side of the Continental Divide to the drier Great Plains in the east.

That reminds me: The Trail Ridge Road crosses the Continental Divide at the “Milner Pass” (elev. 10,759 ft / 3279 m). So we were now, like all water flowing down from here, actually on our way towards the Pacific Ocean!

Milner Pass was named after the surveyor of a never-built railway route through the Rockies.

Places like this always make me aware of how important we and our so called civilization really are; not at all, I must say! The oldest peaks were already there when they simply protruded as little islands above a shallow sea approx. 135 million years ago. Dinosaurs were reigning the planet at that time… One can only try to imagine what erosion, the grinding forces of glaciers and wind, water and weather contributed to form this extraordinary landscape. And even if the scarce tundra plants need decades to recover if clumsy or empty-headed tourists step on them, they will definitely outlive us. Some people find the idea that all of this will still be here after mankind finally succeeded to extinct itself frightening. I don’t, I am even able to find some comfort in that perception…

We left the park at the western end of the Trail Ridge Road and reached the “Grand Lake”, which speaks for itself.

After having lunch on the deck of the above shown boat-restaurant-general store-thing, we decided to end the day in Cheyenne, Wyoming. But to get there, we had to… Yep, you guessed it! Winding roads (which grew straighter as the landscape grew flatter) and blue skies with beautiful clouds.

I actually didn’t expect too much from Wyoming, but I was proven wrong. The landscape changed into what I would call Cowboy Country.

 

Cheyenne, Wyoming welcomed us with a stunning sunset. There are probably more things to say about Cheyenne, but we didn’t make it into the city. We were exhausted and not ready for any kind of sight seeing or nightlife any more.

Wyoming, the “Equality State” showed itself from its pretty side again the next day. And as some times before I found that I prefer landscapes like this to the narrowness of mountains. I like to be able to see on Friday who is coming for dinner on Saturday And with a little imagination I can even see Cowboys driving huge herds of cattle on the horizon.

  

And in Cowboy Country there has to be a Fort, right?

Seeing a sign at the side of the road (always look out for brown road signs, they point out scenic places!), we decided to leave the Interstate and take a detour to Fort Laramie.

It says “Mormon”, not “Hormon”!

     

This is the so called “Fort Frog”. If you lick its skin, you will see colors. You can also say “Fort Frog” 25 times to reach the same state of mind…

The landscape changed and totally put a spell on me. I must admit, I fell in love with Wyoming…

              

I can understand, if my compulsive cloud obsession is not everybody’s piece of cake. But this is MY blog. So either live with it, talk to your shrink, or simply scroll further down!

Shoshoni, Wyoming. On our way and not really pretty, but it was necessary to take some pictures for Claudia: Schau, Claudia, so wohnen die Schoschonen!

The last, let’s say 200 miles to Cody brought a change in the scenery again, but still some amazing clouds

And believe it or not, there were other people with us on the road!

    

This train seemed to have no end, but in the end I saw the end.

 

At last we arrived in Cody, hoping for a speedily served dinner and a good night’s sleep. Didn’t work out… A rodeo was coming up that weekend and Cody was pretty much booked out to the last park bench. After pounding the streets for an hour we had to take a suite in a fancy hotel with a menagerie of stuffed animals in the lobby. We got the impression that we paid at least for the polar bear and one or two wolves together with the rooms… However, we slept well and were fit enough the next day to tackle Yellowstone. Read more about that in the next article.

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Rocky Mountains II – North America’s Backbone – From Durango to Boulder, Colorado

25.9.2010 von Inken.

 

Driving from Durango to Silverton means driving winding highway US 550 between tree covered mountainsides crossing the San Juan Mountains.

This turn is a dream for Miata drivers and bikers… Augustin started to drool!

The highway is the so called Million Dollar Highway, which was dubbed for the extensive cost of its completion. I reckon, a million is not enough to keep it maintained nowadays, not even close. But this is the right time to mention that the roads in most places we saw on our trip were in better condition than the ones in posh Connecticut. I often heard "the hard winters with all the ice and snow ruin the streets" in West Hartford. Well, listen all you heads of highway departments of Connecticut and you, whoever you are, who is responsible for Farmington Avenue, we were in the middle of the Rockies at elevations around 9000 feet and found GREAT road conditions!!! Don’t dare to tell me about harsh winter weather ever again!

