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Thursday, May 19, 2016
This is personal
It was 4:43 a.m.
I woke suddenly, softly aware that I had been singing John Denver's "Lady" to myself. The one line that I recall bringing me to my state of consciousness was "I'm as close as I can be".
The motel room was lit with the diffused blue green hue shining gently through the thin curtain that was draped over the window of my front door. I could easily see the shapes of the paddle fan and surf board mounted to the ceiling over my bed. Yet the visions were internal.
I saw in an instant the images of my sweet lady's final moments in this life. She was sitting again, as she has so often done in the last eighteen months, in the front passenger seat of the Subaru, unconscious, slumped with chin tipped downward, bottom lip curled tightly, then laying on the ground in the slush as she received CPR from the EMTs, then laying on the table in the ER, incubation tube in her nose, slight amounts of blood present on her face, then she was gone, yet again, gone.
All of this in an instant as I then became consciously aware of a din that was ever growing, like a great Beethoven crescendo. The volume grew and I lay there in my motel room in this historic mining town in southern Arizona, wondering what it was that was creating all this noise. A rock slide? A collapsing mine shaft beneath me? A wall of water from a flash flood roaring down the mountain side? Then I wondered why I was thinking of portends of doom when I realized it was a motorcycle coming up the long steady incline of Main Street, steady throttle, first gear, now it's gone. I reached to my right and she was not there. She hasn't been for quite some time now, just the constant aching in my heart.
I often envision parts of my life as being scenes from a movie, so I chuckled quietly as this scene would have to include my current state:
Because of the 115 year age of this old motel the electrical outlets were, I can only presume, installed retroactively after electrical power became available in town. So the outlets and switches are installed at room locations that you might not often find in other locales. One of them is on the floor between the bed and wall and another, somewhat more conveniently located, is under the front window, behind a large chair. This is where I chose to set the IPad while connected overnight to it's electrical umbilical cord.
So I knelt on all fours, in my underwear, butt in the air, behind a large chair recording these thoughts and visions so that the scene could be properly recalled when I awoke. I shut off the IPad after making the briefest of notes and was instantly struck by how dark it was. Pitch black, lightless from within as well as from without!
I felt my way along the bed and returned to my previous position under the sheet and light bed spread. The images were still flashing through my mind as I recalled, laying there on my back, "my lady's sweet pleasures"; thirty nine years of fond memories in thirty nine seconds. I rolled onto my left side and felt a singular tear roll across the bridge of my nose.
I laid there and rejoiced in that singular tear while I became aware of another noise that had been gathering in my mind. A cacophony of birds was playing outside. Strange I thought, because birds don't normally talk in the dead of night.
I opened my eyes again to decipher this and found the light had returned. I thought about the light for a moment, sifting through the front door curtain again and realized I needed to go and peek outside to determine what it's source was or I would wonder forever.
I walked across the gently lit room once again and drew the curtain slightly. It was daylight! I looked in bewilderment at the clock. It was 4:54 a.m.
I pulled the covers up over my head, "I'm as close as I can be, and I think our time together has just begun"
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Day 23 - Tucson to Bisbee by way of the OK Corral
The big story for me today (or at least for the last 24 hours) has been equipment failures. While composing my blog late last night, one finger at a time, the screen of my IPad suddenly went to zoom mode. The display was over scanned where I could see a portion of the page but not all of the buttons were in-frame. I could not decrease the size of the display with two fingers squeezing, or by trying to drag the page to the side to access a button. I was stuck, and because I was stuck I had no way to save my blog.
I finally pushed the back button and the screen shrank, went to the previous screen, then zoomed in to that screen! Now I had lost my blog AND I still could not continue. Having tried to live within the realm of Windows all my adult life, the next thing that came to mind was to turn it off, wait, then turn it back on. That always seemed to work on my PC. So I pressed the "off" button and waited until I could no longer hear the demons scurrying about inside, then I powered back up. And the display came back. And it was just as big as before, meaning I could not access the "slide to unlock" portion of the screen. So now I had no blog, no control and I was locked out!
