tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81960041075600245082024-03-13T10:10:36.711-07:00No LimitsDave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-79566401575319108682016-11-06T13:13:00.002-08:002017-05-23T09:04:01.575-07:00My new website with blog posts<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I created a website today. I am now posting on <a href="http://davenevins.me/">davenevins.me </a>. Lots of work to do, but it is a start. If you visit, please let me know what you think. Not sure if I will keep my blogspot site.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dave Nevins</b></span>Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-54342484550220164842016-08-28T12:16:00.002-07:002016-08-28T12:18:16.462-07:00My time with the bat<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">My time with the bat</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">The day in late July would bring us more extreme heat, surrounded by an extra layer of thick, heavy humidity. Another day in the Monsoon season, amid the dramatic landscape that is the desert southwest.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The storms were likely crashing the scenery to our southeast, leaving Tucson, with just plain, wicked heat.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Family had just arrived in town and they met me at the bridge at Campbell and River Road. Not the usual family vacation destination.</b></span></div>
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<b>Bat looking toward the bat flight and a beautiful sunset</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We would be joined by my wildlife biologist friend, Eric Peffer. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Underneath the bridge, a crowd was gathering, as Eric began an excellent introduction to one of the cities bat hangouts. An estimated 10,000 Mexican Free Tailed bats reside at this location. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The bat colony would send out a few scouts to determine the direction of the wind. Much easier to soar into the wind than with the breeze. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This is the time of the year that the newborn are taking their first flight. This flight is a challenge as the little ones have to drop from the thin opening that is between the cement beams that they call home. They have about 20 feet to learn to fly or they become part of the food chain. Unless of course, we step in.</b></span></div>
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<b>Sunset from under the bridge</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The runt of a family did not make his/her first flight and ended up on the ground below. We watched the little guy drag himself along the ground, knowing that he would not be able to gain flight and that he would likely not survive the night. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I was surprised when Eric picked the bat up. He would explain that the bat was not old enough to bite (the rabies issue). Being nature minded and leaning toward adventurous, I would also hold the bat.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Eric would deliver the bat to a friend who transported him to a wildlife refuge. The last we heard he is one of 3 or 4 bats that have been dropped off recently.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/fH8NTvFFbOE"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Bats in the bridge, before flight</span></b></a></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/HyspUE6RsZM"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Short section of the bat flight</span></b></a></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/sVk3290sdZQ"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Bat Flight at the Campbell/River Bridge</b></span></a></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-81070750938622213812016-07-02T13:08:00.003-07:002016-07-02T13:08:22.364-07:00Dave's Diabetes Story on the ADA Blog<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>'Dave's Diabetes Story on the American Diabetes Association Blog'</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I was fortunate to have a story of mine posted on the American Diabetes Association Blog. The link is below.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>For the story, I submitted 3 photos. If you pull up the story you will see my Medtronic Global Hero photo from 2012. The photo above is from the Boise trail book of which I am a co-author. It was an incredible experience to have run over 1,000 miles in the exceptional Idaho terrain that we covered.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This photo is from the 2015 El Tour Expo. I was a new hire to the ADA and this was an event where I promoted our coming Tour de Cure. I am sporting the Red Rider jersey which highlights riders at the Tour de Cure with diabetes. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It has been a real honor and inspiration working with these outstanding individuals.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://diabetesstopshere.org/2016/06/24/daves-diabetes-story/">Dave's Diabetes Story</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Link to the story.</b></span></div>
<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-40411302714388906862016-04-26T09:31:00.003-07:002016-04-26T09:36:40.716-07:00The Mission Hits Close to Home<div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">The following was part of a presentation at the American Diabetes Association Mountain Region meeting in Phoenix, AZ on April 20, 2016. My story was edited and included with encouraging and inspirational stories American Diabetes Association staff from the Mountain Region. They were: Lynda Jimenez (Phoenix ADA), Beverly Bartel (Montana ADA), Anne Dennis (Phoenix ADA), Hannah Hoogenboom (Denver ADA), Julie Garcia (Phoenix ADA), Kirsten Weatherford (Montana ADA) and Kaylee Gronau (Phoenix ADA) and myself. All of us either have Type 1 diabetes or have family members who do. </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>I believe my
first real connection with the ADA was a journey from Seattle, WA to Glacier
National Park (Montana) for a backpacking excursion to the Granite Park
Chalet. We actually celebrated Christmas
on August 25<sup>th</sup> while at <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>the Chalet. This was the last 25<sup>th</sup> on the
calendar before they closed for the season.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>The Glacier
National Park trip might have been the spark I needed to make an entry into the
world of adventure and seeking new challenges.
Another tie in with the ADA was the BBAD (Border-to-Border-Against-
Diabetes) Tour. A group ride from the
Utah/Arizona border to the Utah/Idaho border.
4 of the 5 riders were T1’s. The
trip was organized to finish the day before the ADA EXPO Salt Lake City where
we were involved/featured.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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uncle Peter was on the tour!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>I have also
been involved with the ADA being the beneficiary in past events. Two ocean swim events benefiting the ADA in
Alaska (10k/5k) made for some interesting experience in event planning! So glad and fortunate to be working with the
American Diabetes Association and to have such wonderful people helping me out and inspiring
participants in our events.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Note: I am the Market Manager for the Tucson ADA</b></span></div>
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Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-14665649176391395362016-03-27T11:37:00.000-07:002016-04-07T12:06:43.746-07:00'Aravaipa Canyon, with a Brief Appearance by Edward Abbey'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>'Aravaipa Canyon, with a Brief Appearance by Edward Abbey'</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Aravaipa Canyon runs for 11 miles through the rugged Galiuro Mountains of SE Arizona. It is one of Arizona's few perennial streams and this gem is only an hour from home. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Aravaipa Canyon Wilderness is a special place for me, and yes, there will be more Aravaipa visits and blog posts in the future. This post will mainly be photos/videos but a recent article on the Nature Conservancy in Arizona Highways (April 2016) gave me some new information I can toss into the mix of photos/videos. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Eric Peffer</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Having heard author Sean Prentiss (Finding Abbey: The Search for Edward Abbey and his Hidden Desert Grave) at the Tucson Book Festival, I had added interest in the life and death of Abbey (and, of course, the possible location of his grave) I was surprised to read in Arizona Highways that Abbey was the first manager of the Aravaipa preserve. He was later joined by Doug Peacock.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Video:</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/KmXG7CEgj9U">Aravaipa Creek from creek level</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A video tour:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/fpqRVLKAXNU">Aravaipa Canyon Video 1 of 3</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/C4-lvP9GP5s">Aravaipa Canyon Video 2 of 3</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/crGPveq11js"><b>Aravaipa Canyon Video 3 of 3</b></a></span></div>
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<b>Hell's Half Acre Canyon (side canyon of Aravaipa Canyon)</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Aravaipa provided the setting for some of Abbey's most memorable essays, including the haunting story of his encounter with a mountain lion and a lighter essay about javelina's he titled <i>Merry Christmas, Pigs! </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>More importantly, he completed his novel <i>The Monkey Wrench Gang, </i>while canyon-bound<i>, </i>using Peacock as the inspiration for George Washington Hayduke. Noted author/writer Peacock's observation that the human history of the canyon is "as colorful as a Western novel."</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Defenders of Wildlife fired Abbey at the end of that month. Abbey wrote of his dismissal, "A shabby, sneaky, cowardly thing to do".</b></span></div>
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<b>Painted Cave Canyon (side canyon of Aravaipa Canyon)</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Thoreau had Walden Pond, Edward Abbey had Aravaipa Canyon. For a city slicker like Abbey, he needed a place of sanctuary, of refuge and of "redemption." To him, Aravaipa Canyon was his saving grace in a concrete world.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It is for this reason that he fashioned his essay "Down the River" about Aravaipa Canyon with such love, respect and admiration. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Eric Peffer</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I will extend my love, respect and admiration to a brilliant location, along with a few photos/video links and my first blog to include Edward Abbey.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Who shall I include in my next blog? </b></span></div>
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<b>Desert Varnish</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Lori Conser</b></span></div>
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<b>Lori Conser & Eric Peffer</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Bibliography</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Arizona Highways April 2016. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Weeds and Roses - "Edward Abbey / Mountain Lion".</b></span></div>
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<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-21792628680335376352016-01-24T10:19:00.001-08:002016-02-25T21:21:20.717-08:00That Darn Hole in my leg<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>'That Darn Hole in My Leg'</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Every Search and Rescue mission is unique and you head out the door with a loaded backpack and sometimes, an unsettled feeling. Will we be helping an injured hiker, looking for a lost hunter, recovering a body or....a number of other situations that could be life or death or simple first aid. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>This story involves a hiker who had badly injured his leg, on a hike on Gavan Hill. Sitka (Alaska) Mountain Rescue had been called to assist in his safe rescue down the mountain. The Sitka Coast Guard was also involved in transporting the injured hiker to the hospital. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Transporting the hiker to an area that a helicopter could drop a litter</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>This tale would also involve me, and the rescue that almost happened. More about that later. I did a blog about my year with Sitka Mountain Rescue (and this rescue): </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="http://davenevins.blogspot.com/2008/12/sitka-mountain-rescue-doing-what-they.html">'That's What We Do'</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The rescue crew headed up the Gavan Hill trail. It is a steep, gnarly trail that is well decorated with roots, rocks, steps, stair cases, and ruts, lacking the traditional dirt trail element that is found elsewhere. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The hiker was doing ok, just needed extra assistance since he had torn a meniscus on the way down. Luckily, he was at the edge of cell phone coverage into town and Sitka Mountain Rescue.</b></span></div>
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<b>Sitka Coast Guard - Photo by Bill Greer</b></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">A Sitka Coast Guard helicopter would be called in due to the difficult trail condition for a carry out. The rescue group carried him in a litter, to an area that was barely wide enough for the basket drop from the helicopter, whirling above. </b></div>
