A work in progress; right now enjoying some Acrylic Art and watching birds and chipmunks gather around our feed seed. My Learning Curve. I was always good at art, but never took the time, Until Now. The fun has just started! Diandra’s art is out of this World, too. Coming up
Spotlights of sage and scrub oak, in random precision, etched clear straight lines bolting through voluptuous clouds of Springtime dawn. Nature’s grand design ignited a prism of tiny shimmering flies and months, pulsating skywards in columns of sunshine champagne.
Which of these stage lights is visiting a Mountain Leprechaun’s doorstep? Did I detect a flash in the pan scanning over red rock, gray ash, and stone?
A vaudevillian honk was sounded, or more like, intonated; airy and throaty, but a suddenly-deep baritone sax. With a tip of his wing, the Baton Major gave me a salute, and as I gaze upwards in silent ritardando, a bombardment of caws and old bicycle horns broke the spell, and I was open-hand smacked right in the face. That’s right, slow poke. Moving Day. Get off your Tuff!
After all, the Grand Kids are coming within a week and we need a sure bet.
Scanning the lava-bombed hillside of magma concrete rolling over river rock, the Sun broke the cloud; now, on a Tuesday right as it gets hot, I had calculated the timing was perfect. The crags and cliffs looked artificially designed, like a rock climbing wall. On the way with the trailer in tow, to the second camp at Nebo Creek, we got stuck behind a poor turkey running in front of us along a cliffside dirt road. That Momma turkey got quite a work out.
When finally we passed Tom’s wife, and passed the crossing over the creek, finally we were approaching what we had been stalking. Photogenic and inviting; like a brochure, terraced clear pools of life-giving water churned and gurgled over man-placed rocks and logs. The majestic appearance of a tall pine grove elevated this particular campsite to prime real estate status.
And fittingly, that is where we met our first of Nebo Canyon’s Camp Gypsies. Like My Name is Earl, he had a thick black ‘stash and a week of stubble over his manicured chin. To complete the package, his blond wife was guiding one of their large trailers out between the trees. Our hopes were dashed when Handlebars explained they are leaving one trailer behind.
A few hard jerks from his wife indicated “no arguments.” That settled, we drove into the next camp. Plenty of Nature to go around. Ahhhhhh. . . . . . . . . . . .
Bounce around a bit. This is a share of about two months of all-Natural thoughts, and a ray of Sunshine with your coffee. and I am trying to be (Better) “Cure-ated” too. After all, I am grateful from the bottom of my heart to all Subscribers and Followers.
The camp coffee is getting better, since our propane is no longer ‘on the fritz.’ Kick your feet up and take a long sip, and retire with us on a satisfying journey. And you will always get a spill on your lap, because it has been a bumpy road.
Washes out in the creek.
A work of the Heart in progress. I am at a public library pounding it out. All is done with a Carpenter Pencil and a Notepad. If you haven’t already, please Subscribe.
Front row tickets.
B ubbling brooks, butterflies and books
U nspoiled utilities
F orest, fauna, and flowers
F orecast and fishing
A nimal autographs
L ocation and lodging
O n the outskirts
S ounds, solitude, shade
O ut of the ordinary
U nhibited and untamed
L ife, Day to day
S imply showing off
Bubbling Brooks, Butterflies and Books
What?? No need for a 3 ring circus? Could you drop it in gear as I lift our house with a crow bar — Not this time.
It felt like ‘getting away’ with something. A simple parking and docking, an unhitch without a hitch, gentle lowering and BAM!
Geocentric Level.
Our marriage still intact (unfazed really) I put every drop my bursting pride into a cold cup of milk and instant coffee, filling it all the way to the brim on our dinette table. A 1 millimeter parallel line from the top rim endorsed my prowess and soon the gloating was brought to a minimum. (It was probably just dumb luck, because the manometer for the propane was ‘in the green’ and that means, hot water and a working refrigerator!) 25 years of Construction has paid off!
The simple things of life. Having performed a coffee camp christening and some advanced Hammockry; just like that, I began to explore.
