Cakewalk are gearing up for the future, first compiling a 64-bit version of Sonar and now releasing their first cross-platform product. Could it have anything to do with the fact that Apple are turning to Intel chips and that we end users may finally be seeing a harmonic convergence at the end of the tunnel? I don't know about that, but Cakewalk have stuck a toe into a bi-platform future — for their synths anyway — starting with Dimension Pro. The original Dimension was one of the synths included with the second incarnation of Cakewalk's Project 5 loop sequencer; for an overview, see Sound On Sound 's Project 5 review. Although Dimension was anything but 'unprofessional', Dimension Pro expands the sample set included with the synth, and comes on two DVDs to pack the incorporated samples, which total 7 gigabytes.
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I hear 3 whistles clearly and see the contingent across the way running around in a Chinese fire drill. Something is up with Mark, so we jump onto the boat and I get ready to rescue, untieing the leash and poised at the oars. Mark appears riding his boat, upside down, like a bucking bronco, headed right into lower Lava. I pull hard out and try to catch him, but the trajectory is not correct and he slips by into the maelstrom of boils and waves pushing off the wall on the left. I follow, and admonish him to hang on, and he does. We connect at the bottom and I try to pull him out of the main current, but he is heavy, his load immersed in the water, being dragged on by its whims. I finally give up trying to get him into an eddy, and follow the main stream linked up with Mark. We drift by Pete and the motor boaters, and he sees the problem and pulls out with several 6ers of beer on his deck. We join up downstream and find a big eddy. Mark and I try to flip his boat, but it is flaccid, deflated because the main tubes are underwater and deflated.
If the front-panel controls don't provide enough control, you can always use a text editor to change or make Dimension Pro 's SFZ files. An SFZ file formats a sample or multisample; at the most basic level, it defines the key assignments for a set of multisamples, but you can also set up LFOs and EGs, MIDI control, crossfades and pages of other parameters. There is a free editor, but even Notepad will work. However, there is no visual editor planned, and there probably couldn't be until the opcodes are finalised — the format is still evolving. René Ceballos, creator of Dimension (https://dkluchezar.ru/hack/?patch=3977) and the Z3TA synth, designed SFZ as an open format and is still adding features. Unfortunately, there is no single place you can go to get the full scoop on SFZ.
Marilyn arrives, always doing her thing and catching up in due time. She wants to continue on, and I join her, trying to find the mythical side canyon with the waterfall. The map isn't much help, there are a million bends in the canyon and each one looks like the last before the canyon. The canyon is narrrower now and choked with house-sized boulders with a steep gradient. This must be a great rapid during the flash floods, I wonder if anyone has ever run this one! We meet up with Pete, BC and KK descending and it is another 1/2 mile to the canyon, and I am out of steam. They tell tales of "Whispering falls" in a grotto with hanging gardens. Been there, done that, Marilyn and I turn and head down, resting with Walter at his spot, then carrying on down the canyon many weary miles to camp.
I luxuriate around camp and let Marilyn forge the path to the others. I arrive ready for a day of it, the sock is ready and so are we. After a quick bkfst, sitting around planning the day, it is time for a powerbar. George is upset, he wants to go several miles down to Olo and camp away from the rattlers, but he is outvoted by me. This is the major layover we planned, and an unknown canyon awaits us, with rumors of grottos and waterfalls lying upstream. The only rattler is safely curled away for the day under a tammie trunk next to the trail to the sleeping places, and as long as we don't bother him, he won't bother us.
Loading the correct preset in the control panel of your hardware controller/surface. Your controller/surface should have a factory preset that is designed for controlling software applications.
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The kids are in the bushes doing something and people finally drift back from the hike. We dig around and find the bomblets of propane and set up my stove ready to cook. Not much lost with Pete's passing, the main propane bomb we were using. John is upset, grumbling about banning Pete from future trips. SNAFU systems say this is unneccessary, but there you go, people are people and they have their reactions. We rustle up a good feed and I manufacture the Sockdolager punch, without alcohol. The bottle marked "X" that has resided in the Therapy box the whole trip is broken out now, containing the Everclear that Brian donated.
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We kick back and take a short hike up to the gates of the gorge, black towering walls of basalt broken in vertical columns and there's gotta be trout in there. I rig up and catch one at the mouth and head upstream in search of the big one. I get to the group at the gates and hang for a while, plying the current with various lure, finally hooking one small one. I surmise thats the general size we are going to find, and keep it. Down at the mouth again I catch another one. Marilyn approaches, struggling in the water and it seems she wants to go. So we are off, again into the fray, Tapeats Rapid and past Helicopter eddy, where boats get stranded at high water and destroyed.
Lookin' for a camp, the lower ledges is taken by a large commercial group, and we push on, scanning the banks for home. No camps noted along here in Stevens' guidebook, but Andy and I spot a long grassy bar on the left with some overhangs and sandy spots.
Scare the crap out of us to ask directions in the canyon! They can find people by flying along the canyon, they don't need to ask us! We tie down the last of the loads and drag our boats across the sand bar and out into the rapid, running a rocky slalom on the right to get into the waves, coasting the 1/2 mile to the bottom in minutes.
Now the final leg to the loading ramp at the ferry. It is mayhem there, with another private trip rigging as well and several commericials, one blaring loud rock and roll. I introduce myself to Mary, TL of the other trip, and set up a dialog to avoid each other. We try to organize loads, Mark and I take the drop bag frames, they have agreat aluminum hatch, and I have to alter my frame in order to take it, hammering off one of TD's carefully welded seat brackets. It fits great, but there is no forward D ring to tie it to. BC and I rig a double strap under the boat to secure it and it looks and feels good. Donnie gives an orientation to the food and the river. We have problmes, and George sure is not afraid to jump into a problem and solve it, he is a rescuer, military background, valuable attribute to have in the canyon.