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<b>Photo by the Sitka Coast Guard</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I walked ahead of the wheeled procession to get to the next technical area, where I could help with the maneuver. I took a route to the right, off the trail and made my way............hmmm something just entered into my leg. It did not hurt, but I was</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>a little perplexed at what had just happened. </b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">My initial thought was that I had just brushed against something. I never saw what, exactly, had entered my leg but it had cleanly made a jagged path into and out of my calf. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Eyes now focused on my leg, I took a breath and took in the current situation. Well, lucky me, I was a few feet from a group of Search and Rescue personnel. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Oddly, my leg did not hurt and was not bleeding, much. I was probably centimeters from having something cut, torn or punctured. Extra duty by someone on the team and I had a nicely wrapped leg and would not need the helicopter to make a 2nd trip.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">We discussed Dave's 'situation' and I gave a thumbs up on hiking down the mountain and making my way to a hospital.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The team on Gavan Hill was not large enough to send a person down with me. They were needed in a more serious rescue effort. </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2c2AREM1Qumxgq0neZnzShedSNxjkDcNwo-N4buscO1KdBF51tXmjJRy71xLd-lyyGY0LcsU-5mVH2HcC9zQzdYzf8-0ZeqPh4Z7PH7PKka-PQ3wxeho8psEv62AQWk3KuRWSKA7B-_0/s1600/IMGP1357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2c2AREM1Qumxgq0neZnzShedSNxjkDcNwo-N4buscO1KdBF51tXmjJRy71xLd-lyyGY0LcsU-5mVH2HcC9zQzdYzf8-0ZeqPh4Z7PH7PKka-PQ3wxeho8psEv62AQWk3KuRWSKA7B-_0/s640/IMGP1357.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Are you sure you are ok with hiking down, by yourself?"</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Why yes". I believe I was asked in different ways as to my ability to have a lovely hole in my leg, and do a prolonged hike to actual safety.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Of course, no problem" or something like that was my follow-up response. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I was handed a 2-way radio and I assured myself that my body could be picked up on the way down if I had 'issues'. </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0GHnGXAXq4Bg5mGN7P-jz0HUlgFsZ6bvzQvgHkOg5BouQ4XbBXn13oJqc9kg1SCAi1G62KxQAXjhU7os52opTKjzXQx0C4CaMT0JWztcGjkmlSu3TcS4UoMa0cye7FkcaoGTnrCOHIZM/s1600/IMGP1359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0GHnGXAXq4Bg5mGN7P-jz0HUlgFsZ6bvzQvgHkOg5BouQ4XbBXn13oJqc9kg1SCAi1G62KxQAXjhU7os52opTKjzXQx0C4CaMT0JWztcGjkmlSu3TcS4UoMa0cye7FkcaoGTnrCOHIZM/s640/IMGP1359.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I had a contact when I reached the trail head and my own ambulance service to zoom to the hospital. Trina, would be my rescue, transportation and would provide some humor along my interesting course that I was now on. </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I gave Trina a call once I reached the trail parking lot. I would not have been surprised if she had nonchalantly asked if I would like her to take care of a parking lot surgery. A short time later, in life, she would be helping take out clients on fishing and hunting trips in the rugged Alaskan back country. This would include mountain goats, brown bear and I could only guess on bagging a possible Sasquatch. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">She would also be one the only person I have heard of to sit in on a surgical procedure and snap photos. This story just keeps getting more interesting! I would find myself laughing, while looking down on a horrifying gash across my calf that looked like I would have an incredible tale to tell. Nope, just dumb luck walking into branch/stick. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I had a single request of the doctor stitching me together. "Doc, I have a major trail race in 6 days and I am crazy enough to run it". His answer would turn the 'like' into a 'plan'. He strapped that wound with expertise and an extra knot or 2 and I did run the Alpine Adventure Run. Up the same Gavan Hill I had just limped down. I was incredibly fortunate. I could be writing a story with a far different ending. </span></b></div>
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Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-32448710749763717792016-01-10T13:16:00.001-08:002016-01-10T17:55:22.815-08:002 Peaks Adventure in Alaska<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">2 Peaks Adventure in Alaska</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Following the Canadian Death Race in July of 2011, I was open to another adventure, one a little closer to my home in Sitka, Alaska. Out my window, opposite the Pacific Ocean breaking under my home, I could see 2 prominent peaks near downtown (Mt. Verstovia & Gavan Hill). Gavan Hill is known for the ever popular and long suffering Alpine Adventure Race. Mt. Verstovia is known for its wickedly steep, rugged trail that climbs 2550 feet in about 2.5 miles. </b><b>Gavan Hill trail is no less brutal, with about 2400 feet gained in 1.6 miles. This would be my own custom created event. A signature event without the aid stations.</b></span><br />
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<b style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/_9c7nGHC7Cc">Video of the 2 Peaks adventure</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">I elected to run/walk from a point between the 2 peaks (Sitka National Historical Park) run to Verstovia, grunt up to picnic rock, zoom down, run to Gavan Hill and of course, up, up, up to a point that I felt was a high point. Trail does continue from there but I wound be content with about 5,000 feet of gain for the elevation deposit for the day.</b><br />
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<b>This is trail running/walking in SE Alaska. One of the nastier sections.</b></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">The effort would take place in September, about a month after my 23+ mile, 6,500 foot (elevation gain) ordeal at the Canadian Death Race. This was a momentous occasion as I signed on to run with the I Challenge Diabetes team. I had recently had knee surgery and was hoping for one of the easier legs. That easier leg transformed into the toughest leg as others on the team withdrew or pleaded a little louder than I. </b><br />
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">The timing should have been perfect for the 2 peaks effort, but I managed only 1 hill training run before that September rolled in. Also rolling in was weather.......SE Alaska rainforest weather at its gnarliest. The teeth would bite later in the day.</b></div>
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<b>1st view point on Mt. Verstovia (800? foot elevation)</b><br />
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">I set off with a well stocked Osprey running pack. The blood sugars were good and the day appeared to be in a stable hold. It might be a decent day, weather wise in the rain forest. Could it be?</b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Despite a lack of specific training, meaning, actually running up hills, I made my way up Verstovia. Slow but sure, a mix of walking and running. I passed 1 person (if memory serves me correctly), my only link to humanity on either trail.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I had brought along a camera that was lacking in quality and performance but was waterproof. I shot footage at various stages, knowing that I would eventually piece together a somewhat rough film (see link above). It would take 21 clips to create the short film that would be my introduction into the world of filmmaking. I have been working on my first 'real', quality film as I work through the footage of a No Limits Sea Kayak Expedition, tentatively, named 'Alaskan Waters'. </span></b><br />
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<b>Near the first summit of Verstovia</b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I would reach picnic rock, which is the first summit of Verstovia in good shape. The Arrowhead is the true top of Mt. Verstovia was jutting just above me. A more technical approach, which I was not willing to attempt without a partner. </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Goal #2, Gavan Hill</b></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"> The weather was turning as I made my way down the mountain. As evidence by my array of photos, running SE Alaska trails is a challenge and requires a major dose of concentration. I had a lot of trail time and was somewhat skilled at the ballet on rocks. Having diabetes increased my need for good planning and focus. I had dealt with higher blood sugars for the first half of the run but would eventually level out. </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Gavan Hill</b></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I hit the trail head of Verstovia and made a right turn. On to Gavan Hill.</span></b><br />
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<b>1st viewpoint on Gavan Hill, approximately 1,000+ feet up</b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">A bit more tired, Gavan would require more walking and an onslaught of nature as the wind, rain and a thick, layer of wetness became the next chapter in my 2 Peaks experience. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><br />
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<b>Gavan Hill near the first summit</b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I would glance at my watch and realize that darkness would begin to envelope the mountain terrain soon and the dismal day would usher in darkness quicker. </span></b><br />
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<b>Near the top of the first Gavan Hill summit</b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Reaching the trail head, I shot a final memory of the 2 Peaks experience. Darkness casting its shadow across the Last Frontier. Deep in the woods the evening came at an alarming rate as I ran toward my vehicle. There was an encouraging glow of light and life as I escaped the veil of the forest behind me. </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">7 hours after my first steps toward Verstovia, I slowed my run to a walk and unlocked my car door. Done. A tired, but happy thumbs up for another adventure check off the list.</span></b></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-63832964647762429792015-12-24T13:07:00.001-08:002015-12-25T22:48:58.981-08:00A Wild(life) Year in Video! 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A Wild(life) Year in Video! 2015</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I shared in my previous blog <a href="http://www.davenevins.blogspot.com/2015/12/a-wildlife-year-in-photography.html">A Wild(life) Year in Photography</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>that 2015 was a 'wild' year for me. The wildness factor dipped into my photography and in video. If I am taking photos I am usually just a button touch away from capturing wildlife in video. It is always my goal to walk away with photos and video if I happen to encounter a Sasquatch, Aliens, javelina, or whatever crosses my path or chases me in the rugged landscape of desert terrain in which I call home. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I have posted some memorable moments below with links to video(s) taken. I have not posted all of the videos under each photo. It was a good year for the videography, whether it was filming a tarantula crawling up my arm, a rattlesnake a few feet away or something away from the animal/insect kingdom.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Other videos on my channel can be found at: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/davenevins">Dave Nevins YouTube Channel</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Thanks for your visit and I look forward to more unique and exciting opportunities to use my camera in 2016.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/A7BCEFvIGsk">Roaming</a> <a href="https://youtu.be/A7BCEFvIGsk">Bison in Colorado</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/J-CgQ_v2OOc">Roaming Bison in Colorado - Video #2</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/TTLiKf4krGA"><b>Roaming Bison in Colorado - Video #3</b></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/_CdLjzXuqVY">Gila Monster - Video #1</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/lYt600N2hHw">Gila Monster - Video #2</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/IUyEQgiT1Q4">Gila Monster #2 - Video #1</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/j5o2U6uDKwY"><b>Gila Monster #2 - Video #2</b></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/Sw83HvdRFf0"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Elk herd near Fort Garland, CO (150-200?)</b></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/UtGY9H_-QXA">Bobcat family in the neighborhood</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/9Tal1St-6gA"><b>Bobcat family in the neighborhood - Video #2</b></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/oLTnGmDgxUU">Wild Horses near Fort Garland, CO</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/qzE0BaIVx-g">Wild Horses near Fort Garland, CO - Video #2</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/Yyj6ZRouxYs"><b>Wild Horses near Fort Garland, CO - Video #3</b></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/5PTxqEqptqU">Bighorn Sheep jumping fence</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/G4ghEYeLvaU">Bighorn Sheep near the Rio Grande Bridge / Taos, NM - Video #2</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/nxk4Cwr0990"><b>Bighorn Sheep in the Rio Grande Gorge near Taos, NM</b></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/QGn6nncGa5w">Tarantula - on one of my runs</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/Y7apnXwSS8s"><b>Tarantula #2</b></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/MStjbfSPje4"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Desert Tortoise - on one of my runs</b></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/z2pjaHODkwM">Rattlesnake - on one of my runs</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/6Ic2HhZ0MQI"><b>Rattlesnake - on one of my runs - Video #2</b></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/ul24H-Nt8ac">Roadrunner</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/WlAiqhjmN1o"><b>Roadrunner - Video #2</b></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/-RGkFr6w-iM"><b>Rattlesnakes interacting</b></a> - on one of my runs</span></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/eapmhMYLiBs"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Javelina - on one of my runs</b></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/guMV04xoGNg"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Baby Horned Lizard - on one of my runs</b></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/cBfYomjQujQ"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Walking Stick - on one of my runs</b></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/qHb_s6vnDZk"><b>Cow eating Prickly Pear Cactus (with spines)</b></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/QewYkSzH8q8">Young Desert Tortoise</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/UUbvQaBujos">The Little Cruiser - Video #1</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/WKBaUHRrIfs"><b>The Little Cruiser - Video #2</b></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://youtu.be/72tjWPxKIjc">Gambel Quail and 5 juveniles</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://youtu.be/Y7apnXwSS8s"><b>Tarantula Video #2</b></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/xeFtN_UYUWA"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Deer in Colorado</span></b></a></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-17389579005549679082015-12-06T13:19:00.000-08:002015-12-24T13:52:31.427-08:00A Wild(life) Year in Photography!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">A Wild(life) Year in Photography!</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_N2eavcbj138FwiX7Z_v2lmOlPH3QeLaU3JAOFqeQwEbH0_ZCeUHMTpSa4aKg3BOCMEuLnMEdvvQbAWN96cHODcvnmKrcN7637G-LuNEBmHCWRzSulZg6oFfIzI6jMt62lwQfm3X_SFw/s1600/Dave+and+the+buffalo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_N2eavcbj138FwiX7Z_v2lmOlPH3QeLaU3JAOFqeQwEbH0_ZCeUHMTpSa4aKg3BOCMEuLnMEdvvQbAWN96cHODcvnmKrcN7637G-LuNEBmHCWRzSulZg6oFfIzI6jMt62lwQfm3X_SFw/s640/Dave+and+the+buffalo-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Me and the Roaming Bison in Colorado. </b><b>Photo by Eric Peffer.</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It has been been a wild year for me, in many aspects. One of those areas that continues to make my head swirl, is the amazing desert I live in and the wildlife I have had the opportunity to spend some quality time with. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Most of the photos are from my home base in Catalina, Arizona, although photo adventures to Colorado and New Mexico have added some new animals and geography to my photo line up.</b></span></div>
