Continuing the bitchy part, I'd like to give a hearty "fuck you" to the dog owners gone before me that have ruined it for the rest of us.  You can't take them anywhere - not even national parks these days - thanks to fuckheads irresponsible dog owners that don't make their mutts behave or clean up after them.  That means no hiking in the badlands, no trip to Mt. Rushmore - well I guess one of the adults could have taken the boys but that kind of contradicts the whole "family" concept, doesn't it?  It was too hot and I'm too responsible to just leave the dogs in the camper unattended.  So scratch 90% of the sightseeing.  We did take 20 minutes to see the Corn Palace.  What a hoot!  And the drive through the Badlands was beautiful even if it did cost us $30!

I actually have no complaints about the scenery anywhere along the way.  New Mexico is particularly breathtaking but even Wyoming isn't bad.   Wide open spaces are prettier than I'd ever thought they'd be.  You'll be hearing more about New Mexico over the next three years, I'll expect.  With lots of pictures.  Not much of the drive though because I can't take photos and drive at the same time and Sarge would have been really pissed if I'd kept stopping for camera breaks.

Here's your bullet points:

Prettiest part? New Mexico.  All of it.

Ugliest part? Dumbass drivers in Colorado and the abysmal directionals to and within Kirtland AFB.  Give me some kind of clue which lane to be in - just in case it's rush hour (yes, it was) to turn onto the base and then at least try to point me toward the campground.  And teach your god damn civilians the phonetic alphabet the rest of the military uses?  It is G-O-L-F, Golf is "G" - not Gibson.  If you tell me "Gibson" I look for Gibson (later found to be a different street a few blocks away but I'm smart enough that when you tell me to turn on Gibson and then turn on F and both are one-way streets then I can conclude that you mean G and are just an idiot).  If you tell me "Golf" I know that "G" Street is at least a definite possibility.  Or just use directional signs extensively - like the rest of the military.  USAFA is huge and I still found everything.  On Kirtland - by the time we found their crappy campground I didn't want to stay there any more.

Dumbest part? Believing the staff at Kirtland's FAMCAMP when they said they'd have a space for us  "Don't worry!"  is apparently akin to "Of course I'll respect you in the morning" in Air Force Civ. speak.  After six hours of driving (everything takes longer with dogs and children), horrible turn-by-turn directions on the phone with an outdoor rec employee and a general case of pissed off because you've been driving and cooped up in a camper with two dogs, three kids and a hubby in the same boat for five days, finally arriving at said campground to find no employee on duty and no space for you is a sure way to peg the pissed off meter.

Our solution?  Drive to Soccorro and stay in a Rodeway in that fulfills every stereotype you ever had about motels (yes, motels - exterior entrance rooms) in touristy towns in the Southwest.  Red carpets, ugly wall paper, a pool and a continental breakfast.  By this point, however, the pool was exactly what the fellas needed (whaling regulations prevent me from entering swimming pools - I know there are laws, but I know people break them and I'm taking no chances) and pizza delivery with a glass of cabernet was what I needed.  That and, uh, wireless internet ;)  I'm not disparaging the motel.  It was fine.  I think it's under new management and I think it will improve over time.

Best part? Arriving in El Paso and making the smart choice to check into a hotel with a pool for the remaining two days before our house was available.  We found a great Guest House International - a pet-friendly, new hotel with a suite concept, a pool and a continental breakfast- five minutes from the base.  We will be recommending them highly in the unlikely event we get visitors.  The 2-room suite featured a mini-bar (you know, microwave, fridge, sink) and a separate room with the king-sized bed for the boys.  It was heavenly!

Things that sound dirty but aren't: Kum & Go.  Some entrepreneur in Western Minnesota needs to work on either his language comprehension or his branding, right?  These are convenience stores / gas stations and there are several of them along I-90.    I started thinking "outside the box" (BINGO!) about developing a partner chain of "adult toy store"/ hotel combinations called "Kame & Went".  What do you think?

On the plus side, however, things in El Paso are going reasonably well.  We are here.  Our stuff is here.  We've even managed to locate and unpack most of it.  The house is nice.  The neighbors are nice (the ones we've met so far).  And Fort Bliss is clearly a professionally run military base.  The civilian employees we've encountered - even the contractors(!) - are professional and the services are quite acceptable. The PX and commissary are huge and the shopette for gas is two blocks away.  Nothing, so far, to complain about except how shitty the movers were.  I think that's another post.

I do have some pictures to post, but that's another day.  Get back to work!

$8.95 from REI

Reluctantly, we headed South East, the Spanish border ever-closer. We intended to spend the last few days at a campsite in Portalegre, a big town south of the delights of Marvao. As we drove around it, looking for the campsite, it certainly looked spectacular, but our enthusiasm waned as we made our fourth circuit of the town without so much a glimpse of a tent. There followed a desperate 25 kilometer detour out into the wilderness to try and get onto the right road, and at the very end, we found the campsite. It had closed down.  We decided to leave Portalegre (which is obviously Portuguese for "no camping") to its own devices, and we headed for the border town of Campo Mayor.

Campo Mayor's campsite was thankfully clearly marked, and we parked up for two nights by a beautiful reservoir, spoiled only by the huge quantities of rubbish abandoned along its shoreline. This kind of thing is such a rarity in Portugal, and was quite upsetting.  It seemed as though all the rubbish had been bagged, but the local authority had never collected it. Mystifying. I had to stop myself thinking the Spanish influence had pervaded across the border.

The town itself was fantastic. Wonderful labyrinthine streets, and the old Castle ramparts had been adapted by poor families and transformed into housing! I'd never seen such a thing, it was fascinating. The town boasted two beautiful churches, and as Miki and I took our bikes to explore behind a huge convent, a man emerged from his house gesticulating wildly and shaking his head. He seemed to be imploring us not to go up a particular street.

As we climbed higher towards the Castle, it became clear that the area to which that street had led was the Gypsy quarter, and a woman told us there had been a murder there, just the day before.

Sadly, my image of the Gypsy (contrary to the stupid, romanticised, fortune-telling version) as a thieving rogue who'll rob you blind then stab you in the back was only reinforced. At any rate, I don't know whether they killed one of their own, or one of the townsfolk, but I tried not let it affect my overall view of this wonderful country.

We lingered in the town for a while, enjoying a coffee, before steeling ourselves for the mainly uphill ride back to the Campsite. The cafe played its part in acclimatising our return to Spain - run by a Spanish guy, with a Spanish pop station pumping from the speakers. I'd forgotten how fast they speak, akin to being spoken to by a machine gun!

On our final morning, we left Campo Mayor , and just a few kilometers down the road, crossed the river that marked the border. We bade our beloved Portugal an emotional farewell, pledging to return again soon. But our holiday had one more wonderful surprise in store for us, as we headed into the Spanish region of Extremadura....

Kev Moore

Camping TAU

El pueblo de San José...

...sus playas...