   

Talking about harsh conditions… There is a historic train connecting the two cities, the “Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad”, and one can’t even begin to imagine, how excruciating the placing of the tracks must have been for the workers. Well at least they had a great view…

    

Silverton is a former silver mining camp, most or all of which is now included in a federally designated National Historic Landmark District. The town population was 531 in 2000, and without really counting, I guess the day we were there saw about the same number of tourists. A local is quoted to have said:" Silverton: A gritty little mining town with Victorian pretensions!" After Silverton was opened legally to miners in 1874 the silver and the railroad brought about 2000 men into the region. Many of them didn’t work as miners. Miners needed laundry to be done, booze, food, tools, etc. So approx. 100 "sturdy souls" inhabited the city taking care of the post office, working as black smiths, doctor, bankers, newspaper editors and so on.

            

As early as 1874, men were bringing their wives and families to live in Silverton. This influx of families provided an incentive for citizens to keep at least part of Silverton respectable. From the very beginning an imaginary line ran down Greene Street dividing the town between the law-abiding, church-going residents and the gamblers, prostitutes, variety theatres, dance halls and saloons.

   

A lot prettier than Durango (I don’t care, if this is fair!), lively, mostly original and just friendly and inviting. Silverton welcomed us with the charms one expects from an old gold digger (in this case silver digger) town. It certainly makes its living mostly by tourism, but it doesn’t seem to be spoiled by that. People were extremely nice without all the ass kissing of other tourist cities (excuse my French!).

Passing the Red Mountain on our way to Ouray, the Idarado Mine, an old gold mine caught our eye. The tunnels of the Idarado extend some 5 miles west under 13,000 foot mountains to the Pandora Mill near Telluride, a trip of more than 60 miles by highway.

The site is currently a hazardous waste clean up site. Well, every time faces its own challenges… Once it was gold, now it is garbage.

    

Again "Perle", our brave horse, carried us up between huge rocks…

… and we arrived in Ouray, also called "Switzerland of America". Pretty obvious why.

   

From Ouray it isn’t far to The Black Canyon of the Gunnison which mostly consists of dark gray stone rising more than 2700 feet above the swift and turbulent Gunnison River. In some places it is deeper than wide. Standing on the rim of this gneiss and schist formation one looks on two million years of patient work of the river.

        

Neither Native Americans nor white explorers risked to conquer the canyon for whatever reason. Only in 1900 five men went down to the river to find a way to make the water of the Gunnison available for the draughty surrounding Uncompahgre Valley. As mentioned earlier greed can be a driving force for dangerous ventures. But in this case, hunger was the motivation. The five men came back with little more than their bare lives. The very next year two men went back down to fulfill the enterprise. This time they didn’t use wooden boats to combat the wild waters of the Gunnison. They entrusted their lives to rubber air mattresses. And they were successful. A 6-mile-long tunnel through rock, clay and sand was drilled and finished in 1913.

Nowadays the Gunnison River is further tamed by three dams upstream and kayaking is possible. We were more than happy to work on our vertigo by staring down and listen to the sound of the rapids…

We wanted to reach Boulder that night and took one of the scenic routes to the East, which was a lot longer than the "normal" route, but also much prettier.

  

In the middle of a valley along the Gunnison River near Cimarron an original hot dog stand from Coney Island surprised us with actually good hot dogs and Polish sausages.

   

Boulder, at last!

Boulder has a reputation of being liberal and even rebellious. Inhabitants might state that they live in "The People’s Republic of Boulder". The high percentage of students in Boulder may contribute to this fact.

Some of you, old enough to remember, might know Boulder from the TV series "Mork and Mindy" ("Mork vom Ork" in Germany. Nanonano!).

One of the places to be is the Pearl Street Mall, a pedestrian area a few blocks long, loaded with shops, bars and coffee shops. And I can actually imagine that it can be full of live, if it does NOT rain cats and dogs… We picked one of the 65 days per year without sunshine.

    

Yeah, right, American bread… a real Wonder as we know

We dried up, had wonderful steaks and were rewarded for not complaining with a great sunset when we looked west towards the Flatiron Rocks.

 

We were very tired that day, and so I am today. Next part of the Rockies-series tomorrow, dears!

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Rocky Mountains – North America’s Backbone - Mesa Verde, Colorado

24.9.2010 von Inken.