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<b>Part of the large herd of elk in Colorado (approximately 150)</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I have a number of things in my favor:<br />1. An eye for things that are 'wild'<br />2. a 70-300 lens<br />3. Many of my photo adventures are with a wildlife biologist.<br />4. I run in an a desert area where I see maybe 1 person a month. More of a true desert setting. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. Just plain luck</b></span></div>
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<b>Family of 4 Bobcats in the neighborhood</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Many of my photos are taken during my daily runs through the desert. I typically run near sunset, which I feel is a better time to see animals plus it puts me on the highest road in our area to capture stunning sunsets. The runs limit my camera options but I have had good success with a decent point and shoot camera (Samsung WB350F). The Samsung is sporting a 42x zoom. Oh yeah!</b></span></div>
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<b>One of the four bobcats (family) in the neighborhood</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My goal, when possible, is to take film along with photos. I may put together a film blog for this year. </b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I think back to last year and I did not get much in the way of wildlife photos while this year has been phenomenal. Looking toward 2016. </span></b></div>
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<b>Wild horses near Fort Garland, CO</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Enjoy the photos! </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>When I grab my camera, I aim to get photos and video. Check out the videos on my latest blog: <a href="http://davenevins.blogspot.com/2015/12/a-wildlife-year-in-video-2015.html">A Wild(life) Year in Video!</a></b></span></div>
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<b>Wild horse near Fort Garland, CO</b></div>
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<b>Bighorn Sheep - Taos, NM</b></div>
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<b>Redtail Hawk - Klondyke, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Not totally 'wild' but a wild setting - near La Veta, Colorado</b></div>
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<b>Rattlesnake on one of my runs - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Roadrunner near the house - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>At the house</b></div>
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<b>A Javelina visit during a run - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Horned Lizard during a run - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Young Desert Tortoise - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Walking Stick, almost stepped on and bypassed - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Tarantula visit on a run - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Tarantula on one of my runs</b></div>
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<b>Gila Monster at the house - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Family of 4 Bobcats in the neighborhood - Catalina, AZ</b></div>
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<b>Bobcat photo published in a local paper</b></div>
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<b>Young Desert Tortoise on a desert run - Catalina, AZ</b><br />
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<b>A brief stop during the Race Across America as wild horses cross the road in Utah</b><br />
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<b>During the Race Across America - Pagosa Springs, CO</b><br />
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<b>Praying Mantis, Lori & Eric in Klondyke, AZ</b></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-41237989764729500902015-11-13T13:05:00.001-08:002015-11-17T15:27:37.093-08:00The Klondyke Cold Rush<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Klondyke Cold Rush</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Off the heavily traveled Interstate 10, Aravaipa Road weaves through gently rolling prairie, skirting the towering Mount Graham, at 10,720 feet, the tallest peak in the Pinaleno Mountains and the majestic Santa Teresa Mountains.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Start of the Aravaipa Canyon trek</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It was a lengthy four hour drive to reach the little hamlet of Klondyke, which boasts a population of five. About 35 miles were dirt, although road conditions were much better than anticipated. The road ends at the eastern entry of spectacular Aravaipa Canyon, within the supremely rugged Galiuro Mountains, a rough and remote place that was the home of Arizona's last wild wolves before the reintroduction program of the late 1990's. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Our goal was for Eric, Lori and I to pitch tents at the start of the trek and spend the next two days exploring the spectacular setting that Aravaipa Canyon Wilderness offers. This section of the canyon was purchased by the Nature Conservancy to help save an area that is considerably more lush and beautiful than the surroundings. Little does one realize the crazy circumstances that are involved in this ten mile hike (mainly in the creek). While the west entrance is only 50 miles from our homes, the east entrance drive is 200 miles away. These miles and the 4 hour drive will jump out later in the story.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Video of the last section of road to Aravaipa Canyon East. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIjq9pSyU5U">Road to Aravaipa Canyon East (last section)</a></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_U4Lneoa0oL8ikJ1q6Ois41ihsEVgfr80DoeateSdycNQZ2D186mPurfu278_0kVjiNTRuSvlsTadmdQVKJBm5td61-Xagc1FYKKQIb9XkKyei2mOoH2UhdmaMFu2x0vccgE7MbEBJ8/s1600/SAM_0970+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_U4Lneoa0oL8ikJ1q6Ois41ihsEVgfr80DoeateSdycNQZ2D186mPurfu278_0kVjiNTRuSvlsTadmdQVKJBm5td61-Xagc1FYKKQIb9XkKyei2mOoH2UhdmaMFu2x0vccgE7MbEBJ8/s640/SAM_0970+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Entertaining a visitor at the old Klondyke School</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The sun had slid behind the towering cliffs of the dramatic canyon. We exited from the Peffer family taxi (Eric's folks), grabbed the seriously overweight backpacks (did someone throw rocks in my pack?), threw on our headlights and began our search for a campsite. None being found, with looming darkness and threatening skies, we strolled back to the parking lot. Flat, close to a toilet and no time for a crises. It was perfect, for the moment. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The rain began to fall and buckets of the liquid sunshine were pounding us as we scurried to set up shelter. I had 'planned' to practice setting up a tent that I had not used in many years. Didn't happen. Those years had destroyed the elasticity of the bungee cords in my tent poles. Lovely. Any idea of how dismal it is putting up a tent in a driving rain, in the dark, with largely worthless poles? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The tent would eventually, somehow, find shape, as the skies continued to unleash their madness.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWXl78X_UoHhLhvjcJjt2IrwvUAhB-m8wJPv8VFOHu2T3RCj6gF7hErzKC0QhLpkdPknU-6bxUHekiN_3gPXwlF9PSfdAk_B0v0pgGT_I87zpZDwit0Kt_2sGma7xAWww67nzZzaCDX0/s1600/IMG_6199+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWXl78X_UoHhLhvjcJjt2IrwvUAhB-m8wJPv8VFOHu2T3RCj6gF7hErzKC0QhLpkdPknU-6bxUHekiN_3gPXwlF9PSfdAk_B0v0pgGT_I87zpZDwit0Kt_2sGma7xAWww67nzZzaCDX0/s400/IMG_6199+copy.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">The weather forecast, being a serious matter when spending most of your hiking hours within the creek, in a very distant location, and carting a lot of expensive camera gear. Forecast for the area was .07 inches of rain.</b></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">Those .07 inches of rain fell in about the first 12 minutes of bombardment, and would continue through the night with an occasional boom of thunder thrown in for grand measure. </b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD5Sjhx8Xvc0Y40m-ANpSpXyhZ7hpMweyPnF8Uz0-7_lq8OxjdRAY1DDNH0HPppctlsFrzFnIl3nTQ84HvNUCZeb3FsKdtzvMSHJhqeJkfUkLawCjnk8gC1qGCirWiRvAOmq98x0dEUOc/s1600/IMG_6249+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD5Sjhx8Xvc0Y40m-ANpSpXyhZ7hpMweyPnF8Uz0-7_lq8OxjdRAY1DDNH0HPppctlsFrzFnIl3nTQ84HvNUCZeb3FsKdtzvMSHJhqeJkfUkLawCjnk8gC1qGCirWiRvAOmq98x0dEUOc/s640/IMG_6249+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Santa Teresa Mountains</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The morning saw the three adventurers tired, needing coffee and questioning the wisdom of entering the rising creek. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWaTb8m3YbyxtjS0RV9ypyO3rIYdpmbDDLhbWWnoQMZ4KAJb7VC5oVhdOOgZLBbKOke3J2CNxV1h3mrVF4xuBjBypMR_Ltd9ULIR866LtlHujSYrK1EuLE0LWXhGHE0XmgVQRfgTmwzA/s1600/IMG_6322+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWaTb8m3YbyxtjS0RV9ypyO3rIYdpmbDDLhbWWnoQMZ4KAJb7VC5oVhdOOgZLBbKOke3J2CNxV1h3mrVF4xuBjBypMR_Ltd9ULIR866LtlHujSYrK1EuLE0LWXhGHE0XmgVQRfgTmwzA/s640/IMG_6322+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A single truck would splash its way past our parking lot Hilton accommodations. Odd, to have traffic roll past us, since this was basically the end of the general road system.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw5fre_U_UGrr8ywxqeER25CftWUNbeDIvMsJqjBsG_EMlOz5V2oL0miKdvdy7yBDzd-TP5Zq6EPCwD3oYB7oj7XnxHRCuZ6oc3E_u90uGr_G1KD6e3PxO1sF76qN5yqP3uE7bdliK0jg/s1600/IMG_6350+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw5fre_U_UGrr8ywxqeER25CftWUNbeDIvMsJqjBsG_EMlOz5V2oL0miKdvdy7yBDzd-TP5Zq6EPCwD3oYB7oj7XnxHRCuZ6oc3E_u90uGr_G1KD6e3PxO1sF76qN5yqP3uE7bdliK0jg/s640/IMG_6350+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>An old windmill structure and wind sock behind the Klondyke School. The school now serves as a search and rescue location and helicopter pad.</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The truck would ramble back through our disaster zone and Lori, in a heads up move, would emerge from the tent and flag down the vehicle. It was a rancher checking on a horse on her property. The news on creek conditions was not stellar. "Can we get a ride back to Klondyke"?</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8B1ufrwQMUwa819o5_5BHNOuqtRNTTeZzJVdLr2DdW5JnT2jPYRHK31R_swEeRn1iifDV8THX4_mlTfBB7yV0CqDGv-vmMpKbSXN2O5SkpaINlxWnXZu65wxUnfXEZviUukVYzeYNZE/s1600/IMG_6387+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8B1ufrwQMUwa819o5_5BHNOuqtRNTTeZzJVdLr2DdW5JnT2jPYRHK31R_swEeRn1iifDV8THX4_mlTfBB7yV0CqDGv-vmMpKbSXN2O5SkpaINlxWnXZu65wxUnfXEZviUukVYzeYNZE/s640/IMG_6387+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Redtail Hawk</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We scooped up our wet belongings and were on our way back to Klondyke. It would have been a long slog, on foot, back to Klondyke, along the road that Billy the Kid had once traveled. Our home for the day would be the old Klondyke School. It was now being used as a search and rescue base, for community meetings and a helicopter base. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YeaLZTkiaU2trqnOyKFrZ76I0D23rvV8SjelpvknkY0cAAx9r0xEDY17PMTbGLN7kTUhwQxz9EPRxxYIjqU05LSUFfrjYBXfxRhtyZSN_UOHP1dTEPjvIPBtOnguhszdOR5Q8kOrfVs/s1600/IMG_6431+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YeaLZTkiaU2trqnOyKFrZ76I0D23rvV8SjelpvknkY0cAAx9r0xEDY17PMTbGLN7kTUhwQxz9EPRxxYIjqU05LSUFfrjYBXfxRhtyZSN_UOHP1dTEPjvIPBtOnguhszdOR5Q8kOrfVs/s640/IMG_6431+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Aravaipa Road looking at the Pelocillo Mountains</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The call was made and it would be another eight hour drive for our gracious and now overworked drivers to pick us up. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Adorning the now sparse, marginally used school, were posters advertising the film 'Powers War' and an old poster on a historic gun fight in the Galiuro Mountains called 'Shootout at Dawn'. I read Shootout maybe 15 years ago and was intrigued by the story and history of Klondyke, the Galiuro's and the Power family. The story chronicles the Power family and a conflict and eventual gun fight over draft dodging during WWI. There are a number of books on the subject, with some siding with the Power family and others which back law enforcement. The actual facts elude those seeking the full story so the details and guilt will never be fully known. Four men would die in the most deadly gunfight in Arizona. I understand that the world premiere of the film was shone in Klondyke.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The film is an excellent documentary:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://powerswar.com/">The Power's War film</a></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TVQ8_Fl-LJDInwWfqCAkqCUkTLdnmmUefdKhOFb1_6JlPGEQpMyYrUpJK0Ez8d_P3XyeVLrHpyoFtb2pCATLcgW5wlj3R3ZSi1SQ9dho5IvtUbaBkYY7zfTAiEbg2z8JRDbF4EeOzEc/s1600/IMG_6472+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TVQ8_Fl-LJDInwWfqCAkqCUkTLdnmmUefdKhOFb1_6JlPGEQpMyYrUpJK0Ez8d_P3XyeVLrHpyoFtb2pCATLcgW5wlj3R3ZSi1SQ9dho5IvtUbaBkYY7zfTAiEbg2z8JRDbF4EeOzEc/s640/IMG_6472+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>With a lengthy wait, I explored our surroundings, equipped with a camera and thoughts of a future Aravaipa trek.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We were quite the sight, with wet gear spread out over a lengthy section of stone fence in front of the school. Checking on the status of the new members of Klondyke community was 'the Grader Man'. He had grown up in the region and his role was to keep the roads in working order during adverse conditions. I missed his visit but heard of some of his exploits and of his nearly famous dog, a Rhodesian Ridgeback, who travels on the roof of the truck and of his courting the females of the isolated area, with special escape visits to a girlfriend 8 miles from his home. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUp49DTUzVu_Oxd_CKtWXtd0KD9ZHt68uQEN7IFg2T5tyGuREkfQ4_nRVgtKQu-T4Bj7mtdXD4kE16540qUk5f5CABX7sUEqcXviWxqH4nq6c-hFD7DavdgI2ChYklEAwJgArZZ1PJt0/s1600/IMG_6491+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuUp49DTUzVu_Oxd_CKtWXtd0KD9ZHt68uQEN7IFg2T5tyGuREkfQ4_nRVgtKQu-T4Bj7mtdXD4kE16540qUk5f5CABX7sUEqcXviWxqH4nq6c-hFD7DavdgI2ChYklEAwJgArZZ1PJt0/s640/IMG_6491+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<b>Storm clouds over Willcox, AZ</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Plans for another Aravaipa journey are in the works. The area is too amazing to not come back. The wet gear and clothes should be dry by then. </span></b></div>