...y los garrulos

Tomando un tintito con unas bonitas vistas

La impresionante playa de Mónsul

Vistas desde Mojácar

La playa de los muertos

y el desierto que no falte

Every camping trip requires a checklist of items to bring along. These items include clothing, shelter, sleeping gear, food, safety and first aid equipment, and an emergency plan. Every camping experience is unique, camping checklists varies depending on the camping location like mountains or beaches or winter camping. The checklist below are approriate for camping in the wild. Choosing campsites also matters. (Please add more items)

Shelter and Bedding

tent
tarp
sleeping bag/s
pillows
Airbed

Cooking and Dining

food
water
cooler
camp Stove
can opener
charcoal
plates
cups
bowls
lighter
match
spoon
basin
chopping board
knife
scissor
food protector/cover
leftover containers
garbage bags
paper towels
rugs
frying pan
rice cooker/pan

Clothes

t-shirts
shorts
jeans/pants
socks
shoes/boots
camp shoes
hat/cap
sweater
rain poncho
underwear
swim suit laundry bag

Personal Hygiene

tooth brush
toothpaste
wash rag(s)
towels
soap
shampoo
comb/brush
nail clippers
razor
toiler paper
wet wipes

Cleaning Items

broom
dust pan
whisk broom
dish pan
detergent
dish rags
scrubber

First Aid Kit

personal medication
bandages
aspirin
medical tape
sterile gauze
elastic wrap
burn ointment
sunburn lotion
hydrogen peroxide
scissor
tweezers
sanitary napkins
pantiliners
snake bite kits

Chuck Box

salt and pepper
herbs and spices
cooking oil
butter
napkins
paper towels
plastic trash bags
tongs and spatula
alunimum foil
measuring cups
cutting board

Miscellaneous Items

bug spray
bungi cords
extension chords
camera
candles
cards, games
clothes pin
compass
duct tape
fishing gear
flashlight
headlight
pen and paper
rope
shower bag
tools
whistle
speaker
ipod
flame tamer
stove wind braker
dog food
urine bowl
gloves
extra few cell & batteries
cell phone/walky talky
camping table
canopy
dish drain rock
allergy pills

We decided against going on Great Slave Lake: I met some seasoned outdoorsfolks who said that the winds are swift and unexpected -- Doug from next door said that there are waves up to 50 feet that can swoop down on boaters. He was on the lake last weekend and a wave washed into his boat -- a motorboat -- that would have swamped our canoe. Even experienced paddlers of this lake -- the tenth largest in the world -- approach it with caution and are very well prepared.

So, we're going to Tibbitt, Terry, and Upper Terry Lakes, an interconnected lake and river system with some minor rapids -- and with lots of nooks and crannies ripe for exploration. No motor boats (yay!) because of the system's shallow waters -- at most 10 feet deep. According to Dave -- an experienced outdoorsman and friend of Tasha's -- one small section of Terry Lake is a mere 2 1/2 feet deep, and is unusual in that the bottom is filled with methane gas. Once we paddle through it, if we look back we should be able to see bubbles surfacing.

Anyway, because this system is inhospitable to power-vehicles, there aren't a lot of folks who frequent it. Mostly canoeists. And not even many of those. So there's plenty of green and quiet. Dave told us that there are lots of tiny islands all over the lakes. Camping on the islands is more bear aware than doing so on the mainland; it's where I'd like to set up a base camp, and then do some exploring (and fishing!) by canoe.

Dave mentioned the forest area north-east of the lake system was burned to the ground about ten years ago. Apparently, that creates prime feeding ground for moose, so there's a chance we might see some of those large creatures. We might also see woodland cariboo -- one or two were recently spotted there.

Dave has been canoeing in the region for about 17 years. In all that time he's only seen two bears: one yearling on the shore as he was canoeing along the lake system -- the bear scampered away as fast as possible; the other near Yellowknife (I think) at a camping spot that regularly had lots of garbage in cans -- I forget but I think the bear ended up back in the greater wilderness.

Tasha -- who's an environmental educator and has spent time with members of the Dene First Nation in the course of her life and work -- told me that according to the Dene, when in Bear country, saying Bear's name summons Bear. And that it is wiser to call Bear Animal when in Bear's home. This seems like a handing down of a gift of knowledge. I am grateful for this widom.

As for the water, the whole system is swimmable -- I've brought my bathing suit! And as for fishing, according to local outdoorsfolks and literature, we can reasonably expect northern pike, lake whitefish, and lake cisco, possibly even lake trout though these tend to live in deeper, colder waters.

I have my rod and reel at the ready!

benton mackaye/duncan ridge trail to toccoa river suspension bridge

the difficulty of the hike may have derived from the 80 pound pack i had strapped to my back. you should never carry more than half of your body weight and attempt to hike over a mountain in 90 degree weather. if you do attempt it, all of your bones will be sore, not to mention the muscles you have forgotten about or never even knew you had. despite this, we had loads of fun! seriously.

our campsite was private and beautiful, right at the edge of the toccoa river. quite timingly, mark bittman, the minimalist, of the new york times recently did a story on 101 picnic food ideas (i love lists as you may have been able to tell) so, we had a delicious dinner of cold peanut noodle salad with cucumbers and a lovely edamame mint salad that david discovered.

cold peanut noodle salad and  edamame salad

we read books (i started a new one- eat, love, pray- since a confederacy of dunces is too big to carry), frolicked in the refreshing water of the toccoa, and slept soundly in our very cool tent (thanks mom and dad). our bug spray did a most excellent job at keeping the mosquitos at bay, but all 3 of us had ticks! such is life outdoors in the georgia summer months.

we have already started planning our next outing for mid-october when both of our football teams have the weekend off. instead of a hike in, this outing may consist of a hike followed by camping nearer to our car...not sure if i can handle another weekend of having a BMI of 36 (with pack weight)!

Quartermaster - Before trip needs to make sure we have miscellaneous stuff like buckets to clean dishes, rope and garbage bags.  On trip is in charge of all this stuff and makes sure it gets back to correct owner.

Mess Captain - Head of kitchen.  Will go grocery shopping with me the Thursday before the trip.  Manages food and makes sure cleanup happens after each meal.  They also decide who gets to cook.  (This may need to be multiple people)

BoozeCom - Needs to have a hat to pass around.  Will take requests from the group and should get us enough beverages to not get thirsty on Saturday night.  We might have two this year, one to stop at a liquor store and the other to get beer at a supermarket (yeah Maine).

FireCom - Responsible for burners and our main fire.

Concierge - This person only needs to help me before the trip.  They need to help me make sure we have enough tents for the trip.  (Or enough volunteers to sleep under the stars...)

Mereka yang akan naik gunung antara lain pengacara magang Lembaga Bantuan Hukum Pers Endar Sumarsono, pengelola kantor AJI Jakarta Sutarno -orang-orang panggil dia Mas Ateng, kamerawan lepas Ronny Rusdiyanto, serta anggota AJI Ronal Saut. Kali ini "Si Raja Gunung" Pembina Karo Sekali absen. "Sudah bosan ke Pangrango melulu," ujar fotografer lepas itu ditirukan Endar.

Saya sih diajak juga. Jujur, saya belum pernah mendaki gunung. "Waduh, saya mau packing barang-barang. Mau ke Yogya," ujar saya memberi alasan kepada Mas Ateng dan Ronal.

Yang paling getol memanjat adalah adik saya, Ginanjar Rah Widodo. Anjar melahap gunung waktu sekolah menengah atas. Paresmapa adalah organisasi pecinta alam sekolah dia -juga SMA saya, cuma saya tak pernah gabung Paresmapa. Ketika kuliah di Sekolah Tinggi Akuntansi Negara dia gabung organisasi pecinta alam. Tapi kurang intens. Kini dia bertugas di kantor Perbendaharaan Tobelo. Tobelo adalah sebuah kota di Maluku Utara. Dia punya klangenan baru: fotografi dan pergi ke pantai. Beberapa kesempatan, "diving juga," tuturnya suatu kali.

