Know excuses!

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: Uncle Genie is still having trouble with his ethernet drivers and we have been unable to maintain our publishing schedule. At present, we are attempting to re-grade (what you do when you can't afford to upgrade) the drivers and hope to have a dependable net connection again very soon.

Truth be told, it's amateur night in our computer systems management department so any permanent repairts will be blind luck.

Rush Job

My persistent dilemma in writing about the San Luis Valley or the canyons of the Rio Grande and its South Fork, or the mountains of the San Juans and the Sangre de Cristos, is that in proclaiming the sublime beauty, one then has a hand in its despoiling.  Indeed, there is little point in the telling if it is not to implicitly suggest to others that the area is worth a look-see—or more.

Fortunately, I don't think that poses an actual problem with my blog, counting as it does only two followers, and very casual followers at that. But still, the quiddity remains.

The mystery of the July 3rd fireworks display in South Fork has been solved. Apparently, South Fork and Creede, the quaint old mining town 23 miles up-rio, agreed to alternate nights for their fireworks shows so that area residents and the many tourists staying with us could enjoy both. I guess next year folks in Creede can feel odd.

Had some trouble getting on line today. My best guess is that one or another of various program updates I downloaded gummed up my external router, the wireless antenna I depend on when the RV park gets crowded. Not sure which of my desperate remedies fixed it, but all of a sudden it started working again, so I jumped on the opportunity to post. Bit of a rush job as I'm going sans graphics. Oh well, you get what you pay for.

An old fashioned Third of July in South Fork

For some reason that I have yet to discover, the Independence Day fireworks display in South Fork burst forth on the third this year! I will get to the bottom of this, but my main plan for the weekend was neatly scuttled.

When I'm in town for the Fourth I like to enjoy the show from the Rockaway Cafe, the steakhouse I cooked at for several years. It's the tradition there that the crew from both the front and back of the house--dining room and kitchen--take a break and watch the fireworks together from the receiving dock out back. The display doesn't start until half past 9 and usually the dining room is slowing down by then. Wait staff will tell any lingering guests where they'll be and even invite them to come along if they don't mind the proximity of the dumpster. (Even so, some waiter or hostess will continue to make quick circuits of the front to make sure no one is neglected.) Those that want can grab a cold one from the beer fridge on the way through the kitchen; it's refreshment that's especially appreciated after the usual holiday crush of diners and a nonstop cycle of orders, prepping, cooking, service and clean-up.

The fireworks are launched from a bluff north of the Rio, up near the golf club, readily visible from the Rockaway and most of the town in general. It's only a half hour show, paid for by donations, but it's better-than-average for a small mountain town. And it's something I look forward to every year.

But not this year. This year they launched on the third. I still feel disoriented.