Lest we forget...

Vegas aside....lest we should forget where we live most of the time

Hallowe'en in Texas...the subtler touches

And just to check it isn't just Fort Worth we head for destinations unknown giving thanks as we go....I could be uncharitable and say they missed off a T.

I have few moments of doubt about navigating but...

And finally our destination

The only natural lake in Texas and it is beautiful

With the odd blip

Would these thousands of water boatmen behave like Piranhas if we fell in.

The peace is just primeval until P and I get out in a kayak...least said.

But this is the last shot taken on my little Canon Elph. Shortly after the lens jammed.

Phew I hear you say

but never fear

Groan I hear you say

One of my first shots with my new ealy Christmas present...guess what another Canon Elph

Then home for Xmas.

The Wilderness Multiology – Part 2 - Thighing through thnow and for the love of Prince Charles

Stage 2
Can you tell what it is yet?

The Tetons 3rd time running..

And a gloomy Tetons and a plan to walk the full length of Cascade Canyon to Lake Solitude. A walk of which we had only managed two thirds the summer before. The other plan is to ensure we catch the ferry back across Jenny Lake to avoid another “they were the longest two miles of my life episode”. So…7 am up to catch the 8 am ferry giving us until 6 pm.

It’s not looking good..


3 pm the day before

And the howl of the gyspy ranger’s curse still ringing in our ears…

”if it’s RAAAAAYNING down here it will be SERNOOOOOWING higher up the canyon”

….pah it’s late June, we had brilliant sunshine last year in late September.

The crocodile of waterproofs which actually looked line a giant green centipede as only the feet were on view…

bunch of drama queens.

5pm we are sitting in the car outside the Jackson Hole Albertsons' store trapped by the rain which threatens to sweep away the 8 cylinder Tundra parked opposite. P is contemplating a night in the cowboy motel, hoping they have forgotten my projectile vomit exhibition.

It eases and we stock up again, including a new blanket from the sports shop because for the last 3 nights in Yellowstone my maxi strength goose grease, winter papoose sleeping bag and hermetically sealed thermal combinations have failed to stop me feeling the cold.

We get back to camp where there appears to have been only a spit. In a fit of “scouty” enthusiasm everything is prepared for the next day and gathering ants in the bear locker overnight. I slip into my goose greased combinations, optimism heightened by my new “blankie”. Linus in Peanuts had it so worked out man.

7 am …a brief reminder the toilet block is three pots and a sink running cold water and no plugs. It is -3. The usually determined P rolls over taking his thermals and bobble hat and part of MY blankie with him….muttering ..bugger it.


8.30 am the sun has sprinkled a slight warmth and as the harpie of the camp kitchen I waft a flask full of tea under his nose.


9.30 am we catch the boat wearing 3 layers but then the climb up to Inspiration Point has loosened the layers and revealed I need Harmony hairspray (Click here if you were born after 1974)

The view downwards over the edge make’s the pulse race, thus helping the blood circulation too.

 We are heading into the canyon and as we have said before this is where the crowds then start to thin to nothing:

And the snow scare mongering is so unfounded.

Or is it?

 We crack on at a merry pace. Some blue sky

 11.00 am

Oh look we have arrived at the same spot we reached last year, where the cascades meet and dribs and drabs of snow

For 100 yards and then

I am not on snow, I am in snow…P is on top of the snow. We walk through the forest on 3 ft of compacted snow for a while, emerging into the light and then look back from whence we came

Once in open valley I have to concentrate on not stepping into P’s tracks since the compacted snow of the trees has given way to softening snow .. he goes down to his knees, I go down to my thigh and have to do the temper tantrum stomp to get out of the holes he’s made. There is no obvious path so we traverse what we think is the safest route.

Marmot snickers at only 2 ft away since he knows I can’t catch him…

The sun comes out and we stop for breath again, look back again

P is so hot he bares his naked chest but decency prevents me from showing the picture. And we walk on

Do I look tired to you?

 And there it is….

What ?

What indeed you might bloody ask…Lake Solitude of course, whaddya mean you don’t believe us?

Well there was a lake and an otter shot through a hole in the surface but we didn't catch that on camera either.