Tenda itu berwarna hijau tua dan coklat marun. Berbentuk kubah (doom). Bukan kayak tenda umumnya anak Pramuka yang berbentuk atap rumah prisma segi empat. Ukuran kira-kira dua kali dua meter persegi. Muat untuk empat orang. "Kalau lima sih sesak," komentar saya. Lentur-bisa-melengkung, ringan, tiang kerangka dari plastik bersendi logam. Di dalam rangka ada tali karet yang bisa mulur-kerut. Sehingga tiang itu bisa terlipat jadi tiga bagian, bisa juga tegak jadi satu ruas.

Iseng-iseng Ronal dan Endar mendirikan tenda Rabu sore itu di halaman tengah sekretariat.

Lantas malam harinya saya iseng masuk. "Asyik kalau tidur di sini," pikir saya, "bagaimana kalau tidur di halaman depan?"

"Boleh," sahut Endar. Kami pun membogkar dan memindahkan tenda ke halaman depan.

"Buat uka-uka. Uji nyali."

Uka-Uka maupun Ujii Nyali adalah segmen acara berbau mistik program teve yang sempat melambung beberapa tahun silam. Di TPI dan Transtv (Dunia Lain). Seorang peserta ditinggalkan sendirian di suatu tempat yang dipercaya angker. Pada malam hari hingga beberapa jam usai fajar menyingsing. Kamera tertinggal di lokasi itu, supaya kru bisa memonitor peserta di suatu tempat. Yang tidak kuat tinggal melambaikan tangan ke arah kamera, beberapa saat pembawa acara beserta kru akan menghampiri. Yang kuat menuntaskan batas waktu bakal diberi imbalan oleh program acara itu.

Beberapa waktu lalu, Ronny pernah ngobrol sama saya. Sebelum tidur. Nginep di AJI Jakarta. "Pohon halaman depan ada pocongnya loh," ujar dia melempar kisah syereeem. "Hari pernah dikasih tahu sama Ibu," imbuhnya.

Hari adalah office boy LBH Pers. Ibu yang dimaksud adalah pemilik rumah ini. Dia sewakan untuk dikontrak LBH Pers dan AJI Jakarta. Ibu tinggal di rumah bagian pojok selatan.

Rumah itu terletak di kompleks perumahan pejabat. Tipe tahun tujuh puluh delapan puluhan. Jembar dan jadul. Dekat dengan Hotel Bidakara. Dekat pula dengan kompleks rumah pejabat Bank Indonesia. Hotel ini juga milik bank sentral itu. Bidakara punya jaringan hotel di beberapa kota besar. Misalnya, Savoy Homann di Bandung.

Ibu, perempuan sepuh itu, ramah. Suka ngobrol dengan siapa saja. Sebagian dari kami percaya Ibu punya indra keenam. Bisa lihat hantu. Meski penampilannya seperti orang awam atau umum.

"Hari pernah juga lihat perempuan rambut panjang waktu tidur di ruang kerja. Bonjor juga, sampai girap-girap bangun tidur sendirian. Pak Komang waktu nglilir ke kamar mandi juga lihat. Kalau ruang itu lampunya padam pasti dia kelihatan deh," sambung Ronny.

Bonjor adalah adik Ateng. I Komang Wahyu Dyatmika adalah pengurus AJI Jakarta yang juga kerap menginap di sini.

Justru saya bersama Ronny, Hari dan Direktur LBH Pers Hendrayana menghabiskan malam itu di ruang tersebut. Nonton dvd film Hulk -bajakan. Ronny beli di Plaza Ambassador, Kuningan. Gambar terpancar dari sorot proyektor yang memantul di "layar" whiteboard samping tembok bercat putih. Papan tulis itu mulus bersih, tulisan spidol sudah dihapus biar tidak mengganggu pandangan. Ruang gelap kayak bioskop.

Sial, belum tuntas, film ngadat. Dasar bajakan. Pas adegan si raksasa hijau mengalahkan monster lawan waktu berantem di tengah kota. Panjat gedung, banyak mobil berserakan, warga berhamburan. Hampir pukul dua belas malam. Tidur saja.

Di tengah gelapnya ruang, yang jelas, si cewek gaib itu tak (tampak) nimbrung nonton bareng kami.

Halaman depan itu bagi saya asri. Banyak tanaman. Rumput terhampar. Cukup luas. Bisa buat mendirikan sebuah panggung. Waktu rilis upah layak jurnalis 18 Maret lalu, kami mendirikan panggung di situ buat monolog Sujiwo Tejo. Tejo adalah mantan wartawan Kompas -kayak Wisudo- yang kini memilih jadi seniman. "Dalang edan" adalah sebutannya.

Ada dua pohon di sana. "Pohon mangga," timpal Endar. Satu lagi pohon nangka. Pada salah satunya tergantung tanaman paku-pakuan lidah naga.

Ibu tergopoh-gopoh masuk ke sekretariat. "Di luar ada apa yah?"

"Itu tenda, Bu. Ntar malam saya mau tidur sana. Sama teman-teman."

"Gak takut disamperin ular? Di sana ada loh. Soalnya banyak kodok," ujarnya sambil berkelakar.

"Hahaha..." saya hanya membalasnya sambil tertawa. Ibu juga turut tergelak.

"Tenda buat apa?"

"Buat naik gunung."

"Siapa yang mau naik?"

"Mas Ateng, Ronal, Ronny, Endar..."

"Mas Ateng mana?"

"Lagi keluar... ke acara ulang tahun PRD."

PRD singkatan dari Partai Rakyat Demokratik. Kakak saya, Winuranto Adhi, pernah jadi Sekretaris Kota Malang. Waktu 1997-1998 dia diuber aparat. Tertangkap, dan ditahan tiga bulanan di Surabaya.

Beberapa saat saling lempar cakap, Ibu hendak balik ke rumah. Lantas saya tiduran di ruang tengah menunggu realisasi dari Endar.

Seakan hendak menegaskan, Endar sekali lagi mengajak saya tidur di tenda. "Mau ikut?" tanya saya pada Ronny, Ateng, dan Abadi.

Masing-masing, mereka bilang tidak. Mereka sudah mapan di atas kasur lipat sambil nonton teve. Akhirnya hanya saya dan Endar yang tidur di sana.

Abadi adalah adik Akuat, anggota AJI yang sedang menyelesaikan kuliah program master atawa magister ke Malaysia. Abadi adalah perancang grafis sejumlah buku AJI. Dia sering main ke sini. Juga tak jarang menginap.

Kasur kami gelar. Hawa malam dingin. Saya tak bawa bantal. Juga tak bawa jaket. Cuma pakai sarung dan kaos oblong. Tapi tak apa-apa. Beberapa menit kami ngobrol.

Tujuan saya tidur sesekali di tenda halaman depan sih iseng saja, apakah benar ada makhluk halus? Selain itu, untuk ganti suasana. Sudah sering saya tidur bersama teman-teman di ruang rapat. Ada tevenya sih. Dan tentu saja di dalam ruangan lebih hangat. Tapi, sesekali ganti tempat lah.

Asyik juga. Tak heran ada sebagian orang suka camping. Sayang, kali ini bukan suasana tenang dan sepi yang saya peroleh. Deru mesin kendaraan masih saja menghiasi Jalan Dr Soepomo di depan sana. Tapi yah, bisa tidur juga akhirnya.

Pukul lima kurang seperempat. Azan subuh berkumandang membangunkanku. Saya tinggalkan tenda. Guna salat. Usai itu saya kembali ke tenda. Endar masih pulas.

