Full Moon Rising

Continuing southward, whim-driven, I went toward Oatman then turned south on old 66. Popular with motorcyclists, I was surprised to see so many campers; sun-blasted crags, creosote and occasional stands of teddy-bear cholla didn't used to hold much appeal.

The Warm Springs Wilderness sets betwixt it and interstate 40...doesn't warrant a mention on MAPS. Its  roadless space caught my eye.

Nevada - southbound

As you can probably (easily) recall, the ambivalence around Tropic was weighted by the threat of snow. I suspect we'd have had to wait a day or more for the road to be cleared and even then I'll surmise it'd have been rough. That was a loooooooong, steep hill.

In case you don't remember...

We were heading west after visiting Dinosaur National Monument. It had gotten cold and tired as we were, you took a room at the motel in Tropic; I slept in Phoebe. The gal at the front desk gave us a break on the rate.

We got a late start the next day and were so tired were considering staying over another night. But dark clouds began forming. 

With snow likely, and the road out of town climbing to an elevation where snow would accumulate, we packed up and rolled on.

I too had had enough exploring, although I can usually, after some rest, bounce back if it's warm. The cold definitely puts the kabosh on my exploratory enthusiasms.

I'm parked between two behemoths. One is an older model bus, perhaps a former Trailways or Greyhound. It fired up its generator a few minutes ago to, I suspect, run their heater; it's getting chilly. The other is a late model whatever with "slides" and a trailer -- for their atv? 

It's not as cold as Utah. And it warmed up nicely this afternoon. I'm hoping by tomorrow afternoon, if it doesn't rain, I'll be able to have a baaaahth. (It's been cloudy all day. High clouds rather than rain or snow though.)

Watching the emotional aspects emerge are, for me, a whole nuther dimension of our relationship. I keep thinking about your letter to: one of my therapists. In *Getting To Grace,*  Ms. Boyle describes how her low self-esteem influenced her behavior; it made her work overly hard to be liked. What you said about me developing my sexual abilities resonated similarly. Would you talk about that? I'll never know if I was able to elicit an erotic response from her and I haven't a clue as to her feelings about polyamory. Were you to "wax eloquent," your writings might inspire envy as well as satisfaction.

An Anomolous Slog?

Or the shape of things to come?

I had an inkling going to Oregon might involve a bit of ardulity coming back. But this has turned into more than I anticipated. 

I'm not complaining!

I used to keep a journal in addition to blogging and though I still journal the private stuff, the day-to-day happenings now all go here. That said, I'm making note of how coming down from Oregon then over to Green River, up to Vernal, back to Green River and across to Saint George, as beautiful as it was, took a greater toll than expected.

The flight southward, usually to somewhere in Arizona, has, in years past, been prefaced by a stint in Albuquerque. Though a mixed blessing, what with spending quality time with the squidgatious Ms. Cook, the noise and pace of the city always leant a strong dose of relief to my leave-taking. 

This is in no way to imply I would've done it any differently. It just always comes as a shock to, once again, face what a cold-wuss I am.

Lake Meade Ntl Rec Area

What a day!!

Yesterday was rough with an early-morning breakfast and then saying goodbye to She-of-the-Capri.

Still exhausted even after a night's sleep, I got out of camp around 2 today. It's cold and despite my fatigue I was determined to get further south where, hopefully, the clime is milder.

Around 4, I dragged myself through the grocery store in Overton and continued on. By 6 I was well into Lake Meade Ntl Recreation Area and it was dark.

All the roads on Garmin (my navigation system) had been blocked off and there's no dispersed camping. Eventually I got to hwy 149, went north out of the park and found a place. A few swigs of soda-pop wine I picked up on a whim in Green River, Utah helped ease the angst of unloading.

Every now and then I envy those with indoor plumbing...and all the rest.

It WAS a beautiful sunset. 

Retiring the Stetson

Its origin-story has been lost in the myriad vagaries that now constitute my "alleged" mind. 

I only washed it once before but this last one, a week or so ago, did it in.

Never having had a Stetson before, I was skeptical. I have a vague recollection of balking at its $10.00 price, but after looking them up online, decided to splurge. Besides, it had "patina."

The years have streamed by; it's been sat on, smushed between luggage and always bounced back. Most interestingly to me, it hasn't managed to be lost.

Always on the lookout for gifts, the purple frog caught my eye. It never found a home and thinking I'd gained a certain infamy from my big mouth, and seeing as how my girth had expanded to Truly Prodigious, I decided to adopt it as my latest avatar (badger was another); it garnered a few compliments which gave the opportunity to relate the preceding and give Mr. Stomach an affectionate pat.

I saw a "Rodeo King" on a guy the other day. He got it from C.A.L. Ranch. But can you sit on it? Can you crush it beneath luggage? 

In the meantime, I have this splendid watch-cap that came as a gift.

As warm and cosy as it is, it just doesn't lend the proper "air" when I walk into a bar, everyone turns to look, and I go into a glaring crouch with my hands out at my sides, fingers twitching.

Dale, Lizzie & Julia Celeste Sellers

In Hanksville to pick up mail, Dale and corgi, Lizzie, paused to visit with someone. The pair made for an interesting couple and I approached for a photo.

I soon learned Dale is the town blacksmith. In addition to making utilitarian things, he and his sons participate in the Armored Combat League, an organization that engages in 14th & 15th century hand-to-hand warfare.

He makes some of the armor including helmets, broadaxes and shields.

I invited myself to his shop and was pleasantly surprised when he agreed.

In addition to the armory work, he offers a selection of knives. All are made from carbon steel and hold an edge far better than stainless (as Julia Child was always wont to point out).

Knife Styles

At one point Celeste, Dale's spouse, joined us. They've been together for 30-something years and, as you can tell from the photo, it's good.

Thank you, Dale and Celeste!

Carl's Garden - Hanksville, Utah

I hear Carl and his garden are putting Hanksville on the map. Likely there are many photos and videos, but we were dissatisfied with all but a few of the ones we took. Here's a video and a couple of pix of the splendid cats.