Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Had the internet gods smiled on me yesterday, I would have come here to tell you that Roger and Dick and Kate and I had hiked the canyon again on Monday. Have I mentioned Dick and Kate and their geriatric Labrador, Tom? They all lived in their Bambi next to Roger and Chantal until yesterday, when they had to move to make way for some Albertans with reservations. They moved to a spot two down from us, and they aren't happy about it. Neither am I. I miss having our little community all gathered around the central outdoor lounge we contrived.

Anyway, Dick and Kate and Roger and I (along with the two dogs) went back up to the pool where I had seen the remarkable reflections on the wall. They were no longer in evidence, of course. Tom had been munching on the vegetation as we climbed, so when we got to the pool, he promptly threw up. We chatted with a group of five people who had come up behind us. That group decided to climb up over the top to find the alternate path Roger had heard about. Our group came part of the way back, took a detour, and climbed to the "waterfall". Dick and Roger and I did, that is. Kate stayed behind with Tom, because she didn't think he would be able to manage the climb. She was right. I was glad that I was last in line, because Dick kept turning around and giving me a hand up over the trickier bits. When we finally reached our goal, we found that the rock walls were stained, as if water had flowed over them, but there wasn't actually any water. It was an interesting place, nonetheless, and I was glad we had made the effort.

When we got back to the parking lot, a couple from Arizona drove up and told us about the caravan of fourteen rigs with which they are traveling. Everything they said confirmed my prejudice against that kind of holiday.

While we were talking, the people who had gone over the top of the ridge arrived. One of them had nearly stepped on a rattlesnake. They all looked as if, as that old Wyoming saying goes, they had been rode hard and put away wet. However, they also seemed to have had a good time. Then again, they were young. I was just glad I hadn't gone that way, especially as I had stupidly worn shorts, forgetting about the possibility of encountering snakes.

So that was Monday. Then came yesterday.

Dick came home in the back of a pickup truck. He had taken Tom for a walk, and along the way, he had had a collision with a stationary object. He returned, as noted, in the back of somebody's pickup truck, sporting a cut on the bridge of his nose and another on his forehead. Dr. Canale fixed him up. Being kind and gentle people, we didn't give Dick too hard a time about his accident, although we had plenty of opportunities over dinner. That was the second accident our group had suffered in less than a week. Last time, it was Robin, who took a short cut across the desert on his bicycle, encountered a patch of wet clay, and wiped out. He came away with a bit of a sore shoulder and some very dirty clothes, but otherwise seemed to suffer no ill effects.

Last night´s dinner was another communal affair, this one featuring two cazuelas filled with prawn curry, a green salad, rice, and a really big cazuela of aloo gobi. I got the recipe from this website: It was a hit. There was so much food, we took a plate to Henry, the night watchman. He was very grateful, but I haven't spoken to him since he ate it. I've never seen an Indian restaurant here, and some of the spices are hard - nah, impossible - to find. I'll be interested to hear what he thought of the dinner.

Today, I'm so chuffed at being able to get on line, I'm still lounging in my pajamas at 11:00 a.m. Tsk, tsk. I think it's time to get moving!

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