I need a rest

It is 1 pm we head back. P wants to be alone or is it that I can't keep up?

Altogether now to the tune of Buddy Holly - Raining in my Heart, 2,3 4

The sun is out
The sky is blue
 The sun is out, the sky is blue...

The snow is melting P D Q

So P is sinking,
Sinking to his crotch. 

It is only as P cracks his shin disappearing down a crevice or maybe that’s a crevasse…well we have no way of knowing whether we are on a path, that I finally see the point of snow pole/sticky things which I have always viewed as one of a few things:

- a means of trying to convince onlookers you conquered the North Face of the Eiger last week

- less old fashioned than a walking stick

- less nerdy than a walking stick with badges of all the mountains with a gift shop at the bottom or where the cable car ends

- the wrong thing you picked out of the umbrella stand at 7 am on a morning when the BBC had predicted precipitation of a precipitative nature hurlting down from Forties Cromerty

- solely to trip short people up when they have enough things to think about when climbing mountains

We , well I struggle and at some point P looks back to see where I am…

Retracing my steps…because I dropped my Jack Wolfskin fleece 100 yards back. Heaven forbid I leave it behind.


To add insult to injury as I walk past the tiniest spray of Christmas tree peeping out the of the snow..it discovers new found vigour and three foot of the rest of it, mischievously hidden under its pristine white blanket, twangs upwards, out of the depths slapping me in the face with ice and snow..and yes once again I have lost two feet of my original height but I am a brave soldier until

"Come on we don’t want to miss the boat…” comes the helpful call across the avalanche prepped valley…

I decide to “ski” my way back, slipping and sliding down dips, tumbling and rolling when necessary.

It is 2.30 pm I have just recovered my aplomb from a dip in a very slushy hollow when, 2 Texan girls pop out from the trees. How do I know they are Texan? Because

1) they ask if there is time to get to the lake and back and still reach the boat for 6.
2) they have been whisked by, their oil magnate or Barnet shale magnate daddy , by uber speedy jet directly from a TCU cheerleaders training session in 100 degrees F  and the journey was that quick they didn't have time to change from their football shorts, t shirts, ankle socks and “pumps”.

We provide the facts obviously in Serbo Croat since they felt it necessary to nod respectfully and ignore us anyway.

I mutter about the stupidity of not being prepared for winter walking …having just traversed an unmarked snow plain and as my indignant yada yada yada pride reaches it’s peak WHOMP flat on my face.

P cries......

Not in shock or sympathy.

When he has recovered he offers me a fluff covered chocolate raisin then picks me up by the seat of my pants like a sack of potatoes.

When we get back to the 5.30 boat not only have Ipsy and Dipsy migrated from the heat but the whole of bloody Texas is waiting, none of them believe we too are native Texans but at least don't mistake us for Serbo Croat.

And now an example of what happens to a man pushed to his physical limits…12 miles ofCascade Canyon 5 of which were in more than 3ft of snow.

You need to know the beer is called “Old Faithful” which is the title of the signature tune of the rugby league team Hull FC, the arch rivals to P’s team Hull Kingston Rovers. Coupled with the 6 day whiskers and the alluring perfume of my goose grease and thermals he’s losing it…that’s it he needs a wash and some civilisation.


2nd full day in the Tetons and an eery drive to the shower block 17 miles away…

On the way back, an acute sense of déjà vu…the exact spot and blurry vision of the coyote that tracked us last year

The rest of the day everyone relaxes

Well that was the plan but we go for an evening walk of 6 miles

On our return, in tribute to Alexis Soyer, Victorian Celebrity Chef the outdoor culinary endeavours commence, 15 minutes in and

“Wow that smells great, isn’t that just how it’s meant to be done ma’am”

Two young women and a bean pole saunter up, P is already pretending to be a rock by the fire and has left me in unguarded position. I look up too late and off they go:

“My name is na na, my name is na na and he (the bean pole) is na na. We are from the Happy Clappy Slappy Backy Church of the Unswervingly Optimistic Blessed and Sandled (Multi Faith) and we would like to invite you to our multi faith service tomorrow morning at 8.30 am. It is a little early but we would be delighted to see you there.”