John is recuiting pumpers and carriers for the full 5-gallon water jugs. Andy and I share one and find one lying in the wash, Becka had dropped hers. Andy carries it on his shoulder a ways and then leaves it for someone else to finish off its journey. We cool off in the river, now an almost comfortable 56 degrees. We drink more of Marith's find and comfortably numb, we head off to Cove. Pete is leading, with the beer supply, and I tell him not to miss camp. He has a map, but it is questionable he can read it. I send George with him as a safeguard. We don't want to miss this camp, a great one, for the night before Lava.
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KK has thrown the duckie from a ledge and then jumped into it. Great idea, and now I know another thing that sounds like a bursted tube. Thank god, we sigh and slide down the grassy gulch to the impossible knot where the boats are all tied together. We get untangled and drift one by one out into the current, Deer Creek bound.
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Approaching Bass camp, we can see the metal boat from the film crew that Bass used high on the left bank, then we pass Bass, Mary's group's target for camp, and then pull into the mouth of Shinimo, and row upstream in a slot canyon of gneiss, to an anchorage at the first falls. I go back and post a sign for the rest and then make way upstream over smooth, waterpolished slabs to the thundering falls. It is another shitty day in paradise all over again, out of the sun's relentless rays, tucked into a grotto of green maidenhairs and moss, reveling in the cool of the rushing water. We dive under the falls, climb into the caves, and the thinner of us squeeze through the hole up to the top, jumping off of the high ledge into the crystal pool below. I have the mask and snorkle, and spend time marveling at the beauty of rocks and palpitating light patterns on the bottom. A few trout swim deep, not big enuf to get the rod. The others arrive, Marith mellow, but still upset about the long time before lunch. I gave her a charge of gatorade, so shes doing better now, able to hold off for a late lunch. We repair to the boats and set up the lunch table under a nice overhang, out of the relentless glare. Chicken salad, fruit, which is going bad fast, and a large cooler of gatorade.
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In any case, you need to enable the driver that the manufacturer recommends. The command to enable a MIDI input driver in SONAR is Edit > Preferences > MIDI | Devices. This opens the MIDI Devices Preferences. Here, you will need to enable input drivers by checking the ones you want to use in the Inputs section of the dialog, then clicking Apply. Note that if a driver becomes unchecked after clicking apply, then it is either not properly installed, or not installed at all.
To display the ACT MIDI Controller plug-in property page, use the Utilities > ACT MIDI Controller command. Once you have the ACT MIDI Controller property page open, select the name of your controller/surface in the Presets window. If your controller/surface is not listed, type a name in the Presets window for now, and click the floppy disk/Save button. You can configure this property page later. After you figure out what factory preset to use, make sure it is loaded into your hardware controller/surface at the beginning of each session.
Time for lunch, and we repair to an overhang in the cliff; shelter from the fall's spray, munching on great sandwiches and pickles and cookies, yum. John is pumping downstream in the clear stream, the Katdyn filter giving us the staff of life, clean water. I bypass the task to the boats and gather together goods for the hike into the Deer Creek gorge.
The coffee is going at first light, Walter up with his Peet's and making delicious supplement to the pot of cowboy coffee made with the REO brew. A long process, 2 hours to get bkfst and then pack and tie down and off on the rio.
Shadows on the river, cool at last with the rapid evaporation from the river air conditioning to 4' above water level. We drift through higher vertical walls, black gneiss here, criss-crossed with granite dikes arranged like a spiderweb etched into the cliff. Really the gneiss came first and the granite later, but here there are several sets of dikes, the younger ones cutting the older ones breaking the cliff up into a mozaic of black gneiss laced with veins of red granite. We admire the art of the rock and forget that we are in a natural canyon, not an art gallery.
Click OK to close the Controller/Surface Settings dialog, and click Apply to save the changes in Preferences. Click Close to exit the Preferences dialog.
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We arrive to find Bill rescuing his tent which had blown about 50 meters across the debris flow. Marilyn's tent is lying in a shambles with poles stickingout every which way. We set it up again and all is recovered. Back at camp, BC tells his story of setting up the tent on a nice little ledge above the river, weighed down by his bag,and some rocks, only to see it heading downstream after a 50 mph gust ripped through camp. Blue had warned us about this one, but there we are. George had watched the water being blown vertically back up the lower falls, and had run back to camp and knocked all the tents over to save them. BCs was already running the rapid when he got back. The tent has a big rip in the floor, and he is missing a small bag with his wallet and meds in it, but all is recovered, including the microcassette player. I make up some Godka, and Pete is after some like flies on shit.
The roar of Waltenberg rapid greets us around the corner, and we are set for another rollicking ride. I have been lax in preparing for big water after Crystal, because there is very little danger downstream. This is party time on the boats, time to relax after the tension of the big water of the inner gorge. I tie a few loose things down, and we plunge forward, Marith putting her muscled body hard into her strokes, and moving us along with equal force to the oars. We roll around, slipping past the holes, and bouncing through the tailwaves, laboring through the boils and eddys below and emerging into a different canyon, with the gneiss lowered almost to river level. The motor boaters are camped downstream and our group got the camp upstream, tied into the slick gneiss and polished granite. We beach and unload and prepare ourselves for the evening.
What's more, with this many presets to choose from, you're bound to find something that fits the bill. Sound designers will have great fun subjecting the samples to all that synthesis power.
I can see the ledges of the Indian village above and we land at the head of the bar above South Canyon. A short scramble through the tammies and along some ledges and we are cruising along the ledge, with a great view up and down river, a great place to live for the Anasazi. I find the petroglyphs, some shards of pottery and a few foundations. No hidden split twig figurines around, Clair showed me where one was under a rock in the middle of the Petroglyph boulder. I remember Brad in his disheveled Indian headress, weaving a split twig figurine in front of an adoring crowd, carrying on with the Anasazi story. Everyone is impressed, and I point up high to the caves and the skeleton, and KK and crew are off scrambling up a gulley, as I stay down with Marilyn, Bill and some others, slab along and up into South canyon for a scenic vista, clinging to a thin ledge. We can see the boats below, the golden SNAFU flag waving proudly in the breeze. We clamber down the main cleft to the flash flood scar that went upstream, or did the river carve a channel out going downstream? Oh well, things are strange in the canyon.
