Dear Missoula

I was up early, before the beginning of the Saturday book festival morning sessions, and walked a block to what I regard as Missoula's center, the Higgins Avenue Bridge over the Clark Fork of the Columbia River. It's a city of 60,000, a regional center and a university town, in a state with less than a million total population. I suppose there must be better instances of blend between the natural and the built. I haven't found any yet. Beautiful place, beautiful people.... We have to get back there...

Down-river from the bridge...Brennan's Wave, an artificial
wave built to honor a world-class Missoula kayaker who
died in Chile some years ago

The "historic" Wilma Theatre; where the book festival's
larger events are held; and, beyond, the art deco Florence
Hotel, where Rachel and Will had their wedding reception;
from the bridge

Also from the bridge, the Saturday morning farmers' market,
west annex (the larger and older market is by the Xs, three
blocks away) 

Other side of the bridge, Caras Park, one of several civic
centers

Other side still, old Milwaukee Station, now home of the
Boone and Crockett Club (yes, that Boone, that Crockett);
founded by Teddy Roosevelt, Gifford Pinchot, William
Tecumseh Sherman, and other conservation-minded pals

A block up-river, Mount Sentinel above the University of
Montana campus

Of all the places we have lived, it is the best; but there
is this one draw-back, starting always in October...up
high...

Taking off from Missoula Sunday afternoon; the Mission
Mountains, pretty much the view from our front porch for
ten years...

2011 Montana Festival of the Book

On Wednesday, following our trip to Yosemite, I flew up to Missoula to attend the 12th annual Montana Festival of the Book, an event I founded in 2000, when I was director of the Montana Committee for the Humanities, now Humanities Montana. I could write reams about this event and other humanities matters in Montana, which would interest very few people, any of whom would have their own relevant and valid views. But the festival is an ongoing matter, among several of which I remain very proud from my years in Montana, and I have the greatest affection for the many people who joined with me in 1999 and 2000, and subsequently, and who have kept the festival vibrant and vital all these years. Foremost among these is Kim Anderson, who came to "coordinate" the festival in 2000. I had the good luck and good sense to hire her then, and she has been a prime mover and planner of it since the beginning. I think nearly all of the greatest living writers of the American West have appeared at the festival in one year or another, many more than once...and many others...poets, writers of fiction and non-fiction, historians, political commentators, authors of cookbooks, trail guides, and always much, much more. The Festival is at humanitiesmontana.org and associated Facebook and Flickr sites. In any case, it was wonderful to see and visit with so many old friends and associates, and some new ones. And my sincere thanks to Kim and Neil for their hospitality.

And see the postscript, Mayor John Engen's beautiful welcome from the opening night of the festival.

Bill Kittredge introduces

Tom McGuane

Germaine White's session on the restoration of bull trout
in the Jocko River; published by the University of Nebraska
Press; Germaine was vice chair of my board in 1997

Poetry dispenser at the registration desk

My successor, Ken Egan, introduces the panel for the
"Coen Brothers' Cinematic West"; "careful, man, there's
 a beverage here"

Friday night--family night--at the Top Hat; only in Montana

Followed by the 3 hour poetry slam; just
about the most electrifying word-event I
have ever seen; 250 in attendance per
the management; mostly about performance,
but I keenly suspect that that was mostly
what Homer was about; for me, the most
electrifying reading was Debra Earling's 2003
reading of the original unpublished ending
of Perma Red; the next gala reader, Tim
Cahill, turned to me and said "I can't follow
that!" and we took a brief unscheduled
intermission to let everyone recompose and
reset; and then there was Chuck Palahniuk
a few years later; but I digress..."all
them memories come floodin' back"

Rick Bass; just for the record, I became convinced of the
importance of Montana writers on a late 90s visit to Paris
and a Left Bank bookstore table of Rick's books

Kiddie time at the festival, with Snow White, Grumpy, and
Corduroy the Bear; I am now much more attuned to kiddie
time...

Just for the record, again...the festival really began at a
lunch in Bozeman (or was it Big Sky?)  in 1999 when I pitched
the idea to Jim and Lois Welch and Bill Bevis; it was
certainly of no moment to them; but when Jim Welch allowed
it might be a good idea and, yes, he would participate, it was
a done deal for me...here, Lois introduces...

Mary Clearman Blew

Festival of the Book 2011

"Why is Missoula, Montana, home to so many writers?"

That's the sort of question you get asked when you're the mayor of Missoula, Montana. And while your first instinct is to offer a matter-of-fact reply, something like: "We believe it has much to do with the abundant availability of inexpensive liquor," you know there's a more appropriate answer.

When you're born in Missoula, Montana, you're likely to take for granted the sense of place that folks long forgotten worked to cultivate and later preserve. You assume that the guy moving your piano is a poet and the woman pouring your coffee has a reading tonight at your independent bookstore and that your state's poet laureate connects school kids, many of them outsiders, to words and that those words lead to self-expression and that expression leads to realization and that realization leads to fully formed human beings who think for themselves and believe that some stuff in this life still matters in the midst of all this relentless damn noise and nonsense.