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<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-9223849745962578472015-10-06T10:26:00.000-07:002015-10-28T11:03:56.425-07:00'Let's Do It!' (Part 4) - An almost cross country cycling adventure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">'Let's Do It!' (Part 4) - An almost Cross Country Cycling Adventure</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Pouring cats and dogs and some unidentified critters as we rode the final 16 miles to Lordsburg, NM. An exhaustive search yields no reasonable housing options, so we opt for camping in the thickets behind a city park. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7uhKtYKi88r0JJwHWRv-TTJYIBk4orpULTFOhqQ6HuvyCkJtn7LxsVR2K03BuSEfXZF0k7C1z3hLmUEmGq0mNMnKV0iGVeR4NNP_5-MNcZGsGVhsqaRNnHxJhx_DmpC55GeIKf-kE60/s1600/camp+mess.++pecan+orchard+campout+in+garfield%252C+nm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7uhKtYKi88r0JJwHWRv-TTJYIBk4orpULTFOhqQ6HuvyCkJtn7LxsVR2K03BuSEfXZF0k7C1z3hLmUEmGq0mNMnKV0iGVeR4NNP_5-MNcZGsGVhsqaRNnHxJhx_DmpC55GeIKf-kE60/s640/camp+mess.++pecan+orchard+campout+in+garfield%252C+nm.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Holiday Inn of Pecan Orchard Camping</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Roger's 'Breakfast Machine' greets me in the am and flat tires greet me later in the day. It occurs to me that I am the lucky recipient of about 100% of the bicycle problems. Amazingly, tire terror would puncture Rog's life, and out of mine, the last half of the country. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Hatch, NM, capital of all things chile, was next on the ever expanding pedal universe. Timing being perfect in our little chile world, we entered Hatch during their Chile Festival. We would attach 3 chiles to the back of our velocipedes to share our allegiance to chiles. Journal notes fail to supply the question of how long those lasted.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A little further along New Mexico roads, Rog would ride over a deceased coyote. In the slashing darkness, my laughter echoed across a rather empty landscape. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAVUltzJPa9Tl8SOIxlHenJ85kBsGdtvHfcq2Wv4OBtCktJowoh2MSeX0oa5TdMBrC1GxnoYpRTUd-pX2B5KwcRmgF5Za6R2AeeHOtYpfDsWe6HB8FllwI6RnmCMJufX5raNLSRIU8gg/s1600/approaching+nutt%252C+nm-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEAVUltzJPa9Tl8SOIxlHenJ85kBsGdtvHfcq2Wv4OBtCktJowoh2MSeX0oa5TdMBrC1GxnoYpRTUd-pX2B5KwcRmgF5Za6R2AeeHOtYpfDsWe6HB8FllwI6RnmCMJufX5raNLSRIU8gg/s640/approaching+nutt%252C+nm-edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Near Nutt, NM and an approaching storm</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Feeling good, but a touch of grogginess in the head, we spin triumphantly into the metro kingdom of Albuquerque. Blood sugars have been ok, but there are moments. Those moments are consuming when you are exhausted, pedaling into the wind (a true story teller will share that it was always a headwind!), dodging diapers in your path and dealing with agonizing blood sugars. The challenges of each day are easily forgotten as the day yields special blessings sprinkled through the miles. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo63HOkpFem5DlMdwJRamzeOku1YfWS2W59wCAdRpnqqsyJMIsCqmEgt_lYIbfxjThMl4uIu5MTDe24RtAnTQ7h8XAnjIjX49UL4WwFXsvG9YqjSBceFzuUwF-NOcO8tccng1yZTHKyU8/s1600/Albuquerque-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo63HOkpFem5DlMdwJRamzeOku1YfWS2W59wCAdRpnqqsyJMIsCqmEgt_lYIbfxjThMl4uIu5MTDe24RtAnTQ7h8XAnjIjX49UL4WwFXsvG9YqjSBceFzuUwF-NOcO8tccng1yZTHKyU8/s400/Albuquerque-edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Albuquerque, NM</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>As the big city looms, we jet into civilization behind our first tailwind. We are one day ahead of schedule and this is Rog's previous hometown, so we stay four nights. We set up camp in Grandma Burke's backyard. A novel setting for our tour that has yielded many different settings for our 'home' each evening.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I turn 26, with little fanfare and the fact almost escaped me. September 9 - Albuquerque to Santa Fe. A cold has developed and will effect the next few days of pedaling. My educated guess was the chilly night and horrible camping conditions upon the cement ground between a pecan and chile orchard in Garfield.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Amazingly, my back feels great and we are adapting to the long hours on the bike. It is a miracle, and I am truly thankful that I hopped on the bike, a little over one week ago, despite a back that was screaming no way Jose! There are still additional adaptions needed to a still uncomfortable seating arrangement. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We spin through the rugged beauty of the Pecos Mountains as we head into Las Vegas. No, the other Las Vegas (NM). The glory of this journey is embedding a mark upon my soul. Rog and I have taken on a trek that was hastily thrown together, with a serious lack of funds, between two people that did not really know each other and it is developing into the trip of a lifetime.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Rog, shirtless in Santa Fe</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Within the scribbled notes of my journal; "A lot happens in 112 miles". This post was on a long day (September 11) from Las Vegas to Tucumcari. Those 100+ mile days, fully loaded packs, do make for a lot of possible journal entries, but a soul and body that is too tired to write more than a few scribbles.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The days are slowly blending together and the bicycle and the road are becoming our lives.</b></span></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;"> I no longer wonder, 'why are we doing this?' It is too amazing and enriching not to.</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>First extended rain hits us as we wheel into another state and an ever changing landscape. We say hello to Adrian. That is Adrian, TX.</b></span></div>
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<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-82304349601218722762015-09-29T11:00:00.001-07:002015-09-29T11:00:21.583-07:00A Front Row Seat to the Race Across America<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">A Front Row Seat to the Race Across America</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>by Dave Nevins</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>While
the Tour de France has twenty-one stages, hotel stays, catered meals, ample
sleep opportunities and is ‘only’ 2088 miles, the Race Across America (RAAM) is
one single, grinding, relentless stage.</b></span></span></div>
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<b>Vic Armijo and Jennifer Salazar and rider Christoph Strasser near Trinidad, CO</b></div>
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<b style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The top solo participants in RAAM average
about two hours sleep a night, with no hotels.
Their meals<span style="color: #c00000;"> </span>are corralled from the
confines of cramped vehicles and they pedal 3,004 miles (if they are among the
50 percent that prevail as overcomers ).
The clock starts in Oceanside, California as riders follow a detailed
network of back roads that take them
through the searing heat of the Mojave Desert, up and over the Rockies (high
point is 10,856 feet), across the wind ravaged Kansas landscape, over the dreaded
Appalachians, with a final tick of the clock in Annapolis, Maryland. This year, the country unleashed some brutal,
nasty weather upon the participants. The
desert Southwest was 5-10 degrees hotter than in the past decade and torrential
rainfall and floods east of the Mississippi River slowed the race field. </span></b></div>
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<b>Christoph Strasser (Austria) near Trinidad, CO</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">With
the start of RAAM on June 16, I was driving the RAAM Media 1 vehicle. I
followed the procession of solo riders as they left the Pacific, churned up
Palomar Mountain, took the plunge down the Glass Elevator, a ten mile plummet
into<span style="color: #c00000;"> </span>Borrego Springs, CA and the searing
heat of the Mojave Desert. This is stark reality punishing the riders,
especially those coming from Europe. Their training doesn’t usually include
adapting to oven temperatures. I had a
front row seat to the highs and lows that make up one of the toughest events
ever concocted. </span></b></span></div>
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<b>Severin Zotter (Austria) - Hanover, PA</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">With
me in the Media 1 vehicle were photojournalist Vic Armijo and videojournalist Jennifer Salazar. Their task was to provide photos/commentary
and video of the race, with a special eye on the leaders. My task was to assist them in reaching their
goals. I drove, drove, bought gas, and drove some more, with ample
opportunities to take my own photos/film and assist Jen with filming. </span></b></span></div>
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<b>Along beautiful Highway 12 near La Vita, CO</b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">It took a
short while to<span style="color: #c00000;"> </span>work our way through the
whole field of solo riders and eventually catching the race leaders near Brawley,
California. The teams (2, 4 and 8 person)
started the race on June 20<sup>th</sup> and generally caught the tail end of
the solo field in Ohio. </span></b></div>
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<b>Adam Bickett</b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">This was my sixth
RAAM. In the other five I had
participated in I had been part of a crew supporting a team. This included Team Type 1 and their first
RAAM (2006). I also crewed for Team Type
2 for two years (2009 & 2010). During
this year’s race I was extra thankful for my CGM, as I was living a life that
was definitely off-track from my usual lifestyle. I had to stay focused and do
the best I could with blood sugars and control, constantly checking the sugars
on the CGM. It was easy to check the
blood sugar levels with a quick glance on the CGM. My
basal rate had to be notched up a significant amount to cover my deficient exercise
life while fastened to the driver’s seat. Thankfully, I had good blood sugars
for most of my time on the road. Another
smile….<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<b>Vic Armijo and Jennifer Salazar near Hanover, PA</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27.6px;">The long hours at the wheel did affect my glucose levels and management. </span><span style="line-height: 27.6px;">I </span><span style="line-height: 27.6px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 27.6px;">started each day with a low carb meal and kept the basal rate at a higher rate than normal.</span><span style="line-height: 27.6px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 27.6px;">Lunch was usually whatever could be snagged at a roadside gas station/convenience store.</span><span style="line-height: 27.6px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 27.6px;">Not ideal, but slightly better with coffee in hand.</span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27.6px;">Dinner found us chasing riders or settled into a hotel in Anywhere USA. I often packed a dinner of sorts early in the day from food that I was able to pick up or had packed in Dave’s ever-relied upon food bag. Our first sit-down dinner didn’t happen until the end of the race in Annapolis. I relied on constant contact with my CGM and the convenience to make bolus shots</span>—<span style="line-height: 27.6px;">when needed</span>—</span></b><span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">on my insulin pump during crazy-busy times often while driving. </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b>Pagosa Springs, CO</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Steering
wheel in hand meant dealing with traffic, a long list of turns and directions
for each day and continual filming and photography. Often I drove alongside the cyclists to
provide some of best opportunities<span style="color: #c00000;"> </span>for Vic
and Jen to take photo and film</span>—<span style="line-height: 115%;">yet a little unnerving for the driver.
We were always on the search for choice places to capture incredible footage. Thankfully, this was Vic’s tenth year and he
was pretty dialed in to the premium locations for shooting. Our route took us mainly on back roads where
we were immersed in the beauty of this country</span>—<span style="line-height: 115%;">the nooks and crannies of a beautiful and historic
landscape that eludes most people zooming down the main arteries that crisscross
this country.</span></span></b></div>
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<b>Jennifer Salazar in Maryland, near the end of the race</b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Toward the
end of the race, the notorious hills of West Virginia and Maryland greet each
rider with a wicked, sneering grin as the finish line hails. By this point riders are at their lowest ebb
energy wise. We ended the race tracking
the top two solo riders; Severin Zotter (Austria) and David Haase (United
States). Severin wheeled across the
finish line in Annapolis, first (eight days, eight hours, and seventeen
seconds). An amazing feat since this
was his rookie year. <o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<b>A fun shot taken by Jennifer Salazar as I was not, quite, the RAAM Rookie Male of the Year</b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">So what was
the payoff for me? I came away with a vast number of photos and a healthy
amount of video from a truly amazing event.
