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By now the Allen Family Reunion is old news, but things move more quickly (or I move more slowly) as I age. At least we have one photo without digits wedded to nasal passages. The reunion was fun. I regret not having a chance to try out Mylinda's "Wheelman," but upon reflection, my hands, knees, and elbows are still intact and functional, so perhaps that failure was actually a good thing.

At Ameilia's request, we let Wyatt Jr and Ethan fly the kite. By Woodruff standards, it was a only a "mild" breeze, but we had to wedge the reel under the car to prevent flying grandchildren.

I have, from time to time, thought I should have been a writer/photo journalist for National Geographic Magazine and (probably much to Ameilia's [who prefers to look at people photos] chagrin) in this letter I am venting those frustrations. Here is my take on Salt River Canyon. The road through this canyon follows an indian trade route, dating back to the 1600's. White settlers in the mid to late 1800's widened the trail to accommodate one way wagon traffic. At that time, it was not uncommon to replace the wagon brakes after a single trip through this overgrown ravine.

The road was first paved in the 1920's, but still followed the basic indian trade route. At the time, 15 mph was break-neck speed. Now I can hold two to three times that speed over most of it. The first pavement was perhaps 12 feet wide, and there were only three locations where an overheating car (prior to pressurized radiators, that was a common occurrence) could pull off. Construction crews were kept busy here almost year round for the next couple of decades and now the road lacks only a central divider to be a freeway.

As a child enroute to visit Grandma (Virden, NM to Woodruff), I recall having to wait what seemed like an eternity while they blasted then cleared the debris.

My mother thought it was a long trip too, and related how (as a slightly younger child) I "got car-sick and puked on every curve" (and there were a lot more of them in those days). That is obviously an exaggeration, but as I recall, it took longer than an hour to traverse the canyon in "the good ole days."

If I really were an writer for National Geographic Magazine, I would tell you that this photo shows the blooming phase of Fabricaous prevaricous, commonly known as the mountain creosote bush. This species grows only at this elevation in this canyon and was used by the native americans who inhabited this area as an herbal medicine. Further, it formed the basis of trade, and dried flowers and leaves have been found in tombs as far south as the Yucatan peninsula. But since I am not a NGM writer, and have no idea what this plant really is, I'll just say I thought it looked kind of pretty with the whole bush/tree in bloom.

I have long been partial to cactus flowers, even those just preparing to bloom.

And even Ameilia would have to admit that this photo (perhaps minus the trash receptacle) could easily grace the cover of NGM.

AJ (who became and Elder last Sunday) is spending this week at Scout Camp (actually a Stake Aaronic Priesthood Camp) where he is pretending to be an adult leader and cook. Since they again took a kitchen stove (fours burners and an oven), and he has experience from a previous year, I suspect he will do a reasonable job. Getting him and the provisions prepared was a daunting task. I spent the better part of three weeks preparing when I undertook this type of project, but AJ, with the innocence of youth, tried to pull it off in two days. You can guess that it was a hectic two days. So far, I only know of two omissions, and I suspect he can rectify them with a little bit of ingenuity. I think it is an impressive menu, and doubt any of the other units can come close to matching it. The anecdotal evidence for that claim lies in the observation by AJ (during his last camp) that the stake leaders always happened to be passing by the San Manuel "mess hall" about mealtime. I have listed his menu below. Not too bad for "roughing it."

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Breakfast At home Strawberry Crepes Bacon & Eggs Fried Potatoes Bagels & Cream Cheese Peaches (canned) Biscuits & gravy Breakfast sandwiches Fruit At home Nectarines Bananas Oranges Cantaloupe Pineapple Juice At home Orange Grape Apple Orange Grape Lunch Chili Beans Crackers Stew Crackers Nachos Chicken Noodle Soup Crackers Ramon Noodles On the road again... Supper Lasagna Garlic Bead Salad Pork Loin Mashed Potatoes Gravy Green beans Pizza Salad Tostadas Spanish Rice Chimi's French Fries On the road again... Dessert Carmel Corn Brownies Carmel Hot Bread & jam Chocolate Chip Cookies On the road again...

I have taken up bicycling again, riding to work several times each week. My momma raised ugly kids, not dumb ones, so I have not attempted the reverse route. Instead, I have Barbara (or AJ) pick me up (usually at the San Manuel junction). Actually, I would like to make the ride from San Manuel to Oracle, and perhaps I will try it sometime towards the end of the summer, but at this point, I am just not phyically able. One of my tires isn't exactly round, and it makes a "thump" with each revolution. This "thumping" is rhythmic, and by reproducing and timing it, I calculated (given that I have 27 inch tires) that my terminal velocity going down that hill was 32.2 mph. The next day, I took the GPS along, and the highest reading that device produced was 33.5 mph. I was impressed that they were that close together. I don't yet trust the elevation readings on that GPS, but if they are accurate, I drop about 1300 feet in the 12.5 miles from my door to the clinic. I measured the transit time as 44 minutes 42 second, suggesting an average speed of 18.7 mph. As you can see in the photo, for an old man, riding up those hills is a "red in the face" sport. Riding down the hills, however, is lots of fun.

Jerry continues with his house up by "Big Rock." I don't pretend to understand the floor plan, but I think this portion is the garage. Stay tuned for late breaking news...

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