Author Archives: lytspeed

Brother Falls after 20 years

By lytspeed Posted in Family, Signs o' the Times, Writing 7 Replies

I mentioned yesterday that I had taken a business trip to Phoenix.  I drove, and on the way back I stopped in the town where I grew up, Durango, Colorado.  I’ll be going there again next month for my twenty year high school reunion.

One of the things I wanted to do while in Durango was visit my favorite spot on Earth, a pair of waterfalls in La Plata Canyon.  I don’t know if these falls have a real name, but I refer to them as Brother Falls.  (If they do have a real name, I don’t want to know it.)  They are located up on the mountainside, away from the road, and that’s about as detailed as I want to get.  Perhaps I’m selfish, but this spot is sacred enough to me that I don’t want to give away its specific location.  There are other, more spectacular views in the San Juan mountains; let people visit those.  But I claim this spot as my own, however deluded that may be.

That said, I would like to recreate an event that happened twenty years ago, and take you with me on that little journey.  The photos below are from a month ago, but not much has changed except that the spring runoff was heavier then than it was this year.

(Please allow all photos to load completely.  All photos © Stace Johnson, 2003)

Heading up the deer trail.  It’s steeper than it looks!

Twenty years ago, just before I graduated high school, my brother and I found a couple of waterfalls while hiking on a family picnic.  He was twenty-seven and I was seventeen.  He had driven up from Phoenix to attend my graduation, and I was fortunate to have the time to spend with him.  We hiked the steep deer trails up the mountainside and, through the trees, saw a small waterfall.

If you look carefully, you can see the lower waterfall in the distance,
between the aspen trunks.

We continued up the deer trail, hoping it would curve back toward the falls.  It did, and crossed over the tailings of an abandoned mine.  My brother, being older and somewhat wiser than me, convinced me that we shouldn’t get too close to the mine, so we moved on.  Unfortunately, the deer trail switched back again, and didn’t seem to be heading the direction we wanted to go.


Two shots of the abandoned mine.  The flash washed out some of the detail in the second photo,
and probably angered some woodland creature inside the mine.

We left the trail and started working our way across to the falls, only to find that there was another, larger waterfall above the first.  We rested on a large rock at the top of the lower falls, watching the water flow beneath us.  A snow bank hung in the shadows, under the trees across from us.  Water disappeared under one side of the bank and emerged from the other, then cascaded over the lip of the lower falls.

The upper waterfall of Brother Falls.

The rock shelf between the falls.
Shot is looking up the mountain from the top of the lower falls.

The runoff was strong that year, and my brother and I just sat, not talking, enjoying the sound of the falls crashing above and below us, smelling the mix of evergreens and water.  I don’t remember ever feeling more centered than at that moment.

The lower falls.

After a while, we squeezed ourselves through the brush to the base of the upper waterfall.  It roared at us, challenging us to climb the slippery cliff next to it.  We took the challenge and climbed up the cliff face, occasionally putting a hand or foot into the water to get enough purchase to move upward.  (I didn’t say we were wise, just that he was somewhat wiser than me.)

Looking up from the base of the upper falls, just prior to climbing the small cliff
to the right.  The first time I did this, there was a LOT more water.

Looking down from the top of the upper falls.

We did make it to the top, and were rewarded with a beautiful, misty vista.  The canyon glowed with sunlight reflected from the aspen leaves.

La Plata Canyon as viewed from atop Brother Falls.

We rested there again until we heard our father’s voice calling from the aspens, wondering if we were okay.  We cut across the cliff top until we found a way down, and were soon following the switchbacks of the deer trail past the old mine again.  We met our father, out of breath and a bit worried, on the trail and told him about the waterfalls while he rested.  Then we all hiked back to the road at the bottom of the canyon, thinking the trail wasn’t nearly as steep as it had seemed going up.  I felt as if I had been in the presence of a deity for those couple of hours.

The La Plata River, looking up La Plata Canyon.

Thirteen years later, my brother passed away due to complications of lymphoma.  He ran a high risk of contracting lymphoma because he also had Sjögren’s Syndrome, an autoimmune disorder with symptoms similar to both lupus and rheumatoid arthritis.  Before he died, we discussed how he wanted his affairs to be handled.  He was adamant that he wanted to be cremated, and that he wanted his ashes spread in the mountains.  I could think of no better place to put his spirit to rest than Brother Falls in La Plata Canyon.

Now you know why I consider this spot to be sacred, and why I don’t want to know the actual name of these falls.  I always considered the spot to be powerful and replenishing, and I consider it even more sacred now that my brother’s spirit resides there.