Not to mention the many outstanding
and inspiring<span style="color: #c00000;"> </span>stories, too many to recount
in this blog. No doubt the memories will
stay with me forever, not to mention the hope that I’ll be back on the roads of
RAAM next year. </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-70693474618697025012015-08-15T15:43:00.003-07:002015-08-24T14:25:34.563-07:00'It is Far to EVERYTHING, except Nature<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>'It is Far to EVERYTHING, except Nature'</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Maybe 20 minutes ago I read a letter that Gunvor had written to my mother. It is about the famed cookies that I had brought up to their cabin in Colorado. She thanked my mother for the highly valued recipe and further on was a line she had shared about the remote location of the cabin. She shared, 'It is far to EVERYTHING, except Nature'. Agreed. </b></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This escape to the rugged majesty
that is Southern Colorado was furnished by an invite from Eric (who is
training me in photography) and the family cabin, situated high above Fort
Garland. Away from civilization, and
close to things that wander the hills. <o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The 12 hour drive would take a little
bit longer as we stalked the many elusive photo ops along the back roads of Arizona,
New Mexico and Colorado. En route we
would take the back roads of New Mexico, with an introduction to Pronghorn
Antelope, and into the grandeur of El Malpais National Monument where we would
encounter a few roaming elk. They would
continue their roaming ways until they connected with a herd of maybe 50. Too far for even my 300mm lens, but a good
sign for the trip. <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>When we first saw the Bison in Colorado it was devouring grass behind a fence. Only thing was that the fence had major gaps in it. As he/she began to wander outside of the barbed wire it opened up a unique opportunity to photo and film a bison that was free to roam and spend some time near us. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7BCEFvIGsk">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7BCEFvIGsk</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1 of 3 videos I posted on my youtube channel with the Bison.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Having just worked the Race Across America in the Media 1 vehicle I was stoked to come back to what is probably my favorite area of the course. The stunning section of Hwy 12 between La Vita and Cuchara, CO is hands down, cool and beautiful. Unfortunately, no wildlife, but always enjoy capturing our colorful, metal rooster.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We were fortunate enough to come across a herd of 150-200 elk. It took roughly 20 minutes for the herd to cross this area.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I wanted to include some shots of the incredible Great Sand Dunes National Park (near Alamosa, CO). </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Rio Grande Gorge near Taos provided us with tremendous views and bighorn sheep right next to the bridge.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Shortly after returning, I came across a bobcat family of 4 near my parents house. This was the straggler of the family, as he ran down the wall to catch up with the rest of the clan. </b></span></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-75725095655931105792015-07-06T11:57:00.001-07:002015-07-06T17:41:03.079-07:00"As the Crow Flies"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>'As the Crow Flies'</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7_Be6nke6W8zKqv3otnFLsrkMvis1shmhzyoo1FnNy4gjoS-yxS3-HbU9DjJd8Xw_hrSisWkc-uqFxNPRlk_Ju2-1uY5S0M8YR4uXWubi_2scAujGvpJjBvpF-KwsLBBfWOdkKXI0Q0/s1600/IMG_2749edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7_Be6nke6W8zKqv3otnFLsrkMvis1shmhzyoo1FnNy4gjoS-yxS3-HbU9DjJd8Xw_hrSisWkc-uqFxNPRlk_Ju2-1uY5S0M8YR4uXWubi_2scAujGvpJjBvpF-KwsLBBfWOdkKXI0Q0/s640/IMG_2749edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This is a story where the pictures tell most of the story, so I will lay out some of the background for a rather unique tale involving a crow, a ghost town, Hwy 40, and Flagstaff/Mt. Humphrey's. As I look over the photos, I could not have orchestrated this better had I hired a film crew.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyjAdJVb5UisYeMhbl9q0bMH3t-09ztwlP5DSZnW_qBu0bGzgplYIG9bv7nAUJ6lrpR1g2oCeLm_AjKyZNa7MB8BJDapuN1KTHTgZDTCOqbaKMyWJ81lJX98Mjhb-JSITeOCxvJTXHG6A/s1600/IMG_2751edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyjAdJVb5UisYeMhbl9q0bMH3t-09ztwlP5DSZnW_qBu0bGzgplYIG9bv7nAUJ6lrpR1g2oCeLm_AjKyZNa7MB8BJDapuN1KTHTgZDTCOqbaKMyWJ81lJX98Mjhb-JSITeOCxvJTXHG6A/s640/IMG_2751edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The background involves 2 different angles. As my rental car was zipping down Hwy 40, between Winslow and Flagstaff, AZ, I caught storm clouds enveloping Mt. Humphrey's. I took the next exit (Two Guns road) in search of a high spot to snap the swirling weather conditions that were developing 30-40 miles ahead of me. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyhOv8ky-EkYMREgV-Ki6aBf1rebijA5PIzFQCoPW6xZrNbMiSV9ctH5nMW5Y9g5lb5aX_PIDD0AxuqHpwBQl30OYDrBzZXstKOyaWkyFX8wC6a8MpIzKLuzpst0WLaotUmWabUQC4jg/s1600/IMG_2752edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyhOv8ky-EkYMREgV-Ki6aBf1rebijA5PIzFQCoPW6xZrNbMiSV9ctH5nMW5Y9g5lb5aX_PIDD0AxuqHpwBQl30OYDrBzZXstKOyaWkyFX8wC6a8MpIzKLuzpst0WLaotUmWabUQC4jg/s640/IMG_2752edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I did not locate a good spot to take a photo, but I did notice a ghost town on the other side of highway. Hmmm. Love to explore, so I checked out the remnants of a failed commercial enterprise, mixed in with some older buildings.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Link to a story on Two Guns:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.ghosttowns.com/states/az/twoguns.html">Two Guns Ghost Town</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>After exploration, photos and realization that I had a rental car to return, I ventured back onto Two Guns Road. One last fleeting photo of the Hwy 40 sign (since I had traveled across most of the country on it). Lucky me, there sat a crow on the Hwy 40 West sign. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I took a photo and tried to get another photo of our bird and signage. Evidently the crow had a mission, and I caught him/her taking off. For some unknown, but now cool reason, I took a photo of the crow flying across the highway</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpFujD8n1K4cRaqBsNHK6IZ8WJNu1pG8HDXElP1AWlVD9m13aWFIUPMpvvEgX9ZqaIWJry4zv8JFM8C_ZEYJTHWScThzAsNlhH6yciB_MV13CPMXvxrP3uOUNLP2y3A3i4Ma1f-Ka50I/s1600/IMG_2754edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpFujD8n1K4cRaqBsNHK6IZ8WJNu1pG8HDXElP1AWlVD9m13aWFIUPMpvvEgX9ZqaIWJry4zv8JFM8C_ZEYJTHWScThzAsNlhH6yciB_MV13CPMXvxrP3uOUNLP2y3A3i4Ma1f-Ka50I/s640/IMG_2754edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The crow would arrive just before I reached the highway entrance. I glanced at the same signs, but the West Hwy 40 sign was now on the right. I had first seen the crow on the Hwy 40 West sign on the other side of the highway and he/she now sat on the Hwy 40 West sign on the other side of the Hwy. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJeABlXZemgOWuBH604FbiSX5_wWqSeMHY3osJh41ii8vdqCrXbDddL2Coo7AeIjA7RO9eb_iut3ptsHL3_jmQWQrOyLXLhC-ho81Vh761-tRfFLGjueykxHJiMZFYJnXrUVd4YRD4ok/s1600/IMG_2755edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJeABlXZemgOWuBH604FbiSX5_wWqSeMHY3osJh41ii8vdqCrXbDddL2Coo7AeIjA7RO9eb_iut3ptsHL3_jmQWQrOyLXLhC-ho81Vh761-tRfFLGjueykxHJiMZFYJnXrUVd4YRD4ok/s640/IMG_2755edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>As if the crow felt like I needed additional help/support, I would get 'beaked' into a West direction. 'As the crow flies' may take on a different meaning.</b></span></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-54834998326909030022015-06-11T16:28:00.001-07:002016-02-13T08:48:18.624-08:00Getting Paid for Adventure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>'Getting Paid for Adventure'</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggNDbNei8JOtvbmRexe3nUKxwebsLBzYT6HoqzRzljoiljht7RQUYlCLZpcOfmJHU8h8lzPGpemStwDVTTGpx77dgbnvfk3NQlMj9U0uMz6AMaWbZjMGVyLRzMoI1ePymII9_VBvEPE_c/s1600/IMG_6180edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggNDbNei8JOtvbmRexe3nUKxwebsLBzYT6HoqzRzljoiljht7RQUYlCLZpcOfmJHU8h8lzPGpemStwDVTTGpx77dgbnvfk3NQlMj9U0uMz6AMaWbZjMGVyLRzMoI1ePymII9_VBvEPE_c/s640/IMG_6180edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>In a couple days I will embark on another adventure, of sorts. I will be driving the Media 1 vehicle for the Race Across America (RAAM). Many consider this the toughest athletic event on the planet. It is also my next paid employment. Somehow, someway, I have come into a number of adventurous jobs that seem to fit well on my resume and my lifestyle. Yes, work can contain a bit of adventure. Why not?</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpA1jGIM_vzwC3bufbEe635TmrpLeP-jEvpYWxqRXbENGK72C2JZefD8nryK70dpiTuu9JniXc-LNodgVjKw4CO2QGiWSkq1b-vpcW2dEEjuzZlSasDK9Hm8Umo7hAXd5_qcVbPfUktew/s1600/group+in+utah-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpA1jGIM_vzwC3bufbEe635TmrpLeP-jEvpYWxqRXbENGK72C2JZefD8nryK70dpiTuu9JniXc-LNodgVjKw4CO2QGiWSkq1b-vpcW2dEEjuzZlSasDK9Hm8Umo7hAXd5_qcVbPfUktew/s400/group+in+utah-edit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>In the 90's I assisted Franz Spilauer (RAAM winner in 1988) on 2 different bicycle tours over 2 summers. Each tour was about 3 weeks long and hit major tourist points in California, Utah, Arizona and Nevada. We covered about 5,000 miles each trip. The riders would cover about 50 or so miles each day and the rest of the miles was driven. It was an amazing opportunity to spend time in most of the major parks in the 4 states that we zipped through. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnAVXVpCLuTRDimhawvsIdgTzUxZ-7QwMhyphenhyphenH1zPTOwSwEdfYU8E6T4igL5VYL_lRHj3aUXwstTMgMol8rHccW1PEDVfZEZIy7xQGmT49G0SYPGzAOarnUhCWWOqqa2eINRq6rW5ho__c/s1600/bike+messenger+-+boise-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnAVXVpCLuTRDimhawvsIdgTzUxZ-7QwMhyphenhyphenH1zPTOwSwEdfYU8E6T4igL5VYL_lRHj3aUXwstTMgMol8rHccW1PEDVfZEZIy7xQGmT49G0SYPGzAOarnUhCWWOqqa2eINRq6rW5ho__c/s640/bike+messenger+-+boise-edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I would move out of the desert and to Boise, Idaho for a job. Not just a job, but an opportunity to get paid to ride my bicycle as a bicycle messenger. Not quite a New York City messenger at heart but still a cool job.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQxk54KRM0TrpJnlP8YzoGl0d1Z07B5UabSlobrEzdRAh3qMC6ZYoj8vdl6B_cjQFQ4AO98ZtieLDBcztQIxDS3Vy6BdSGvfFr-hJ4S-mC1dN6TPZRRSown0n4bBkJix9E10XBWDVnzk/s1600/cover_bba%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQxk54KRM0TrpJnlP8YzoGl0d1Z07B5UabSlobrEzdRAh3qMC6ZYoj8vdl6B_cjQFQ4AO98ZtieLDBcztQIxDS3Vy6BdSGvfFr-hJ4S-mC1dN6TPZRRSown0n4bBkJix9E10XBWDVnzk/s640/cover_bba%255B1%255D.jpg" width="411" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I would then get paid for running. Lacking talent (to officially get paid to run, as an athlete), but I would be part of the creation of 'Boise Backcountry Adventure', a trail book for the Boise, Idaho area. We were of the frame of mind to run all the trails (except the canyoneering sections). Over 1,000 miles was run to obtain information for the publication. It was another exceptional job opportunity.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D5JBRBfeEnXjUVeBM2M0g4c3z80qcPAAc8bQW_cN4kSRMovy8BUvaXG75uYZNi4QmSbbO8UFhHAsfoXBqc2Dj-xS-fvoZ9c_Gm7R6oIavqnIdrVUbNlJ3FLbh8-NrQSP0kQJ5I9TXl0/s1600/Photo+used+for+the+Trailbook.++Taken+by+Jocelyn+Pride..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D5JBRBfeEnXjUVeBM2M0g4c3z80qcPAAc8bQW_cN4kSRMovy8BUvaXG75uYZNi4QmSbbO8UFhHAsfoXBqc2Dj-xS-fvoZ9c_Gm7R6oIavqnIdrVUbNlJ3FLbh8-NrQSP0kQJ5I9TXl0/s640/Photo+used+for+the+Trailbook.++Taken+by+Jocelyn+Pride..JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>No running or pedaling involved, but I consider my move to Sitka, Alaska to be linked to adventure. Just getting to my island setting, with a vehicle was interesting, to say the least. I would enjoy time and a unique lifestyle in the Last Frontier and am glad to once again combine adventure with employment. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My latest job revolved around adventure. At least other people's adventure. I was employed at Perimeter Bicycling Association of America with a slate of events, such as El Tour de Tucson and Viva Bike Vegas.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The adventure job list could roll into volunteer work. Maybe another blog hangs in the balance. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>If you are up for adventure, and even jobs with a dash of adventure, keep your eyes open. You never know what adventure you will find, or what adventure will find you.</b></span></div>
