We’ve arrived safely in Arizona last week. It was a high strung drive for me with Portal Irish Music Week looming and internet going in and out. Despite the self generating worrying we stopped and explored some new areas. Burt wound the gNash and crew through Capitol Reef National Park. Like Yellowstone Capitol Reef was fully booked and had no space for us. We drove through and enjoyed it from the windshield. The night before we spent out on a high pass in cool air. Elvis again demonstrated his growing senility when he took off after some birds and could not find his way back to us. It was a fraught twenty minutes before Burt spotted him a half mile away on an opposing hillside heading in the wrong direction. Burt was able to catch up to nearly 13 years old Elvis and lead his tired bones back home. More leash time for the old doggo.
Our last night traveling we spent on the Coronado Highway at the edge of the Mogollon rim. We’ve spent many nights up there and really look forward to trips into this wild country. Eight years ago some fugitives were captured near us. Remember that? No? HERE’s the story. Now we can add this bit of discomfort to that story. That night, as usual, Burt fell right to sleep. I tossed and turned and played some Bridge on-line. On-line Bridge puts me right to sleep. Usually. Around 11:00 PM a vehicle pulled up next to out camper with its lights on. I listened for doors. Nothing. Then the vehicle pulled out. No big deal. We were parked in a circular pullout for a view right on the highway. There was cell reception. Three minutes later the same vehicle pulled in with its lights out. Now my spidey-senses were on full alert. I nudged Burt and he was instantly awake. He must have heard the car in his sleep. I said, “Car.” We sat in silence and listened. Burt got partially dressed. He had his machete. I had my stick. We had bear spray. We listened and listened. It was awful. The car rumbled. I kept saying to myself DO NOT LEAVE THE TRAILER. Over and over again. DO NOT LEAVE THE TRAILER. I thought about how I told a single female friend these words as she headed out on a long solo trip. Our only protection is in the trailer. Did you read the story above about the RVers being killed and their rig being stolen? That story was repeating in my head. Burt and I had a few hushed whispers. The dogs were dead quiet. I steadied my breathing. I cursed all the scary TV we watch. I considered how this route was a great place for drug passes.
After 20 minutes or so the car pulled away. Nothing happened. They probably were on a phone call. Burt and I finished dressing and waited another ten minutes and got the hell out of there. Burt drove us to the bright lights of the Morenci mine and we finished out rest there.
Now off the Portal Irish Music Week.