Hanging Out

When we woke, everything was wet and dripping. Mist hung around in wisps and swirls. Moving about like specters were several deer. Breakfast was coked, served, and eaten. There was no time to allow the tents to dry before they were packed away.

The drive would be up and over the Continental Divide, crossing the Rocky Mountains. It would be through Wolfe Creek Pass, 10,850 feet high. On the decent, we came across an accident site. On a sharp U turn, several yards of guide rail was missing. We stopped to see what had happened. A semi-trailer truck had gone over the mountainside unable to make the sharp turn. A man and his daughter were in the vehicle. The daughter was thrown out and at a hospital, but the father had ridden the truck to the valley below and had not survived. Unable to assist with anything, we climbed back into the vans.

The drive was to be another short one, only 150 miles to Mesa Verde, Colorado. It was a tall mesa that houses the cliff dwellings of the Anasazi clinging to the sides like mud wasp nests. The road to the dwellings and to the camp site, wound its way up the side of the cliff. The twisting drive was on a narrow mccadam surface with a small berm before a vehicle would drive off the road and fall over the mesa onto the prairie below. On the other side was the perpendicular rocky cliff that rose high above the vehicles.

We drove to a series of level spots near the bath houses and set up the tents. They had been packed when they were still wet and needed to dry before they molded. Trees and grass covered the top of the mesa. Camp was set up quickly and the tents dried in the warm breeze. We drove to tour the cliff dwellings. Protected by a large cliff overhang, the buildings were still preserved and well cared for. The buildings of the park site were homes and beehive shaped kivas.

We spent the afternoon climbing through the buildings, trying to imagine what living here would have been like. Tired, we were all glad to eat our evening meal and settle into our warm sleeping bags. The night air of the warm prairie chilled at night.

Doing the Dunes

Since the drive today would be less, the Pastor decided to be more generous with the drive-break ratio. He chose a shaded, picnic area outside of Bent’s Old Fort for a lunch break. As we ate, he made the decision for us to tour the old adobe walled structure. Inside, there were multiple buildings that replicated the carpentry, blacksmithing, cooking, and sleeping areas that once provided services to the travelers on the Santa Fe Trail. It also held a store and a post office. The people were in traditional garb and gave a thorough tour. It was time to move on to our destination of the Great Sand Dunes of Colorado.

As we left Kansas, the speed limit went from 65 mph to 35 mph in a very short distance at the town of Holly, Colorado. I was bringing up the rear, trying to slow to the speed limit and yet keep up with the other two vans when red lights began to flash behind me. I was doing about forty mph and immediately pulled over. I explained to the officer that I had slowed and was trying to keep up with the others, also sharing that we were on our way to church camp at the Wilds. I handed him the registration and insurance papers. When he saw that the vehicles were registered to a church, he gave me a lecture and allowed us to go with a warning.

As we started into the Great Sands Dunes Park, a light shower started and the sky filled with rainbows. There were two rainbows at first that split into three, then four. They appeared, disappeared, and blended. One rainbow had huge thick bands when two merged before the rain stopped and the bows disappeared.

We drove to the parking area by the dunes. They were remarkable. Wave after wave the dunes lifted five stories above their bases. It was tremendous. The dunes were formed when the wind blew sand and small pebbles into the apex of a triangle formed by the tail end of the Rocky Mountains and the Sangre, de Christo Mountains. The winds weren’t strong enough to lift the debris up and over.

Clouds pushed up and over the mountains. We hurried to get out tents up and the meal cooked. It began to storm just after the food was cooked and we ate in our tents. It was dark, except for the brilliant streaks of lightning and the ground shook with the thunder. We actually thought we would feel the bottoms of our tents tingle with the bolts of lightning.

The adults tried dodging raindrops to be sure that all the food supplies were cleaned up and locked it all away. There were bears and we were warned by a ranger to be sure everything was locked where the bears couldn’t get at it.

The storm finally abated. Only the dripping of water from the surrounding trees broke the silence. The fire had been quenched in the rain and it was so very dark. No lights interfered with the view of the heavenly bodies and the stars were bright and seemingly close enough to touch. We fell asleep, breathing air that was cool, pure, and freshly washed.