"Tuuutiii... tuuutiii... tuuutiii... wiuiuiuiui... tuuuuuut... tuuuuuut... tuuuuuut... tetetetetet," alarm sebuah mobil meraung. Langit belum terang.

Baru Endar bangun. Kami berniat angkut kasur. Tapi tenda tetap berdiri di situ. "Lulus uji nyali," ujar saya. Semalaman tak ada apa-apa. Tak ada kuntilanak ataupun pocong.

Saya duluan yang keluar. Ibu kebetulan keluar rumah. "Selamat pagi Bu," sapa saya.

"Ngapain? Tidur di situ? Mau tidur di hutan?" ujar Ibu sambil tersenyum.

"Iya nih. Hutan kota."

"Sama genderuwo?"

"Bukan, sama Endar."

"Memang muat?"

"Bisa kok Bu. Badan bisa lurus."

Beberapa saat Endar menyusul bangun dan mengangkut perkakasnya: kasur plus bantal.

Langit mulai membiru di ambang pagi. Kicau burung bersahutan.

Pagi ini saya tanyakan perihal makhluk gaib kepada Hari. "Bener ada pocongnya di pohon?"

"Gak ada. Cuma kuntilanak. Tapi dia gak ganggu. Di pohon nangka."

"Bentuknya gede?"

"Gak. Kayak gadis. Kalau pocong di jendela," ujar Hari menunjuk ruang kerja LBH Pers yang sarat komputer. Jendela ruang itu mengarah ke halaman depan. Hari menandaskan, "kalau aku sih pernah lihat tiga makhluk sekaligus."

Obrolan kami tersumpal oleh kue gethuk dan ketan yang dibeli oleh Abadi pagi ini. Kami melewati pagi sambil menyimak lagu di radio -dengan melanjutkan percakapan, di halaman tengah rumah itu.

Tenda itu masih berdiri di halaman depan.

Ah, he doesn't say much, but when he does he often surprises me with his insight.  Of course it's a matter of perspective; almost everything is.

Life isn't dull - I'm just a little lazy right now.  We've booked a holiday for next week which will surely jolt me out of the lathargic state I've grown accustomed to over the last few weeks. 

This holiday has real potential.  I'm very excited at the prospect of canoeing and camping.  He doesn't seem excited about anything, but then he never does.

(Unless it involves the pub.)

Things are good between us right now, but the thought that we're just delaying the inevitable has entered my mind on a few occassions.

There are some people you meet who you instantly connect with on a level you can barely recognise; a connection that runs deeper than words or actions.  Just by sharing the same space, the same air, by sitting close to one another, you KNOW each other.  You don't need to talk, or make promises, because you both understand that yes, you'll see each other again, that the other person is as aware of the connection as you are.

The Pirate was never one of those people.  We seem to live life on different frequencies - we see and hear different things, care about different things, right down to the way we think about birthdays and cups of tea. 

My wise aunt once pointed out the biggest difference between me and my wonderful sister.  To me, life and everything in it is about the journey.  The step by step process of making things happen, of watching things unfold, of enjoying the moments along the way.  My sister is more concerned with the destination - I don't fully understand what this means to her, but I know she's more interested in the outcome of a particular event than she is in the event itself.  I think the Pirate is like that too - to me, he seems impatient and disinterested, but he's probably just seeing things from his own perspective.

Maybe he's all the bad things, and I keep making excuses.

I get a lot of knitting done when I am out camping. This was the first night, and I had just started a sock. The sock is now finished, just the toe was left when I came home. The sock is being knit from the new Patons Stretch Socks. This yarn is delightful, although provides a challenge for me. I am a tight knitter, and with the elastic you need to knit the yarn quite loosely. I am just doing a plain sock - perfect for low light around the campfire and for mindless lake-side knitting.

We ended up leaving on Monday afternoon about 3:30pm. That was a lot later than I had originally planned, but I could get myself moving on Saturday to get the trailer packed and ready. So, we did most of the packing on Monday.

After we got to camp, we decided to do tinfoil dinners first, because the dutch oven meals were still frozen. It was nice. We then settle in earlier than usual for camping, because we had worked hard that morning.

In the morning, I woke up before everyone else (which is typical). So, I decided that I would start the day in searching for a geocache. The is called New Name New Cache and it is located up the Days Fork Trail. It is accessible only through the Spruces campground, but you can park just outside the campground if you don't want to pay the fee.

It was a rough hike at first, but it levels off near the end and is very pleasant. I was tempted to place another cache to attract people up there, but I really didn't have a good container. So, I will put one up next year. Spruces seems to be an annual tradition in our family.

When I got home we had a big breakfast of biscuits, sausages, and eggs. The biscuits were done in the dutch oven, and as you would expect from the dutch oven, there were better than from a regular oven.

After breakfast, I got the geocaching but again. So, I offered to take my kids on a hike to find a geocache. We headed out in search of Health Come to Dog Lake. When I got to the trail head and saw that the trail was 2.6 miles, I should have known it was too much for my 4- and 2-year-old to handle, but when I am caching such common sense departs.

After getting about 1.5 miles into the hike, I contemplated turning around. It was a beautiful enough of a spot to call our final destination. There were hundreds of butterflies, a few bees, and thousands of beautiful flowers by the stream. It made a great resting place.

However, after eating the snacks that we had brought, I was renewed. So, we pushed on. I told my children that we would decide about turning back once we got the the fork in the trail. At the fork, it was only a half a mile left to Dog Lake, so we decided to do it. It was a lot rougher, but no more difficult than the first half of the trail. It was at this point I started to carry Capt. Z.

We finally made it to Dog Lake. It wasn't much to see, but it was a good hike. We thought about pushing on the the cache. But realized that it was 2:30pm and that Mom would be expecting us home soon. So, we gave up on that cache, and decided to find the two that I had already found before. We found the first, but not the last.

We ended up not getting home until 5:30pm. So late, that my wife had called my dad, and was ready to send out the search teams. But my dad assured her, that I was just following in his foot steps and turning a short hike into a forever hike.

Sandy had dinner all ready to go by the time we got home, so I helped her get dessert ready. We had the Great Chicken Dinner that I have told you about again. But we finished it off with some very delicious Orange Knot Rolls. I will share the recipe with you tomorrow. After a long hike, it was very delicious and satisfying. I don't remember ever eating that well while camping.

We started a game of cards that evening, but the younger kids were acting up, and we decided that we should call it a night.

Wednesday morning, I decided to stick around for two reasons. The first was because we were having German Pancakes in the dutch oven. The second was that I was tired from the 8 miles of hiking that I did the day before.

After breakfast, the kids relaxed and played in the nearby stream, and I didn't do much. I did take a short nap, and played a little catch with the kids, but for the most part, I watched the trees grow.

After lunch, which was hot dogs and mac'n'cheese, we play a game of 'May I' (that's pronounced like the request "may eye?"). One of these days I hope to explain it to you, because I believe that it is a Gazelem Family phenomenon.

Then for dinner we had barbecue country style pork ribs (if you need the recipe then you have never dutch oven cooked) and baked potatoes. The potatoes were done by wrapping them in tinfoil and then cooking them in the dutch oven. They were amazingly good.

I couldn't let the day go by without some geocaching, so we decided to do some drive-by caches in the canyon. We started out with a no find, then we had a couple of easy finds by a restaurant and a trail head.

The cache by the trail head gave me an idea of where I wanted to go in the morning. So after an okay night's rest, I started by going after perhaps the lamest virtual cache in Utah, and perhaps the reason GC.com doesn't list virtual caches. Then, I headed back to the trail head, and head up the canyon to grab several different caches.