The states we collected on our tour through the Rocky Mountains are:

Colorado, number 30 and called “Colorful Colorado”

Wyoming, number 31, the so called “Equality State”

Montana, our number 32 and the “Big Sky Country” (chances are, you will see some pictures of clouds!)

Idaho, Augustin’s number 33 (I slept through it, so Augustin doesn’t allow it to be in my count), the “Gem State”

The Rocky Mountains are called “The Backbone”. Well, from a physiological point of view this is weird. If my backbone were where this backbone is, I’d be really in trouble. But historically seen it all starts to make sense. Before Europeans started to explore and later on exploit the region (that is before the late 18^th century) Native American tribes inhabited the area. Nez Percé, Lakota, Crows, Ute and Shoshones lived in and with the mountains and the Great Plains.

First French Trappers and Spaniards came into the Rocky Mountains. Later on Meriwether Lewis and William Clark gained immortality after the Louisiana Purchase had taken place in 1803. Not only Louisiana, or parts of it, was purchased in what was the biggest real estate business of all times, but also areas up to the North reaching as far as today’s Canada. I added a map for you to make clear what you could buy for 50 million Dollars at that time (today worth approx. 250 million Dollars, which would still be a bargain…).

Somebody had to find out, what was there to find up in those mountains. And these somebodies were Lewis and Clark. They put together an expedition crew and set out to explore what exactly the US got for their money.

Well, for most of the Native Americans this meant the end to their peaceful lifestyle. We all know that Lewis and Clark were successful. And soon settlers followed their paths on their search for a better life. Generally this put an end to a lot of traditional life in the Rocky Mountains. Millions of acres of trees, thousands of Native Americans, almost all buffalos etc. had to make way during the colonization of the newly bought regions. Greed is an incredibly effective motor!

Within less than 100 years miners and white farmers took over the power in the Rocky Mountain states. Native Americans were displaced (not peacefully as we all know) into smaller and smaller reservations. The country and its resources were exploited. Only when tourism gained higher importance after WW II the unrestrained exploitation came to a halt. And now we are able to travel through those parts of the US and get the gist of how humbling nature is, how capable mankind is to destroy what is feeding it and maybe we will come to the conclusion that nature, in the end, will survive us anyway.

One who definitely preferred nature to the company of people and understood the importance of the treasure given to the US by nature was Henry David Thoreau, who decided to live in the woods for two years, which he described in his book “Walden” (1854). Ok, he was also abolitionist, tax resister and development critic. But there is no doubt that he started something with his retraction from civilization that lingers on today. Words like environment and ecology gained meaning by his descriptions. 19^th century landscapists followed in his footsteps, and with their paintings they contributed to a wider spread understanding about nature and its need for protection. John Muir, a Scottish-born American naturalist, author, and early advocate of preservation of wilderness in the United States was the founder of the Sierra Club (1892), which still exists today and is one of the most active groups working for nature’s protection (www.sierraclub.org) in the US.

Nowadays the National Parks, National Forests and historical monuments like Yosemite, Zion, the Grand Canyon and so many more are preferred tourism goals for Americans and travelers from all over the world. I still don’t get why a lot of them obviously still feel the need to leave their traces in form of empty beer cans, carvings on trees or cigarette butts behind, but all in all nature is a well protected and beloved treasure (at least in National Parks… ) in the US. The landscapes are breathtaking and humbling and deserve to be left as they are.

Now you had enough to read. Look at the pictures! One of the National Parks in the Rocky Mountains coming from the South is Mesa Verde. It starts out pretty dry and harmless, but wow, if you reach the peaks after an adventurous climb up those winding roads…!

   

Green hills, cows and farms. Well, déjà vu, I would say. But what a kid of the Alps like I am never saw before are those little towns that look like right out of a John Wayne movie. Oh, by the way, we are in Colorado, or “Colorful Colorado”, as it is also called. It is the 30th state we visited by now.

And up we climb, passing more cows and more farms,

   

Rocks and cliffs

And we reach a place where all reasonable road construction would normally end…

 

But, they did it anyway.