Two words for this camp: Easy Peasy. Forested areas of this sprawling site are covered in soft loam, and great for setting up canopies and tents. Since I had not yet checked out this new spot, it was time to scout around.
Heading for the stream, I was blasted (cradled, ? at the same time) by that SOUND! Laid instinctively by little Beaver hands, each stick is horizontally placed at a 45 degree angle ‘just so’ to eventually block the entire river flow.
As water tumbles over this natural pipe organ, vanishing tones still manage to fill and lift the entire little canyon. Like an Oriental garden, fancy red-brown-orange spotted trout with a golden sheen parade back and forth to the trappings of the dam, darting away to avoid having to leave this pond paradise and take their chances downstream.
Keeping themselves on the good side of the dam, the Trout here enjoyed juicy colorful flies, clever water skeeters, and dragon fly larvae (they spend two years as a nymph underwater.) The vibrant little creek was the setting for most, if not all, beautiful bugs and butterflies, birds, and bovine. Bounteous and Beloved — The study of acronyms reveals how much similar sounds carry hidden meanings and similes —
Hatching from their winter coccoons, an inundation of tiny white, yellow, and purple butterfly-moths spun around my face as the wind was changing morning directions. Monarch-y butterflies with scandalously-thick yellow-powdered vermillion body paint and long spindly brown dotted legs. Unfolding their parasails, they would spin in delight, “Look at Me!” Of course I was obliged to tip my hat, and with a convincing look, exclaim, “You’re Sooooo Beee-eeee-uuu-tiful.” Right on cue, they would tap dance delicately in utter delight, overjoyed in their new legs and lifts. This stuff is habit-forming. Our cocooned friends have been through a LOT. Time to show off.
Unspoiled Utilities
From the moment we pulled up to this Arboreal Real Estate in one of the few remaining groves, the camp gypsies were coming right out of the woodwork. They would walk their dogs, pausing like stagnation at our campsite.
After a few minutes, I would come to check out their pooches. My love in life — animals. It became predictable after two tries to warn us of rattle snakes. Next they would each say how this campsite we are staying at is usually their turnaround if they don’t find a site.
Funny, I thought there aren’t more turnarounds ? I saw several. I would stare at my truck as if it was a monolith and cannot move, (and still blocking the driveway) I would say “Yeah, you better get turned around before that little creek crosses the road. A trailer wouldn’t make it.” Shaking my head. I would walk off without a warning, betting on their shyness to press the matter.
Curious, are you? The sharp-witted black and gray haired lady with a lot to say about the canyon didn’t budge as easily, walking right into camp and engaging in convos with my wife. “Back in this canyon nearly every year, eh?” — looking yonder outside our camp — “First time for me.” Funny I have been in the canyon for two weeks, and saw only two snakes, neither of them rattlers. Don’t threaten me with a good time!
It was settled. We had the best spot in the canyon. We had been given an entire truckload of wood by the ‘Earl’ guy, when he said “There’s plenty where that came from” like an old movie script with fluent yokel-tones and slow double-vowels.
The truck loaded up, I rebuilt the firepit and stuffed all the wood in the driest spot after the (common) afternoon sprinkle. And let me tell you, I was proud of that fire pit.
Sometimes things are just artistically and asthetically pleasing.
It was then a sense of shame fell over me, and I began gathering trash, glass, bullet and shotgun shells, and discarded fire meltage, long ago shoveled haphazardly next to the creek, as if this land is only for their ”use” (You can see, I obsess.)
Ready to cry, every scrap I gathered became a triumph. Laying right on the ground on my comfy yoga mat, I would clear out a square space and keep moving, picking up tiny glass shards, for hours, days, and even a week later. Each shard would be able to cut children’s feet; a tiny disregard for the very Nature they propose to enjoy. America needs to have a talk. Clean up your yard and Fresh Air. CONSERVE. — K —
Driven nearly to madness, my mind finally subsided as trash wasn’t (any more) the first thing I would see. This paid off emotionally in ways I cannot describe. I don’t know too many folks in Utah other than one of my brothers-in-Law (he knows exactly who he is, often too environmental to even be a Democrat) that put Earth and our HOME First.