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Ninety eight mile canyon with its monster eddy on the left goes by and we see the shadows of Hermit Creek on the left. I am hoping to camp there, and peer anxiously through the binocs to see if anyone is there. I see 2 people on the shore and say "Shit", but then there are no boats, so these must be hikers. I check out the camp and find a nice stairway up to the main camp, and we move in with a human chain moving the kitchen and duffel up to the flat. I explore for a camp and find a beauty across the stream, past a patch of datura blossoms just opening up. We can hear the rapid, Hermit of the big waves, next door, and it is hot. The rocks here soak up the sun during the day, and release it slowly at night, so the temp is 80 at the lowest. The creek is bubbling and after dinner Marilyn and I hike through some brush and find a nice pool, replete with shampoo and bucket so we take a thorough shower in the warm water, and cruise to our nest with the stars tinkling above the frame of cliffs.
On down the line to camp, still fishless, but ready to party. People coming back from the hike, Marilyn is running along the trail, she moves fast, and can climb anywhere I can, going strong. We eat well, and drink a lot of wine, making a sizable dent in Peter's wine supply. The dories people had a passenger who brought wine in steel minikegs, they dont get air in to oxidize the stuff.
We are settling down to another awesome meal, when an old man with a cane and a bag of ice-cold beer and pop shows up. It is Robert Weimer, coming to say hi to John and Marith. It is almost dark, so he doesn't stay long, but we are all impressed that he came the rough 1/2 mile just to greet old friends.
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Up with the first light on the tops of the cliffs downstream. George finds my last happy package and fuzzes it off to be funny. I get pissed and tell him hes being an asshole, and it doesnt seem to sink in. Walter and I have the coffee routine down. I boil a big pot of water, he makes the Peet's into his thermos, and I make cowboy coffee in the blue coffee pot. I get a first cup of Peets and then follow with the cowboy until it is gone. I pack up with the stereo sounding the Goldberg variations, and the Montreaux band, a great set of background to get the day moving. Heather is moving slow and I see her crying, and we try to comfort her, Marilyn brings her some anti-anxiety pills and she seems better as we take off. She puts on the wetsuit to be warm and gets on Pete's boat, the biggest one, for the trip downstream. No big rapids today, just a cruise down the long corridors around Pt. Hansborough to Saddle canyon, looks like amellow day.
We arrive to find Mark rustling up dinner and Pete finished with all the hot water for the shower. He has a great setup with 4 oars set through holes in one of his frame plywood pieces, and a big hole in the middle for the sunshower nozzles. I bath in the ice cold river and make the scene at camp, weary and satisfied with our accomplishments. It is still hot, and we sit around after dinner and sing with Marith and finally head off to our camp to sleep with the roar of the rapids in our ears.
Diamond Creek takeout materializes with its lining of shady spots and officialdom laid out on tables. We have been warned about their groover, very ungroovy, and can nose them as we approach. Pete is there, big as life, with his boat almost derigged. We start in the labor, trying to organize our stuff into as few containers as possible. The others arrive and we start piling the stuff higher. I scour the coolers and boxes and get as much food as possible into one cooler, to be transferred to my cooler in Flagstaff. The Canyon REO dudes show up with mondo trailers and Bill drives Mark's truck out onto the bar. Great, another logistical problem solved. We are all here, with all the equipment. Marith has rescued the flag that I left in the bushes at Pumpkin spring, and we display that, and add to the pile.
On down, and the tension mounts, we are fighting an upstream wind coming down on the camp on the left, and it is a piece of shit, rocky, windy, sunny blast, and I look downstream and see that the right camp is abandoned by the field party, we beat it down there in the face of a phalanx of motorboaters, talking on the cbs, trying to beat them out. They are headed for the LC anyway, so we get the sandy beach camp. It is still hot in the sun, so I dive into the water, forgetting that I have the microcassette recorder in my pocket, shit, I am out of the water like a shot, taking the thing out of my pocket, and Marilyn opens it up and puts it on a hot rock to drive off the moisture, and we derig the tape and set it out to dry also. Argh, how stupid, short-term memory loss and all that. We go off on an outstanding hike up a small canyon in the Tapeats, now dominating the shore with brown flaggy outcrops. A stroll up the canyon, then a short scramble up some ledges, and then out into the open again along a twisting narrow channel cut the the Bright Angel shale, and beautiful striped ledgey slopes and curved walls. We get to an impassible fall, and back down to where a rough trail leads up asteep loose slope to where we can traverse over to a ridge and then ridge cruise to a great spot overlooking the LC and kick back for a while, reveling in the warm breeze. I pose and take a timed picture of us sitting on the ridge, with the Redwall soaring behind us. We follow a well-beaten path down back into the canyon and back to camp.
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Marith guides us across the high road cliff on an easy rock climb with about 100 feet of exposure. Marilyn does great, a tribute to her having conquered her fear of heights. We slither and slide over the boulders back to the boats and I break out the emergency rehydrating salts from my ammo can, a special blend designed to rehydrate victims of acute dehydration. It tastes awful, like salt and other chemicals, but we pound it down to the very last drop, passing the jug around, and immediatly feel better, ready for another go at the river. Marith rides with us, and BC says, "Dont wait for me, I'll be along in a bit". My envy goes out to him, alone in a kayak in the canyon, a great feeleing of independence, and confidence. But Waltenburg rapid is downstream with a lurking hole or two, should be fairly easy to do at this level, but solo means taking a chance. BC has kayaked the canyon 7 times, so he knows what the odds are, so we drift off, suddenly accelerating into the rapid below and being swallowed by the vast landscape.
We pass the cooling spots of the day, and then over the cliff down to the river and to Mondell's camp. He is rustling up dinner on a great Hatch kitchen setup, and we talk of the river and the day. Someone brought the microcassette player to him, and one of our people took it back to camp. The big news is that their second boatman was sitting on their big motor rig and looked up stream to see a tent running Dubendorff rapid! He fired up the rig and went out and pulled it out of the water and rescued a waterproof bag full of gear. It belonged to BC, and blew into the river from the wind. We talk some more, but he is getting dinner on, and we are anxious to see what other damage the wind has wreaked on our camp.