Mesa Verde National Park is a bit eldritch and definitely mysterious. An ancient people called the Anasazi lived here and left their unearthly amazing buildings behind. But first have a look at some of the ancient findings (not all of them are originals…)

The Navajo Canyon allows visitors to get a glimpse on the lives of ancient tribes in their pueblos. The ground of the canyon was fertile enough to grow corn (called mais as in German!) and other fruit. There was enough water and deer to hunt to enable a whole new culture to develop. And only well fed people are able to accomplish something like this! The Anasazi, or more correctly ancient Puebloans, lived here from approx. 550 to 1300 A.D. They lived on the top of the canyon and in the alcoves on the ground. They managed to build cliff dwellings as high as four stories and up to 150 rooms big.

 

Why the ancient Puebloans disappeared is not completely clear. Scientists guess, they were overtaken by the same fait as other highly developed people. Their population grew up to approx. 5000 individuals. And so the soil, once so fertile, depleted, years of drought and lack of food might have made them leave those amazing homes.

In 1888 two cowboys searching for straying cattle in a snowstorm stopped on the edge of the canyon. Through the snowflakes they saw what they later called “Cliff Palace”. Climbing down on a makeshift ladder they forgot about the lost cattle and were astonished by the sophistication of the buildings on the ground of the canyon. Willa Cather wrote about this scene:”It was more like sculpture than anything else…preserved…like a fly in amber.” And that is what one feels nowadays when stopping at one of the roadside outlooks and looking down at those witnesses of a long gone culture. It rather feels like a huge piece of art than like an actual dwelling once inhabited by people.

The Mesa Verde earned its name as you can see. From above it looks like a huge green table cloth spread negligently over a huge table. Peacefully empty, the occasional hikers, some cars climbing up and down the roads and an incredibly blue and wide sky above.

 

Our next stop was Durango. It is said to be the most charming gold digger city of the region. Well, this still has to be decided. What it has is an amazing restaurant serving Asian-American fusion cuisine called “East by Southwest”. And a big car is named after Durango… Other than that the city was a bit too silent and boring. But that can’t be absolutely false, if you only want to spend the night.

 

More about gold diggers and miners in the second part about the Rockies!

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New Mexico – Land of Enchantment Part II

17.9.2010 von Inken.

I still owe you an explanation for New Mexico’s nick name “Land of Enchantment”. Just the fact that Billy the Kid was born here fills the country with legend. But also UFO landings that were first evidenced and then hidden and denied, atom bombs built and tested here and roadrunners that drive black cats crazy show to which extend New Mexico obviously fires people’s imagination, good as well as bad.

My imagination ran wild here. I was immediately captured by the wild and untamed beauty of the landscape. Turns out, I am a desert and sandstone formation type. Still no clue, what I am talking about? Well, first of all, look at the following pictures. Did you ever see the clouds as near to the ground? It feels like you just have to stretch your arms out a little to grab them.

  

Alright, I also wouldn’t know what to do with a cloud in my hand, but still, it is enchanting to witness this sky looking like freshly cleaned with Windex, and it is for free!

Did I mention that the Very Large Array is situated in New Mexico, searching for extraterrestrial intelligence? (well, maybe they should direct their antennae to the earth once in a while) I am sure that there is a scientific reason to plant it here, but I also love the idea that ETs would choose New Mexico for their landing on earth…

The second reason for me to immediately fall in love with New Mexico is its diversity. After driving a completely straight road through desert like nothingness all of a sudden a bridge leads you over a breathtanking and vertigo causing deep gauge. 

  

You can drive a hundred miles without seeing a living being. And around the next bend you suddenly see these buildings, which are so called Earthships. They are completely constructed from recycled material and produce all necessary energy themselves.

  

As soon as you start to believe that there is absolutely nobody living in a perimeter of at least 500 miles, a bunch of mail boxes next to the road indicate that even here somebody receives junk mail, BedBath&Beyond coupons and invoices…

 

Leaving the south and driving into the mountains (to reach Las Vegas, NM in our case) brings about a complete new landscape. But first I need to bore you with some more cloud pictures. Aren’t those clouds just heavenly? And aren’t they supposed to?

 

I mentioned mountains, right? Here they are… They lead up to a city called Las Vegas. But don’t be mistaken by the name, it was Sunday, and Las Vegas, NM behaves nothing like Las Vegas, NV. It was a total ghost town that day. And the only thing we could spend any money on was a donation of a few bucks to one of the homeless gathering in the park.

     

Las Vegas, NM

     

Well, I would definitely give Las Vegas a second chance on a weekday… It is beautiful, no doubt about it. But somehow this city seems to like to be left alone. Understandable with all the tourism in Santa Fe and Taos, but still, a little more life would be doing it no harm.