But the main goal to to get a possible First To Find. I knew from the description, and looking at my TOPO maps on my GPS that this wasn't going to be a pretty hike. But I had to go for it. Because my database was a month old and it looked like a possible First Find experience. The hike up was rough. There was a couple of times that I thought about giving up. But I perservered, and I was the second to find the cache.

My only regret is that my camera batteries were dead and so there were no pictures taken of this beautiful site. I might just have to do this again for the great pictures. But I think that I saw an easier approach while I was up there, so I might try a different route next time.

Coming down was an adventure itself. I decided to follow in the steps of the person before me (not that I saw his tracks, just had the same mind set). And I headed straight down the hill. There were several times that I felt like I was going to fall and break something, but after slowing down just a hair, and keeping my eyes wide open, I managed to get to Willow Heights safely.

When I got home, we started packing up the trailer and started heading home. It was a fun week, and I am glad that despite my misgivings, that we went camping at Spruces. Next year, I will definitely place a couple of caches in the area. Because I know that I will be going often enough.

See More Pictures

http://www.horningshideout.com/

Such an awesome trip and area cannot go undocumented.  A few awesome pictures were taken of the trip.  Click on the picture of the photographer of choice below and you can see their photos.

After a wonderful getaway with my amazing husband, we decided to take the kids camping again.  (I am on a mandatory five day vacation where I work.)  The last time we went camping was in May, right before we discovered Benjamin's gluten/casein intolerance.  That trip started with a big gluten-stuffed meal at IHOP.  Nothing like loading your child full of junk that will make him sick, eh?

This time, we headed out fairly early for a breakfast of smoothies and Lara Bars, courtesy One Stop Nutrition...a much better way to start the trip.  Of course, I had to make a caffeine stop, but still much better than IHOP.

I had commented to Jarid that we should get gas while we were still in town, as it is quite a bit cheaper than near the freeways.  We both spaced it, and before we knew it, we were looking at prices of $4.19/gallon.  No matter, though, since there was one more gas station out in the toolies...surely it couldn't be more than $4.19, right?  Except that it was $4.45.  As in four dollars and FORTY FIVE cents!!!!  Out of sheer principle, we decided to chance it, even though we had less than a quarter tank of gas.  If it was a straight shot, no big deal.  But to get to Payson, we're looking at climbing several 6% grades.  We literally coasted in neutral on the downhill portions...right into Payson where we were greeted with $3.97/gallon!!!

From there, we were off to our next mandatory destination: the Payson Wal-Mart.  Even though we have created a packing list, there were still a few items we needed before setting up camp.  Flip-flops for me (those are a must have, camping aside!), a fishing license for Jarid, sinkers, fishing poles for the kiddos, velveeta cheese for bait, marshmallows, and ice...and we were finally on our way!

I'd like to divulge the location of our favorite campsite, but then I'd have to kill you. :)  Fortunately, our particular site was vacant, so we got right to work.  Within minutes, the tents were up...and we were hungry.  Since it was early afternoon, we didn't want to start a fire yet, so we popped open the portable grill and slapped down the meat.  For Jarid, top sirloin; for the rest of us, hotdogs from Applegate Farms.  Oh, and cantaloupe.

Then it was off to the creek to catch some fish.  As expected, the little ones got bored quickly, so daddy was left to bring home the bacon trout himself.  With the attention span of our children, there was only time to catch one.  But oh the joy of watching daddy kill, behead, and gut the poor thing.  As this production continued, I decided to try my hand at fishing.  Considering that I grew up in Montana, it's really sad that this is my first time fishing.  Beginner's luck?  Maybe...

When we finally decided to call it quits, Kaiya was soaked head to toe, Benjamin had long since forgotten his fishing pole, and Jarid had a trout in the net.

After all the hard work, of course, we were hungry again.  So we started the campfire and Jarid finished off the steak, and we all had cilantro-lime-chicken-onion-bell pepper-potato packets.  (Ben's was potato-less, as we are avoiding potatoes, apples, and raw tomatoes for him).  As we grilled the corn, the sky began to darken and the rain came.  So we at corn-on-the-cob in our tent.  And raw coconut.  Yum.

We had planned to roast a few marshmallows (which are gluten-free for sure, probably casein-free!), but by the time the rain stopped, our little troopers were tuckered out.  We moved them into their tents and they fell fast asleep.  We weren't too far behind.  Camping is hard work!

Last time we camped, we all froze.  I ended up climbing in with Ben and Kaiya to make sure they stayed warm enough.  This time, Jarid and I didn't actually crawl into our sleeping bags until sometime in the middle of the night.  Even then, it was just a bit chilly.

Breakfast consisted of eggs and pure maple syrup, along with a huge load of watermelon.  After-breakfast dessert, as promised by daddy, was roasted marshmallows with a bit of gfcf chocolate (which is surprisingly good) and peanut butter on top.  Fake s'mores!

After taking some time to pack up, we took a quick hike up to the top of the hill, with Benjamin as our guide.  A quick wipe-down and a fresh change of clothes and we were on our way home.

GFCF camping?  Doable, for sure.  Easy, in fact.  A little planning and fresh food, and you're good to go!

Enjoy the pictures.  If you click on them, you'll be able to see a larger version.  Be sure click on the one with my big goofy smile to see my "catch".

Was a new visage of NM for me to look into.  It's the "monsoon" season, meaning afternoon rain.  We've gotten a little bit down here in town.  Most seems to hit up in the Sandia Mountains or not hit the ground.  Loads must be falling in the Jemez judging from the soggy ground, lush, green grassy meadows,  light green ends of new pine needle growth and MOSQUITOES!  Yep...nasty little buggers, thought I left those in MN when I moved away. 

I've become very intolerant of that whiny noise in the ear, the welts from the bites, the slapping.  I applied DEET liberally.  Must have cancelled out all the healthy food eating I've done in the last year.  Hah!  Love DEET...love it.

  Rain makes red really red and green really green. 

Camped with a great group of folks, some I knew and some I met only briefly before, but know better now.  I was a housemate of Amy's when first moving to ABQ.  Her S/O Dallas, my friend Cliff, and two others they bike with, Woody and Mike were there.  They were mtn. biking.  I, nursing the bummed knee, kept Cliff's power-lounger chair warm and added a few inches to a shawl I'm knitting.

This was car-camping at its best, complete with comfy car-seat chairs, Cliff's folding picnic table, plastic wine glasses and wine in a box. 

   Luxury camping accoutrements.

Thank goodness for the clever, organized, handy fellas in the group who procured an awning (that worked until we realized the seams weren't taped) and a tarp to huddle under.  Regardless, the conversation/stories/jokes were lively. The company warm. 

Breakfast the next AM was a smorgasboard feast.  (I was really looking forward to it.)  All contributed some part. Bacon, buckwheat pancakes, veggie and potato skillet, you name it.  We feasted. 

 l-r: Woody, Mike, me, Cliff, Dallas and Amy  Now THAT's breakfast!

     Amy and purdy flowers.          Amy, Cliff and I

  Jemez Mountains

  Tent rocks just off the road to the campsites. Cool!

Left the bunch and headed to Santa Fe for the International Folk Art Festival, a yearly gathering of sponspred artists from all around the world.  I learned of countries I'd never heard of!  Neat facts about the Market:

Aprox. 97% of Market artists come from developing countries.  Over 50% are first-time exibiters.  They take home 97% of the earnings.  Average booth sales equal $15,000.  (Think of how much that is in a developing country.)  Artists named fund-raising goals of schools, medical needs, food, farm animals and their personal business growth.  See http://www.folkartmarket.org/  for more info.  I counted 41 represented countries on the provided map. 