Please read the first Buffalo Souls Report on proper camping utilities available or needed at Nebo Creek.
Read our first Buffalo Souls Report #1 for further information already covered.
I will add, bring binoculars. And swimming shorts. The (relatively) warm water of the creek is perfect at this time of year. (May 25 - June 9)
Forest, Fauna, and Flowers
Blue bells dangled in bunches, like grapes. Red trumpets (also grouped,) yellow daisies, and many little white flowers in delicate arrangements fed tiny pollinators. The canyon was Springing into life. (May 25-June 9)
Purple Sage blossoms were in bloom, and Even real White Mountain Sage grew sparingly. Diandra made some sage bundles. They turned out even better than we imagined. Nothing like the fresh smell of sage smoke to cleanse the aura and negative thoughts.
See last Report about the burnt forest and miraculous regrowth as life refuses to quit.
Clean as a whistle! Sage smoke is delightful. Let the pungent smell of smudge clear your nostrils and energy field. I was inspired by this canyon to further explore Herbology. Stay tuned for my exciting discoveries to come. I am checking out picture books with lots of herbs and wildflowers, in both the Western United States and Utah in particular. The Library only lets me have 20 books. E-gad. Wouldn’t fit in the trailer.
The second night at the new spot, we spent the most of our existence hanging out in our camp chairs with the Beaver Dam Symphonic Wood Orchestra. I was gazing at my creation, a firepit, Tetris-fit stone by stone with pride and patience. This work unlocks something deep within.
With 25 years of framing houses under my belt, I know better than most how physical results are seen and felt, even walked upon, at the end of the day. The honest trades suffer no fools. Wrong is wrong; a wonderfully predictable environment, but on the Stairway to Heaven, there are (apparently) 33 1/3 levels of Masonic Wizardry (or was that a Leslie Nielson Movie??) on the higher pathways towards the Great Community Well of Common Sense.
That’s when the wind began to pick up, quite suddenly. We heard the deafening sound high-pitched violin tones that grated the nerves like the scratching of a chalkboard.
Crows flew in about 20 different directions. A bassy <CRACK> and as our heads jerked to the source, over at the neighbors’ abandoned camp with one trailer. An 80 foot giant pine tree was toppling down, knocking over two smaller trees in the process. Hundreds of small crackling branches sounded off like an old fashioned roll of firecrackers.
A strange silence filled the valley as we, too, were speechless. It is a matter of fact that a tree makes a sound; a very loud sound, but perhaps only as long as there’s a critter with good ears and a great attention span.
We discussed several times whether anyone would be likely to believe us, even if we told them? It is amazing fun to have a partner who is just as excited to be witness of such an epic event, in stunned corrobory. And we are sticking to our story!
Forecast and Fishing (May 25-June 9)
Now, skipping back to the first night, we drove to the trailhead at the end of Nebo Creek Road. More than a dozen deer were there, skirting right up the 45 degree hillside.
Even the chipmunks are more equipped than a couple of greenhorn homo sapiens. Sitting quietly in the truck, hoping for a close encounter, we noticed a large blue gray bird sitting on a perch from a burnt out dogwood tree.
His body was dove-sized, with an oversized head. The black patch at the top of his head bobbed around like a drunk at a concert. Side to side, with snakelike movements, his head would drift; stopping mechanically, then flowing, in a repeating, practiced rhythm.
“This has got to be a mating dance,” I said, still not sure why a bird-of-paradise choreography session is happening right here, high the Uinta Mountains? And Whoosh!
The King Fisher showed us his crown as he divebombed unexpectantly; more like falling with style and precision to the perfect landing spot in a perfect ‘10’ vertical diving splashdown. The 2 inch fish wiggled furiously as the triumphant Angler struck perfectly on the first try.