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Peter is sprawled out in mid kitchen, he was sleeping on his boat and was awakened suddenly by a pull on his bowline and freaked out. John walks by him and mutters, "Homeless, they're everywhere", and Pete doesn't stir. Coffee scene brewing, and a quick bkfst to get us on early. We have a long way to go, to mile 114 camp, and Hermit and Crystal right off the bat. KK and Becka are wet-suited up, two life jackets apiece, ready to swim the big ones. I have done this several times and now my son is up to the challenge.
Pulling the filter down a little to remove some highs and using the bit reduction/decimator knobs recreated the sound of the 12-bit FM synth used in the original. It sounded better, but not too much better, since it blended into the lo-fi aesthetic of the Casio cassette recording, and it took all of a couple of minutes to accomplish. Not your typical job, but it does show the flexibility of the control panel. You can, of course, go wild with 10 EGs and LFOs per Element and all the effects and spend a whole lot of time designing all four Elements, but you don't have to in order to achieve good results. The only feature I missed was keyboard portamento, although one can program that in via SFZ.
I pull very hard, perfect right ferry angle into the slick water behind the big rock and out into the fray. The waves are huge, and threaten to slap me off course, kill my ferry angle and send me crashing into the graveyard below. But I pull harder, straining muscles to the utmost, and Marilyn paddles hard, and then I see a sneak in the mayhem below, a thread of clear water and waves devoid of holes or rocks. I let go and we slide down a glistening thin tongue and into some crasher waves, but we pop out and I can see the monster killer hole snapping and growling below. Now back to the left, breathing hard from the exertion, a left ferry in 5-10 foot waves, rowing with care and all my strength, back away from the danger. I realize that we are clear of the hole and let out a scream of joy, drifting through the big stuff down below, trying to catch the right eddy, but to no avail, drifting down below to the eddy on the right, where we bail, then traverse across to the great unconformity, Hotauta conglomerate sitting on the gneiss.
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Now all my energy is focused on the path leading over the edge, I still can't see the target wave, but know where it is based on a rock on shore above. Now the slope of the water breaks and the rapid is in full view, and I crank left a few more mondo strokes, and watch as the differential equations of flow, momentum and velocity come to a crashing solution as I back into the side-curler. It has its desired effect, stopping the left momentum dead, and swinging the bow into perfect postion for the first wave. It is an wild wave, a jet swinging back and forth at the crest, but it opens as I enter and we slide through. Now another monster and we climb, climb until all I can see is sky, then crashing through the crest, and down into the depths of the next trough. Another monster to come, with the same result and we are screaming our relief at the river gods, working our way right into the recovery eddy and to shore where black logs of columnar basalt litter the beach.
We peel out and set off for great rapids, the roaring 20s long known as sporty tough and tricky, they will be an easy run at 20 k and we know all the obvious bad spots, which can be avoided easily. We run 24 mile rapid, no problem, concentrating on getting left at 24 1/2 mile to avoid Bert Loper's hole, a sure flipper. I watch as the boats dissappear around the corner one by one, and see Bill get a big ride on a wave and I adjust my path so I don't have to deal with that one. It is a rush into the rapid, waves thrashing and the big hole snapping and growling safely off to the right. I am just playing with the waves in the lower part when I hear 3 whistles and look off to the left and there is Walter and Andy with an upside down boat in an eddy. They must have taken the hole on purpose, so easy to miss, and there they are, in need of assistance. Heather is horrified, "Oh Shit" she moans, but I try to assure her that both people are ok and it is no problem. I catch an eddy and work my way back up to them and help right the boat and all is still attached. Walter is very excited, Andy blown away, no problem, but Heather is obviously effected, this is a danger sign for her. I explain that he did it on purpose and there was no harm done, and now we see that flipping is no big deal.
We slide smoothly into the mouth of the lower middle Granite gorge, pink Zoroaster walls juttimg up to the sky. The others have pulled over into the Christmas Tree cave and we follow suit. After a complicated tie in and struggle up the steep gully, we emerge into the huge cave, collapsed under the foliation and several dikes of Zoroaster holding up the ceilng. I take a picture of the Christmas tree formation and then marvel at the cave's formation and size as the kids scale the walls, hanging from the ledges and generally providing great entertainment.
This step is optional if your controller/surface has a preset in the ACT MIDI Controller property page (not optional if your controller/surface doesn’t have a preset): Mapping knobs and sliders on your controller/surface to cells in the ACT MIDI Controller property page. This is the MIDI Learn function, and is different from the ACT Learn function in the next step. The preset you chose in step 4 provides default MIDI Learn mappings, which you can use or change. If you change them, save them as a preset in the Presets window. Note: If your controller/surface doesn’t have an ACT MIDI Controller preset, How to Create ACT MIDI Controller Presets shows you how to create one.
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We scale some cliffs and are back on the trail again, in the creek. Pete lies down in the creek and finds some pink roots of a plant and puts them over his head like pink hair. We all go crazy with laughter and glee. I take a picture and "I'm glad I'm here becomes the theme song of the day. We are closing in on the ultimate slot canyon, up ahead the cliffs are closing in. I hear a shout and look high up in a cave on the left and there is King KK, sitting on a throne, surveying his domain. Finally I close in on the final steps up over the boulder and into a slot grotto, 20 feet wide and 500 feet straight up on the sides to overhanging cliffs of Shinumo and Tapeats. The falls is a steep cascade which has carved a funnel on the rock of the cliff. It is full of people from other trips, so we wait them out, and soon they are gone. The sun bathes the slot for only about 1 hour of the day and as soon as they leave, it hits the creek and we are warm and toasty. We munch some of John's power bar and cruise up into the falls.
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Still no fish, but a skyful of stars and spectacular cliffs. The skyline in the dark is a great jagged saw of peaks and canyons, a new world to be surrounded by this. I fantasize of having a profile like this on my bedroom wall, so when I wake up its like being in the canyon. We drift off with the swish of the eddy and a far-off note of white noise from the rapid at the mouth of Saddle.