A small riverside meadow in La Plata Canyon.

Styx with You

By lytspeed Posted in Family, Music Leave a reply

Recently, I had to take a business trip to Phoenix. Unfortunately, I had to be gone the night my son graduated from middle school into high school. I promised him we would either celebrate before or after I got back, and he was very understanding.

While I was trying to figure out how to help him celebrate this milestone, I was listening to a local classic rock station, 103.5 The Fox. They were hyping an in-store appearance by the band Styx, one of my favorite bands from my junior high and high school days. “Crystal Ball,” from their album by the same name, is one of my favorite songs, and one I always wanted to learn to play. I finally learned it a couple of years ago. I think Tommy Shaw is an excellent songwriter, and was always the heart of the band as far as I was concerned. I’m glad he’s still involved.

Keith has picked up a love for Styx’s music from his mother and me, so I thought it would be good to take him to meet the band as his graduation present. I took off work early that afternoon, and picked Keith up at home. I didn’t tell him where we were going, but I did play The Fox all the way down to the Tower Records where the band was appearing. The station hyped the appearance several times, but he never completely caught on to what was happening until we arrived. We were fourth in line to meet the band, and picked up four free tickets to the Styx, REO Speedwagon, and Journey concert at Fiddler’s Green the next night (the night before I was scheduled to leave on my trip.)

As I’ve mentioned in these pages before, Keith is quite talented musically. He happened to be wearing his school jazz ensemble shirt, which has a flaming bass clef on the back, and several of the band members commented on it and encouraged him to keep playing. (Thanks guys!) Keith was thrilled to meet the band and get their autographs, and I had Tommy Shaw and James Young sign a piece of sheet music from 1978 (“Sing for the Day.”) Below are the best pictures from the meet and greet.

The band, from L to R:
James (JY) Young, Glen Burtnik, Tommy Shaw, Todd Sucherman, & Lawrence Gowan

Keith watches while Glen jokes and Tommy signs
the cover of their new CD, Cyclorama.

Keith and I pose with Styx.  Yes, my 14 year old son is taller than me.

Deal with it.

Going Public

By lytspeed Posted in Music, Writing Leave a reply

First, the big news. June 18th, Stories for All Seasons will be presenting Melanie Tem and her new novel, The Deceiver. In addition to reading, Melanie will introduce members of her writing group, who will answer questions and discuss the group dynamic in general. Some of the students will also read works inspired by assignments. I’m proud to announce that I will debut my short story, “Sphere of Falling.”

“Sphere” is the result of a class assignment to write something with a strong sense of place. As I thought about the topic, two different works came to mind: Spider Robinson’s Callahan Chronicles and the story “Shottle Bop” by Theodore Sturgeon. Though “Sphere” is only superficially like either of these works, if similar at all, I do feel that I owe Robinson and Sturgeon a note of thanks, along with Melanie, of course, for the inspiration. It’s a cute story, and could be the germ of a whole collection of stories, assuming I get my butt in gear and write them.

Of course, that’s always the trick, isn’t it?

Lately, I have felt much more like an editor than a writer, though. I participate in two writing groups actively, and I am on extended sabbatical from two other groups. In at least a couple of these groups, I have earned a reputation as a grammarian and editor. Deserved or not, people seem to think of me when it comes time to submit a story, and they often ask if they can run something by me before it hits the group. This reputation seems to extend beyond just writing groups, too. I’ve received editing requests from several people I know who aren’t in writing groups. I’m open to that; I’m happy to help people out, and it helps me improve my own writing.

However, I might be a little too open to it. In the last several months, I have found that I am proofreading manuscripts much more than reading for pleasure, and certainly more than writing my own material. One of my favorite annual short story anthologies has been collecting dust by my bedside for months. And one look at this website will tell you that I have done little to update it in the last half year.

I have started no new creative writing since October 2002, and the guilt is starting to wear me down. I think I’m going to have to finish my current queue of non-group manuscripts and then stop accepting outside manuscripts for critique. Unless I want to become a freelance editor, that is. I don’t think I want to do that, though. I have a hard enough time editing my own work; I think I would go insane if I only edited work by other people and didn’t start producing some of my own again.

In other news, Eight Inch Weeds, my band project, seems to have gone on indefinite hiatus. There are no hard feelings between any of us, but we are not currently a functioning unit. It is possible that I will get back together with a couple of the guys in another band, or perhaps a revamping of this band, but for now I am pursuing other musical projects. Currently, I am working with a couple of members of Dante on some acoustic trio material. Hopefully I will have some news to report in that department before too long.

