Thursday.
I hiked in Black Kettle National Grasslands and at the sight of a Native American slaughter by we friendly whites back in the times of covered wagons and 'rights to land' we thought we had. I cried and walked through amazing grasslands at the exact place of the murder of so many innocent native americans and 200 ponies.
After that walk, I walked in the bright sun on a trail in the Grasslands were I scared pheasants (?) and collected burrs on my shoes and sun on my skin. Lovely warm breeze, hot sun... great walk.
I found Celeste easily in Albuquerqe, we had a brief chat before she left for her class. I spilled my bear story and chatted with the flair of a twelve year old girl who had been grounded. She left for class, I showered, (amazing!) and settled on watching New Moon, the second of this crazy vampire story that has taken the 10-20 year olds by storm the past several years. Angrily, I did some sit ups as I watched an insufficient female star lack personality, remaining, however as the woman everyone loved and fought for. Also, my closing comment on the matter is this: it is not necessary to have the main character hit her head so often and have a man run to her side each time. Get up, girl, and make your own path in life from time to time.
Celeste returned much later than planned, and we went out with her friend Jamie to a local pub. Pub faire did not treat me well. I foolishly ordered a blue cheese dip, served with brown Irish bread and Irish potato chips. This can be boiled down, or fried down, into a simple description: cheesy fat. It hurt my heart to eat, but through alternating with Celeste’s nacho’s and Jamie’s green chile cheese fries, my heart went from hurting to pumping slowly past closing arteries. The conversation was delightful, as well as the beer and the surroundings. You win some, you lose some, and some leave you on the toilet.
The next morning I took a 20 minute jog, hoping to dislodge some of the cheese and grease. Short, but successful, through the warming streets of Albuquerqe, I was so glad to work up a sweat and be moving, not sitting. There was a breeze in the air, and I greeted pancake cacti and prickly pears as I jogged to the grocery store, made stock of the flower choices, and then jogged back and forth again to make my sweaty purchases. I should have run longer, that’s clear, but that I got my butt in gear is something notable, I’d say.
I left the Querk (as I’d like it to be called) and took off for the petrified forest. As I drove I created a new goal: take petrified photos in the petrified forest. I enjoyed my coffee and scones as the mid day southwest lay out before me along I-40.
Vistas. This began a whole new land of vistas, a whole newly designed horizon, like the Midwest and the southwest decided to etch out something unique, in order to be unique. Dry and flat, with tufts of tough green shrubbery and the occasional tumble weed (I kid you not). The mesas in the distance, flat tables of earth, were so different than everything I new mountains to be. I’d seen these before, and I was no stranger to the horizons of the southwest, but, even so, I was impressed. Being easily impressed is a great personality trait, I’ve decided.
I met a NY couple who huffed and puffed quickly with me on the many short hikes, trying to beat the sun and the clock and the ranger that threatetened to kick us out when the sun dissappeared.
Petrified, and a camera filled with petrifed photos, missing the big horn sheep (?), I left to the unknown yet familiar Flagstaff.
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