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<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-8666458275675009572015-05-31T16:34:00.000-07:002015-05-31T16:39:50.020-07:00Thanks to those who create, read, dream and support!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Thanks to those who create, read, dream, scan and support!</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr24eTOFbu0VAnRMhw5EulwuPQ52yud1YHEGu11S5gnODDe9FU8vDcnYcpY9cY80lmYRqp_v20d2NUVdtyj6gJt0yXuf42g0tcGKQSbvxPmerUS63gfRtVm1ZcuZoQhGF4AxXcz3YENik/s1600/IMG_4877edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr24eTOFbu0VAnRMhw5EulwuPQ52yud1YHEGu11S5gnODDe9FU8vDcnYcpY9cY80lmYRqp_v20d2NUVdtyj6gJt0yXuf42g0tcGKQSbvxPmerUS63gfRtVm1ZcuZoQhGF4AxXcz3YENik/s640/IMG_4877edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>A photo I took of the Catalina Mountains, Catalina, Arizona</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I enjoy sharing my photos and adventures with the internet world. Many of those who <b>read </b>this blog, <b> </b>are part of the Type 1 community. They have Type 1 diabetes and know the real ups and downs and additional challenges that this disease has on each of us who deal with this 24/7. It is my true hope that through photos and my adventures that I can help inspire others. Maybe to <b>dream </b>of their own their own adventures or next challenge. Diabetes is not going to stop them! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am honored and especially touched when those who <b>create</b>, use my photos or stories as a small step to use their talent as they share and inspire others with their creations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Below are creations by Dana Belore and Joseph Lansing. Thank you Dana and Joseph for such a Blessing and encouragement!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxJTadYLdygu56UpZqgf2Lgm0wvO2lFbEg5ibhOTdNmRe49qnpdwfM2cY57AstuUUrbnbWpFV7tMSlH3XetgCysyVL5tHuHgsvGSdDaZAyMTePQnZYxl9PzyfvWH_NcXEjVlx1nybwGE/s1600/Dana+Belore+painting+scan+2-+Oct.+19%252C+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxJTadYLdygu56UpZqgf2Lgm0wvO2lFbEg5ibhOTdNmRe49qnpdwfM2cY57AstuUUrbnbWpFV7tMSlH3XetgCysyVL5tHuHgsvGSdDaZAyMTePQnZYxl9PzyfvWH_NcXEjVlx1nybwGE/s640/Dana+Belore+painting+scan+2-+Oct.+19%252C+2014.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Painting by Dana Belore (a talented 13 years old, who happens to have diabetes) of the photo above. </i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDGE9U9qOkvQGJwKJde_vdZj-yMroFWrBM48HFzLb0DVJMkh2H9tVo7LtY79J37NAGvW0OC5JpVjoK0XTh06FNykqiwv99xdlvvyukIm3RZL16jhzfRtVOYxl1WQDr38a5o9x7wGUH94/s1600/1622181_10202570026006008_1519546824_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDGE9U9qOkvQGJwKJde_vdZj-yMroFWrBM48HFzLb0DVJMkh2H9tVo7LtY79J37NAGvW0OC5JpVjoK0XTh06FNykqiwv99xdlvvyukIm3RZL16jhzfRtVOYxl1WQDr38a5o9x7wGUH94/s640/1622181_10202570026006008_1519546824_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Photo I took during a run in Charouleau Gap, Catalina, Arizona</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhh_WuisamivU9KIsRi2Mfmuv33xJOthcLhXYIpcS9Ta7RLOOKUaYTYv1YlsffY5i4lbNufvWykd3Pc7XKAoGw-AHxuy49ywN9YuBM3wZKrkDpJJmh6YQg0KB6d4md6j-OOQ7CNIIYW0/s1600/1797451_10202570025846004_2125878571_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhh_WuisamivU9KIsRi2Mfmuv33xJOthcLhXYIpcS9Ta7RLOOKUaYTYv1YlsffY5i4lbNufvWykd3Pc7XKAoGw-AHxuy49ywN9YuBM3wZKrkDpJJmh6YQg0KB6d4md6j-OOQ7CNIIYW0/s640/1797451_10202570025846004_2125878571_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Painting of the photo above, by talented artist, Joseph Lansing (also a member of the diabetes community)</i></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-53615343743340778012015-05-08T14:19:00.002-07:002016-02-13T22:37:35.834-08:00Let's Do It! (Part 3)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Let's Do It! (Part 3)</span></i></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">At the end of Part 2, I mentioned something about the fact that Roger and I rarely knew where we would be resting our heads after a day on the bicycle. That was part of the excitement of the day as we pedaled to the end of either:</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1. our sanity</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2. our hunger</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">3. daylight</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4. our physical limits</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. all of the above</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I only remember 3 hotel/motel stopovers. These were not planned, just happened to come across a cheap hotel/motel or we truly needed a shower. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyfDGNS7lXUdDUvBzt37D_NYRomns8i3F_KkZLgeKfODk3j88o4M6moR1rw2f7apvwtUz4wRM9jfm2CXtkw0hOQmaEaIDy5PmqD_8_7FA0MOsVPC1-SW2YoRpS1jBvaFK4YW6GuVsk9A/s1600/bikes+and+NM+sign-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyfDGNS7lXUdDUvBzt37D_NYRomns8i3F_KkZLgeKfODk3j88o4M6moR1rw2f7apvwtUz4wRM9jfm2CXtkw0hOQmaEaIDy5PmqD_8_7FA0MOsVPC1-SW2YoRpS1jBvaFK4YW6GuVsk9A/s1600/bikes+and+NM+sign-edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The beauty of this adventure was a true lack of planning and a 'winging it' attitude. Since we only had about 1.5 months to prepare, it did not allow us to do much planning other than the expected scurry to get out of Tucson, pedaling east.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xy8-iNtrVrDVyLcHnk5bxMZ1eo68u088xBtBk0ZYOtr2ly-ibpfUkusWDR0I1937LXYJsrm3D7dAecd-RsOtTIl7QhVNm0EO2QKKW7I7yyQM0xcZk2Ja_hc1CMg1ekZGQIDNOxV3hMs/s1600/no+bikes+permitted+sign-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xy8-iNtrVrDVyLcHnk5bxMZ1eo68u088xBtBk0ZYOtr2ly-ibpfUkusWDR0I1937LXYJsrm3D7dAecd-RsOtTIl7QhVNm0EO2QKKW7I7yyQM0xcZk2Ja_hc1CMg1ekZGQIDNOxV3hMs/s1600/no+bikes+permitted+sign-edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Since I have diabetes there was at least a degree of extra planning on my part. Keeping Dave alive would require insulin, syringes, low blood sugar items, blood testing supplies, patience, and perseverance. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkoHfvgppg4OX587o0bFzFjjxbc9OsF3_Lkjmu9P2pEnlgelZTu7KUGaHuoZrdOA3ygKODUFtL0oqnOmSGNMP13-hQmlR_v7aViWpUxoiQgpDpzRMQqK3PMoNeJtk4powdQiD4ehg1cc/s1600/Santa+Fe=edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkoHfvgppg4OX587o0bFzFjjxbc9OsF3_Lkjmu9P2pEnlgelZTu7KUGaHuoZrdOA3ygKODUFtL0oqnOmSGNMP13-hQmlR_v7aViWpUxoiQgpDpzRMQqK3PMoNeJtk4powdQiD4ehg1cc/s1600/Santa+Fe=edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We did a lot of camping out. This was in Santa Fe, NM<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The true heroes of the tour were the fraternities, kind families we usually met in grocery stores, churches, and the dependable fire departments. They always took us in. I can still remember sleeping in a fire truck. I have this vague memory of setting off the fire alarm in the fire station in Sonora, Kentucky, as we accidently burned, yet another meal. I will have to dig into my photo archives for the classic photo of Rog dressed in fireman apparel on his bicycle. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>One of those lingering memories is a couple in Missouri that invited us to stay at their home. After dinner they went out for the evening. We had the place to ourselves.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A list of places we challenged ourselves to spend the night included:<br /><u>Cemetery</u> - score!<br /><u>Jail </u>- we were rejected<br /><u>The Cookie Lady</u> - A Virginia must stop! There were cookies, so not really a 'true' challenge.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Bus </u>- Don't remember if it was on our challenge list, but we managed a bizarre evening in a bus.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Yes, after Part 3 we will escape New Mexico!</b></span><br />
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Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-8209450866573386362015-04-06T16:34:00.002-07:002015-05-05T22:59:38.426-07:00The Monster<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The Monster</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>It was a rather unusual week at the casa in Catalina, Arizona. The week started grindingly slow and as we headed into the weedend it was verging on dawdle time. Yes, there was March Madness time and the tv was airing the pregame hype of the Arizona vs Wisconsin game. March Madness didn't do much for my search for stories and/or photos, but 8 words would change the story line. "There is a bobcat in the back yard" gushed my father. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaxzGXvLYsTjATmsqJDxf8ixWbYNuf02Ts1GTfUeDtzb1u1tz-xPfalMd6NmF6R20CnLYz8pJ-y1wlKlKUpELbLwOWOlI2BAZcSX9JT-eL0NnFCfA8-wEud9AntwhsMdQXnKvEh5rznA/s1600/IMG_0355edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMaxzGXvLYsTjATmsqJDxf8ixWbYNuf02Ts1GTfUeDtzb1u1tz-xPfalMd6NmF6R20CnLYz8pJ-y1wlKlKUpELbLwOWOlI2BAZcSX9JT-eL0NnFCfA8-wEud9AntwhsMdQXnKvEh5rznA/s1600/IMG_0355edit.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Wildlife has given us lots of love at the Nevins casa, with sojourns from bobcats, coyote, hawk, deer, javelina (that visit is worth it's own story!), gambel quail (with a troop of little paws). </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A guest had asked my mother why she had not taken down all of the halloween decorations. That 'decoration' happened to be a roaming tarantula.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5al44RwL3s4Nr0P81c7pJr0Tl1oljDhfDAz_COrgOs_dy1ZowdUfbBOZtaYsyFi2xsXDFw4fyBgX6I1JvD1DTVLy9D5dx4Y6hqL_4pVgXDI_ai04R_R6Knxqtg452Lcr1XdzRpXsxZZc/s1600/IMG_0356edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5al44RwL3s4Nr0P81c7pJr0Tl1oljDhfDAz_COrgOs_dy1ZowdUfbBOZtaYsyFi2xsXDFw4fyBgX6I1JvD1DTVLy9D5dx4Y6hqL_4pVgXDI_ai04R_R6Knxqtg452Lcr1XdzRpXsxZZc/s1600/IMG_0356edit.jpg" height="276" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>With those 8 words, I sprang for my Canon. John, our company, sprang for his camera and we met on the back deck, eyeing the small palm tree, where the feline had last been seen. The bobcat leaped onto the back wall and bounded into the neighbors yard. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>My camera, clenched in my hand, the same number of photos available as when I had grabbed camera, a few minutes ago.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I had missed the opportunity.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/_CdLjzXuqVY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_CdLjzXuqVY?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<b>The Gila Monster Video #1</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I knew the 'usual' route of the bobcat and I gave marching orders to John to follow me and we should be able to catch the 'visitor' near the wash. I zipped down the right side of the house, feet moving quickly from flagstone to flagstone until I veered left, toward the street. It is always exciting when you are running hard with an expensive camera in hand. I looked back to see if John was nearby, and saw nothing. