Where is Willy?

In Montrose, that is where. Spike and I taking a few days off.

Let this picture be a lesson why you must never overload your trailer before hitching up to

your load. Just think what the DOT will say when he crosses a wiegh station.

I was really facinated when I found these results of my search for a hot rod wheelchair(for the

upcoming Iditifence posting) Check these out. Then I found another out of work person who might be interested in helping out around the campground.

I D I T I F E N C E

April 1, 2007

rember that most of this is purely fiction and a product of having too much time on my hands to think of

strange things.

Entrants are ready at the starting line for this dash down the border of the U.S./Mexico.

1,950 miles from San Ysidro, CA to the Gulf of Mexico in Texas. I found that granting one

waiver led to another and at last things were totally out my control. I think you will see this for yourself as you follow this virtual fantasy from start to finish. You will all notice one familiar snow plow.

I D I T I R A Q

THANKS TO THE IMAGINATION, THE MAGIC OF THE INTERNET AND THE LICENSE OF GOOD FICTION THE RACES, IDITIRAQ AND IDITIFENCE CAN RUN SIMULTANEOUSLY. SO HERE WE GO. REMEMBER THIS IS JUST FICTION, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL INDIVIDUALS IS ACCIDENTAL EXCEPT WHERE INTENDED AND THEN PURELY PARODY.

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Teams are complete for the first running of the I D I T I R A Q. This endurance feat is not so much about winning as it is about finishing alive. Each entrant must push a wheelbarrow from Turkey to Kuwait. You guessed it-across Iraq. The only other stipulation is that the wheelbarrow must carry one passenger-specifically one war protestor.

Protestors were assigned on a bid process. For those that were not bidded away-the draft was utilized.

Rosie O.; Sean P.; Jane Hanoi Fonda; Yentyl; Madam Speaker; Members of Code Pink;

Alan C.; The distinguished congressman from New York-C.R.; Shrillery; B.O.; the esteemed senator from Nebraska-Mr. H. ; who was that man from Vermont that wanted to be President-

Oh yes, H.D.; (i regret that more members of congress and senate could not be made available but they will be busy re-drafting legislation to fund our troops without the side dish of pork and strings.) Cindy S.

Remember you may modify your wheelbarrow with longer handles if you prefer-afterall you want sufficient distance that you don't have to endure conversation with these passengers.

And of course the unexpected advantage is that your passenger will arrive at the IED's before you do-longer handles will give you some buffer. Feel free to up armor your wheelbarrow-or NOT.

Where's Willy?

A new way of reporting from the road, that I have just discovered. To correct a few

embellishments about who I drive for-I include a picture of who I drive for. Looks just like my

rig. And to give you an idea of my progress-I've added my location. And of course I send my

duty status should the DOT be monitoring this site.

I D I T I R A Q

DON'T FORGET THE OTHER GREAT ENDURANCE RACE COMING

SOON TO THE DESERT OVER THERE

push a war protester in a wheelbarrow from

Turkey to Kuwait

I D I T I F E N C E

an endurance race along the US/Mexican border

Official start April 1, 2007

1,950 miles of the toughest desert terrain

legions of border patrolmen, minutemen, military

drug runners, coyotes, migrating laborers, tourists,

flora, fauna, (snakes, spiders, scorpions)

The following is one of my free verse poems. Considering the recent weather in Alaska, I thought it appropriate.

A Slower Pace

The land lies at the Western end

Of roads that can be driven.

The people are of a hearty sourdough breed.

Living on perimeter's rim.

Their backs are to the mountains

Their faces to the sea,

But their eyes are fastened to the Aurora.

Their pace perfectly matched to the elements.

That nature throws their way.

It's no use to get worked up

Say if the plane is a little late, they say-

"better take life easy, friend

It is the Alaskan way"

"We have all winter to get there

Thats our Northern creed

Besides it's cozy to wait shoulder to shoulder

In the warmth and company of good friends."

The outsider is easily spotted.

They are of the Cheechako blood.

Their anxious eyes peer into the swirling whiteout.

Willing landing lights to magically appear.

The Cheechako pace is worried

Frantic by the Sourdough standard

"Relax pup" the old timers seem to say

"Nothing is so important it can't wait...

For Spring Thaw"

Could this be me headed to Beaver, UT

You guess what and where it is, no prize.