At the Arches

We gathered early for the first leg of our trip. Seventeen teenagers, seven adults, three vans, and one storage trailer filled with various and sundry tents, equipment, and food. Supplies were crammed into every empty space beneath and between the seats of each vehicle. The first part of the camping trip began in Acme, Pennsylvania with the target of St. Louis, as the destination, 650 miles away.

It was a long way. They continuous driving was broken up only by a midday meal, restroom breaks, and fuel fill-ups. We arrived in St. Louis at the worst time. It was rush hour. We had plans to ride up to the top of the Gateway Arch. Traffic was at a standstill. While we were stopped in traffic, we could see the Arch across a small, raised grassy area. We wanted to eat before our ride to the top of the Arch. Everyone piled out and headed across the lawn, except the drivers. The drivers kept going, ever so slowly, while the passengers made their way to the restaurant.

The restaurant floated on the Mississippi River. It was a barge that had been reconstructed to resemble a paddlewheel steamboat. Arches rose over the restaurant as well. It was a McDonald’s. Finally, the drivers found a place to park after escaping the vehicular nightmare and. Hurried to eat before meeting everyone at the base of the Gateway Arch. We toured the several museums, shops, and exhibits at the building at the bottom.

When it was time for our tour, a guide led us through some doors and down a series of stairs. In groups of five, we stood outside of several narrow doors that reminded me of the door for hens in a chicken coop. It wasn’t long before we heard a series of clicks and then light that escaped through the cracks around the doors. The light grew stronger and the clicking louder, finally coming to a stop. The doors opened and passengers escaped.

Peering inside, it looked like an egg shape from the inside. Once inside, it did nothing to dissuade that thought. There were five seats, cheek to cheek, one seat opposite from the door and two on each side of the door.

The ride up was a bit disconcerting. The egg would slowly tilt to one side until there was a fifteen degree list. Then it would ratchet to vertical, edging its way to the top. Getting out of the egg, we were met with a curved floor arching to the top, lined with windows. The view of the capital building for ST. Louis was on one side and on the other, a panoramic view of the Mississippi River and the river traffic 670 feet below.

After spending time there, we descended to drive to a nearby church where we expected to sleep on the church floor, however, when we got there, many of the church members were there with snacks. They took campers by twos and threes to their homes for the night, providing showers, beds to sleep, and a breakfast before returning us to the church for our next leg of our journey West.

Tenting Tonight

On our camping trip out West, we arrived at a dry camp, Kings Creek Campground, Utah, near the town of Tropic. A dry camp means the campsite had no water for showers. The site did have potable water, water for hand washing, and for flushing of the commodes in the restrooms. The campsite was unusual because it had an amphitheater area with bleachers that stepped up from a concrete surrounded fire pit. The site we had been assigned was at the amphitheater section of the camp.

We were old pros at setting up camp. We had put up our tents and cooked our food in the dark of night and this one was easy. The girls set up their tent, the guys set up theirs, and the boys, set up the tent for the women chaperones while the women started the meal. The men built the campfire

It was Saturday night and we had our church service that evening. There would be no time in the morning. We sat on the bleachers and the walls of the sanctuary were pines and the ceiling was a dark star studded night sky.

The boys weren’t satisfied with the fire in the fire pit; they built one close to the spot where they had already erected their tent. Along our drive, they had bought hot dogs and marshmallows. It was their plan to stay up late and snack on them later that night. The boys could sleep during the drive on the morrow and weren’t concerned that their laughter and noise would bother others, especially those who would have to drive the vans.

Despite several warnings, they kept the fire and laughter going until late or should I say early morning. When I woke, I was talking to another driver, Joy. She was sleepy and tired because of the boys late night antics.

In the morning, the boys were still sleeping and we decided to lower the center frame of their tent, dropping its roof to the point they couldn’t stand when they finally awoke. Unwittingly, we had set into motion a civil war between the boys and girls. The boys blamed the girls and locked tent zippers, powdered sleeping bags, and shaving cream bombs ensued.

But back to the sights of the campsite that morning, Pastor Johnston had moved his sleeping bag closer to the fire pit. Apparently he had gotten cold during the night. His bag was covered in gray flakes of wood ash. It looked as though it had snowed dingy snow during the night.