Another shitty day in paradise, and this one for the first time in more than a week we don't have to pack up, load up tie down, all we gotta do is play, hike Stone and do all the other things one does with a free day in the Canyon. It takes a while to get lunch packed and organize people for the day. I am out on my boat, getting set, and a Hatch trip comes down, and I see Mondell's blonde ponytail flaming at the helm of number 14, I yell at him and he says "see you down below". Shit I missed him, but soon George comes up and says he is camped below with his group and is doing a day up Stone also, great, we will interact. I step it up and leave camp ahead of the others, to make a visitation. The other private trip is slowly getting ready to cruise, their debris still scattered around the camp. Mondell has moved in on them, and his passengers are setting up camp. We have the strong greeting of old friends on the river, the brotherhood of boatmen, of meeting fear during the high water of '83 when we spent 14 days on the rio together with an excerinque crew, at 70,000 cfs. I met Mike on that trip, and Mondell and I talk about old times, I introduce him to KK, who is impressed. I meet his passengers, a group of alums from Colorado school of mines, all geologists, oil types, with their families.
We sense it is time to head down the rio, so commence the long walk back to the boats. John is there waiting, he is still hurting from his burn, but seems to be feeling better. Aloe vera ointment has taken most of the redness away and the pain is gone. We cast off and prepare for the entrance into Phantom.
Flying downstream, we drift the long corridors leading to "lower Marble" as I call it, the same stratigraphy as in Marble canyon, with the Muav at river level, and the towering cliffs of Redwall, Supai up to the Kaibab above us all. I am worried about Pete and George, they headed out before us, looking for Kanab Creek. We find them tucked in at the river landing, and Pete says there is a better camp up stream and carries me there to check it out. Other parties have slashed a small camp out of the tammies, and I am not impressed, but soon am very impressed by a narrow trail that leads to an expansive sand bar with many great sleeping places. We make the decision to camp here and tie back some more tammies to honor Martin Litton, who used to burn them at every opportunity. It is getting dark fast, but chef Mark is set, and we bbq pork chops, cook a mountain of food, and I fry up the trouts for appetizers. We are exhausted, and Marilyn and I find a remote camp half way down the bar away from snake country and I spread out the tarp. She gets lost coming back in the dark, and I guide her back to the trail. Back at camp, someone has found a rattler, and all attention is focused on this rascal, tucked away under a tammie trunk. George is freaked, "we have to move camp" he insists, but cooler heads prevail, after all this is our planned second layover camp, and it is a dandy one, close at hand to the mighty mysterious Kanab Creek canyon.
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Individual Elements can be switched off, but be aware that this can silence the whole program, since there is an 'Element chain' which allows you to pass the output of one Element to the next Element's effects unit, saving CPU cycles. Of course, if you turn off the last Element, everything chained to it disappears.
This is a true story, and the names have not been changed to protect the innocent (and guilty) so go to it! It takes a while to download, but is well worth the effort for the reality of a private river trip down grand canyon.
Up with the first light glowing on the rim, the quiet coffee time and then the gradual change to scarfing bkfst, sitting in chairs, looking at the developing beauty. Rig to flip is the byword, and we all take our work seriously, I even tie the flagpole down securely, no hope of it surviving in a flip, but it'll look great in the video as we enter. People are quiet, more tense than before, but we keep telling Lava stories and fueling our strength. I pass out the last of the powerbars, one to each boatman, and a few left over for the others.
We beach at a narrow cliff and Mark tells his story again and again in detail. He hadn't been oriented correctly at the left hole, and it flipped him slickern' owl snot. We forge on looking for a shady lunch spot, and soon are stretched out over 2 miles of river. We drift quietly, and are really getting hungry when we see Marith, Pete and Andy in the shade of a basalt overhang, and they motion us over. Soon we are smoking my cigar, and drinking Pete's beer. Cooler heads prevail and we head downstream to find the rest. They are just around the corner, I would have drifted by if someone hadn't cleared their throat. More beer from Marith's stash, and we are crankin' at lunch. The stories flow, each to tell their own, until Pete cranks up and starts describing his run as if he were screwing, very explicitly.
After a group photo in front of a pile of rafts it is getting very hot, so we rapidly throw stuff on the trailers and are out of there. Pete and Mark lead the way to a great pond and we have greasy fried chicken and all kinds of cold pop and beer for lunch. Then we say farewells to Pete, Mark and Becka, John keeping as far from Pete, and BC and Walter keeping as far from George as possible. The long trip home to Flag, we finally arrive at the vehicles and the trailer gets hitched and I back up next to REO's rig with George flipping out because I ran the end of the trailer over his gear.
We head out into the monster eddy one by one and hesitate on the right at the hanging garden and waterfall contained in a sheath of travertine, listen to the trickle and admire the green patch of maidenhair ferns dripping with wet in the desert-dry wall. The monster calcite crystals are still lurking in cavities above the fall, flashing in the light.
The last act is to secure the flag by sending it down through the cargo net and along the tube. It flies gaily, yellow square, tied to a tent pole with the word "SNAFU" and a great rendering of the Kokopelli figure of the hunchbacked flute player, our icon for the trip. Heather and Brian fixed this flag for us.
Is a vibrant youthful soul, at 24 a free spirit with an engineering degree from Colorado, and a job as ski instructor at Breckenridge, living the life he wants, roaming the west with camera in hand, capturing the best images of wild lands. The younger son, Johnnie is a sophomore at Colorado, a computer whiz, and rollerblade hotshot. He is quiet and somewhat shy, but ready for anything that comes.
Up early to the lightening of the sky and the touch of red on the rims surrounding us. An easy day ahead, canyon exploration and easy rapids, and the duckie is unfurled, KK is in it and off down the river. Mark cooks a scrumptous long bkfst, and we pack it up and move it down to the boats. The labor of the morning pack session is getting to me, bending, stooping, but Marilyn and KK are helping and BC is tying down the front load, making things easier. I look forward to laying over at Stone tomorrow, recalling a great beach and beautiful view far downstream.