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuNtgP30huU5V6ruZG422KwhoN0INFNBn77kP7CpOfq5IxSdPZ1H692i3Lg4LvaJ6Ccv-wJBmdEKO7_OXNWGJnlIH9T8UHtdIIyP4XJZMf_TplmUetc6GKvD0aVgzF5ADAYxnKUs_JIA/s1600/IMG_0360edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuNtgP30huU5V6ruZG422KwhoN0INFNBn77kP7CpOfq5IxSdPZ1H692i3Lg4LvaJ6Ccv-wJBmdEKO7_OXNWGJnlIH9T8UHtdIIyP4XJZMf_TplmUetc6GKvD0aVgzF5ADAYxnKUs_JIA/s1600/IMG_0360edit.jpg" height="308" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This animal distraction was perfect timing. The Arizona Wildcats were getting pasted and I had been avoiding the tv. Where was John? I was in position for an award winning photograph(?). The bobcat came right toward me, just as I expected. He or she did make a slight change in the usual stroll through the wash and over to the golf course. I fired off 2 or 3 shots and the fur ball was gone. John?</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLTAlb7zXz6TdFTzthzjpRcOARSOk-Q_uvU4Kt5tfmTHhmQRIURPiMR-0vSNHjSX02OajdA4IPz7MUqmElsq5ORtPceFGqf32-zPTG1emHyorMijVW1CYD0BNyFSLkhBOxVMjvUwyXkk/s1600/IMG_0305edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLTAlb7zXz6TdFTzthzjpRcOARSOk-Q_uvU4Kt5tfmTHhmQRIURPiMR-0vSNHjSX02OajdA4IPz7MUqmElsq5ORtPceFGqf32-zPTG1emHyorMijVW1CYD0BNyFSLkhBOxVMjvUwyXkk/s1600/IMG_0305edit.jpg" height="406" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bobcat</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1N_lKbW_CVJLxRTTweSyoIe924CFDdL05GQuIOuvb_Lb4SO4Y5e-ozNA8v-h8ZmC77v5BrGxOfailisaIVZ1LCFj639gnvNy2gXua9ozB92x9MDBRuQTSyiLaqVsaLfquVxQmWFEzHlc/s1600/IMG_0358edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1N_lKbW_CVJLxRTTweSyoIe924CFDdL05GQuIOuvb_Lb4SO4Y5e-ozNA8v-h8ZmC77v5BrGxOfailisaIVZ1LCFj639gnvNy2gXua9ozB92x9MDBRuQTSyiLaqVsaLfquVxQmWFEzHlc/s1600/IMG_0358edit.jpg" height="338" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Back at the house I heard another 8 words (or something like that). 'There is a Gila Monster in the back yard'. </b></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Ok, 9 words. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Gila Monster is one of only a handful of venomous lizards in the world. <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-stretch: normal;">They may spend more than 95% of the lives in underground burrows, emerging only to feed and occasionally to bask in the desert sun. Another reference had indicated up to 98%.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>They are considered a threatened species and are rarely seen above ground. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A component of Gila monster venom called exendin-4 was recently investigated for treating type-2 diabetes. This peptide stimulates the secretion of insulin in the presence of elevated blood glucose levels. It also has the effect of slowing gastric emptying. Phase 1 clinical studies have recently begun with this exciting experimental drug.</b></span></div>
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<b>The Gila Monster Video #2</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The story unfolded............John did follow me, sort of. He first used his brain and headed toward the left side of animal house. Shorter route then going right. Sounds good on paper but there is no real passage on this side of the house. The 5 million watt AC sits square in the way of about anything except maybe a Gila Monster, or other small critter. He crossed paths with the monster and that got his attention. Forget the bobcat. I would never have come across the Gila Monster, even if he/she had been on that side of the house for the next 10 years. The odds?</b></span></div>
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<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-64256974184188346322015-03-12T10:53:00.002-07:002015-03-12T10:54:42.870-07:00Photo of the Week - March 9-15, 2015 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipacLpH1eb3OiUE71eiLhJ0u5OhseLP34bkQNlgwdAOxu8nBNNL8M0QUMy8ErukfIYQMDDW4fIGecaXxh1zRwndKIDzOWo3j1uYhLUKaTWAuHFoyPDZF-Uc4gQQC3u5F4xU0oXA_VP3jU/s1600/IMG_0179edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipacLpH1eb3OiUE71eiLhJ0u5OhseLP34bkQNlgwdAOxu8nBNNL8M0QUMy8ErukfIYQMDDW4fIGecaXxh1zRwndKIDzOWo3j1uYhLUKaTWAuHFoyPDZF-Uc4gQQC3u5F4xU0oXA_VP3jU/s1600/IMG_0179edit.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">This week's photo is from a journey on the nearby Willow Springs / Freeman Road loop near Oracle Junction, Arizona. Eric Peffer and I captured many photos during the day but it was at night that photography became much more interesting. </span></b></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">The scene was typical for an evening in the saguaro-studded landscape, along a remote dirt road, in the evening. Quiet, no traffic and the sky lit in a beautiful glow of stars, full moon and faint city lights.</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">It was a beautiful background that included 3 stately saguaro cactus, the glow of the very distant lights of Phoenix, stars and a passing plane, on it's track to Tucson International Airport.</span></b></div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-32910753884971988152015-03-01T20:37:00.000-08:002015-03-02T19:18:57.001-08:00Let's Do It! (Part 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Let's Do It! (Part 2) - </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The (Almost) Cross Country Bicycle Tour</i></b></span></div>
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On our 2nd day we already have traveling fans! The Woolridge's, Willcox, Arizona</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Part 1 of this bicycle tour saw Roger and I pull into Willcox, Arizona (our first stop). We had hatched a plan to ride across most of the country, with little time to plan, a rider with a serious back issue, both of us with severe lack of money but with optimism for the miles ahead. </b></span></div>
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Roger Burke, somewhere in New Mexico</div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">What I learned from the first day in the saddle:<br />1. Butt was not created to spend 7-10 hours on a narrow seat.<br />2. The kindness that ushered in our first day would be the single trademark that would bless us each and every day of our adventure.<br />3. Good company is golden.<br />4. No matter how tired, angry, hungry, ticked off, etc., scribble notes about each day in your journal. It really pays off 20+ years later!</b></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">5. A classic line from Rog's journal - "I hit the gorge point for lunch and ate furiously for about 35 minutes".</b></div>
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T or C New Mexico</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Day 2 would be a good, good day but trying at times (my exact journal notes). While yesterday was a tough day for Rog, today would be my day of challenges. Low blood sugars would take their toll. There would be many adjustments to my new life on the road. The diabetes added a factor that made the trip more challenging, and at times more frustrating, but in the bigger picture, the diabetes was the reason for my journey.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I was riding, with diabetes, and largely for diabetes. Not as a fund raiser or for a sponsor, but for myself. This trip would be monumental for the life ahead of me. </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-cYl7eJx_ujmfEHrxitbDL-BgEpF-4DGZp7CUYSdZAR-9GfJ0yPx20fzFyw7xeFDToeIuX1In03rv3m-b7bpg9366eGGIv262HZ6cZyCz5PszcaWRVdmZ3TarI2eXXF4Jy9ZE-MQtYs/s1600/approaching+nutt,+nm-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-cYl7eJx_ujmfEHrxitbDL-BgEpF-4DGZp7CUYSdZAR-9GfJ0yPx20fzFyw7xeFDToeIuX1In03rv3m-b7bpg9366eGGIv262HZ6cZyCz5PszcaWRVdmZ3TarI2eXXF4Jy9ZE-MQtYs/s1600/approaching+nutt,+nm-edit.jpg" height="427" width="640" /></a></div>
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New Mexico</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Day 2 highlights from our journals. <br />* We seem to be the center of attention for any small town we roll into.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>* Our 2nd day and we have our first border crossing into New Mexico. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>* We are hit with monsoon action and headwinds. Welcome to life on the road.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The day ended with the road climbing near the New Mexico border. We pulled into Lordsburg, NM and expended some serious time that should have been earmarked for eating, to find a place to camp. As the coming days will prove, we rarely knew where we would be catching zzz's each day. We would see how the day went and aim for a good stopping point. Oh, the stories of what housing we would discover. </b></span></div>
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<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-69632215831953300992015-02-27T08:41:00.001-08:002015-02-27T08:41:19.424-08:00Photo of the Week - February 16-22, 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHGSRIG8WaLGcnRRgQYr7Yh2qqR5hx_vBDYe2geR11aX-8u2I3peos7PPxkJffDHSiKYxVjeLWJfhtXcCLQufOBq3T4CR8JfERxIUGSULmxAx1DL3gsACfXiIeGPulWfIpTnnOWt1ZLQ/s1600/IMG_9884edit2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHGSRIG8WaLGcnRRgQYr7Yh2qqR5hx_vBDYe2geR11aX-8u2I3peos7PPxkJffDHSiKYxVjeLWJfhtXcCLQufOBq3T4CR8JfERxIUGSULmxAx1DL3gsACfXiIeGPulWfIpTnnOWt1ZLQ/s1600/IMG_9884edit2.jpg" height="376" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sunset on River Road, San Manuel, Arizona</div>
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This day would see us (Eric Peffer and I) spending quality photo time in Oracle State Park (Oracle, Arizona) and then along River Road in San Manuel, Arizona. Our journey along the trail system and then the Kannally Ranch House in Oracle State Park was good, but lighting for photography was sketchy at best. After the stop at the historic ranch house we headed toward the Galiuro Mountains and San Manuel. No clear destination, just back roads and an exceptional and very inaccessible mountain range. </div>
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As we rolled along River Road the sun began its final dip into the Arizona landscape. Eric parked in a area that was only a couple miles from the last time we were in this area. That trip was especially remarkable as we watched the sun vanish behind thick cloud cover near sunset. The Galiuro Mountains behind us, suddenly began showing a beautiful golden stream of light across the range.<br />
We were surprised at the changing scene and were able to capture some epic photos.<br />
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The photo above is from our recent trip. The Arizona sunsets continue to amaze me.</div>
Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-87294486703914958102015-02-17T22:54:00.000-08:002015-02-17T22:54:13.944-08:00Photo of the Week - February 9-15<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Photo of the Week - February 9-15</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHhPnf8XNFyEpdRtMtAD8kwCFluJhq1IvVhFeYJjestfDnxrpLCjC_z7xAtWyCh9oJq2x-WzJGNknVkJfkp9qkgdRB987mCaCTVGdAmtBZ1baLbX3RT0FSptA5sjMmzFQxV-AmxW1hbw/s1600/IMG_9551edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHhPnf8XNFyEpdRtMtAD8kwCFluJhq1IvVhFeYJjestfDnxrpLCjC_z7xAtWyCh9oJq2x-WzJGNknVkJfkp9qkgdRB987mCaCTVGdAmtBZ1baLbX3RT0FSptA5sjMmzFQxV-AmxW1hbw/s1600/IMG_9551edit.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>This photo was taken on Sunday, February 15th from my parent's back porch near Tucson, Arizona. Not much of a story behind the photo. Simply a walk out the back door with the camera. If only photography was always that easy. </b></span></td></tr>
