Six months… that’s the hiatus between Nettie’s spring ranch trip and this one. There has been a tremendous lot going on here at home during that stretch, so I was truly grateful for the lovely break from the summer heat and the chance to go to my happy place last weekend.
At the same time, it felt odd, leaving mom at home with Laurent in charge of her care and the rest of the household – certainly not due to any lack on the part of Laurent, who is eminently capable. It just felt odd. And having only 3/4 of my children with me on a “family” vacation prompted much unwelcome reflection on the all-too-imminent exodus from our household of these soon-to-be-adult children. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to adjust…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
On Friday we said adios to Laurent and Oma around 1pm and headed over to Tempe to pick up Paul, who left his car for the weekend safely ensconced in his personal parking spot, inside the company’s lovely private parking garage (what a contrast to the open air lots the size of several football fields at GD! Just one of the many perks of losing that job!).
The drive north through Payson was uneventful, until we reached Show Low, where our usual stop at the Circle-K was marred by what I can only describe as the most unconscionable, unwarranted, unauthorized, scandalous, calamitous, opprobrious, unfortunate and downright disquieting development in all the nearly 9 years we have been making stops at that location on our trips to and from the ranch. We bundled out of the van at the gas pump, trundled across to the building, opened the doors and BAM!! Some nincompoop of incomparable ninnyheadedness had decided to CHANGE THE FLOOR PLAN – from aisles on the diagonal, to Right Angles.
I was utterly confounded. I don’t think words are adequate to describe the physical shock to my system! My heart raced, I was dizzy, I couldn’t even look at it let alone venture inside – the most I could manage was to sidle over to the coffee counter immediately to my left, pour myself a cup, and then stand at the door facing out, muttering like Rain Man, “This is wrong… this is wrong… they can’t just change it like this! This is… wrong!” while the rest of the family got their hot dogs and drinks, shaking their heads and smirking at my befuddled state.
I was glad to leave, and just as bemused as everyone else at how affected I had been, since I’ve never experienced anything like that before.
Anyway, after that it was a joy to take my turn behind the wheel and drive last remaining miles over very familiar roads, past very familiar landscape, through the growing dusk, from Show Low to St. John’s, and finally out across the rumbly ranch roads to our little piece of paradise.
Since I had brought along my new tripod, I got it out in the dark after we unloaded and snapped a few pics with my 55-200 lens – and then the next morning I tried another shot of the power plant – loved being able to see so much detail from over a mile away!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We were up very early on Saturday morning, so we could get a good jump on our plan to go hiking in the White Mountains. The scenic drive and lookout areas were ablaze with fall color, even amidst the burned out acres from last year’s Wallow Fire. I wished we could have spent more time reveling in the foliage at that altitude, but grabbed what I could from the side of the road and our little stop on the way up the mountain.
Once we had driven approximately 25 miles along the Scenic White Mountain Drive and back into the forests, we reached the Thompson Trailhead, where we noodled around for a bit. Then we set off down the trail and up the sides of the mountains and back and forth across the West Fork of the Black River, frolicking in the forest.
More noodling, more frolicking…
Then we reached the gate where the trail split and we could either follow the high way, wide and easy, or the low way through the gate, which followed the rippling brook and was narrower and a little bit trickier. We took the high way at first, and then went down the hill and followed the low way on the return trip.
It was on this return trek, down beside the babbling brook, beneath the boughs of great pine trees and through sun dappled meadows, that my system decided to rebel against a breakfast of one measly Nature Valley Almond Granola Bar and a cup of coffee, followed by four hours of hiking in the mountains at 8,000′ plus, with no water bottles along for the sojourn. I began to feel a little shaky, and then a lot shaky, and then to sweat in the head, and then to get dizzy and nauseous, and I just kept plugging along as best I could because I knew that we were miles and miles from even phone signals let alone water, and there was no help to be had. But it was too much for me, and I succumbed to the combination of hypoglycemia and deydration. I passed out completely at least 3 times, and would not have made it back to the main trail without Paul supporting, guiding, and pulling me up the path – I was so weak, I couldn’t even manage to hold on to him, he had to grasp me by both wrists and walk backwards up the trail while I took the tiniest steps, which was all I could manage between sitting down and fainting. Once we got back up to the trail, he ran ahead back to the car and retrieved all that was left to drink from our morning stop at the gas station – about 1/3 of a 44oz cup of watered down coke. It was so nasty, but it revived me enough to walk the last 3/10 of a mile to the road where he picked me up in the van.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Safe at last, and finally able to put my head back and just rest a bit, I did not know where we were going and didn’t really care. Paul had been up in that area before, and decided to swing by Big Lake – which turned out to be providential. There was a boat shack there selling various concessions, and he got me an Ocean Spray Grapefruit Juice that was quite possibly the most delicious and refreshing beverage in the history of the world. I sat and sipped, recovering a little more strength, vitality, and mental acuity, while he and the kids bopped around a little and took a few pictures with my camera.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I spent most of the afternoon resting when we got back to the ranch, and other people did…. other things, I suppose. I was oblivious. Toward supper time I came outside and noodled around looking at flowers and bugs and sunsets and my boy learning how to build a camp fire with his daddy and a catch-and-release horny toad. It was lovely.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sunday morning was leisurely by comparison to a Sunday at home – we didn’t have to leave the house until 8:45, and so I availed myself of the morning light.
Even though mass in St. John’s did not start until 10am, we left earlier than necessary so that we could try driving out the front way. There are two ways to get to our property from the main road, and each one is roughly a 30 minute drive from town. Since Paul is on the Carrizo Ranch Association board, he thought he’d better take a gander at the roads up close and in person so he would have some useful input for the next board meeting. It turned out to be a good thing we left early – not only were there several spots where erosion had created chasms nearly all the way across the road, we were able to make it about half way out the front way before reaching the spot where the road dips down through Carrizo Wash, and that was totally impassable. So we had to turn around and go out the back way after all. We still made it to town with time to spare, and drove around through the neighborhoods, looking at all the cute houses.
((DIGRESSION ALERT: I love small towns – every house is different from its neighbor, instead of what we have in the metropolitan area, with these massive developments where all the houses are identical and there are maybe 4 floorplans in the whole subdivision. BORING!))
Anyway. After church we grabbed a quickie lunch at the FINA (which is now known as ALON, also affiliated with 7-11 in case you have an interest in gas station trivia) and then back to the ranch for a little fun. Starting with some driving practice for Meg and Gen, with Jacob coming along for the ride (because the alternative was to onerous to countenance – a long and tedious hike with his father).
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Back at the ranch, Geneva ran off with my camera again and bipped and bopped about the valley, finding pretty tableaux to photograph.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And of course what would a mostly overcast, blissfully cool fall weekend at the ranch be without some shooting? Good thing we brought the guns. Now… who was in charge of packing the ammo? Oopsie! Well, we made do with the .22 bullets we had in the cabin, and after a little Sunday rest time, there was still fun to be had.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And finally (FINALLY!!!!) the very last gallery of the weekend — an evening around the campfire. There’s nothing better than hot dogs over an open fire against a flaming sunset with a healthy side dish of goofy.
