Monument Rocks aka Chalk Pyramids

Monday, May 9th - - Today was a very short driving day. Still heading west, I stopped in Scott City and spent about four hours at the library getting blog posts scheduled and checking weather forecasts for points west. By the time I left the library the temperature was a scorching 95 degrees and the van was like an oven. Driving westward, with the sun beating down on you, and with those high temperatures is not fun. At the library, I had also checked to see where the nearest Dodge dealer was – too far away. Instead, I went about 10 miles north to Scott Lake State Park and got a campsite for the night. In hindsight, I should have just stayed at the library for a few more hours!



Anyway, looking at the map I saw that a “point of interest” was about 25 miles northeast of the campground. Wanting to “do something” I drove on out to Monument Rocks, also known as Chalk Pyramids. They are visible from US-83, just barely, and if you know where to look. They are on private range land but the owners have made them open to the public and accessible via a 6-mile dirt/gravel road.



Designated as a National Natural Landmark by the U.S. Department of the Interior, the 70-foot tall sedimentary formations were created 80 million years ago when this area was part of a vast inland sea. In .., the Kansas Sampler Foundation selected Monument Rocks as one of the Eight Wonders of Kansas. Wish I had found this website sooner- It looks like I missed out on many of the Wonders of Kansas!





There are two “groups” of rocks. These on the east side of the dirt access road and the ones below, on the west side of the road.







The “backside” of the hole in the wall, from the west side group.



For some reason, I found the eastern group to be more interesting.



As you walked around the formations, their character changed. The tall fellow on the left is the same formation that is on the right side of the previous photo.





Part of the eastern group as seen from the south side.



Am I imagining the smiling faces that I see in this group?



My camping site at Scott Lake State Park. Blessed shade and a wonderful breeze that was sometimes way too strong – it kicked up dust devils every now and then! There was a beautiful sunset - I watched the sky change colors as the sun descended below the horizon from the comfort of my campsite – I would have had to have driven outside the park to get a view clear of the trees. But it was a lovely sunset. You'll have to trust me on that!

At the Asylum: an Account of a None Too Sane Patient

Some of you might be wondering where I've been over the last couple of days, either concerned or outraged over my lack of regular posts. Well, if you must know I have been up for the past 48 hours, watching a certain Interview on Oprah again and again, then endlessly analysing it with my internet friends on cycling forums ("Did you see his left eyebrow twitch when he said 'absolutely not' for the 8th time?").




No, I jest. But speaking of analysing facial expressions, readers might recall that I am a psychologist by training and former profession. And you know us psychologists, we love to experiment (that's professional jargon for "mess with people"). Well, last week my PsyPhone - which had grown dusty from lack of use - suddenly rang again, and I was asked to participate in One Last Assignment. "Come on boys," I groaned, wiping bicycle grease off my hands to the sound of jazz in background, "You know that I'm out of that racket." But they wouldn't have it. They needed me. Reluctantly I agreed.




The assignment was in the tradition of theRosenhan experiment. A team of us would infiltrate asylums throughout the country to observe and document their practices - from methods of diagnosis to treatment of inmates. I was assigned to the relatively newArtisan's Asylumin Somerville, Massachusetts.






Armed with notebook and camera, I approached the drab concrete exterior. The need for caution was immediately apparent, given this institution's stealth tactics. Tucked away on a side street lined with warehouses, the enormous building was hidden in plain sight in my very own neighbourhood. Thus it had managed to evade my attention despite being operational for an entire year.






I examined the street conditions to gauge inmate demographics. Bicycles of all types were locked up to every available post. It was clear that I too would require a bicycle, so a to appear a convincing inmate candidate. Luckily, I already had one with me.






At the front desk, several staff members were in place to scrutinise visitors. According to plan, I walked in presenting with vague symptoms of artisanry. Among these I listed: painting, knitting, sewing, persistent compulsions toward bicycle design, and a one time incident of framebuilding. I did not elaborate, I did not exhibit flamboyantly artisanal behaviours, and my hands and clothing were relatively clean. Yet the staff member required no further evidence to admit me. On a notepad I saw them quickly scribble what looked likepsychosis framebuildis, poss. acute. Then another staff member came to escort me.






The inmates call him Dr. Carson, but we never see his face. He, as the other senior staff members, wear welding masks at all times. He appears to be legitimate, even if his interaction tactics unconventional.






Another specialist is called Dr. Skunk. He interacts with inmates exclusively from behind a curtain. He too is purportedlylegitimate, and even runs his own clinic on the side.






Inmates appear well-kempt and not in apparent distress. Possibly they are medicated. Those who have been in the facility long term, enjoy a good degree of freedom. Some rely on two-wheeled devices to assist with mobility around the floor space.






However, new inmates are required to wear green polka dotted metal "gowns," so that they are easily identified by members of staff. This contraption severely limited my speed and range of movements, making note taking and photography challenging.






The interior of the Asylum is vast andlabyrinthine. Endless hallways connect shared spaces designated for inmate activities such as woodworking and metal working.






Private spaces are only partially walled off, allowing staff members to observe inmates.






Primary colours are commonly used.






Evidence of traditional (some might say outdated) treatment models, such as brazing activities, abounds.