It was huge.  It was crammed full of people.  Made me a litle twitchy but I dealt with it and recognized the need to slow my usual pace and move with the people.  Being the shutterbug I am, I asked before taking photos. All I asked were happy to share. 

      Pieces from China, all embroidered by hand.  Scrummy!

      Stunning telephone wire baskets made by South African artist Nomvuselelo Mavundia. She learned how to do this craft to get through school.

     Textiles from Georgia.

 Applique quilted pillows from one of the "stans", in this case, Pakistan, made by Lila Handicrafts, the same folkd who made the 36" square piece I bought. 

Seeing such a cultural smorgasboard was a trip.  Made my brain hum.  Let's face it.  I am a textile ho.  I love textiles.  I was in heaven.  I drew much inspiration from these artists pieces.  I was good and bought only a couple pieces:

The orange pillow slip is Indian. It consists of tiny stitches all over, with a depiction of women doing tasks (including cooking with a propane stove, shown in the lower rt hand corner). The 36" square covering is beautiful.  I knew it was meant to live with me when I saw it.  It's all hand quilted, pieced and appliqued. 

I'm not sure where I'll be at this time next year. (Back in Denver?  Travel RN'ing elsewhere?)  If I'm anywhere close, I'll return to this Festival and recommend it to EVERYONE.  It's one of those "life shaping" events (as cheesy as that sounds).

Decompressed from people overload with a day at Ojo Caliente hot springs, a lovely setting, having seven pools, each with a different mineral composition (soda, iron, etc.)  Soaked and relaxed and treated myself to a night at The Inn at Ojo, a lovely B&B with friendly innkeepers, yummy breakfast, cushy down comforters and a pretty setting.  Do stay there if in that neck of the woods.  The Inn and Mercantile at Ojo's #'s 505-583-9131.  This litle bug (I think it looks like a Cootie, rememeber that game?) hung out at my feet that night while sitting outside knitting in the fresh air.  The innkeepers told me what it was. Never chirped, though.

  Jeruselem Cricket of Potato Bug

Then, home, as always, thinking of the next outing.

We expect this year to have twice as much of everything - campers, day visitors, stalls, craft demonstrations, green workshops to rethink the future , music , delicious food, local beers, organic wines, and a rich and varied healing area with lovely tents and people and a multitude of treatments and entertainments. Not to mention a full programme for the children and a covered chill out area for oldies with green mags to read and the best coffee and chocolate to drink. All for a €65 three day camping ticket or a €25 day ticket (see the website www.irishgreengathering.com)

We are asking everybody this year to be especially careful about waste. The maxim is ‘leave no trace’, for example by bringing and taking away your own beer tankard, tin mug or plate. And by making sure that if anything does have to be thrown away it goes into the correct bin. We want as much as possible of the waste generated to be compostable and all food and drink suppliers have therefore been required  only to use cups, plates and  ‘glasses’ made out of 100% compostable plant fibre or starch.  

No glass bottles, no dogs. But please bring a flat stone for Edward Byrne to use in the obelisk to be built during the festival.

There will be no paper programmes  but full programmes for the music, green workshops, children’s area  and  healing area will be put up on the website, the blog and there will be large blackboards with full programme details and a site map at Woodbrook itself.

Woodbrook is between Kiltealy and Killanne and will be well signed. See website or blog for detailed instructions. There will also be a shuttle bus on Friday running from the Enniscorthy bus stop from 12 noon until 6 pm (cost €5, payable to the driver).

**DISCLAIMER: 

A)  To those who either sign my paycheques and/or know my mother, please be advised I no longer participate in many most of the activities described in the following post.  And what happens on my blog should STAY on my blog.

B)  Names have been thinly disguised to protect the not-so-innocent. 

C) If you have never done LSD before and think it sounds like fun based on this story, heed this warning:  DON'T.  I say this because approximately 11% of the population carries a latent gene for schizophrenia, which often remains dormant until some idiot triggers the gene to manifest by using hallucinogenic drugs.  There is no way of knowing ahead of time if you might be in this 11%.  I was lucky.  You may not be.  Don't be stupid.

D) The following is a subjective recollection from my own perspective.  I do not claim it to be an absolutely factual recounting of events, so don't think you're going to sue me and end up on Oprah.  Just don't even think it.

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I'm a pretty sentimental schmuck to begin with, but too many recent late-night talks with old friends have got me feeling kind of nostalgic.  I thought I'd take a few minutes to tell you about one of my favourite places on the planet. 

Some of you may have heard of The Ovens.  Some of you have probably even been there.  I can pretty much guarantee, though, that you haven't truly experienced The Ovens. 

The Ovens, for those of you who haven't been there, is a natural park and campground located just outside of Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.  The main attraction of the park is the fact that it is perched on the cliffs above the North Atlantic, cliffs that are riddled with caves, many of which are accessible to the public.  At first glance, it appears much like any other campground.  There is a pool, an RV park, a gift shop/museum that outlines the history of the man-made caves.  There is even a small rocky beach where some have been lucky enough to find tiny gold nuggets (or so I've heard).  So granted, in peak tourist season, it may seem like a less-than-attractive place for us locals to hang out.  Trust me when I say that's not true.

The first time I ever heard of The Ovens, I was sixteen.  My ex-boyfriend 'Dob' and I were hanging out at the mall on a hot summer night, trying to figure out what to do with ourselves.  (We had broken up but were still partners-in-crime when it came to partying.)  Sitting in the food court, we were waiting to see where the action was that particular night.  We knew that if we sat there long enough, we'd catch wind of something - small town rules of society.  And sure enough, it wasn't long before we noticed an exodus of young people heading for the parking lot and piling into cars.  We followed and discovered another small-town phenomenon - the party train, a lemming launch of cars full of teenagers funneling its way to the parking lot exit.  We jumped in the back seat of the nearest car, which happily was occupied by our buddies Seal and Manny.  

"Hey, man, where are we going?" 

"The Ovens, man.  Birthday party for Turny."

"The Ovens," I asked.  "Where's that?"

"You've never been to The Ovens?"

"Nope."

Knowing nod from driver, "You'll see, man.  You'll see."

It was about a half hour drive.  Dob and I filled the time by dropping acid in the back seat.  It was the summer of Batman blotter, a fine year indeed.  Dob was one of the few people I knew who could keep up with me when it came to recreational drug use.  And this night, we were blessed with a plentiful supply.  "I'll take another hit if you do."  "Okay, you first."  "No, you first."  "Okay, together - one, two..."  Put it in, spit it out, laugh, wait for the other to do the same, put it back in, agree to swallow, check under each other's tongues.  "Okay, I'll do another if you do."  "You first, " etc.  Until we were both on the runway to what promised to be a fine flight.

Finally, we pulled into a dirt road.  I was getting excited to see what the deal was, but a little way in, Seal pulls off abruptly, literally plowing the car into the woods, flattening small trees en route.  He explained that if we went in the back way, we wouldn't have to pay to get into the place.  Cool. 

The car eventually emerged into a small clearing filled with people, clearly the party was already in progress.  The clearing was in a lovely patch of old coniferous forest and possessed a couple of picnic tables, a couple of outhouses, a few tents and lots of teenagers in various states of intoxification.

