There is a slight smart on getting up from anything, especially anything as low down as the ground, accompanied with a slight dragging of the right leg, sort of Quasi a la Modo, which then rights itself after 10 minutes' walk until mounting of stairs is required.
By the time we get to Canyonlands and, my pretend it doesn’t exist climb on the picnic bench seat, the following morning I am using the outside of the tent to pull myself to a standing position and it is taking me a good 5 minutes to do the very unpc “I’s a coming boss” walk to the toilet/shower block which is 50 yards away. Throw in the long round trip to the Arches and when we set off for Capitol Reef, well I am in something of a mess which I seek to control with drugs - 2 Tylenol every fffffthree hours and 2 ibuprofen. The journey to Capitol Reef is very, very long, but I distract myself with more colourful lunar landscapes and shades of Palo Duro Canyon and the Big Bend trip
Intermingled with someone trying to offend the dominant religious group
Not to mention the unexpurgated version of Little House on the Prairie
There was nothing for miles but dust and hills
And ghost trucks seemingly driving themselves
Then a brief change of formation
It was like God, if you believe he is the supreme creator of all, was having a real artistic dilemma or else dropped his Hobby Lobby art kit in the middle of a Wizard of Oz tornado
Chop
change
Chop
Approaching lunar base 8
And the road goes ever on…it is 4 pm and we have been driving since 8.30 am
Hurrah
And oh look different rock formations again…
In 7 and half hours we have been through about 3 towns and seen probably 50 cars at most …gained a casualty
and again in true West West Texas style the camp is full
Our only option is back country camping for which the parking is another 9 miles, walk at least half a mile with full kit, food and water, before setting up camp, so we are not visible from the road, presumably so as not to spoil the view for the lazy buggers munching on popcorn and slurping Gatorade to re-instate all the calories expended steering their V6 engines through the landscape.....and ”leave no trace aka bury your pooh!”. Can you tell I am in pain….
By the time I have managed to get down from our little explorer I find P has said ok and paid up the dosh for the privilege. To be fair we have always wanted to do this and found ourselves in a similar position at Pedernales Falls it just isn’t the right time….
Off we go, by now and on this erm….dirt track I have to prop myself on my hands to control being chucked about in the front seat, the pain has got excruciating and I can’t take any more pills until food. P is driving like a maniac otherwise we have the additional problem of setting up camp in the dark.
So here we are wearing brave smiles….note the right leg
I decide it is time to take myself off to die in some remote, hidden place like a cat
We find a site next to the river but only a quarter of a mile from the road…Rio and I are short and P can just stoop to reduce our visibility. We are at the mouth of a canyon surrounded by
We decide to cook in the car park and then walk back down
Ham and mushroom carbonara
And lots of wine….and drugs
Time for bed, I’ll just pop the ¼ mile to the bedroom, with bed…and emergency flask of tea
Riona’s ickle tent complete with additional rock…because the wind is up
God I am so brave, P is so happy. At this point if you are:
a) easily offended disposition
or
b) raised by Miss Prissy's school of decorum and etiquette
I suggest you scroll qucikly until you find the words "It is called Fruita"
Between that shot and this (one of the most beautiful renditions I have heard and seen by the way)
I have
- cried a lot,
- needed a wee…
........And it is only halfway through my “manouevre” which involves balancing on one hand whilst executing a variation of the move that your mother used to have to do at the seaside when you were trying to put still sandy feet through your knicker leg and didn't want to be wriggling all the way home......that I realize I could literally come face to face with a bob cat or mountain lion ….I leave you to imagine my predicament suffice to say there were no animals carnivorous or otherwise needing counselling.
So in the morning light I plan my crawl back to the car which involves circumventing a damp patch.... better set off now….if we are to get back to the main campsite to see if there are any spaces in "civilisation". P won’t hear of me crawling and so we start the raising of the Titanic which is a two stage maneouvre…stage one is hoisting me halfway to my feet in a front Heimlich thingy, 2 minutes to get rid of the first lightning strike pain and prepare myself for stage 2 which is to get my feet flat and check I can stand on at least the left one. This is 2008 without the ambulance men or oxygen. I leave them to break camp while I limp back.
It is called Fruita (note the population), where families set up orchards to grow all kinds of fruit trees, then the community dwindled and was handed over to the National Park . You too can pick the fruit and the first apple is free. The beauty of it is that the wildlife have caught on and even though the tradition is not to give them fruit, it is the one place it has been accepted that it is difficult to separate man and beast so you get this….
This is Riona by the way not me…
Did I tell you I have only ever seen Bambi upto but not including the scene where Texas Pete steps in ???
The homestead is still there and they sell fresh fruit pies too. A recent apple chudders grave
Rio, the original bag lady, used to pick up everything as a kid and deposit it in the bag and clearly has not got out of the habit
When aged 2 the washed creamy woodlouse that fell out on the ironing board from her dungaree pocket was bad enough but this ...a baby version of what clearly had eaten most of the surrounding human population
even by her standards
And so to supper and preparations for bed. It has got to the stage now where it is difficult to walk without pain. I decide to set off for the toilet block 30 yards away. I can't open the door properly and so a kind lady helps. Inside I try to change and wash. I need the loo but feel woozy and the toilet cubicle gets smaller and then there is a big crash. I lay there and then a bunny in the headlights P pops his head cautiously around the door, to see mine sticking out the bottom of the cubicle. Last time that happend was aged 5 when my friend Ann Watson and I got trapped in Gillshill school toilets (outside) at playtime and the whistle blew and everyone else marched in and we thought we would starve to death and so I had to wriggle out underneath to get help.
Poor P the risk of being caught in the ladies with a erm "lady" with foundation wear not properly secured...Having got me to my feet he runs for the hills (well re-inforcements Riona) to come and assist which fortunately due to my fierce independence means making sure I don't pass out again whilst brushing my teeth and re-washing my hands and face after their contact with the toilet floor...eeeewwww. P is recalled to half carry me back to the tent and pills.
What will tomorrow bring?