June 9 was a perfect bulls-eye for weather conditions at Nebo Creek. Any later, and it would depend on temporary weather conditions. I would also suggest September (maybe only the first two weeks.)
Where there is great fishing, there are many flies. Bring some DEET. I could disappear into my hammock screen and kick back to read my Subscribers’ work (saved to my phone) with no bugging about it.
They only tend to buzz around on a warm afternoon. A canyon is better off alive than dead, flies and all.
Watching the fish jump, we would park our chairs for hours. They had the biggest appetite in the morning. These are real Cut Throat Trout. If there is a better stream fishing spot for 300 miles, I challenge you to show me.
If you have never been stream fishing, this may qualify as an emergency. Get out there. And check out my last report for more details.
Animal Autographs
Our daughter, Kat needed some dog-sitting for 5 days. Of course, we said yes. These were the same two toy dogs we had running around when we checked out the canyon in the first place. Here’s a link:
Granddoggies and Your Highness, the Great Grand Kitty.
Three days of nervously keeping the naughty dogs at bay, without getting lost, is not exactly, recommended. But they were so darling, and genuinely want to be right next to you, even if that means sitting behind your seat, and becoming invisible.
I regret having few pictures, but I hope these words are painting a beautiful scene. Ginger, the old dachshund (our old favorite) was the hardest to deal with; not coming when called. I must have walked those two dogs on a leash 25 times around the perimeter of the campsite. And then 25 times more! We were NOT about to lose a dog in this tricky canyon.
This is Willow (above) They slept in the trailer, but (cutely) whined most of the nights because we had no room to have them in bed, like they are used to. Spoiled.
Their spots on the dinette were actually quite comfortable. But having dogs in the wild is a lot of stress! They are adorably well loved, and therefore came out unscathed. And yes, I ended up stepping in it at 3 AM. That creek was cold that time of dawn! Soaping my toes. . . . . . . . .
The old Dachshund, Ginger, turned out to be a bit more naughty around camp, hiding under the camp chairs or where we cannot see her. This is the kind of dog that knows more than she lets on. Double smart and double trouble.
These two dogs compete for attention, and it shows. The younger one (change of name, future <FFWD> Willow) would sit right on top of Ginger in any setting, like she wanted to diminish the other dog. Ginger was ready for some kind of change. At age 9, she had already helped raised the boys, and had to adopt a rambunctious sister —not to her liking. Now, it has all been worked out.
Right after we returned the pups, it was arranged for Willow to be given to an old retired couple in the family. This was for the very best, and now she even has paw cleaner in her toy dog kit.
Now, she has been rehomed and super-spoiled in St. George Utah with a retired member of the family. Hurray!
Location and Lodging
As this is a repeat stay at Nebo Canyon, please see my last (first edition.)
We drove further in, where this brochure-like site will speak for itself. There are only 5 or 6 camping spots within a Forest Grove. The very next site with a U-Turnaround is where we stayed.
These forest sites are hard to land. Show up on a Tuesday, I would suggest. There is room for 3 or 4 vehicles, or maybe 3 campers. Tents will be a breeze at this location in the soft forest loam under the Great Pines. Lots of places for a good Hammock. Time to kick back.
On the Outskirts
This area invites great road trips. Strawberry Reservoir is a local favorite for generations. We came in and out of the Salt Lake Valley seamlessly and frequently. This close location removes any excuse for Northern Utahners.
Nebo Canyon: Be there or Be square. Close to the Salt Lake City Mega Valley. Far too easy to escape, come on over, and within an hour, become swept away with beauty and wonder.
US-89 is packed with places to explore, too! Git on it.
A fun story before moving on: While driving around with my Grand Boys in the back of the truck on the canyon road, I started to see signs that either looked like a doggie bone, or more likely, a crude hand drawn combination-symbol of man’s parts.
<ewwww> Apparently our neighbors were having a party. The local cowboys removed all their explicit signs in a hurry the following Monday after an awaited departure.
The lady had showed up on a Tuesday with her boyfriend, and set up tents, leaving immediately. They left it empty but dibbed-out until Friday, when everyone began showing up.