Because my phone was not able to upload my pictures I said "looks like my work here is about done" and went to bed.
About 4 a.m. I woke up with an idea; maybe if I pushed and held the back button it would reset! Being relatively new to Apple products I did not realize that pressing and holding the back button served a different function. So in the wee hours of the morning a female voice entered the room. It was Siri and she wanted to know if she could help me!
"How do I down size?" I asked.
"First sell off your most liquid assets, then fire everyone".
Press and hold...
"How can I help you?" She asked again.
"My screen is too big, how do I reduce the size?"
"Place a matte inside the border to hi-lite the smaller details" was the reply.
Press and hold...
"I figured you'd be back. What is it now?" Siri said, clearly losing patience with me. I must have awaken her.
"I was typing on my IPad when suddenly, without warning, the type size grew enormously. The screen no longer..."
"Look, it's 4 a.m., I've got to get up in about an hour to do weather reports for everyone on the. East coast. Do you think you could get to the point?"
"Yes ma'am. Can you help me deflate the image?" I offered up.
"Tap on the screen twice with three fingers. Now I really have to get going. Al Roker can be a real pain if I'm not right there when he calls", click.
Believe it or not, that did the trick! When I was able to log in I also found that the pictorial constipation problem with my phone had been cured too! So I stayed up and blogged for another hour and a half, then called Lisa on FaceTime and chatted for awhile.
I managed to go back to sleep for about an hour, then went to the corner store for a banana and a cup of coffee. When I got back to the inn I packed, checked out and prepared to turn on my technology in preparation for departure. It was then that I noticed that my Bluetooth was not working, or the GPS was not talking, or something. So I've been doing my own navigation all day while the Girls get a day off.
The Knights Inn was just off of I10, so starting my trip on the right foot was just a matter of figuring out what exit I was taking. When I got off the freeway at Vail I headed south took up highway 80.
It was an interesting road for a couple of reasons. First, the initial mileage clicked off on a highway that rolled up and down more than I-80 in Iowa, about every quarter to half mile. Each time it began to drop there was a sign that read something like "road drops do not enter if flooded". Apparently I was in a flash flood zone.
Secondly, the flash flood zone eventually gave way to a steady climb up and over 4,000 feet in elevation. There were mountains, of a sort on both sides of the highway and some beautiful canyons running hither and thither. It was, despite the high desert classification, quite beautiful.
During one stop I had my helmet off and, when I went to put it on, noticed that my on-board sun glasses no longer stay in the retracted position. With my travels being restricted to sun drenched skies, I should make it to Dallas without mishap, where I may be able to get it fixed.
I rolled into Dodge, re, Tombstone about 11 a.m. and bypassed Boot Hill to go directly to the OK Corral.
There were gunfight re-enactments every hour on the hour.
Despite the show being done in a melodramatic way, with booing and hissing of bad guys and cheering the good guys, the show contained a lot of historical information, even leading to the conclusion that the Earp Brothers and Doc Holliday weren't necessarily all that good. In fact they were tried for murder, although found not guilty. A lot of locals still thought it was murder. History tells us that the sherif stopped them on the way to the OK Corral to tell them not to go, that he would instead disarm the varments that called out Doc H. They refused the warning and went anyway, later claiming they were doing the sherif' job because he wouldn't. In fact, Wyatt was running for county sherif the following month and he thought it would get him elected if he cleaned up the town, despite having been run out of the Missouri Territory for murdering someone.
I spent most of the midday in Tombstone and even added another mode of transport to my growing list. Where better than Tombstone to take such a ride?
When I headed south again it was toward the old mining town of Bisbee. The historical district is an eclectic blend of restoration and artist colony.
I'd recommend anyone coming through these parts put it on the list. There is an old (huge) copper mine
and several restored hotels from the towns hay-day when it was the biggest city between St. Louis an L.A.