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Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-37849923634022669012015-02-10T22:59:00.001-08:002015-06-04T08:46:41.189-07:00Photo of the Week - February 2-8, 2015- Arizona BASE Boogie <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCe-9aO6T9t8C3BrqFd7Ctu1wj20vXUkXfb8TdH9Q1IP5GvWB_wKLIQyAZ2_NPQGy8WYqsoZi8VAeczRQd_wKutoOgBrWg_o8srFxceejiOWadOJfrkSYWAycKohwzLG5eYGmHYvkoes/s1600/IMG_0364edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCe-9aO6T9t8C3BrqFd7Ctu1wj20vXUkXfb8TdH9Q1IP5GvWB_wKLIQyAZ2_NPQGy8WYqsoZi8VAeczRQd_wKutoOgBrWg_o8srFxceejiOWadOJfrkSYWAycKohwzLG5eYGmHYvkoes/s1600/IMG_0364edit.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Peralta Cliffs Base Jump</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">My photo of the week draws a pretty good portrayal of life in the desert southwest. An outstanding sunset, stately saguaro's, serious lack of clouds, jumbled array of rock & mountain topography and yes, a base jumper. </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I can fairly easily include all of that list on almost any day of the year taking photos, except for that elusive jumper. This jumper is tied to the popular Arizona BASE Boogie, and my boogie connection is through a good, base jumping friend of mine, Gauge Score.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I get a small bundle of credit for ushering Gauge into adventure sports. I introduced him to bungee jumping, and he has taken adventure to new heights (and cliffs, antenna's, bridges, etc.). Sporting only a couple of sky dives and a single base jump (tandem), I am a long leap from real base jumping and livin' the life, but I am still jazzed to have been at the event. My friend, Eric Peffer and I did our best to capture the amazing jumps, the stunning scenery, and the fun moments that a crowd of crazy people will bestow.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">After taking over 800 photos (whew!), I chose the photo up top as my favorite. We had shot at Saguaro Lake early in the day and ended up at the Peralta Cliffs. This is the only photo that I snapped that had a base jumper and the sunset. There were only a few that came down that late in the day and it took one to go a little off course to sneak in the disappearing orb in the sky. I was lucky to get a few saguaro's into the frame and to get the reflection of the sun on the canopy.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, and one last note. This jumper happened to be the only naked jumper of the day. You get to witness the 'G' version of of his clothes-less flight. </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The real photo of the day award goes to Eric for taking the shot of me, below. The landing area had around 70 people and he did a great job of framing it, sans people, with a glorious backdrop.</b></span></div>
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<br />Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-8591109368593658662015-02-02T17:13:00.001-08:002015-02-11T11:00:05.596-08:00The Unleaded / Diesel Sign<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The Unleaded / Diesel Sign</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We were on our way back to Tucson, Arizona, after putting on the Viva Bike Vegas cycling event in Las Vegas, aboard a very large, and a sluggishly slow Penske Truck. A full tank had gotten us to Kingman, AZ and it was now time to feed the beast.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUsks1_kd7w8tkpQgRT15Op1eIRiS-L45y9MAdbeqGowuQZNUhqn-FI8aRBUXqtC-faW4xeZXDDxk-h9Ki3ZlkoQZf4nLyhu9KiD9vLHBjVgGCrJcSxa9epjQ4X11ybmyHHubx1T9P8M/s1600/IMG_3236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUsks1_kd7w8tkpQgRT15Op1eIRiS-L45y9MAdbeqGowuQZNUhqn-FI8aRBUXqtC-faW4xeZXDDxk-h9Ki3ZlkoQZf4nLyhu9KiD9vLHBjVgGCrJcSxa9epjQ4X11ybmyHHubx1T9P8M/s1600/IMG_3236.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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a slow mode of transportation</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Marco and I were in the Penske and Richard was driving near us in a rental SUV. Thankfully, Marco had taken on the duty of driving because that was the last thing I wanted to do. My past experience driving one of these beasts was very shaky and involved two large California cities and driving aimlessly around trying to find overnight parking in the congestion of downtown San Francisco. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled about getting behind the wheel of a large truck again. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3mbZlVdvJHamFKFKbxuijbr2tvo5itLnH0A0QO9OqRzZS8ITJvMBoy4RILhxXIZKl6q8-6Gq800ZbqEkMF7hb5W98z8qZ8h6xlXLF1ReZFJoRweQ57gKpAZcg5mwb4Spny-iGlRfYbc/s1600/IMG_3240edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3mbZlVdvJHamFKFKbxuijbr2tvo5itLnH0A0QO9OqRzZS8ITJvMBoy4RILhxXIZKl6q8-6Gq800ZbqEkMF7hb5W98z8qZ8h6xlXLF1ReZFJoRweQ57gKpAZcg5mwb4Spny-iGlRfYbc/s1600/IMG_3240edit.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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Abandoned store/gas station in Kingman, AZ</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before filling the beast, Richard handed me the keys to the SUV and said I was free to take off if I wanted to. So we switched vehicles, but I decided to wait and follow them to Phoenix where I would take a different road that would route me home north of Tucson. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3KkpoUNTlQsNC_vZ8p5fdi5PRtO55gQE30sAq8EDerHwy-o958R4kiMKiwJXHEv9OU5qkBZVgjVHZmGJsf-rGpVPYvPjWZd3l8KgIul26dDRVHoCUr1ZJZJcrcni32PyU5KFEegyRB4/s1600/IMG_3244edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3KkpoUNTlQsNC_vZ8p5fdi5PRtO55gQE30sAq8EDerHwy-o958R4kiMKiwJXHEv9OU5qkBZVgjVHZmGJsf-rGpVPYvPjWZd3l8KgIul26dDRVHoCUr1ZJZJcrcni32PyU5KFEegyRB4/s1600/IMG_3244edit.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But we never got that far. As they pulled out of the gas station and rolled about even with where I was parked near the highway entrance, the Penske sputtered to a stop in the middle of the road. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Apparently, someone (and I am not naming any names here...) fed the beast with regular gasoline instead of diesel. Science experiment #1 would tell us that they had just enough diesel gas in the line to make it to the highway entrance, not an inch closer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was going to be a long night.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MVTE_aq8PpTVM__Hebh6ke3LZYudAFhfYld5a8a3mwRWt2X-p5JI9uE095ieMqvVK8zjDXvy4ki-QhyphenhyphenlbgpojzzkdozD-ChIzkGyXrC-3nPeZL63Ruqp_ATWyZ-6EVh8P0LsDvHdckU/s1600/IMG_3247edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MVTE_aq8PpTVM__Hebh6ke3LZYudAFhfYld5a8a3mwRWt2X-p5JI9uE095ieMqvVK8zjDXvy4ki-QhyphenhyphenlbgpojzzkdozD-ChIzkGyXrC-3nPeZL63Ruqp_ATWyZ-6EVh8P0LsDvHdckU/s1600/IMG_3247edit.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So we huddled up around how were going to handle our dilemma. Eventually phone calls were made and we were told salvation would be parked behind us in 45 minutes. Exactly 45 minutes our salvation stepped out of his wrecker and greeted us. We knew that the evil gasoline would need to be sucked out of the tank and diesel put in its proper place. We also knew that this was and going to be a costly mistake. Little did we realize, that there is a safety mechanism that prevents gas to be siphoned from a Penske Truck. The roughly 50? gallons would have to be extracted by a basic straw. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As you can imagine this took awhile. So I decided to use my free time to see what I could do with my camera. I was surprised at the results. With nothing better to do I found and conquered: </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. An abandoned store/gas station that was well hidden (and probably why it went out of business). Interesting graffiti and the perfect Unleaded/Diesel sign that perfectly portrayed our journey's adventure. The main building was accessible and led to an interesting exploration.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvz1_keRAiwkEBqDUYl3f1gghfKDt-XzDmY57bPpv5-ZMx5mwCmgjtxsGka_sLx73jJfAYmXhsIT1HkIqHur5vLuzeIWXs767ObnJ5kX531S-stdEB5iP8924Ncg9YGT0e5ZD_N6LZbDo/s1600/IMG_3257edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvz1_keRAiwkEBqDUYl3f1gghfKDt-XzDmY57bPpv5-ZMx5mwCmgjtxsGka_sLx73jJfAYmXhsIT1HkIqHur5vLuzeIWXs767ObnJ5kX531S-stdEB5iP8924Ncg9YGT0e5ZD_N6LZbDo/s1600/IMG_3257edit.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. Cool rustic fence line that caught the last rays of the sun.<br />3. A dirt road that led to some beautiful sights.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLT02oiwEWEAF3sf5sFfac3QrJLpLq_dHLBEKv7iO5FE3MEg3_8g1gd3gqJonj7nbOzw7E5caVNW52EkZSbNgIkGnByU1uJCxhDrfDw_TrRzfLHfOeoXSOS4ISJu7ZmpHDWWnMaR9nRRI/s1600/IMG_3251+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLT02oiwEWEAF3sf5sFfac3QrJLpLq_dHLBEKv7iO5FE3MEg3_8g1gd3gqJonj7nbOzw7E5caVNW52EkZSbNgIkGnByU1uJCxhDrfDw_TrRzfLHfOeoXSOS4ISJu7ZmpHDWWnMaR9nRRI/s1600/IMG_3251+copy.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">4. One last patch of sun as it moved into darkness</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">An unusual photo opportunity, but was kind of glad that it opened up. </span>Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196004107560024508.post-73574665928841344632015-02-01T12:40:00.001-08:002015-02-01T20:35:14.967-08:00Photo of the Week - January 26 - February 1, 2015 - 'Rain in the Desert'<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Photo of the Week - January 26-February 1, 2015</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>'Rain in the Desert'</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiGxPpXIYcecG2Y34rEmRFeIWCfmT_L_ZPKgUKZuNTpdvyRGoLv-0dqO5jZaE9E6TLt-KdCtAT-bs0Ye4QF6kaJ4ZxwrPGRk_Te0Z8mIial_7KrdLfuFM_UbUm5cD7njtx1IsZ9PgLh8/s1600/IMG_9491edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiGxPpXIYcecG2Y34rEmRFeIWCfmT_L_ZPKgUKZuNTpdvyRGoLv-0dqO5jZaE9E6TLt-KdCtAT-bs0Ye4QF6kaJ4ZxwrPGRk_Te0Z8mIial_7KrdLfuFM_UbUm5cD7njtx1IsZ9PgLh8/s1600/IMG_9491edit.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Record rain fall pounded the Tucson area this week. Much needed, but the search for stellar photos was horribly hampered. Records fell as a Pacific storm unleashed 1.39 inches on Friday(January 30), and another 1.41 inches drenched the city on Saturday(as of 6pm). These 2 days would contribute about 1/4 of our yearly total. A drop in the bucket, for my previous residence in the rain forest of Sitka, Alaska.<br />U.S. Weather Data working overtime reveals Sitka with 87+ inches of rain a year with 33 inches of snow fall. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />Mt. Lemmon, rising above the city, would receive 5.4 inches of liquid sunshine (term borrowed from Washington).</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>This rare occurrence must be a sorry sight for those seeking the desert during Superbowl week, 2+ hours of pavement from Tucson. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A unique, missed photo, of a coyote out my window, was my flash of nearly good fortune amongst dreary weather and a week of blood sugars that were not among my best, and were keeping me somewhat caged indoors. I fired the camera 3 or 4 times as the coyote passed my point of view. It would have been classic stuff since <i>Canis latrans </i>had some interesting behavior. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Guess my camera settings had been 'nudged' as the photos were total black. The setting might have worked had a lightening strike hit at the exact time as I had taken the photos. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The rain began to fall on Friday and I watched it rain. And rain. And rain some more. The water began to spill onto the deck and seep toward the house. When water begins to create an H2O imprint in the desert then it is photo time. I grabbed the camera and caught many photos including the one at the top of the page. </b></span></div>
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Dave Nevinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10825977172775396169noreply@blogger.com2