The first day they arrived, a slightly toothless girl (in her 30’s) wearing a bikini drifted into camp with her 3 dogs and a little girl with a cute fishing pole.
Now, Momma wasn’t fishing or anything. My bet was she was trying to put on her best flirt so she could extend this ‘party’ to our camp as well. I said loudly, “The fishing would be REAL GOOD over there where the tree fell, at YOUR campsite.” I got a dirty look, and she drifted on back. Camp Gypsies. Whattayado?
Sounds, Solitude, Shade
This canyon has been the perfect backdrop for beginning our crazy retirement plans. Going full time in an RV is quite an undertaking.
The little brook rushes in most areas, leaving a clean sound of mountain stream. Vehicles do drive by, but not frequently until the three weekend days. Then a mild amount of ATV’s come through, but mostly hikers and fishermen looking for their slice of solitude, as well.
A feeling of safety pervades the air in Nebo Creek Canyon. Like being in on a secret. That is why we were gettiong the Camp Gypsies. I did look everywhere, inviting a rattler in with some fresh bacon and drew him a bath of water. Fun aside, maybe better luck next time.
I chant loudly and freely to achieve meditative states. Here, the solitude is complete, and I was never observed, nor bothered. The groove here is unique and colorful. Rainbow energy flooded in, sometimes making me temporarily forget who I am and where I was.
This place was curing me of 51 years of artificial living. At this point, it was finally beginning to actually work out for us. And we are NOT made of money. We had to save up just to have a nice bed. The four inch mattress was all we had at this camp. It still hurts my neck just thinking about it.
My mom bailed us out and paid for Memory Foam Trucker Bed (apparently interchangeable.)
The kind of comfort we are seeking isn’t physical.
Soul Comfort.
Out of the Ordinary
Camp 2026 Nebo Creek was one for the Record Books! After having the cute dogs for 5 days, we had the 3 grand kids for another 5 nights.
The oldest, a 13 year old teenager (names not included) actually came (!) but accidentally left his phone and some other stuff in his backpack. I raced to where there is signal, but it was too late. But, a wise grandfather, I gave it an honest effort. He got over it fast, and slept in the hammock the first night.
He regretted it at 3 AM, freezing cold. Keeping it quiet, he shivered for over 3 hours until the sun came up. Next night, he opted to sleep in the trailer.
Our tough ‘71 Aristocrat Trailer comfortably slept all three. One in the bunk and two at the dinette table. There is no heating, but warming up the coffee in the morning brings up the tempera ture.
Once the Sun is up, the entire valley warms up, almost too quickly. This was the ultimate target time of year (May 25-June9) at this canyon. Bullseye.
I took the two younger fraternal twins (age 9) to the waterfall. They were so cute and brave, bearing their chest and walking right into the tough, pouring water. The cement pad underneath makes this the ultimate water feature.
On the way back to camp, I overheard shouting from the bed, “Grandpa, can we go back here tomorrow, too?” Mission success.
We also hiked (all three of them) on two different occasions, the trailhead at the end of the ten mile dirt road. And a third time closer in, along the rocky hillsides of magma and concretions. That was a time of true joy and bonding.
We hiked about 5 miles in (impressive for young boys.) A few small groves remain deep along this trail. Come in from the Salt Lake Valley and within hours, get away so completely, it will be a shame to return. The drive around the area would be worth it alone.
We had several camp fires, and renewed our sacred bonds.
The funnest highlight, we keep talking about, was when one of the twins dug a little hole, propped a box up with a stick, and led a string away 10 yards. He was catching squirrels. His plan was revealed when he asked for bait from the fridge. Timeless and Precious!
Uninhibited and Untamed
The second campsite experience felt like a critical moment. We were going to adapt to cold weather, no electricity or electronic entertainment (except a few podcasts downloaded and Substack Saves.)
This ‘electronic purge’ is a real thing. Diandra did better than me, cold turkey. I was still saving stuff to devour in all those hours of alone time.