On our way back down to Santa Fe I ultimately found my place in New Mexico. As Georgia O’Keeffe in 1934 we stumbled over Ghost Ranch near Abiquiu and its surrounding cliffs. Well, Ms O’Keeffe was inspired to some of her most amazing paintings. I was only inspired enough to let the camera click until it started to go up in smoke, but this is only due to my personal lack of creativity, not of enchantment!

 

At least we have one thing in common…

More of Georgia O’Keeffe’s work can be seen in the Georgia O’Keefe Museum in Santa Fe: http://www.okeeffemuseum.org/

One more painting of Georgia O’Keeffe has to be mentioned here, even if it has nothing to do with New Mexico…

This tree hangs in the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford(http://www.wadsworthatheneum.org/). It was first hanged the wrong way…

…and didn’t make a lot of sense. But somebody recognized it and the mistake was corrected.

Back to the land of enchantment. And although the dry air gave us both nose bleeds this is definitely my favorite place so far. I totally understand why Georgia O’Keeffe tried for years to make the Catholic Church sell her the Ghost Ranch. Well, she was successful in the end. I won’t be…

               

Back in our enchanted hotel we had an enchanted dinner and some enchanted drinks listening to enchanting flute and guitar music until we couldn’t take any more enchantment. The enchantment overdose of the last few days let us sleep like babies and dream of aliens, clouds, black elephants and, to include Augustin’s dreams: beer.

 

This was our tour through New Mexico. Let’s see what we found in the Rocky Mountains. Good night for now!

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New Mexico – Land of Enchantment

11.9.2010 von Inken.

New Mexico is number 29 in our collection of States. And after mostly driving for three days… (tired of those road pics? Yeah! Me too!)

 

…we were exhausted enough to decide to stay a wee bit longer than in the last seven… And, oh boy, what a great decision!

Our first stop in New Mexico was Roswell. Yep! Just where those aliens landed. Being aliens too, we considered this the perfect place to land.

But before we could actually start adopting those cute little green alien babies, we had to take care of our loyal German horse named Perle. She needed a little inside makeover…

No, that’s not the horse.

 

There she is, and a handful of very friendly guys took good care of all her fluids. A little side note for my European readers: in the US you better have an oil change made after 3000miles, believe it or not.

The next day started with the visit of the UFO museum. Or, to be exact, the day started with parking Perle in the middle of a big skunk stink… Pretty little critters, but stinking like right out of hell.

The UFO museum tries to explain what exactly happened in Roswell. You can read more about the whole story on www.roswellufomuseum.com. So much for now:

“W.W. “Mack” Brazel, a New Mexico rancher, saddled up his horse and rode out with the son of neighbors Floyd and Loretta Proctor, to check on the sheep after a fierce thunderstorm the night before. As they rode along, Brazel began to notice unusual pieces of what seemed to be metal debris, scattered over a large area. Upon further inspection, Brazel saw that a shallow trench, several hundred feet long, had been gouged into the land.
Brazel was struck by the unusual properties of the debris, and after dragging a large piece of it to a shed, he took some of it over to show the Proctors in 1947.  Mrs. Proctor moved from the ranch into a home nearer to town, but she remembers Mack showing up with strange material.
The Proctors told Brazel that he might be holding wreckage from a UFO or a government project, and that he should report the incident to the sheriff. A day or two later, Mack drove into Roswell where he reported the incident to Sheriff George Wilcox, who reported it to Intelligence Officer, Major Jesse Marcel of the 509 Bomb Group, and for days thereafter, the debris site was closed while the wreckage was cleared.

On July 8, 1947, a press release stating that the wreckage of a crashed disk had been recovered was issued by Lt. Walter G. Haut, Public Information Officer at RAAB under order from the Commander of the 509th Bomb Group at Roswell, Col. William Blanchard.
Hours later the first press release was rescinded and the second press release stated that the 509th Bomb Group had mistakenly identified a weather balloon as wreckage of a flying saucer was issued July 9, 1947.” (from: www.roswellufomuseum.com/incident.htm)

This is Mack.

The rest of the museum is about the “cover up” by the government, about UFO sightings all over the world, and there are quite a bit of stories about people, who presumably were abducted and examined by aliens.