You take for granted that our piece of the West, while populated in part with images of Justin Bieber and some Real Housewives of Somewhere Else, is still a bit spare. There's still enough room to be lonely and, if you want, alone. You take for granted that the weather changes, that most of us are still in the same boat, that you've got to work, one way or another, to make it work here, and it ain't always easy.

You take for granted that people of character provide fodder for characters and that the facts are all over the place but you've got to look hard for the truth and one of the ways you do that is by fighting with words over sound and cadence and meaning and depth until you embrace a sentence that's just about perfect for the moment. And you add that sentence to the last hard-won turn of phrase and start in on the next one.

You take all that for granted when you're born here. But if you're from a place that's no longer a place and you ache for a reality that fuels imagination and you're a writer, want to be a writer or will become a writer despite your better judgment and warnings from family and friends, Missoula, Montana, is a discovery. It's a place and it's a place for writers. They are welcome, admired, respected and most likely have day jobs.

And if all that weren't enough, there's a book festival here every year. And it starts now.

Welcome, folks, to Missoula, Montana.

My name's John Engen, I'm the mayor, I'm a writer, and these welcoming remarks are titled "The Chamber of Commerce Will Not Approve."

Yosemite: Tuolomne Meadows

Sunday morning we checked out of the Bug and drove up to Tuolomne Meadows--much higher country than the Valley--where we had camped for a week in 1972 when I did the mountaineering school thing. Yosemite is not a place we have come back to again and again, like the Tetons and Winds, but it is very meaningful for us as the place where we did our first backpacking, our first climbing, and our first full imbibing of the wilderness culture. We fell in love with that culture and have sought it over the years in many different places.

A dihedral above Tenaya Lake; I am quite
sure I did this climb in 1972; click to enlarge
and see the person belaying (about a third
of the way down)

Tenaya Lake

Tuolomne Meadows

Lembert Dome, which Vicki climbed, while I was training
on Kitty Dome and Puppy Dome

We turned back short of Tioga Pass and then did a couple
miles' hike up from Tenaya Lake

Granite; everywhere

Looking back across Lake Tenaya to the High Sierra; and
possibly Mt. Dana, which I think I climbed in '72

It was October 2 and the end of the season, with
management burns ongoing across the Park

Ditto

Double ditto; all in all, it was quite a good experience visiting

this place, special to anyone who visits it, and especially so

to us; hopefully, we'll be back in the spring

Yosemite: Valley, More Glacier Point, Happy Isles

The next day we carried on...me hiking from the Valley up to Glacier Point (4.6 miles, 3,200 feet) and back, Vicki taking the Valley Shuttles to visit exhibits, museums, visitor center, and shops. We met up again at 4PM to do a hike to one of our favorite places, Happy Isles.

Classic view of the lower Valley, dominated by El Capitan

At Curry Village, the Yosemite Mountaineering School, where I was a student for 
a week in 1972 (classes were up at Tuolomne Meadows)

Same T-shirt as in 1972

Half Dome, classic view

On my hike, another view of Yosemite Falls

Looking back toward El Cap and Cathedral Peaks

Self-portrait atop Glacier Point

Happy Isles

Vicki, happy at Happy Isles

Granite Domes everywhere...

Yosemite: Mariposa Grove, Glacier Point, and the Valley

So last weekend we drove over to Yosemite National Park, 4 hours away, and spent three nights in a tent cabin at the Yosemite Bug, by day reacquainting ourselves with the great park, which we think we had visited  previously in 1970, definitely in 1972 and 1990, and possibly in 1992. Pretty much all the same sights were there, of course, generating pretty much the same awe and affection as in previous visits. It's an incredible place, the Valley itself, the big walls, the big trees, the high country, the granite everywhere.... Our visit began with a special occasion, a milestone, as it were, obtaining my Interagency Senior Pass ($10), which gets us into national parks and forests and other public lands free of charge, for life. Our visits to these places have spanned five decades now, and we hope they will continue a few more too.

At the Mariposa Grove of redwoods, this little fellow was dragging the pine 
cone across the trail, munching as he went

But then he was driven off by this big fellow, who took over the munching; survival 
of the fattest

The Bachelor and Three Graces

Vicki poses for scale under the lower drive-through tree (forgot 
its name)(the upper one, now fallen, was the Wawona Tree)

From Washburn Point, en route to Glacier Point, Nevada and Vernal Falls

Half Dome, profile, from Washburn Point

Us at Washburn, wearing our New Zealand steady shirts ("not all who wander 
are lost")

Mt. Starr King and some of the high country

Looking up the great valley

To distant peaks; exposed rock everywhere...