It wasn't long before the sun went down and Dob and I were toasting along quite nicely.  That was when our good friend Kosh decided he wanted to try acid, too.  Being young and all that, we kindly fixed our buddy up with his first hit.  Now, LSD takes a while to kick in, sometimes up to 45 minutes.  Kosh was getting kind of impatient, so he decided, against our more-experienced advice, to drop another hit while he was waiting.  First rule of psychedelics is that if you decide to fix up a first-timer, you are then responsible for their ass until they straighten out.  Hopefully, they will have a nice trip and not decide you are the devil. 

In Kosh's case, he wasn't doing too badly until he went to the outhouse for a pee.  And because Dob and I were having a grand old time and were in rather boisterous moods, I decided to check and see how Kosh was doing.  From outside the outhouse, I called to him.  "Hey, Kosh!  How's it hanging?" 

Seconds later, Kosh came flying out of the outhouse, convinced that the walls were speaking to him, inquiring on the condition of his goods.  He threw himself down on his stomach, and much like a sea turtle preparing its nest, proceeded to attempt to dig himself into the dirt for protection. 

Dob and I looked at one another, agreed that he was unlikely to hurt himself, shrugged and went back to freaking each other out by painting the air with the tracings from our lit cigarettes.  We were exceptional trip-sitters.

It was around 1 in the morning when my friend Timon asked if I'd been to the caves.  "CAVES????"  My stoned ass exclaimed, "There's CAVES????"  So Timon offered to be my guide and off to the caves we went. 

A short hike through the woods at the back of the clearing brought us to the edge of the cliffs.  After being in the forest, breaking out into the sight and sound of the ocean just about blew my mind.  We lay down at the very edge of the land and hanging our arms over, Timon told me about growing up there.  He pointed out the various islands and points of land.  "And that, "  he gestured toward open water, "is England." 

Up and down the cliff we wandered, and then Timon took me for the first time down into the depths.  

Decades ago, steps had been created, partially from cement and partially carved from the raw stone itself, leading down into the damp, echoing places.  Each cave had a different personality, its own name.  The greatest of them all was Cannon Cave, a large hollow with a smaller, hidden cave behind it.  When the waves rush in, the water fills the smaller cave before rushing out with a release of air that creates a loud BOOM - thus the name, Cannon Cave.

When we emerged from the darkness of the cave, Timon showed me a cool thing that he liked to do, which was sit on the concrete piling at the end of the platform above the cave; you sit with your feet over the edge, lean back and hook your hands on the edge of the piling behind you and then wait for a big wave to rush up and wash over you.  Yes, this is foolish.  Yes, one could hypothetically be washed out to sea.  Yes, it's a hell of a lot of fun.  No, you most definitely shouldn't try it.

We wandered all the way to the end of the park path, where a fence blocked off the wilderness, with a hand-carved wooden sign that stated "Dangerous Beyond This Point."  At which point, I commented that I wanted - no, I needed that sign.  Timon, in his teenage boy eager-to-please way wrenched the sign from the tree and tucked it under his arm (Timon was pretty burly - he was the local teen-club's first bouncer.)  We got in crap later because one of the people at the party happened to be a park ranger and he drunkenly insisted that Timon replace the sign later that night.

When we got back to the party, the heat lightning began.  I'm not sure what the technical term for this is, but it's when the sky begins to explode with bursts of lightning that resemble fireworks (I know it sounds like the 'cid talking, but it's a real thing, I swear.)  Haloes of light radiated outward in concentric circles, like ripples in a pond, overlapping and spreading across the whole clear sky.  It's one of the most beautiful things you'll ever see in nature. 

Someone suggested we all head down to the caves.  I didn't care that I'd already been there - everything is a new experience when you're having as much fun as I was.  So about 15 of us headed out.

We were about halfway down the winding stone stairs to Cannon Cave when the skies opened.  Within seconds every one of us was drenched to the bone.  The stone steps were so slippery, we had to link arms so as not to lose someone.  After eons of inching our way in the driving summer rain, we all made it into the cave safe and sound.  We crowded in and made ourselves comfortable to wait out the storm. 

It was like another world down there.  And I've compared notes with others who were not as sky-high as Dob and I, and they agree on the details, so I know it really happened as I remember it.  That night, looking out the mouth of Cannon Cave, we all experienced a magical thing.  Though the mouth of the cave, we could see the crazy lightning bursting in the sky and the sea was rife with phosphorescent algae that flew sparkling like a million waterbound fireflies, up over the edge of the platform where we perched.  It was like being inside a crystal ball filled with fireworks.  The fact that we were soaking wet and the booms created by the 'cannon' only added to the full-sensory experience.

Someone suggested that the only thing needed to make the moment perfect would be a smoke.  Instantly, an underground room full of drunks craving a cigarette.  After a few minutes of wet pocket-patting, a single dry-ish cigarette and a single dry-ish match were found.  One cigarette.  For 15 people.  Sounds bleak, yes?  But in the community spirit that had come over us all from sharing this incredible experience, that one cigarette seemed to be enough.  I could swear it was passed around and came back to me at least a couple of times. 

Finally the storm ebbed and we made our way wetly back to the campsite.  Somebody pulled out a couple of guitars and began singing.  My friend Tizzy (Timon's twin sister) ran up and said, "Drea, I want you to meet my new boyfriend, Darren!"  I turned in time to watch Darren bite into the side of a can of Off! bug spray and then proceed to guzzle its contents.  Then he and Tizzy went into the birthday boy's empty tent, presumably to have sex.  Dob and I ourselves ended up in the backseat of someone's car, making out.

It was just after dawn when we were roused by the sound of Tizzy screaming.  Apparently Timon and another guy had decided to dive into the water off the platform inside Cannon Cave and had gotten stuck in the undertow. 

We were all in various states of going up or coming down when we gathered at the cliff's edge, the morning air punctuated by Tizzy screaming her brother's name.  It was impossible to decide whether to call in the 'grown-ups' - we could see the guys, they waved periodically, and they weren't being pulled out to sea, they just didn't seem to be able to move closer to shore.  Eventually, someone called a friend with a Zodiac, and we stayed on the cliff, watching and waiting. 

Then we saw one of the guys call to the other and point below him.  Then they both dove under and we lost sight of them.  Tizzy began to hyperventilate.  It seemed like forever, but then someone saw them.  This happened over and over until finally someone shouted, "They're climbing up the cliff!"   Apparently, we later found out, they had gotten out of the current by diving to the ocean floor and crawling along with their hands until they reached the cliff wall. 

They had made their way to the shore, but were at the bottom of a 50-foot cliff.  One of those ones where the top hangs way out over the bottom. 

And it took what seemed like hours, but finally, after many stops and starts and many sucked-in breaths by those of us bearing witness, they made it to the top.  Exhausted, they called for beer and it was given.  Tizzy nearly collapsed with relief, before punching Timon and swearing at him.  I can't remember whatever happened to the guy with the boat.

That was my first experience at The Ovens.  Beautiful beyond belief, and just as dangerous.  My favourite combination.
(Oh, and don't worry - we hadn't forgotten about Kosh.  His trip leveled out enough for him to enjoy the storm with us in the cave.  We were just talking about it the other day, in fact.  And the guy whose birthday party it had been was just over at my house the other night with his wife and little boy.  In fact, I'm still friends with everyone who was there that night, and we all remember.)

It doesn't end there, though.  The following summer, I found myself dating the park ranger who had torn strips off Timon for stealing the 'Danger' sign for me.  He knew all of the park's secrets and took me deep in the woods to show me the 'witch's spiral', a spot where a local coven was rumoured to meet during the full moon - a spiral walking maze of smooth stones.  We spent nights camped out in the caves.  (You see, night-time is the best time -it's when the tourists are bedded down and abiding the rules of the campground, which is, "no caving at night."  We locals don't heed such nonsense.)  I walked the cliffs so many times that summer that my feet learned the way without having to look.