I guess I will start to believe in all those stories as soon as one of these guys walks up to me saying “we come in peace!”

Altogether Roswell is not the most beautiful city in the world, but it is definitely fascinating how the whole city advertises with an incident that never happened… Live long and prosperous, Roswell!

We were on the road again, and guess what, there are more road pictures!

       

Torture, hah? I know. I sat through it. But no sweat, better things are about to come!

Lunch only a few miles away from…

Santa Fe!!! The oldest capital in the United States. And we made a bargain on the hotel again, a beautiful Adobe building, Native American owned and with great service! http://www.hotelsantafe.com

The shuttle took us to the city.

Nice color, hm?

To describe how different and outstanding Santa Fe is compared to a lot of other cities let me quote the program of the Santa Fe Festival of 1928:

“This year we are making a studied conscious effort not to be studied or conscious. Santa Fe is now one of the most interesting art centers in the world and you, O Dude of the East, are privileged to behold the most sophisticated group in the country gamboling freely…

And Santa Fe, making you welcome, will enjoy itself hugely watching the Dude as he gazes. Be sure as you stroll along looking for the quaint and picturesque that you are supplying your share of those very qualities to Santa Fe, the City Incongruous… Be yourself, even if it includes synthetic cowboy clothes, motor goggles and a camera.”

So the “Dudes of the East” strolled along…

…found a lot of shops selling turquoise and silver jewelry, seized some booty, saw a lot of more or less synthetic cowboy clothes…

…took pictures with their camera…

…and became thirsty…

Dinner and drinks at the hotel, where Lawrence, our charming bar keeper, makes the best cappuccinos in New Mexico. Oh, the tipi was quickly renamed tip-tipi. Not funny? Believe me, after a few of Lawrence’s drinks it IS funny.

The next day we wanted to see a real pueblo. There are several pueblos around Santa Fe. One of them is near Taos, which we also wanted to visit. Ha! What a coincidence!

So we drove…

 

…through a slightly more diversified landscape than we were used to in Southern New Mexico…

 

…which made the driver happy…

 

…over hills and through valleys…

 

 

…to Taos (more about Las Vegas, NM later).

 

Taos is, like Santa Fe, a city with a high concentration of artists and artists-to-be. You see a lot of women, who apparently decided to escape their suburban households and lead a different lifestyle at one point in their lives. They got rid of their husbands, make up, hair color and business suits and started to pursue a more artsy and free life. So much to my personal prejudice…

Taos is named after the Native American tribe, who still lives in the near pueblos. It was established in 1615 by Spanish settlers, who first were on amicable terms with the Indians of the pueblo. But the peace only held until missionaries got involved (totally new!). This led to a revolt in 1640, in which the Native Americans obviously killed some Spanish settlers and a priest and fled their village. They did not return until 1661.

Well, this was not the last revolt, or let me put it that way: this was not the last time the Taos people had to defend themselves against the Reconquista. Read more about it on http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taos,_New_Mexico

However, Taos is a pretty little jewel at the foot of the Sangre Cristo Mountains. Nowadays it mostly makes a living by tourism. It is a good example for the Adobe architecture, as you will see again in the pictures of the Taos pueblo.

Taos Pueblo is an ancient village belonging to a Native American tribe of the Pueblo people speaking the language Taos. People say, the pueblo is about 1000 years old and was founded by the ancient Anasazi, who moved there after escaping a drought in their old areas. The Red Willow Creek, a small river, flows through the middle of the pueblo from its source in the Sangre de Cristo Range.

Taos Pueblo is a member of the Eight Northern Pueblos. The Taos community is known for being one of the most secretive and conservative pueblos.

Taos Pueblo’s most prominent architectural feature is a multi-storied residential complex of reddish-brown Adobe. The doors are a concession to modern times. Originally the buildings were only accessible through holes in the roofs. As soon as the pueblo was threatened by any enemy, the ladders were lifted and a certain safety was granted.

About 150 people (and about the same number of dogs) still live in the pueblo and sell handcrafted goods and cold drinks to tourists.

Near Taos and the Taos pueblo a bridge crosses the Rio Grande Gorge. Not the right thing for people who suffer from vertigo…

Dears, I am tired, it is 2.30 am and I can’t think anymore. I will try to continue tomorrow. There is so much more to see and say about New Mexico. And I want to be at least a bit inspired for the Land of Enchantment…

Good night for now!

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