I’m not feeling much Utah. Maybe Utah is hell. Too much restraint on my freedom to enjoy microbeers! They offer a microbeer for the same price as a microbeer in Oregon but it’s watered down and tasted empty. After dinner did laundry at run down ramshakel joint. It was conveinient as RV was parked in their lot.
Morning comes and I head out to Dinosaur Park. The little boy inside begins to kick out.
I had great passion for all things dinosaur as a 10-13 year old. I also loved marbles and cowboys. What a fantastic day! Took shuttle from visitor center to the museum which is built over a huge wall (guess 120 feet long and 30 feet high) The slab has hundreds of dinosaur bones carefully dug around, all standing there like a giant mural. When I first saw it I thought it was an artists depiction. Not! This is how the dudes found it. OMG (speaking of which these creatures predate Biblical account of creation)
I notice a couple plein-air artists painting away on overlook. I end up enjoying meeting them, talking shop, and getting some info on l area scenic locations.
Two accomplished oil painters are A.D. Shaw and Chris Manwaring. Pleasant to converse. They invited me to lunch so we met at Bettys Diner. Had fun. They invited me to another afternoon paint spot which is sponsored by the Dinosaur Monument for their 100 year anniversary. I visited the Museum in Vernal and saw 5 exciting paintings by A.D. Shaw on display. One of the many things he said that made me laugh: “ I worked for 3 hours to make that line look natural”.
Showed them a few paintings of mine and recieve a warm reception. Met at boat launch and enjoyed hanging out. There were several other painters there, part of a plein air group. Fun to watch them work and struggle with changing light.
Made camp in the Dinosaur National Monument at the Green River campground.
This is the same Green River I camped on in Wyoming.
Saw my first Fremont petroglyphs and got the bug to see more. These shallow marks in stone are symbolic designs with significance we have yet to decipher. Who knows what they meant to Fremont people. Has it ever bothered you the way we name things of previous cultures? These native peoples are named after an explorer who discovered their existence.Were they lost? No more lost than Mr. Fremont is lost (RIP). They were here way before him. Yikes! How disrespectful. Ok, name a bridge or a store after somebody of special merit. Could see it if Mr. Fremont fathered most of the tribe and there was a DNA connection or perhaps was a high priest or chief. He merely mentioned their existence. Pointed to a basket and a spear and said they once were here. Could it be that same Fremont, the Seattle community I lived in for 13 years was named for too? If so, does that make me a Fremont person too? A relative of these ancient peoples.
Can’t wait to find more petroglyphs so I can interpret their meanings with my newly discovered special Fremont connection/insight. Finding new cliff drawings is like a treasure hunt. Scanning miles of rock faces I get to know the type of surface likely to get carved. Accessible by a ledge, deeply colored rich red-purple-brown (iron minerals), and facing outward. I’ve spent two days finding and photographing these amazing drawings. Of course the artists never signed them. That concept didn’t occur since these drawings were part of the shared tribal consciousness. Were these recorded stories to later recall events? I doubt they were merely decorations for their living spaces. Maybe. Hey Utah, feeling better about you Utah (still not happy about your beer).
I get inspired by the rock drawings and begin doodling ideas for tattoos.
What would work as a symbol for me? I look in the mirror at my receding hairline.
Expected by my mother to be bald at this point since I’m taking so much after my sasquatch hairy grandfather Carlson, fresh from Sweden. He went bald at 35 I’m told. Never met him due to an unfortunate tractor accident. My family avoided questions about him. Much later, in my 40’s I find out Mr. Arvid Carlson was institutionalized. His tractor injuries drove him mad. He was making animal sacrifices in the pasture and the family had him put away out of fear for their safety. All my childhood he’d been locked up a few miles away!
I revisit the ‘Y’ in the middle of my forehead. About 2” high. Looks like a convergence of two or three blood vessels slightly blue-green. Visible only with close inspection.
It occurs that the sound of the letter Y is also a question; why? Perfect since I’m always questioning. Y is a good starting point for tattoo. Girlfriend named V advised considering a kaleidescope when designing my tattoo. Need a meaningful pattern now. Kaleidiscope of Y's?