Nutrition available on the premises seems limited to beer and coffee, which the inmates are required to brew themselves.






They must also make the tools and dispensers necessary for its production and serving.







Each inmate receives a thermos in which to store hot liquid meals.






Yet I also noted sculptural renditions of used dishes piled up in several communal areas,






which could explain why the premises exhibit signs of insect, rodent, and possibly dragon infestations, in metal and paper form.










A variety of instructional signs guide inmate behaviour. Voluntary compliance rates are considerably higher than I've seen in other institutions.





While I have not noticed any overt force or violence used on the inmates, some visual displays seemed designed as intimidation tactics to keep them under control.






After my tour of the premises, I noted the staff members administering a subtle series of tests to confirm my diagnosis. First, I was exposed to a disassembled vintage Bianchi bicycle in the traditional "celeste" colour scheme while a hidden video camera measured my pupil response.






This procedure was then repeated with tubing, then lugs, then finally some unpainted brazed joints used as stimuli. At the end, Dr. Carson shook his head and jotted down some notes, which I saw to be a confirmation of the initial diagnosis.As far as I can tell, no other steps were taken to probe into my history or consider the appropriateness of my presence at the Asylum.






Following a brief consultation among staff members, my fate was decided. My condition was serious. I was to stay at the Asylum and undergo intensive treatment.






Devises to be used in this course of treatment were shown to me.






Noticing I appeared to have familiarity with them, only confirmed to the staff members the correctness of their diagnosis.





"Much of this is our own technology, made inhouse," Dr. Carson said soothingly. "I believe it will be effective in addressing your needs."







He then showed me other inmates undergoing similar treatment. How happy they were, how engaged, how productive.






Having witnessed everything I came to witness at the Artisan's Asylum, at this stage I attempted to explain myself and depart. But denial is such a common symptom of the condition I was diagnosed with, that this proved to be challenging. I tried to present evidence contradicting my diagnosis. But the staff members only nodded gently. "The pupil test does not lie," said Dr. Carson. From behind his curtain, Dr. Skunk tapped out in Morse code: "you. must. remain."




At length I managed to get to a phone and contacted the project leader of my assignment. He listened to my report. A long silence on the other end then followed."But Dr. [Redacted]..." he finally said, "You have not worked with us for some time. We have no record of such a project as you describe."






What can I say, dear readers. Sometimes life takes us to strange places. Places that exist in pocket universes right under our noses. Places that have brazing and welding facilities (and beginners' workshops, for anyone local interested). I still think the diagnosis is inaccurate, and I am still not sure how I got here. But maybe I will stay a while after all.

Like Old Times

I did some black and white photos of the Gilman Tunnels and town of Gilman. You can see some of the real old buildings that are ready to fall down at the next strong wind. Most are almost hiden by trees and brush. The a photo of the bridge that goes across the Jemez Creek to get to Gilman. Plus a shot of the pine trees and a pine cone up in the forest.

Grand Canyon :: Desert View

On Friday (April 16th) Sue and Fred hiked another trail into the Canyon. They did a portion of the Hermit trail going 3 miles and 1400 feet down to Dripping Springs! Of course, it was 3 miles and 1400 feet back up! One of the lesser used trails, they saw only a dozen people while on the trail.

My legs were feeling okay, but I begged off that hike as the thought of having to ascend another 1400 feet left me weary just thinking about it! Instead, I walked nearly six miles along the South Rim Trail, which is paved in some spots and more or less level. Though not excessive, there were a few more people on the South Rim Trail than what Sue and Fred encountered. I did take some pictures, but they pale in comparison to what has already been posted.

Saturday was to be our last full day at the Canyon and we decided to be “tourists” driving east on Arizona Highway 64 from the Grand Canyon Village to Desert View, about 25-30 miles.

Aside from the Canyon itself, the main draw at Desert View is the Watch Tower, which is currently undergoing some renovations. I hadn't read anything about the Watch Tower so I didn't know what to expect – simply a building with several floors and stairs taking you up to viewing windows was about it. However, I was blown away by the architecture, the décor, the symbolism . As Sue said, “It spoke to me.”

Designed by architect Mary Jane Colter for the Fred Harvey Company, the Watch Tower is not a replica of any specific building but was intended to symbolize the many prehistoric Native American structures. The steel beams supporting the structure are hidden within the walls which are individually placed stones on the exterior and smooth adobe on the inside.

The interior artwork, under the supervision of Ms. Colter, was done by Fred Kabotie, a Hopi painter who was also a guide and musician at the Grand Canyon at the time (1930s). The artwork was designed to communicate the physical and spiritual origins of Hopi Life.

The Watch Tower at Desert View.

A portion of a large mural on the first floor, along with a chair and stool.

A portion of the ceiling and the 3rd level as seen from the 2nd level.

Just a few of the “hieroglyphs” decorating the interior walls (photo by Fred).

The exterior of the first floor stairway.

The stairways were wide enough for one person at a time.

Desert View is at the east end of the Grand Canyon. The Colorado River, wider and not as deep, is clearly visible from the Rim. I didn't notice it at the time, but I rather like how the stone pillar to the left somewhat mimics the shape of the Watch Tower.