In this modern age, we are expected to retire somewhere around NEVER. The story that led to our momentous decision of RV trailer life has taken over a decade to unfold. A lot happened last year.
To do it justice, I have to write a Memoir. It will be highly stylized. Experimental. We have been through a lot these last two years. I can say this: Our decision to retire now and stop paying rent makes perfect sense once I get a chance to offer some explanation.
My family, in particular, is very curious. It has put some backbone in me simply claiming my choices, but really not having time to explain. But I will, in time, in a way that is appropriate and wildly entertaining.
It has been a stellar ride. Even my close friends and family don’t quite understand how we got here. That is why I will be sharing our journey via Memoir. The most appropriate medium that honors our unique position in life. My goal is within one month, first Chapter.
Life, Day to Day
Pavement hit road for us on this second campsite in our retirement. The payoff was a steep emotional profit for us, as we had the Grand Kids or Doggies for over 10 days continuously. (not at the same time, thank goodness) It had been years since a long and meaningful visit with them, after the time they moved up North.
Watching the three boys chop wood for hours, try to catch fish with our next (we are so poor no fishing equipment yet. One month at a time. This camping operation is serious business, and risky. We are up to it.)
They never once said the words, “I’m bored.” Really, I was expecting it, as it had happened another Summer when we had ‘Grandma Camp’ while I worked in the heat last year (110 degrees plus high for 3 months) It was killing me. Maybe literally. I would come home, pass out, lose belt sizes, and bear witness to what extreme dehydration looks like. I only worked 20 hour weeks all last Summer. Winding down and growing old. I am OK with it.
Basically, I help Diandra have this experience even though she has severed her Achilles Heel. Going up stairs and inclines is a struggle. I clear out rocks, make a firepit, do the physical things like digging and making a firepit, and park the trailer. This ain’t easy.
Simply Showing Off
The pure magic of Nature produced a visit with both the Grand-(Kids, Dogs) that reminded us of our bonds, and inserted wonder into the mind of our children. They are our greatest reward in life.
Let Nature talk, and those darn Data Centers walk. Life a life, signal-free!
Some of my personal favorite memories were in Scouting. Camping was always the time in life I look back at with fondness and great respect.
Now, we are doing it full time. It takes special effort to hand-write my thoughts and transfer to the computer. It fights me the WHOLE way.
If anyone has good ideas for my newsletter and asthetic format, please DM me, my dear Subscribers. Hit that Subscribe button. We are officially up to the task!
This is a bumpy ride, But you have my promise I will share the most fond memories, struggles and outtakes, regardless of what it takes. Love you all, Subscribers. Thanks a Million!
What a great read!!! You sound like you are truly having the time of your life, and it’s great to read that the grandkids loved it, too!
Wow! What an adventure!!! Thanks for sharing it, and typing it up, too 😃
OMG J this was a proper joy to read all the way through. You’ve got such a knack for catching the little things that make a place feel alive, the beaver dam sounding like a pipe organ, that kingfisher dive, the twins trying to catch squirrels with a box and a stick, the camp gypsies wandering past with their dogs and stories. The acrylic painting, the birds and chipmunks at the feeder, Diandra’s work, the sage and spring flowers, the cutthroat trout, even the long slow job of picking glass and rubbish out of the creek, it all lands really well. I especially liked the quiet pride in the simple stuff, getting the trailer level, rebuilding the firepit, and the bigger heart underneath it, making room for the grandkids and the dogs and this whole new retirement chapter. Feels like the canyon is doing something good for both of you.
You mentioned ideas for the newsletter and how it looks. One thought is to keep the Buffalo Souls Report as a running thing and give each post a simple shape, a short nature bit, a practical camping note, and one personal moment with family or the animals. Pair it with a clean earthy feel, soft paper textures, a few of Diandra’s acrylic pieces, maybe a little hand-drawn sketch or campsite map. Keeps that spontaneous carpenter-pencil energy without looking messy.
Keep writing these J. They’re a real gift.