Eric Sand

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Below is a collection of emails I received from Eric while he was living in Colorado.

   CLICK HERE  to view the pictures from his home in Colorado.

He has such an incredible writing style, I know you'll enjoy this!

From: Eric Sand [ess@jescoinc.com] Sent: Thursday, September 20, 2001 12:33 AM To: jason@stenvold.com Subject: Roosevelt National Forest

I woke up at 5:00 am this morning. Shushed the wild turkey off the deck and let the dogs outside as a light snow fell. I drove for 15 minutes down the mountain in 4 wheel drive all the way to the paved highway. 

By noon I was in a short sleeve shirt and sweating in the 85 degree weather. I came home after work and rode the 4-wheeler ATV to our homestead cabin in hopes to tear it down for safety reasons and to use it for this winter's firewood reserves since we got here so late in the season. I tore down the 2 room cabin using tow ropes and a 10,000 lb winch. I bent the handle on the winch but when the cabin came down it scared all the grouse in the area and the dogs went crazy as they flew away. Atticus chased a small fox on the way back to the house but didn't catch it. I fired up the wood-burning stove this evening as it grew a little chilly. 

There were so many billions of stars in the sky that it looked like someone had spilled glitter across a black canvas. When I was chopping what wood I had gathered for this winter's stockpile I broke the handle of my new axe. As I was picking up the wood I had chopped and was piling it up in the darkness, the dogs again went crazy and ran to the perimeter of the lighted area near the house, barking excitedly at the dark forest that surrounds our house like a lighted island in a vast ocean. 

I could only guess that they were barking at... maybe a skunk or fox or perhaps, but hopefully not a mountain lion. I know that if the dogs won't go beyond the lighted boundaries of the house to chase whatever it is they sense.. there is no need for me to be outside so I retreat inside with paranoid visions of a grizzly bear following closely behind. Thus ends a day on the mountain.

From: Eric Sand [ess@jescoinc.com] Sent: Friday, September 21, 2001 2:34 AM To: jason@stenvold.com Subject: More pics

Jason, This place truly is a gift from God. Up here in the atmosphere you really do become intimate with the weather and very conscious of your surroundings. When I'm hiking I keep one eye on the path (if there is one) and one eye open for predators. 

Predators!!!! and I'm not talking about some shady city character who wants my wallet because he's too lazy to work and just wants something for free. It really makes you think about things. bears and mountain lions don't want money or to be bad-ass mo-fo's. They're hungry and they want your flesh or they're scared and they want to get rid of you. Either way there's no neighbor's house or Super America or the safety of a car to run into. There isn't even cell phone coverage to call for help. 

Standing there in the forest, facing one of these beasts offers very little comfort of 'getting away'. They are far more familiar with hunting the land than I am and can out-climb, out-run, out-swim, and overpower me like a little baby. Which is how I'd act if I ever saw one. So what do I have in my favor? Opposable thumbs? A smarter brain? What, am I going to thumb wrestle the bastard or challenge it to a game of chess? Best 2 out of 5? Fat chance my friend.. I'm going to cry like my one year old son with a wet diaper and pray that I was back home in my comfortable house, surrounded by electricity, running water, CD's, high speed internet, dish washer, and automatic bread maker (the kind that can make 2 loaves at once by the way). 

Is this bear snorting, huffing and puffing and growling at me because he's hungry? Or maybe it's because I have a big ol' house in the middle of his mountain where I just generate garbage, pollute the water, bring glass and plastics, stinky vehicles, loud saws, and cut down trees to do it all. 

I even cut down trees in front of my house so I can get a better view of other trees. ...and I thought I was the one with the brain. Needless to say I haven't had an encounter with such a beast, but just in case I do I sometimes bring my handy-dandy can of 'bear pepper spray'! Please. 

Do I really deserver to live up here? I must remember that I am not merely living up here but sharing it with all that was here before me. It's my responsibility to preserve the forest for the sake of those animals who live, eat, sleep, and die here.. and for my son and his son's son. I know the bear may destroy me, but he will never destroy the forest. We had better be careful or we might destroy it all, including ourselves.

From: Eric Sand [ess@jescoinc.com] Sent: Wednesday, September 26, 2001 2:00 AM To: jason@stenvold.com Subject: Colorado

If you are heading out this way anytime, you have a place to stay here!!

I can’t decide if the fresh smell of pine trees is more prevalent in the warmth of the sun’s rays or in the cool wetness of fresh fallen rain. Each has it’s own peculiarities. You can almost feel the smell on your skin when the air is warm and you see the majestic pine trees all around you. Almost like standing in an oven that is baking the crisp aroma. 

The ground is not lush with dense, green Kentucky bluegrass however it seems that the quantity of the blades of grass is replaced with brown, fallen pine needles. The ground is covered so completely with a carpet of needles that one is nearly enticed to walk without shoes. Needles, pinecones, barren branches and rocks so isolated it seems like someone deliberately placed them there are all one sees under the canopy of the pine trees. 

Branches with green needles appear not to flourish until they are about 12 or 15 feet off the ground. One would think the trees are dead if you didn’t tilt your head and look upward at the tops of the trees. Growing up in Minnesota I could find as much green grass, bugs, worms, shrubs, flowers, and spiders in the first 2 feet of ground as I could want. Out here it seems that life doesn’t begin unless it’s 10 feet tall. 

That is unless you spot the young pine tree saplings. Only 1 to 3 feet tall, these little replicas of the giants could pass for the miniature Christmas tree my grandmother had in her spare bedroom that always seemed so lonely and struggled under the weight of only one strand of multi-colored lights and stood over small, empty boxes wrapped in faded wrapping paper, a December’s version of plastic fruit. As if a miniature Christmas tree wasn’t bad enough, miniature presents had to accompany its loneliness. 

Out here I look at the tiny tree and wonder if it will survive the winter or the competition for nutrients and water. Maybe it will be drowned out by other larger trees. Maybe it will fall victim to some tree disease. Maybe I’ll drive over it with my 4-wheeler. If it does survive I will later thank it for the wonderful smell it contributes to that roams throughout the canyon and beyond. Wet or dry the smell makes me smile and be thankful for God’s love of this land.