I'm staying in the Castlerock Inn, which looks like an old steamboat.
Access to my room is through the front door (for which all guests have a key), up two flights of steps, then out onto the balcony and down a narrow deck (complete with a pair of deck chairs for each room), then into your room. Each room has a theme with artists' renditions on the wall. My room is the Down Under room with surfers and fish scenes on the walls. It is between the Geronimo and Crying Shame rooms. The balcony, as well as Main Street is adorned with Christmas lights.
In the lobby is the old Apache Spring which started the copper mining boom in town and, at one point, supplied the entire town with water. Yes, you read that right, IN THE LOBBY!
They built the inn around the well!
Across the street is Castle Rock, which tonight sits in the dark but typically is lit with either a Superman light or the Batman symbol. Yes, this is a unique town.
Quick hits on California - warning: this post may not be politically correct and has been found by the State of California to be offensive to some
So I am now in Arizona, and by tomorrow I will be through New Mexico and approaching Texas. But before I lose California in the rear view mirror (the desert is so flat I can still see California 300 miles behind me) I wanted to record a couple of my impressions of California, even though it may not be politically correct.
I ran over, and presumably killed, something crossing the road near Santa Ysabel. I saw it briefly before it disappeared under my rear tire and went thump, but I don't know what it was. My closest guess would be that it was a banana. Perhaps there was a nearby Hindu community that had just brought it back as a chipmunk and it escaped before the reincarnation was complete. So if I killed it again, what will it come back as? Maybe a government employee so it won't have to move so fast?
When I commented about the week and a half I would be riding in the desert Lisa was quick to remind me that the desert has its own beauty. She was right.
Perhaps it is in the symmetry. The never changing landscape is perfectly symmetrical, with the brown flat topography flowing as far as the eye can see (approximately 300 miles) to meet the equally flat skyline, with no gaps! Look at the symmetry displayed by these two pictures, taken thirty miles apart:
Now that's symmetry!
Yet, in the middle of this sandy collection of scrub brush and sage were people. A number of people. Some in trailers, some in RVs, some in small homes surrounded by six foot tall fences with no change in appearance between the terrain inside and outside the fence. Who are these people who choose to live in this desolate area? Or, maybe a better question is:
Maybe they were uneducated and over weight and they thought they were buying property surrounded by dessert?
Maybe they were people who bought the property because they couldn't afford a snow shovel?
Maybe they had read that you can get elevation sickness at elevations over 8,000 feet and they thought it said 80.00 feet?
Maybe they had a pet iguana and wanted a yard for it to play in?
Maybe they had a bad experience with a neighbor?
Maybe they are descendents of the wicked witch of the west and have an aversion to water?
Maybe they're just traveling through, and through, and through...?
Maybe they didn't own a selfie stick but wanted to be sure the desert was always in the background?
Maybe they are an advance party scouting a location for Trump's wall?
Maybe they were tired of being ignored in the big city?
Whatever the Why, it's one sure way to be able to keep an eye on your neighbor. Bless them, it has to be a very tough life! But the gas is cheaper!
California can be a little over the top. While appearing to care about the environment I watched one person after another walk around a discarded bag of fast food wrappers before I finally picked it up and discarded it.
They live here for the weather but could not exist without air conditioning.
There are warnings on everything, stating that it is known to the State of California to be hazardous to your health. Yet they neglect to post the warning at the one spot that would most deserve it - the on-ramps of all state highways.
Chow!
No really, it's time to eat!
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
A desert ride to Tucson
The day started out in laid back mode but ended with a flurry of activity that had me thinking I may be spending the night on a park bench.