We all agree "its a beautiful day to die" and one by one with hearts beating fast pull out in to the current. It is a strange community above the rapid, slow current in a pool. We drift together, talking of the rapid and other things that take our mind off the danger ahead. Then one by one we dissappear over the edge reappearing far away travelling at light speed. Pete takes one of the small holes and ends up right of the monsters. I fight for position, but the current is pushing left much stronger than I thought. I aim right of the small hole, but a side current pushes me left and before I realize, I am crashing into the hole, filling up with water and riding the current below, taking me much too far left. A world of water rises before me and I realize we are going to go over one of the monster waves, at an angle. I jerk suddenly on the right oar and the boat comes sluggishly around in the nanno seconds before we hit the steep top and miraculously break through. Shit, more biggies below, but we have slid off the side of monster 1 and are full of water, so we slosh through, and soon are laboring right at the bottom, avoiding the potato patch of rocks on the left down there.
I get the fishing pole and start tossing the jointed rapala into the mouth of the side channel and immediately start pulling in all kinds of trout, one hit per cast, and a big 3-pounder, all released. BC kept the one I got at Silver grotto, so we have a trout for this evening. People troop down off the ledges with a little conch prodding, and we are again on the rio, a short float down to Vasey's Paradise.
We agree that the clouds are collecting and head down, spending time at the hand imprints, taking pictures of Marilyn jogging the trail through the canyon. I make a note to bring my climbing rope next time because I can see the route down into the slot gorge below. At the overlook, we burst onto the canyon scene with rolling thunder clouds, and threatening winds. We face the gale and head down to the boats, pushing off one by one into the racing current, with a downstream wind, blowing us down current. Thunder rolls, lightening flashes and I crank up the volume on the stereo with Jackson Browne "Thunder and rain" echoing in the canyon as we race past all the camps, Mondell with his folks, and other commercials, wondering who are those crazys playing music and screamng down the river at this late hour. KK is in the duckie, enjoying the great canyon from a miniscule perspective.
A long day ahead, we rise early and follow the routine, Peet's followed by cowboy coffee. It is obvious now we have too much coffee, like Powell it was the only thing they had left. But we have plenty of food, having to throw out mounds by the day, but better too much than too little down here. We peel out into the quiet current, Marith lagging in the duckie, keeping tabs on the late boats. We gain National, and are alone in our trek up the broad flash-flooded mouth and into the narrows. We spend a great cool time tucked into the grotto with water sprinkling all around, diamond crystals in the sunlight, and awestruck gazes and slowly getting in touch with the exquisite beauty of it all. My poster of Donna Cattoti's hangs at home a reminder of this place and our mutual great friend Pat, who passed on in the Vegas airport after the 2nd dories trip. Anurism, unforseen, and deadly, on top of a perfect canyon journey, what a way to go out.
The problem is obvious; you have to enter the tongue on the left, with a severe downstream right ferry angle, cut all the way across the tongue in a big momentum move on a catwalk above hell, and then hit the "Big wave" as far right as possible without going on the rocks. Any way to the left the wave will surf you right into the clutches of the big hole which now looks like 3 big cresting holes in a row. John is doing video, so we arrange our order and I lead off, shaking hands all around and agreeing "its a beautiful day to die". Marilyn is wet- suited up, and we drift slowly, down the interminable millpond above the thrashing white monsters below.
It gets dark and the real fun starts, great happy stuff fuzzing our vision. We finally settle down, the kids off to bed and the older set still partying. We even get a complaint that we are being too loud, the tables turned. Marith sings and we all join in, glad to be ABL, Alive below Lava. I have set the bedding up right next to the boats and the water and we drift off staring at the waxing moon with one full day left and then takeout.
On to Kingman, and a store stop, lunch and then the long climb to Flag. We get altered and play desert music as we climb. The sage goes by and we don't find any high on the plateau but we stop and get firewood and continue on into the afternoon. We pull into Flag and it is a mess, crowded with tourists. Not finding Stabile at his motel, we go on to Hubbard's and find both Terrys very friendly and receptive, opening their great house and yard to us. We dump the trailer and kick back, making camp in the yard, and taking care of details, fixing frames, packing last minute stuff. I set up my office on the roller table, and soon have the computer humming with agenda for tmws meeting. I set appts with Melville and Michael Collier for tmw and get set for action. The monsoons are here early, with thunderstorms and clouds, wind and cool on the plateau. This is fine, it will be much cooler down there in the ditch. Stabiles show up, Bill, John and Andy, and Pete and Mark and Becca are already there.
It has a nice ring, so I say out loud "Hubris", drawing it out into a canyon yell, and it echos off the walls and feels very good. I try it again "Heeeeeuuuuuuwwwwwbbrissssssss" at top volume, with great gonging echos feeding on the walls and running into and across each other until they tail out.
I want him to give her valium now, but he needs to follow protocol, get her a streacher, this takes another 15 minutes, and then she starts cramping up as we transport her to the chopper. Mark holds her on the stretcher in the chopper, talking to her and trying to sooth her fears. The EMT tries to get an iv going, but her veins are so tight and she is screaming she's going to die, and finally the iv pops out, the EMT after several tries finally gets the injection ready and in it goes. Immediate relax, but she is still far a way mentally, We take their packs, the helicopter can't take the two of them and the packs also, and I kiss Heather and tell her I love her, and hug Brian and then they are off, and suddenly all is silent and they are gone. Two guys from Mary's trip come over onto the bar and offer to help, but we are done, off to the coast where the rest are waiting. We trade gear, some was left on the beach as we left fast. Walter says, "Let's go down to Carbon creek and call it a day" I agree and soon we are rowing up the LC, against a slow current. Marilyn and I swim as the boat floats down. I rig the rope ladder, and we climb on board as we drift off to the mouth, past several motor rigs and Mary's boats on our way out to the main stream after conversations with the boatmen hiding in the shade of a Tapeats ledge. They sympathize in short terse sentences, filled with emotion and maning "thank god it's not me running that trip".