Across the Valley, Yosemite Peak and Yosemite Falls; our 
first backpacking trip ever, in 1972, took us on a trail down

Yosemite Creek, to the Falls, and then via the switch-backs 
(click to enlarge) down to theValley, where we stayed at Camp 4

California Quotidian

So it's after the autumnal equinox, and here we are in Middle California, on 8^th Avenue, in Menlo Park, a bit east of Middlefield Road. We're eight blocks from Rebecca and Jeremy, and Penelope, now approaching five months old, whom we care for on Rebecca's work days. Menlo Park is on the peninsula, some miles south of San Francisco, Redwood City just north, Palo Alto just south, and Mountain View a bit beyond that. Of course it's all continuous development along 101 and El Camino Real anyway. The weather has been remarkably consistent for the month or more we have been here: lows in the high 50s, highs in the 80s. Clear, mostly, except at night when the clouds roll in from the Pacific. Generally they are gone early in the morning.

Our neighborhood is mostly working class: people mostly appear to go to work every day and come home at night. The homes are all in the $600,000 to $2 million range. Bay area...but astronomical to us. You'd think working stiffs would be house-poor in such a market, but I've counted five 9lls, a Lotus, and numerous Mercedes and BMWs within three blocks. Maybe they're not all working stiffs.

The neighborhood is of that vintage where many of the homes have been subdivided or added-on to. In our case we are in a small attached cottage, 500-600 feet, one bedroom. It's actually larger, seemingly, than the two-bedroom apartment we rented our last year in dear Missoula. There is a great room, sort of, which is our combination office/living room/dining room; a large completely updated (granite, etc.) kitchen; a laundry/storage room with washer and dryer; the aforementioned bedroom; and a walk-though closet, with built-ins; leading to a tiny but updated bath. It's quiet and seemingly secure. The kitchen alone is much larger than our RV! The cottage lacks curb appeal, however, adjoining the right-of-way for the (underground) Hetch Hetchy reservoir pipeline that feeds the peninsula. The pipeline has been rebuilt and enlarged in recent months, but the right-of-way, a 60 ft or so wide swath, remains fenced-in and un-landscaped. The fencing will come down sometime this winter and the swath will be restored to its previous status as parts of peoples' yards.

Furnishing and decorating the cottage has been interesting. Rebecca and Jeremy had some unwanted pieces of furniture (hide-a-bed, easy chair, table and chairs, etc.) which are now here. Other pieces include furniture we had given Rebecca years ago when she moved to California, now also unwanted (bookcases, dresser, library card catalog, etc.). I am sitting at the white desk, bought in Bexley, Ohio, she and Rachel both used as children. The rest has come through the little bit of stuff we brought back from Europe, the very little bit we brought back from Missoula, and then the kindness of strangers, Craigslist, garage and yard sales, and a few perfectly good things people inexplicably leave on the side of the road near the cottage. (Recycling?). Anyhow, the 500 square feet are now fully functional and crammed nearly full, particularly considering the four major items of baby furniture—swing, crib, high chair, Jumparoo—we are also using. The strategy in all this has been to be functional and comfortable for our few months here, but to do so with items that are almost entirely loaned or expendable. We'll be holding a yard sale of our own in the foreseeable future.

As I said, the kitchen is ample, and a variety of things—the availability of all kinds of interesting foods here, our experiences in Europe, Vicki's watching the Food Channel--have led us to more culinary explorations. As a moving-in gift, Rebecca gave me a Groupon for a nearby nursery which I used to establish a container herb garden, which is, at least at the moment, thriving. Basil really is the tomato's best friend.

Our work-day routine starts with Penelope's arrival, always the best part of the day. She is adorable, fun to play with, very easy to care for. We do Bumbo time, tummy time, singing time, book time, Jumparoo time, music time, feeding time, changing time, and, when she begins to fade, walking time around the neighborhood with the stroller. She rarely makes it more than a block or two before succumbing to nap time. Every now and then she goes with us shopping or visiting the library or park or doctor. Her favorite store is the Redwood City Costco #1042 (the largest I have seen), although the REI in Mountain View and any Trader Joe's are also fascinating to her (and me). Two Buck Chuck is alive and well, 8 years on now, probably the nation's greatest loss-leader apart from the rotisserie chicken at Costco. Penelope is a long way from poulet roti and vin rouge, but she enjoys watching.

Our first few weekends have been spent in shopping and setting up the cottage, learning the lay of the land, and also in helping Rebecca and Jeremy clean out their garage to get more storage space. Vicki spent the last five days visiting Marie and Norm in St. Cloud, with a family side-trip to Miami, and a “last” visit to DisneyWorld. (Marie and Norm are moving to Knoxville). I'll be going to San Fran with Rebecca and Jeremy for a symphony concert this weekend, and the next weekend Vicki and I will go camping in Yosemite. And then the next weekend I'll be in dear Missoula for the Humanities Montana Festival of the Book XII.

So that's the quotidian. My next posts will feature “pix not blogged” from China and Nepal.

Top of every day: Penelope arrives

Grandma loves dressing her in some of the

same outfits worn by Stacey, Rebecca, and

Rachel...

"Our" REI, Mountain View

"Our" Google, Googleopolis

GoogleEarth view