I proffer weakly

"We will see what we can do but we have been rather energetic of late”

They

“What have you been doing?”

The fire stone talks!

“Well we walked to Lake Soli…

They of the perfect teeth,

“OMG are you the mad couple that walked through snowdrifts. You did so well."

(for old gits is the subtext, if they knew such a terrible phrase)

Day 3 we leave the Tetons to the shimmering tring of tambourine

And they are oblivious to their huge loss of my rendition of "They Plough the fields and scatter"

And looking back down the valley as we approach the other side of the Tetons on our trip to west Glacier I have a real Three Degrees Moment

“OMG are you the mad couple that walked through snowdrifts. You did so well"

And S is nowhere, nowhere to be seen

I'm sorry I don't recognise your accent...

Lest we forget, April has been stay local month, sort of. And what has this given us?

The Fort Worth Mud Run 10k, of running through mud, water and botulism based challenges hosted by the always faithful Marine Corps.

You think the inflatables are taking the p...

Did you know "Semper fi" is an anagram of "free pims".

Golly Tarquin, so much combat trousered testosterone you never did see.

Then there were the women..most of whom were only distinguishable from the men by the wrist and hand action. This is the group that didn't scare P.

Then there were the fun groups, like the pentecostal church mother's group trying to get over a sequence of ever heightening muddy poles. Well they all managed the 18 inch one and the 3ft one but then it came to the 4 and half ft pole which required team work; it involved the only one who managed it over, we'll call her Sister no 1 coming back to kneel on the ground with one knee up so that Sister no 2 could push off from it while Sister nos 3 and 4 could push her upward via the bu-ttocks and Sisters 5, 6 and 7 pull on her arms and shoulders to the accompaniment of:

All sisters to sister no 1  Hell since when you been able to fly like that girl

Sister no 2                    Watch where you putting those hands missee

Sisters 5,6 and 7            You gonna get those giant buns of yours over this bar or what?

Then it came to them all swinging over the muddy, water filled trough on ropes..... or not.

Finally, the reason we went in the first place, our non-marine friend Michael, a Canadian in third position, determined to stuff the US army muscle bound machismo.

 

Looks like he's gonna do it don't cha think...

For those of you about to be offended I apologise but -

You see the kid bending down, well he was a member of the Marine Mini League marshalling the stunts. Now I am not normally one for violence against children (or anyone) but he was the best excuse there ever was for nipping in the bud a future psychotic sparkly diamond general meglomaniac of the Allied Forces, by I think the politically correct  technical psychoanalytical term is erm

"punching the speccy four eyed git's lights out" (he is wearing glasses).

While Michael is in mid manouevre this kid in all seriousness is shouting:

-    Don’t make a mess of my warder

-    It’s my warder you do not have the right to get wet

What's he like when he gets behind a virtual war game?

Calm calm......

Anyway I am thinking of doing this in November but only because at the end you get to do this with a fireman.

Next we have Prairie Fest for the second year running - a sort of green love in with music powered by solar energy.

Breathtaking feats of

Lasso twirling.

Steady now don't pull on that rope too soon.

And they're back with more lard than a Glaswegian fish and chip shop!

More pluck than jolly good sport Joyce Grenfell.

The US answer to the Rollie Pollies.

It's........... the Brazen Bellies. 

Jiggling their stuff to a Polish Polka.

Joined by Aunty Emm''s brick lavatory sized cousin,

A devil

And a wolf

We know how to live.


Ok enough of the locals let's head north west for Caprock Canyons and Palo Duro Canyon State Park via

Who? Don't y'all cut yer throats now


I said we know how to live.