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Now the guaging station cable appears then the black bridge with an occasional hiker on it. Signs of civilization, such as it is. We drift into the eddy and beach with the other boats; we are the only ones there, Mary's group must have made their passenger exchange early and then headed downstream toward Crystal. I am anxious to find out about Heather and Brian, so we head off to the phone, carrying water jugs. We find that there is a shortage of water. The flush groovers are closed, and we are not supposed to get water here, but the faucet works, so we do it anyway. We sit around watching people come and go, hikers of various shapes and sizes. A group of Japanese comes by and giggiles because they had seen BC up at Phantom with painted toenails, and George had told them he was gay. This really freaked them out, and we all had a good time with it. We talk with a grizzled NPS ranger who is the caretaker of the water system and he tells us a horror story of 3 breaks in the water line, costing 8 million to repair. Thats why the groovers are closed, and we're not supposed to take their water. I finally get a turn at the phone and call H at home, no answer, so I call Marge and tell her what happened, and she has no idea that H flew out. She wants to know every detail, and I don't have time, so I let her go to find out herself.
Let's get the one good thing out of the way quickly: The graphics are stunning. Way better than Doom 2021, and the framerate is so smooth that I have to wonder how the hell did they pull this off.
I am the TL, coming off of another series of life's adventures proceeding with a 3rd divorce. I have been planning this trip for many years, to fit in with my main life as a geologist and professor, always in seek of adventure on the rivers and mountains. Lucy, my tried and true Avon Pro, is celebrating her 13th birthday on the canyon. I left the bucket floor in, to keep us upright in the big stuff and I have Tom's canopy to keep the blazing sun off our backs.
Off on the rio, leading the way into the great unknown, establishing our order, in two waves, of 3 boats each, with the kayaks on their own. The canyon opens up bigtime after the Butte fault and we glide through the broad valley carved on the less resistant layers of the Chuar, with looming cliffs of black basalt of the Cardenas lavas. All related to the late Precambrian 1100 million year ago rifting of the edge of the continent, forming the present Pacific ocean. A few rapids, big waves, nothing much to concern us, Lava Canyon and Tanner Wash, pass and now the unconformity looms above us to the north, capped with Tapeats sandstone, and far off the rim reaching high into the sky. We see a tower with a bend in it above the Palisades of the desert, and I tell Marilyn this is "the Dick with a Crick".
I'm not that far in the game but the lore has also gone off the hook. Not sure how they pulled that off but I constantly feel like I'm watching an episode of a series and slowly realizing that I must skipped over the previous episode. But I haven't, I played 2021, I read the lore, and I still don't understand half of what is going on. I'm being guided by green etherial dogs.
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We drift on to North cyn and do the hike before lunch. It is spectacular, with a slot canyon and the leakyv pool a treat after a long hike. Lunch is confused, no table available and stuff scattered hither and yon, but we get through it, pump some water, and generally relax. I see a group camped downstream and cross the boulders to find a Hatch trip, camped early, just putin that day and climb up on the motor rig and have a conciousness lowering session with the boatmen. They know my old friend Mondell, and he will be down in a few days, in rig #14, I look forward to seeing him. We trade Mondell stories and then I make my way across the debris fan to SNAFU central and agree to head down to Indian Dick for camp.
The next section is an overdrive, with knobs for shape and tone and a similar pop-up list of algorithms, including tube, soft, mid, hard and asymmetric. Although everyone probably has their own favourite third-party distortion effect, the built-in algorithms are useful because they allow you to apply drive to only a single voice within a patch, or use different combinations for each Element. Next, your decimated, filtered and overdriven sample goes to a three-band parametric equaliser.
Dinner is good, after a reorganization meeting, redistributing the jobs, and I get to get off dinner crew for the rest of the trip. I like this, and look forward for kicking back each evening, and helping when I want.
I am alone in Lucy as we forge out into the current, and drift down, past the Monument monocline, a great fault and fold combination, and pull in at Elve's, avoiding the motorboaters filling the beach. They are some sight, I haven't run into many this trip, but they are amazed at us, our varied boats and costumes. I now have a big feather in my cap from a raven, picked up in Hakatai Canyon, and a red and white fishing bobber to keep it from sinking if it gets blown in to the water.
Cakewalk Dimension Pro review
The big differences between P5 's Dimension and Dimension Pro are that Dimension Pro will run outside of one of Cakewalk's PC-only DAWs, and the size of the new sample set. I opened up Dimension Pro in Cubase, and although I didn't have a Mac to try it on, there have been no complaints on the forums about any Mac problems. The expanded sample set also gives more folders and programs. I haven't sat down and counted all the new samples, but Dimension (visit the website) Pro has added a folder from the Garritan Pocket Orchestra — the original Dimension and the native Dimension Pro folders concentrate more on the rock, pop and electronica genres, so the Pocket Orchestra sounds fill out a lot of missing instruments. They are no substitute for a full collection, but for temp tracks or supporting roles, they fit the bill. Though many third-party sample collections don't cover the Dimension format yet, it is easy enough to load in samples and set up most sample parameters from the front panel. To use multisamples, however, you need to modify the SFZ file attached to the program in a text editor — see the 'SFZ' box.
Marilyn and Bill meet us as we walk back toward the river and I tell my tale. Marilyn decides descretion is the better part of valor, and joins me scrambling up the exposed ledges to the high trail, a catwalk in places with cliffs on both sides and echos of the voices of the canyon rats below. I hope no one else has any trouble, the risk of injury seems high here, much higher than 20 years ago. The rooms open up and soon we are cavorting in the cathedral, with a trickling creek and warm pools, deep shade under soaring overhangs and a place to worship the creator of the canyons. Marith and Mark find little pools to lie in, I play the recorder amplified by the echos, and John videos everything. I am snoozing when I hear the rumble of thunder, and look up to see clear blue sky. Mark shouts from below, he has found a ledge with a hollow underneath and he and Pete are rolling boulders around on it creating a booming, crashing noise just like thunder.