Over the years, I would return again and again.  But a place like The Ovens is one of those places where the good times happen almost accidentally.  If you try to recreate them, you simply set yourself up for disappointment.

But good times were yet to be had. 

My 35th birthday was approaching, and for some reason, it was weighing on me.  Subsequent birthdays haven't bothered me in the least, but inexplicably, 35 was really bumming me out.  I announced that I did not want a celebration unless it was a wake for my dead youth.  (I am nothing if not melodramatic.) 

On the day in question, I was picked up unexpectedly by a vanload of my dearest friends, who were especially unexpected since they had thrown me a surprise party the night before, out on the town.  I was told I had five minutes to grab three (and only three) overnight essentials.  Attempts to get hints as to what sort of overnight essentials I would require went unanswered.

I was kidnapped and taken to The Ovens.  My friends, being from the city and unfamiliar with The Ovens but knowing it was one of my favourite places, had booked a campsite there and spent the day preparing it.  A huge tent had been erected, with a table draped in black and set up to resemble a coffin, complete with a large framed photo of the 'deceased' (me).  There was even a disco ball and a large tiara onto which my friend Meri had painstakingly glued hundreds of black sequins, fitting for the Queen of the Dead (me).  And a fully stocked bar.

Teary-eyed with love, we settled in for a night of drinking. 

Of course, as at any party, I was the last one standing (being both a night-owl and having an uncommonly large liver.)  When the last reveler had been put to...sleeping bag, I remembered where I was. 

Now, the campsite that my friends had chosen, being unfamiliar with the area, happened to be located in the highly populated RV park part of the campground.  Meaning...lots of supervision.  Luckily, I know the area like the back of my hand.

I snuck off through the woods alone, bare of feet and wild of spirit (or perhaps that should read 'spirits', as I was quite glowy by this time).  Before long, I was running along the cliffs in the pale light of the moon, my feet remembering every rut and root.  I felt the wind on my skin and imagined I was channeling the Blackfoot blood of my ancestors (boy, was I drunk).  I ducked down to the caves, I sat on the edges and felt the waves crash over me.  I felt the soil, the stone and the sea on my bare feet.  I watched the moonlight glint off the water and I stared out to 'England' and thought deep thoughts.  I climbed over the 'Dangerous Beyond This Point' fence and made my way through the brush, where the tourists didn't go.  I drank in the night air and renewed my soul.

I returned to the campsite very late, exhilarated and filthy, and spent the rest of the night around the campfire, giving relationship advice to some poor soul I'd never met before, who'd had a fight with his girlfriend.

In the morning, I discovered that my friends had erected the tent right next to a 'petting zoo' that was a relatively new addition to the park.  The petting zoo consisted of two goats and a chicken.  The chicken did nothing but cop rides on the back of one of the goats, which was pretty cool.  What more do you need?  It was the best birthday ever.

It's hard to convey the full effect of such a wild, natural place (at least by night it seems that way - by day, it sadly resembles any other tourist trap.  But a few of us have the fantasy of buying it one day and booting out all the CFAs - Come From Aways - and returning it to its former, untouched glory.  And who knows?  It just might happen.)

But there will always be some of us who remember those summer nights.  And that's the important part.

I recently made a trip with a couple of my friends to go camping in the Kelso Dunes, located in the Mojave National Preserve. It was a spur of the moment trip with the intention of some relaxation...even if it was only for a day!

This isolated dune system, rising 600 feet from the dessert floor, is very unique. Not only is it a beautiful sight at dawn and dusk, the sand makes a curious booming sound when there is a flow of movement. There are very few dunes in the world where this can be heard. If you get a chance to visit one of these dunes, climb to the very top and run down. You'll hear a very low rumble rise from the sand.

Click below to listen to the "booming dunes" (turn your volume up!):

BOOMING DUNES

Aside from the dunes themselves, this was a fantastic location for a getaway. We set up camp at the base of the dunes, with no one around for MILES. That night, the three of us literally spent hours lying on our backs just staring at the thousands of stars that loomed above us. There is no substitute for moments like that.

Click HERE to see a photo gallery of the Kelso Dunes!

Here is the trip before the storm:

Notice the happy family and the big old tent. That tent has many rooms. I didn't know that tents could have rooms.

Here is the eating area.

Here is the kids's little cheap tent as she calls it and the screened in tent.

Look at Meggie isn't she just sooo cute? She can be mischievious too. I just love her to pieces... Oh yeah, that's Stacy. She is Craaazzzeeee!

After the storm.

Stacy said that the tent was collapsing and it ripped and her and Shaun were trying to keep it held up and together and the water just started coming in and they couldn't stop it. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do holding that tent up. Then finally agreed to abandon ship. The kids were scared to death. With all the wind, it was horrible.

The tent the next day when they went back to clean up.

The screened in eating area. Look at how the wind just bent it over.

The picnic table area.

The water still left in there in the morning.

This was a storm that just swept in for no reason. There was no news report on it. It was scary for me and I was in a house. I can just imagine how scared they were.

But, they are back at it until Thursday, so, pray with me that there are no more storms.

cici wants a yurt... buy this dog a yurt... her own yurt. my own yurt.  a yurt to call our home...

Some interesting dog travel blogs including where to find the dog friendly beaches in Italy.

http://www.petparents.com/family-dog/traveling-with-your-dog.cfm

http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/Dogtravels/

http://travelblog.viator.com/travels-with-a-big-dog/

http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/dog-gone/

http://www.venere.com/blog/italy-dog-beaches/

http://realtravel.com/aachen-journals-j7219694.html

http://www.dogchannel.com/dog-training/travelwithdogs/article_20773.aspx

http://www.doggienews.com/travel.htm

http://www.dogtravelnetwork.com/index.html

http://www.dogcaredigest.com/dog_travel_&_safety.html

We are now in Grants Pass, Oregon... and may stay here a few days and camp out this weekend... hah, says Cici... I am not sleeping in a tent... and I am not allowed in the campground yurts... oh well...

we are staying at the Sunset Inn... stephanie and her mom filling me in on all of the chocolate venues (three) in town besides the wonderfully delicious Cary's toffee place... Stephanie's mom said Cici looks like her dog in Hawaii... and we also talked about Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.  Am looking forward to new chocolate sampling... yum yum...

now here's more about the Sunset Inn... I stayed at a Super 8 the other night for $80 and got a sorry tiny bagel, no cream cheese... while here at the Sunset Inn, they actually had real bagels, the everything bagel, cheese bagels, a variety of bagels and with cream cheese... and they gave me a $5 gas card, the room smells fresh, none of that motel smell, and the shampoos are eco friendly.  Plus, Stephanie gave me a toothbrush kit and they have other types of kits for shaving, sewing, etc. and told me about where other yurts are in the area and parks where I can take the cici bug... and there is hot chocolate and coffee throuhout the day in the lobby... now why doesn't the Super 8 motel give folks amenities like these for $80 (after a discount!!)

i love this photo because every time I go out of the car, cici goes and sits in the driver's seat as if she is going to drive the car... she usually waits patiently for me to return... on occasion, yesterday, she would not move over and wanted to drive next to me, the car is too full and there was no room, but a girl dog just wants to cuddle with her mom while driving... or lean her head on her mom's shoulder or arm or lap. awwww...