A Short Walk Up Negro Bill Canyon

We took Fergus for a short walk this afternoon up a very beautiful canyon about four miles from our house. Negro Bill Canyon is named after a mulatto settler who lived near the mouth of the canyon just after the Civil War, who went by the moniker "Nigger Bill". You occasionally still hear folks around here call it that, as that was it's official name until 20 or 30 years ago.

Negro Bill Canyon was once the site of a heated battle between environmentalists and motorized recreationalists. The Bureau of Land Management would close access to vehicles and the Grand County deep thinkers society would bring out a bulldozer and open it up again. Thankfully, it is closed to motorized recreation now and it is a beautiful walk. Our dogs have liked it because it always has flowing water, summer, winter, fall and spring. Fergus hasn't decided whether he likes water or not.

Say Hello to Fergus

This is Fergus. We got him at the Moab City Humane Shelter two days ago. He's two months old, give or take a few weeks.
He has already been housetrained, although in reverse. That is, as soon as walks into the house he takes a leak.
He's half lab and something else, yet to be determined, perhaps some kind of curly haired water dog, like a Springer or Terrier.
Fergus is our fourth dog and has a Scottish inspired name. He follows our Spanish named dogs, Cisco and Pancho, and our Irish named dog, O'Malley. Pancho had Cisco to help house train him, and Pancho house trained O'Malley but now we have to re-invent the wheel and remember how this is done.

That's All Folks

We're not very good travelers any more. Maybe we never were. Travel by airplane, however, is getting to be more and more stressful. We were strapped into our straight jackets in the transatlantic cattle car for the flight to Chicago and robotically chewing the plastic food hermetically sealed in cardboard boxes tossed on the tray tablettes. The airline was apparently short-staffed that day, so we helped them out by picking up our luggage and carrying it over to our next departure terminal for the flight to Denver. Customs was a mere formality. We did flash our passports a few times and of course walked barefoot from one very bored uniform to another, but they never once checked the back side of the required US Customs entry card listing all potential contraband items. I guess if you can carry it through Security, you can keep it.

Jet lag has subsided and we are no longer taking naps as frequently as newborns, so it is time to get to the point. We must bid good-bye to our audience.

The raison d'etre of this Blog was, as you may remember, to "Document the trials and tribulations....as they attempt to purchase and renovate a French "fixer-upper" in the foothills of the Pyrenees with new French power tools and a new language." Feel free to offer an evaluation: on a scale of 1 - 10 (1 being nowhere close, 10 being a real winner), how'd we do? I know my answer, but mum's the word until I hear some other responses. We really would like to hear from our readers, if any, who haven't yet commented. It would be nice to know who was reading and where they were from. This is your last chance.

Anyway, we're back in Moab and settling into our very non-French existence quite quickly. We're already plotting next year's return to Leran, but the Blog must rest. It's that simple. We'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone out there who has been either a faithful, occasional or one-time only reader; a special outpouring of gratitude to those who took the time to lift our spirits with Comment contributions or emails and let us know that 'somebody is out there listening'; and thanks for all the encouragement and nudging from many of you to keep the Blog going. All we can say is: We'll pass the baton on to you if you like. Yogi Berra said: "It ain't over 'til it's over". Well, it's been great.....but it's over.