Cowboys, dogs, and dirtbikers: visitors to Monkey Valley
Privacy is something I savor, and my need for it is probably stronger than most peoples’. 
It is amazing to me how often my privacy has been impinged upon at Monkey Valley. One time I was skinny dipping in the creek, as I described in another posting. What I didn’t mention was that as soon as I got out, buck naked except for my shoes, an airplane flew low overhead, directly above where I was standing with water dripping off me. I yelled out “Give me some fucking privacy, you assholes!” but they probably didn’t hear me.
Another time I was down at the medicine wheel, doing the sacred ceremony of walking the wheel, when I heard an engine. This is not uncommon, as there is a campground a couple miles away, as the crow flies, and campers sometimes bring their dirt bikes and explore the logging roads around Monkey Valley. But this sounded closer at hand. I looked up, and sure enough, there was someone on a dirt bike driving on the old dirt road on the other side of the creek.
I yelled “Get off my land!” but the rider didn’t hear. So I ran up the valley towards the house, big stick in hand, prepared to confront the trespasser. But I guess that once he came to the part of the road that offers a view of the house across the valley he realized he was trespassing at someone’s home, and he turned around and left. It was so strange to watch this happening while the trespasser was completely unaware of my presence.
I went to inspect the part of the fence where the biker came through. There were No Trespassing signs on either side of a new barbed wire gate that some loggers had put in after cutting the fence open for access. Note to self: Put lock on gate. I did, and to my knowledge there haven’t been any vehicular trespassers on my land since then.