Update (6/9/2004): I do have news to report about that project. I have been playing with Steel River Three for several months now, making the rounds of coffeehouse jams and playing occasional gigs. Check out the website to see where we are playing next!

Let it Snow

By lytspeed Posted in General, Signs o' the Times Leave a reply

At this point, with the war coverage dominating the airwaves, perhaps half of the U.S. has heard that Denver got its worst snowstorm in nearly a century during the past week. It started on Monday night, the 17th, and continued in earnest on Tuesday. My work released us early on Tuesday, and I got home at about 3:00 to find 18″ of snow in the common driveway of our town home complex. I drove the car in as far as I could, then dug myself into the garage from there, as well as digging two neighbors into their garages.

The next morning, we had a fresh 24″ of snow, with a 48″ drift behind my garage door. The pictures below offer a roughly chronological document of the period from Tuesday afternoon through Thursday morning. (Apologies for the capabilities of my cheap digital camera.)

“Doot-doot-doo looking out my front door …”

The mess I made Tuesday getting into the garage.

Wednesday morning at about 5:00 AM.  The snowflakes reflected the flash.

Wednesday morning again, snow is about 30″ at this point.

Split branch on the tree in my neighbor’s front yard.  This branch hangs over my side of the fence, and is about 6″ in diameter.

The view from my garage Wednesday morning.  The drift behind the car is about 4 feet high.  Remember, I had already shoveled this the day before.

This is the same driveway as above, with the ruts from my car covered in fresh snow.

Wednesday afternoon, after I had shoveled out my driveway and my neighbor’s.

A neighbor attempting to negotiate the narrow path we cut to the street.

Some neighbors and I cut this path so we could get out late Wednesday.  No one showed up to plow the driveways until very early Friday morning.

Revisionist William Gibson

By lytspeed Posted in Reading, Writing Leave a reply

When I made yesterday’s entry, I intended to talk a bit about William Gibson‘s appearance at the Boulder Book Store last week. The reading took place in the large upstairs room of the store, which Gibson referred to as a “ballroom,” and the crowd had standing room only. I was fortunate enough to get there early since I work in Boulder, and I was rewarded with not only a good seat, but a low number for the book signing line.

Gibson read a chapter from his latest book, Pattern Recognition. Well, initially, I thought he was going to cough a chapter of it; something got hold of his throat and the water he drank to soothe it seemed to make the problem worse. Despite this, Gibson croaked on, and eventually he seemed to find his voice again. It was a bit surreal for a moment, more than a hundred of us sitting there silently listening to his amplified coughs reverberating through the store. I expected people to involuntarily clear their throats, but if anyone did, I didn’t hear it. There wasn’t much we could do, but it was an awkward moment in which I wanted to do something to help him, and didn’t.

The chapter was short, a bit shorter than the Q & A session afterward. I did manage to pose a question to him. The exchange went something like this (paraphrased, since I didn’t take notes):

SJ: You seem to have a talent for putting words together in unusual ways.  Are there any exercises you do to cultivate that talent?

WG:  Revision.  It’s all revision.  I write the drafts, then rework it until it’s right.  

That makes sense. Although I’m a big believer in revision, for some reason I continue to have the notion that Great Writers spew complete paragraphs forth, Zeus-like, from their heads. This personal myth is probably fueled by reports of Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury writing without revision, and surely, the more one writes, the easier it becomes to pre-form great sentences. But that’s no reason to expect that all successful writers write without revision; I’m glad Gibson reminded me that it’s not the case in his life. That makes me feel a little better about the level of his writing, too. It’s a bit more attainable now.

I haven’t read all of Pattern Recognition yet, but what I did read grabbed me. It’s Gibson’s first novel set in the present day, and it’s interesting how it still feels very much like a Gibson novel, despite the fact that no one has an input jack in his head and there are no major characters that are AIs. The evil international mega corporation backdrop is still there, but this time it takes the form of corporate branding á la Tommy Hilfiger. Heavy fragment use in writing, much like this sentence.

One notable difference is that September 11, 2001 plays a direct role in the development of the main character, Cayce Pollard. At his appearance, Gibson spoke at length about how he had completed 100 manuscript pages of the book before the attacks, and how the real world events utterly destroyed those pages of fiction. To be believable, Cayce Pollard had to be completely re-imagined as a result of the attacks, and the first 100 pages had to be re-written. He did so, and I think the revision contributed to the dark feel of the book. Reading this, I get the feeling it’s not such a big jump from Pattern Recognition to the shatterglass worlds of Neuromancer or Virtual Light.

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.