The Motel 6 in Yuma was directly next to a Denny's (they're open 24/7 Brian!) which made the short walk to breakfast a snap. When I returned to my room I checked my e-mails and found that my bank wanted me to change both my user name and password because of suspected fraudulent attempts to log in to my accounts. It turned out to be Michelle but she was now locked out, and so was I. The on-line service that I was to access was requiring information I don't have with me, so it would take a trip down the street to Wells Fargo to straighten it out. So with time to burn I fiddled with my phone to see if I could figure out why it is no longer downloading pictures. I couldn't.
After visiting my favorite bank I hit THE road. I rolled onto eastbound I-8 about 10:30, bound for Gila Bend, where I would head south toward Mexico. I don't intend to cross the border but will come quite close on several occasions. Close enough that the English translation on bi-lingual signs is listed second.
The 100 miles or so to GB took until about 1 p.m., so when I jumped off the Interstate it was time for both fuel and food. While refueling I inquired with a local, looking for a non-franchise eatery. She said, "Well, there is that Space thing down the street". That just sounded like something begging to be checked out!
The Best Western was signed as the "Space Age Lodge", and directly next door was a uniquely shaped restaurant called The Space Age Restaurant.
The motif inside was all outer space/aliens/rockets. I asked if there was any local significance to the motif and was told that the owner was a member of one of NASAs programs back in the day.
The town was named for a nearly 90 degree bend in the Gila River just outside town, so it was of little surprise that, in order to go from eastbound to southbound I had to turn left, through a 270 degree turn onto Az 85, toward Ajo (I'll let you figure out the origin of that name). While still north of town I stopped to see if I ćould assist a vehicle with a flat tire. It turned out to be a Border Patrol vehicle. The back tire came apart and took part of the fender with it! He assured me that he had called for help and was in good shape. He said he had a jack, but it wasn't for that vehicle!
About 5 miles north of Ajo I came upon a series of speed reduction signs, and went from 65 to 55, 45, 35, and eventually down to 25 mph. This was, mind you, in the middle of the desert where I could see nothing in the road for miles ahead. I glanced overhead to see if I could spot a candid camera helicopter as I putt-putted along at 25 for several miles before eventually coming to a sign telling me there was a flag man ahead. Another mile plus finally found a flag man standing alongside the road. At that point there was a row of cones placed along the center line for another two miles. Traffic was still driving on the other side of the cones and eventually there was a flag man on that side too, but the cones continued for another mile or so beyond his position. I have no idea what they thought they were doing unless it was a training class.
In the middle of Ajo there was a very large, very old adobe/white stucco style church, Our Lady of Carmel Corn, I believe it said. Actually it was Immaculate Conception. I didn't have my glasses on.
From Ajo it was another 10 miles to Why (not Where, that's next to Elsewhere). I then picked up highway 86 for a final push across the Tohono O'Odham Nation Reservation, passing just west of the Kitt Peak National Observatory, then into Tucson.
By the time I made it into Tucson I had traveled over 300 miles, was tired, saddle sore and running out of daylight. A call to a KOA confirmed they had tent site available but closed in a half hour. A mad dash across town got me there just as she was locking the door.
She very nicely opened the office again and checked me in, ran my credit card, gave me a Wi-Fi code, then showed me where the tent sites were. It was at this time, for no reason that I recall, I finally thought to ask "are these grass sites?". It turns out that they have only gravel-covered tent sites! Even on the ICT we had grass; sometimes mixed with logs, boulders, trees but never gravel!
I very apologetically asked her to cancel my credit card transaction and check me out. I explained that I am too old to sleep on gravel (and a motel was only $3.00 more).
So now, as the days last light slipped away I rushed back into town and found a Knights Inn. The "open" sign was extinguished but the lobby door was unlocked so I walked in and pressed the button next to the "night check-in" sign (or was that knight check-in?).
To cap off a long day of nondescript scenery and high mileage, technology issues kept me from posting this blog until I finally woke up at 4:30 and figured out my solution. So now it's late and I've got a weeks worth of desert fun ahead of me. I'm going back to bed!
By the way, the Cool Suit worked pretty well. Temps in the low 90's and I never got overly hot in my leather jacket.
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