We continue up, John is videoing, and setting up scenes. We top out at the little fall, and return, startled by a reflection of sunlight from a pool on the under side of a dark ledge, stripes of light seemingly from nowhere, shimmering in space projected on the shadowy screen. Hoo hah, we all take a spiritual break and admire the trompe d'oiel nature has provided us. We reluctently leave the cool depths, walking into a blast of sunlight, then guiding the boats down a rock slalom and around the corner into a monster eddy with an equally large shaded beach for a perfect lunch spot. The current in the eddy is tricky and we end up landing upstream in the rocks, Marith has some trouble getting tied up against the current, but soon we are snackin at the base of a cliff, marvelling at the large blocks scattered about us that could have only come from above us high up the cliff face. KK and John are off in the duckie, and everyone else leaves except me and BC. We float down the Conquistadore aisle in scenic splendor, partaking and talking about the canyon and the trip and the river taking us there. Pete wants to head on down to camp, so I tell him to be careful, stop at the top of Dubendorff, and scout the camp below at Stone, to make sure no one is in there, so we can camp above if another private trip is down there. Otherwise we will miss the planned layover hike at Stone creek, a honey of a hike, and worth the whole layover day. He seems to understand, but I send George with him, just to keep an eye on him. I feel uneasy any time someone goes ahead, I know the canyon better than anyone except maybe BC, and I know the logistics. If we miss this one, we will miss the high point of the trip, and I don't want to do that.
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Level design makes ZERO sense: Two titans, which I don't even know what they are at this point, are frozen in place right before one killed the other. I have to find a battery to put into the spear of one of the titans so that the energy lance will active and tear the sternum of the other titan open (mind you both of them are just standing still, like buildings).
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More cavorting, the kids are completely buried, Andy and Becka seem to be a unit, John is quiet and withdrawn, looks like he thought maybe he had a chance at her, but big brother moved in. To add to it, he has severely burned legs and feet, 2nd degreee stuff with blisters, from one day in too much sun. I am careful to wear my sealskinz, water proof big socks, under my sandles. They come 1/3 way up my lower legs, and the skirt covers the rest of my legs, so I have developed a coverup river uniform. I lube up my feet every night and put my heavy shoes and socks on, and my feet are doing real well compared to the people running around camp with sandals, or worse, nothing on their feet. Foot injuries in camp are most common, Blue told us about this, and still, people are doing nasty things to their feet.
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Apparently many people like it. Just keep in mind that this is not Doom 2021. It is way more complex, you'll be thinking way more instead of enjoying raw violence. The similarities with Doom 2021 are: glory kills exist in both, it's the same universe (but I wouldn't say it's the same doomslayer), some demons exist in both games, and well that's all. The two games feel completely different. I was hoping for more Doom 2021, I got an annoying puzzle shooter.
Now move any parameter controls in the effect or synth property page that you want to map, and also move any knobs or sliders on your controller/surface that you want to use to control those parameters. Then disable the ACT Learn button. A dialog appears telling you that “n” parameters and “n” controls were touched, and asks if you want to keep these assignments.
We find the unconformity and study it intently, trying to fit quartz crystals back into their homes beneath the erosion surface. I have the microcassette recorder and impart a long lecture, and Marith is very impressed, bubbling about the monster amount of time missing, and the power that it took to effect this change.
We drift on ahead, far ahead, all alone, cruisin'down the aisle of vertical rock, flowing water and sun. The jewels are a set of rapids named for their side canyons. We remember them by the mnemonic device TASTERS. Tuna, Agate, Sapphire, Turquoise, Ruby and Serpentine. Ruby is actually ruA, RuB, and ruC, the latter being the rapid before serpentine, which was called "pre-serpentine" until I told Bego that this should be named after the rock serpentine comes from which is peridotite. Now it is Peridotite instead of pre-serpentine in my personal guidebook. The rapids pack a punch and the river moves along rapidly in this stretch, and we make good time, one or two boats visible far upstream. I see that we can make Shinimo Creek in time for a late lunch, and keep pushing on downstream. I hope people see the hole in Serpentine, right top, before it is too late, it is a keeper. I am even surprised by it, and have to crank left to get out of its clutches, a real nasty pourover rock, with a sharp flipper hole downstream.
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Big boulders, moved in an instant from miles up the canyon. The power and scope of the process is awesome, in the true sense of the word. I spy another waterfall, and take another cooling shower, say a few words into the microcassette recorder, and set it down on a rock. Marilyn and Walter arrive and we cavort in the water for a while, taking in the scene, getting higher and higher. I look up and notice the clouds are coming in, and its getting cool, just what we need for what usually is a long hot hike. I lead on above the falls and soon recognize the trail leading up to the right past the next waterfall and cliff. This stopped us in 1975, but I have been up here a few times since, and follow the high road. Soon I am scaling the Shinumo quartzite cliffs and cruising along the ledge leading to the upper canyon, on a catwalk above the depths below. I see Pete and some others below, and yell at them to come up this way.
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- Afterwards, create a project and insert Dimension Pro as a soft synth to bring up the registration dialog
- In most cases, the folder you will be deleting will be named Dimension Pro or dp
- Invalid Dimension Pro 1.5 Registration Code message when using the correct code
- Resolution: There is no need to re-register Dimension Pro online
- Support has been discontinued for the following in Dimension Pro/LE 1.5
- Cakewalk studio instruments keygen
If you want to change the knob or slider that is controlling a particular cell, click the cell so that it displays the MIDI Learn label, then move the knob or slider you want to use. The cell will now be controlled by the knob or slider you moved.
We spread out randomly and cruise through higher walls to House Rock. We scout, but there is a huge highway right of the major hole, so I pick my way through some holes on the right, not missing one, just as Pete didn't, filling with water there and having a hard pull to the right, but no problem. Others have close calls, and BC goes out to surf the lower waves and gets a great ride.
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We discuss the schedule over bkfst, and finally decide to get as far downstream below Havasu as possible, then a medium day the next to Cove, above Lava, then Lava the next day, then a long 25 mile day to Pumpkin spring and out early the last. There are some moans about a 25 mile day, but at 20k we should be in good shape if we don't dwadle and hit the rio early.
Click Yes if you want to keep your assignments. If you clicked Yes, your assignments are saved automatically, and are the same for every instance of the plug-in you just mapped.