 

Bottoms Up

When our Pastor Norm Johnston planned a trip to summer camp for the teenagers of the church, it wasn’t the drive to camp and back, it was an adventure. It was a trip of a lifetime for many of them, seeing much of the country that would be hard to do ever again. The church camp was in the mountains of Colorado. There were seven adult chaperones/ drivers and seventeen teen aged adolescents. The entire trip lasted seventeen days, camping in tents, sightseeing, touring, and driving.

The incident I want to share happened while we were at the Wilds of the West. It was the church camp we visited for five days. It was beautiful, overlooking a small lake surrounded by evergreens.

My wife, Cindy, several others, and I decided to go for the horseback ride and breakfast one morning. Let me explain, my wife was a short woman and most of her height was from her torso. She had short legs. To ride, she had to be helped into the saddle and even though the wranglers tried, they couldn’t shorten the stirrups enough or her to get her feet firmly in place.

Her mount was a mule named Festus. Festus started to step back and when he did, Cindy pulled back on the reins. It wasn’t a good idea. Festus reared and Cindy slid off and landed on her rear. She assured us that she was okay, but the wranglers had her ride to the breakfast campfire in the jeep. The ride for the rest as well as the meal went well.

Cindy’s pride wasn’t the only thing hurt. Her bottom was sore and may have bruised her tailbone. She had a miserable time when we drove on our return trip. I drove most of the time and she sat kind of side saddle in the passenger seat. She did drive for about two hours around Chicago to Gary, then I climbed back into the driver’s seat.

I want to share this trip and the adventures before they get lost in my mind and to thank Pastor Johnston for his wisdom In planning this trip and the privilege of sharing the wonders of God’s creations and beauty with him.

 

“The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. Psalm 19:1

Butterscotch?

An elderly man was given a prep for a test in the morning. His bowels had to be empty for the colonoscopy. The prep was started on the evening shift with limited results, but things changed for the night shift. Oh boy, did they change. The old man rang out, but before we could respond, his bowels had already emptied. Everything looked normal until we pulled back the top sheet and blanket.

The smell was horrific and I have never, ever seen the sight that awaited us as we uncovered him. This man was lying in the middle of an expansive pool of butterscotch colored bowel movement. The pool wasn’t Olympic in size, but it was quite deep. It covered the bed surface from the middle of his back, pooling along both of his sides and thighs, and ended up forming a puddle between his legs. The depth reached half way up his sides of his abdomen and thighs. We looked at each other in utter disbelief. How could one thin man hold so much feces? How could we clean him without getting the mess all over ourselves and on the floor?

We finally rolled him to one side of the bed and allowing the pudding consistency feces to flow into the depression where he had been laying, then folding the bed pads and sheets over to temporarily cover and trap the bowel movement. We covered the bowel movement and sheet with clean bed pads and rolled him back onto the clean pads. There was no use trying to clean him until we got the entire mess off the bed. Only when it had been removed, could we think of beginning to clean the man.

Lining up garbage cans, we pulled the soiled sheets to the edge of the bed and allowed the bowel movement and the blue pads to slide into the waste baskets lined with several layers of plastic bags. After several changes of disposable bed pads, we could clean the mattress. The worst of the mess was now removed and we could tackle cleaning the man who was on more dry, disposable pads. It wasn’t long until he was clean, smelling fresh, and settled in for the night.

I can’t imagine what the housekeepers thought when they collected the heavy garbage bags in the morning. I do know that some of the nurses who helped to clean the man said that they would never eat butterscotch pudding again. Me, I never liked butterscotch.

Missed Post
     I missed posting last night. Sorry. I have a head cold and my sinuses were really causing problems for me. I had a runny nose all day yesterday, then just before bedtime, it dammed up and gave me one terrific headache. I haven't had a headache like that since my last migraine.
I tried to lay down in bed, but I couldn't find a position that allowed me to fall asleep. The pain in my head shifted as the mucous locked inside moved. I got up and down several times before I retreated into the arms of a living room chair and slept sitting up all night.
I had several of the familiar hot and cold flashes, so sleep was broken up, scattered, and not restful. When I woke this morning, I felt a bit better, but just finished with a bloody nose.
Yesterday wasn't a good day at all. Replaced the mower belt on my riding mower and I must have done something wrong, because it chewed up the belt and the new belt is no longer useable. I need to buy another belt and kiss thirty dollars goodbye.
The rainy weather hasn't been very uplifting either. Hopefully April showers are behind us.