A brief stop at the Michelin 4 flat tyres hostelry with patio cuisine:

And five hours and 7 chapters of Ruth Ren...Dell (?????) later we hit Caprock Canyons:

And so you get a sense of the scale

And the detail

This is Comanche country well it was until they were all shipped to Oklahoma after the battle of .......Palo Duro. The rock formations do give it a real spiritual feel, there are faces everywhere:

Have I told you....there's always a breeze in Texas and it was OK once in the Chisos Mountains (see Big Bend blog). But it's getting beyond a joke now. The morning after the night before:

It is not because of our inferior tent erection skills, if you note we are hugging the trees and bushes from behind which the wind was coming. We actually slept in it like this as there was no point in getting up to fix it. Nor did I want to meet this in the dark:

Please note that I took this as it was International   "cure my irrational arachnophobia week" (that's a Sunday word Bryan). Normally P gets this job but he's still recovering from the near car jacking by a spider in Big Bend.

Ok let's go make my heart race another way.

 - I know there is no-one else about but no the tent has been taken down and the airbeds are flat and I don't know where Incy Wincy has gone.

 - I meant find another canyon to climb.

 - If you've got energy for outdoor sports young man you've got energy to climb a canyon.

I think this marks the entrance

We are heading for Haynes Ridge Overlook. This is halfway up, at least the brochure did say a steep rugged climb. And a rare view of P minus Indiana Jones hat, tossed back in gay abandon:

And from the top:

To my left

And to my right

And so to Palo Duro, the Grand Canyon of Texas which is like saying Blackpool Tower, The Eiffel Tower of Lancashire.

A  new campsite below Fortress Cliff:

The sunset continued to blow me away

I almost dropped the camera when this thing let out a huge gobble and ran towards me.

Close up and rampant (ooh missus) it is the same height as me.

The point in coming to Palo Duro was not just to admire beautiful plumage but to do a Virginia Woolf. Initially a 5 mile round trip to the Lighthouse (get it yet).  A giant one of these

or this

They are known as Hoo Doos and the rock sitting on top is literally a Caprock...in Caprock Canyons much of the caprock has eroded unlike here.

Thank goodness that on this day the cloud had sucked up the intensity of sun in one whole gulp

There is no water in the canyon. And there are no comments on what passes for a Year 3 attempt at a map, about a steep and rugged last half mile. On which we encountered Thelma and Louise from Dallas:

Whose idea of finding their way around is to ring a husband, get him to Google Map destinations for them and then ring back with the answer. Like they can tell him where they are in the first place and there is always a signal.

We made it.

Then we discovered you can go further and walk between the two rocks.

Just to the left of P is an 80 foot drop. I negotiated this bit facing the wall and clinging to the red rock and the desperate notion that it would not just crumble away in my hand leaving my voice and my nails to scream in tandem as plunged into the canyon below. It obviously got to P because at one point he was convinced someone had parked a car just below....

And this is the view from the platform between the two hoo doos:

Proof we was there.

This is other side of the canyon.

Then it came time to come back down...feet and bum the only way

This was almost my last photograph as a young texan with a dog that should have been on a leash careered down and then found she couldn't stop and regarded me as a safety barrier with the same value to the rest of the world as a crash dummy.  No apology, nothing just a blank no-one home stare. The second child in this blog to come close to a good slap.

We decided to do the rest of the round canyon walk and this is me appropriately at Hully Gully.

11 miles later we were in the Visitors Centre over looking all that we had walked from a spectacular panorama window, serenaded by music to hang yourself to from Wichita's answer to Willie Nelson only he was a native American Indian in a poncho. And the "rest" were all in there too:

The military policman from New York who loved Texas and was never going back, well not unless he couldn't pay for the entire shelf of glass ornaments he proceeded to  knock to the ground.

And yet another character from Deliverance who on overhearing us rushed over with his girlfriend who we presume he had met on the Internet  via Mismatch.com, each using someone else's photograph on their profile as she was Nebraska's answer to Hattie Jacques and he was the diminutive, toothless, almost hairless Not so Quick Draw McGraw. An ageing  lovesick puppy convinced his amour could be the first female president as:

- she's so 'telligent, she's a teeeecherrrrrr.

President in waiting fluttered her eyelashes, blushed but only momentarily lost for words:

 - I'm sorry I don't quite quite recognise your accent, which part of the British Empire are you from?

But it's not just in Texas

When I escape from our friend Bryan's Bide a Wee Rest Home for the Seriously Bewildered I plan to be the one in the middle.....xx