I am proposing here first my new endurance race to known as the Iditifence.
I will keep everyone informed as to race rules, facts and lore but in a nutshell-
this endurance race will start on the US-Mexican border near San Diego and rull all the
way to the Gulf of Mexico in Texas.

Rule 1- participants must run the course within 5 miles of the actual Mexican border but only
on the American side.
Rule 2- non motorized methods only and it must be in contact with Terra Firma-no hang gliders, no rubber rafts(upon the Rio Grande -silly).
Rule 3- only bicycles with the old fashioned single sprocket and coaster brakes are allowed.
No mountain bikes-these have been proven dangerous by our President.

Consider pitting the human competitive spirit against the perils of mother nature.The desert,
the hot sun, absence of water, and then the other treachery as well-Mexican Mafia, drug smugglers, coyotes, migrating workers in pursuit of full American assimilation, U.S. Border Patrol, fence construction crews, our own military, Banditos, wildlife.

At times you won't know if its immigrants or contestants that are running through the
Cholla, the mesquite, the greasewood and other cactus. Or maybe it is pursuing Border Patrolmen. Me-I'll be riding my mule-getting my ass up the pass and toward the finish line.
This should be fun if we all don't get arrested or detained for invading sovereign Mexican territory.

LOCKED IN

Locked in from Fall to Spring

By Winter's icy grasp

An Arctic night and a wind so chill

That it seems to make you gasp.

But never shrinking from the cold

That can snap the strongest steel.

Overcoming Winter's wrath and fury

In a season that causes oil to congeal.

Tis the land that tests the best

To see if you've got the grit

It tests, teases, mocks you

To see if you're worth a shit.

And if you pass the test

And if you make the grade.

The land will deliver up it's bounty

For that is how you're paid.

Mountain top Perspective

The vastness is full not empty

As some flatlander would have thought

Against the backdrop of this beauty

Your existence is barely a dot.

It's plumb full of silence

A Silence that roars in your head

I've been there and I heard it

And I know what the old timers said.

It's clear as some passing memory

Of the coldness and the blanket of snow

It's as close as the chill that has numbed me

But helped me to discover and grow

The mountains demand you remember your lessons

They are stern when they give you your grade

They require lifelong commitment

And character improvement is how you are paid

The reward lies in the lands beauty

And the silence locked up until Spring

I sit and ponder it's mystery

And wonder what Spring winds will bring.

With Spring will come snow melt

As the mountains unleash the force

My life, my hope, and my future

These mountains, the Rockies, my source

My source of all inspiration

I worship in their stillness at last

In this, God's greatest cathedral

At the top of some mountain pass.

Of course my blog site name is a knock off variation of the esteemed sled dog race, the Iditarod.
My love for and facination with endurance sled dog racing is strong. I have admiration for all
of those who make it possible-contestants past and current, organizers, volunteers. As an over the road truck driver I will not forget that freight used to be hauled by dog sled-they are an earlier form of the modern day truck driver. As I post the leaders have progressed to the
town and checkpoint of Ophir, AK. Ophir marks the point at which the mushers turn off onto the Southern route done on odd numbered years.

I have had the honor of meeting Mr. Reddington, father of the Iditarod. Furthermore the
race has inspired me to write a poem some time ago which I now share.

It's there, I can see it.
My fingers trace it's route.
I close my eyes, the trail comes alive,
I hear the dogs barking, I hear the mushers shout.

And I'm there, but for a brief piece of time.
Not in body, but in spirit and in kin.
I follow this adventure on my computer screen map
Oh God I wish I was there once again.

The red line represents a trail
Leading from Anchorage to Nome.
Over mountain passes, down river gorges
Through the land the Sourdough calls home.

It's a race that demands a commitment.
A good team, conditioned and ready to race
A deposit of grit and the will to finish
And a knowledge of what you will face.

It's a living commemorative of that race for life
Tis a tribute to great dogs and men
To those brave mushers who carried the serum to Nome
And possessed the will to win.

Tis the Iditarod, I pen these words about
A thousand mile race across the 49th state.
It beckons men and women to match wits with hardship
To finish the course and strive to be great.

So I humbly follow their advance
From the snug comfort of my den
In awe, envy and with great respect
I wonder-What makes them do this again.