What is happening here is described by the local weather guy as “windy.” Windy? Windy, my ass. I am concerned that the red paint on the truck will be peeled off before these windy conditions end. The rock formations in the valley below that were so beautiful at the sunrise this morning are now completely obscured by the dust. The Airstream is rocking. And, any plans of grilling out tonight are discarded. Flags look like the one the astronauts left on the moon, permanently fully unfurled. The poor trees are holding on as tightly as their roots will permit. I would not be surprised if some of these loose boulders were shoved around a bit by the wind. The birds have better sense than to attempt flight in these conditions.
The thing that worries me about the windy conditions is the safety of my neighbors from last night. Great folks parked next to me headed off to Colorado this morning. They, too, are dragging an Airstream – real classy rig. As well as an Airstream pulls, it is a trailer and is easily buffeted by crosswinds. I hope they arrived safely. When internet services are restored here (knocked out by “windy” conditions) I will send them an email, seeking word on their arrival.
THE NEXT DAY
The winds diminished overnight. The sunrise is calm, serene, and remarkable. The WIFI connection is still down and I am experiencing cyber-withdrawal. I was thinking of picking through the truck to see if I can find my phone. It is in there somewhere. Missing calls is not a concern of mine. Only a few people have my number and those that do are not phone people. I remember several years ago a television commercial depicted a woman jogging in western China – no way I can explain the set-up for the ad – how the hell did she get to China and why – and her cell phone rings. The voice over went: “one day soon every person in the world will have his/her own phone number.” The thought scared the snot out of me. One day soon every person in the world would be tracked. Every person would be available. Every person would be expected to respond when dialed. Sounded to me then like a Pavlov experiment gone mad. Apparently, that day has arrived. Here in the middle of the Navajo Nation, people have their cell phones pasted to their ears. I understand the desire to communicate. And I am sure my reaction to constant calling is generational. It is more me having trouble adjusting to the new reality than anything essentially at fault with a phone-crazed world. I have learned to text although I generally limit that to communication with Beta Carrotina – she is particularly skilled at the art form. Even when I text, though, and as another sign of my age, I write in complete sentences and use punctuation. Can’t help myself.
It appears that the brutal winds of yesterday have moved on and it is time to stir about. My feet are itching a bit, time to move. My beer supply is exhausted and, as I discovered on my first day here, you cannot buy alcohol on the Reservation. That means that I have means (the truck), motive (thirst), and opportunity (a day without appointments) to seek remedy. Time to commit the act.
THE DAY AFTER THAT
The internet connection mysteriously returned this morning, three days after going down. Just to update the adventure agenda, went down the San Juan River with a Navajo guide – Marcus Buck -- yesterday. An all-day float from Bluff to Mexican Hat. When not hiking to Pueblo ruins or trying to figure out wall carvings, I was busy snapping photos. 232, to be precise. I am including only one as representative of the day.
This morning, I am pulling up stakes and heading south. The plan is to be in Show Low, Arizona by mid-afternoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment