Adventures

We like to think of our winter travel as an adventure, but really, you can have about the same level of adventure at home by taking a warm bath. You could break your hip, but how many of us worry about that in the comfort of our home? I do.

A typical day in camp consists of reading, dozing in a chair, taking a nap (not at all the same as dozing in a chair), studying a little Spanish for me, sewing for Mary, going for a walk, and various other activities that will not raise your blood pressure more than a few millibars.

In fact, our trip to date has been so low-key and relaxing that I’ve been having roaring anxiety dreams every night, usually some variation of I’m still working and arrive at school totally unprepared to teach my classes. When I was actually teaching, I didn’t need this particular nightmare since it happened often enough in real life. Now that I get paid at the end of every month whether I even make the bed or not, my subconscious is punishing me by pretending that I still have something to worry about.

A few days ago, we thought we might be having an adventure when we drove our 4-wheel drive, high-clearance truck over a sandy two-track road five miles through the desert to a trailhead. What if we got stuck? Who would ever find us? When we got there, palms a little sweaty, there was a ranger in a jeep, probably ticketing offending dog owners for not having their dogs on a leash, which seems to be how the rangers spend most of their law-enforcement time.

(More later, maybe, on the changing official attitude towards dogs in county, state and national parks.)

In addition to the ranger, there were a handful of compact sedans with not-great tires which had somehow made it in.

The few occurrences which have reminded me that I’m no longer at home watching a Colbert rerun have involved coyotes. Back in Pinnacles, we were sitting around the campfire and our dog Nick grew increasingly uncomfortable and fixed on something just outside the ring of light. After telling myself it was nothing or maybe a deer or stray cow, I scanned the zone of anxiety, which is that area around me at night which I can illuminate with a powerful flashlight, and discovered not one but two Wileys moving towards us with the clear notion that Jack Russell terriers were excellent canapés.

Despite popular belief, coyotes do sometimes attack people, and they often pick off stray pets. In fact, their principle diet in the urban/rural interface where they are most numerous is the house cat, followed closely by toddlers. If a coyote has your cat, it’s best not to interfere, but most people will fight for a toddler. (Not everyone, apparently: “The dingoes got my baby!”)

We quickly took the dogs back inside Fort Arctic Fox (our trailer) and let the fire burn itself out. Later I went down to the flush toilets to make a poop but carried my walking stick with a sharp point and tapped it noisily on the ground while I made quick circles with the flashlight and occasional shouted “ bad doggies go home!. I actually did see another coyote which seemed to be considering whether or not my slight limp of late qualified me as one of the old and weak that it was his job to cull.

Last night I took the dogs out for a last walk before bed We ambled down to almost the end of our loop, several sites past where the last RV had left on its outside light, when some deep inner voice told me “go no further.”

“Farther,” I correct my inner voice.

We turned back to the trailer and both dogs made a poop, so I cleaned it up with a doggy bag and dropped them off in the trailer. Then I left my walking stick leaning up against the desert-weathered picnic table and made my way the hundred meters or so to the garbage to throw away the poop, but just before I got there a group of coyotes broke into full blood-clotting song, and they were very close, right in the campground I was quite sure. I kept my calm and didn’t run, which prompts the predator’s response to chase. With a great effort of will, I took the few extra steps to the trash bin, making sure to slam the top down as I started the fearsome walk back to safety.

The coyotes continued to howl, which could have meant “fresh meat!” or just “Is Colbert a rerun tonight?” but I walked determinedly back to safety and shut the door firmly behind me with a big exhalation of stressy breath.

Close call.