Should I tell of my really great vacation, or should I move right into the newly rising feelings that it's truly time to move on? Can't decide, so I think I'll start with the vacation.
It was pretty great.
I left earlier than I'd planned, and drove all night. I was exhausted when I set up camp but since it was cool and drizzly I went inside and slept most of the day. I did take a short hike at one point, which, though it was nice allowed me to discover that at 10k feet I no longer have any stamina. I could only hike for about 20-30 minutes before needing to stop and rest for ten. It was kind of amusing. In the beginning.
The next morning I hiked a while and then decided I needed a horse. So I set out looking for someplace to rent one.
I ran across a stables run by an old man and his son,they took me out for a couple of hours.
Dad droned on about this and that. "Over there, is a tree from which a criminal of no consequence, and who you never heard of was hanged in 18 umpty-ump." (ok)
"And down this road a piece is where John Smith, or Lewis and Clark or whoever, (whatever) holed up after Sacajawea died. Her grave is hell and gone over by the east side of Yellowstone someplace..."
You get the picture.
Son, however, was a pretty cool guy who rode along quiet most of the time, and when we got back asked what I was doing Wednesday. I checked my extensive schedule and informed him I was free all day. he said, "Well I've got to exercise a couple of horses tomorrow, come by and you can ride with me."
I did and we were out for almost four hours.
I learned a very valuable lesson about taking pictures with the camera on one's phone. (they're horrible) So unless I can photoshop them into usefulness there may never be any.
At one point we came over this hill and below us was this very green (everything there is green) valley, in which was this little cabin. It looked new and had furniture on the deck. but no place to park a car. I was, and still am puzzled.
At first I thought well, they use it for temporary stuff, but then on closer examination I realized this place had a solar panel and an outhouse. But no place to store transportation.
I'm not looking for a garage here, I'm looking for a pad where the car sits at night, or a spot by the door where a vehicle gets parked in the "yard" which is the national forest, but there's nothing.
Then this guy rides up on a horse, ties it to a post I cannot see from this vantage point, and goes inside.
Seriously?
Where the hell do I sign up to own THAT place?
Next stop was this little lake we found. I'm sure Guy knew it was there, but everything was a discovery for me. Very cool little place up in the Tetons where people were fishing. We sat there and just looked at it a while.
Then came the real fun of the trip.
As we came over this little rise we both stopped dead in our tracks.
Below us was a small canyon.
In this canyon was a herd of about 20 wild Mustang.
We both looked at each other and simultaneously spanked our horses.
"Hah!"
We chased those poor horses up and down that canyon back and forth until our horses were too tired to go on. Laughing like maniacs the whole time.
We rested the horses and then headed back. I got the impression that is what I was meant to see by my host.
He'd been very gracious and told me if I was ever there again to come by, when his dad retires he'll be taking over the stables so he plans to stay there the rest of his life. I will be taking him up on that offer if I ever go back.
That evening I was sitting at my campsite reading when a young man on a motorcycle rode slowly by checking out campsites and he stopped. "Excuse me sir."
I so love being called sir by young men, it makes me feel so...oh I don't know...fucking old I guess is the best way to put it.
"Yes?"
"Is there a camp host I should report to?"
"Yeah, you just passed their campsite, it's where that truck is with the sign on the side."
"ok, thanks."
One can only hope that THAT is the sum total of conversation to be had with one's neighbors on a camping trip.
Anyone who reads this blog regularly knows that is not how my life works.
I was like this guys mentor, or some shit.
Let me stop here and qualify this rant. This kid was very nice, he was very respectful, and he was interesting to be around. I just wanted to be alone, which made my inability to say no to him all the more frustrating.
He came over and introduced himself Wednesday night and we ended up cooking our respective meals over my campfire since he couldn't get his going. Then we wound up getting drunk from his bottle of Wild Turkey. I half expected him to pull out a joint and offer it to me, but he never did. I guess old people are seldom suspected of getting high. Dammit.
He asked me if I wanted to go hiking with him on Thursday morning and we went out for a couple of hours. I would have insisted I go alone if everyone hadn't come to my campsite one by one and put the fear of God in me about bears after my first hike.
They were all like, "You really shouldn't be going out here alone without telling someone where you are,man." "I left a note on the windshield of my car and signed in at the trailhead like I'm supposed to!" "Yeah, but still, there's bears around here."
Well. Fuck.
A lot of the point of these little camping trips is that no one in the entire world knows where I am. Thereby rendering them completely unable to find me. Which knowledge I love. Alas.
So I decided they were right and took Rob with me. We had fun and he was infinitely patient with the old man who had to keep resting as we climbed to 13k feet. Of course he showed no sign of even being winded the entire time, fucker.
No I don't know what possessed me, but let me tell you it was worth every minute of misery on the trail. Incredible views. Took forfuckingever at my pace.
So Thursday afternoon I decided it was time to head for home and Friday morning I broke camp and set forth on the trek back across Wyoming.
By the way, do not mention Matthew Shepard in Laramie. I didn't, but I saw someone who did, and it was not well received. They're not a friendly lot to begin with, and this didn't aid their disposition. I went to see the place he was killed. If you haven't seen it, and want to I recommend being in a good place emotionally when you do, because it'll wreck you. It's pretty much sealed off and it takes some doing to find, but it's discernable if you work at it.
I've tried to formulate some coherent sentence about it, but I can't. May McKinney and Henderson rot in hell.
So I made quick work of Laramie and headed for home.
Oh, I've completely forgotten to tell you he funny part of my camping trip!
The camp host was a woman.
Let's call her Ma Kettle, the woman she most resembled.
Her husband was hotter than hell.
Think white trash Eion Bailey:
this was problematic enough without the blue eyes:
While I was at my car filling out the envelope to pay formy campsite he noticed I was from Kansas and I heard him tell her.
"You from Kansas?" She bellowed.
"Yep."
"You know Dorothy?"
Now here is where a more circumspect person would have thought this a strange question. I, however, am so accustomed to people asking me odd questions that I answer without thinking twice...or at all actually.
"Yep, we're good friends."
You know those moments when you've said something that you immediately know you shouldn't have, cause it's going to complicate your life endlessly?
This was one of them.
Hubby perked right up and made it a point to come to my campsite at least twice a day to visit. He was always reaching up under his t-shirt to scratch giving me a view of that oh so tempting trail, and grinning when I looked at it.
Shit. Like I need to get hatcheted to death by the camp host after jumping on her husband.
I passed.
It was not easy.
Love
