Month: October 2016

At dusk the first day I’m alone in the park. I travel along the water, watching a family of loons floating. I walk to the trailhead and read the information. Tomorrow I’ll be well enough and recovered to go on some adventures. All the while I’m trying to scout the area, seeing any wildlife. I walk around the Camanche Trail, no one is here, and it feels great. As dusk arrives, I prepare my campsite, get the wood and kindling ready for the fire, charge a few things. Get the hanging twinkle lights ready to plug in and make some tea.  There as I sit at the fire pit, I look over to my camp table, and peer over the turned up white dishpan I see a family of deer, they looking at me looking at them. A raccoon, paying no attention slowly walks across the road.

Looking up to the grey branches they now embrace the evening light. They are almost ghostly white against the water and waves. On the shore, and all the way out to the middle of the lake. They are this way. It is their time to shine.  The spotlight is on them.

The long hike, alone, in the dark to the showers, last night, was not so bad. I don’t have a strong flashlight; I’m kind of glad I don’t. I mean I could search the woods for critters, but it feels invasive.  I have enough to light up my path. If there were any moonlight to show me the way I would opt for walking in the dark.  The shower felt great, and the walk back was very nice. A few times I shined my weak light into the sides of the woods. The green eyes, on a dark, night on Halloween doesn’t freak me out. It is just the eyes of the deer reflected in my torch.  I’m in bed early, tucked up tight in the van with curtains drawn. I’d have loved to write, but not getting any sleep from the nights before makes me extremely sleepy.

I sleep the entire night through, wake to thinking my cat is locked in a room because I here scratching noise, and realize it is me, turning over in my air mattress.  I did not need to switch from fan to heating or heating blanket. It is the first time in nights. So I have slept right through. I did not even need to get up and use my Folgers pee can.

In the morning I quickly take off all of the curtains, something I would not normally do as I know I would have to pee, and dress. But there is no one around. I sit high on my cot and watch the clouds push over the rippling water of Lake Brownwood.  There are no deer this morning, but a brightly colored red cardinal comes and sits on the passenger window and says good morning. I’d be hesitant to leave this great place tomorrow, but I have stayed my duration, and I want to beat the expected rain. I’m already plotting my packing, wishing I had not lost the cotter pin for the bike rack so I would not have to sleep with it in the van. My goal, to have the entire van packed so that all I have to do is pull in the electric cord and leave.  That means an early fire tonight as I’ll want to have my chair packed up. Maybe I can use my stool. Then an early shower and in the van just after nightfall. I can write while in bed for a few hours.  My breakfast will be packed, oatmeal and raisins with a sprinkle of cinnamon. And an uncut apple or banana. I’ll put these on the dash board in a plastic bag, in case there are flies in the ban this evening.

This morning I grilled eggs over the electric grill and had my tea. It is cloudy, and I know I should go hike or bike, but it is hard to pull myself away from the very enticing and enrapturing process of doing nothing, watching the waves and the loons and the reeds and clouds, listening to the peep of the birds and acorns falling. Watching how each tree reacts differently to the wind because of its configuration and leaves.

I drove around the campground to say high to the people I met in the other campground. They are staying for two more weeks and come often. Their daughter is up for the day on the boat; they even invited me back for dinner. I decided to take them up on it. After all, I had planned to pack up everything before night fall so that in the morning I could leave.  Before leaving this morning on my adventure, my battery was dead. This time I just called the ranger station, and they sent the camp host to give me a jump.  It was my first time meeting him. He was kind and jumped my battery. I  drove around on the previously mentioned escapade. Spent entirely too much time chatting with friendly people. I had a goal of biking the “easy” 3-mile trail and walking the coastline trail.

Headed over to the bike trail I unloaded my bike, got my run keeper app open to monitor my accomplishment. I also like this app because when hiking I can see the direction I have gone as it draws a trail on your phone. My camelback is filled, for which I am thankful. It is really too hot to be doing this so late in the day. I have phone and camera, and I’m off.

It has been a while since I have mountain biking. I have opted for street biking on my mountain bike because I have not had anyone to go with, but this is a different time. Through my trip, I have taken my bike and biked around the paved roads. This proved to be embarrassing in Palo Duro as I watched nine-year-olds biking uphill and I had to walk my bike huffing and puffing. Here at Brownwood, I take the trail at a good slow pace until I’m going downhill and think, Oh crap.  I’m not ready for this.  I was sure to ask the ranger before I left and they said it was an easy trail and kids do it. I repeat this as a mantra through my ride. Kids do this; kids do this, kids do this. FYI, about .75 miles into this trail and a few other times there are lots of rocks either going up or down the trail, depending on if you turn left or right when you start. I went right.  I stopped and walked myself over some of these rocks. Hey, injuring myself this late in the game is not something I want to do. I have to go home and sculpt and make money to be able to live a life alone.

Frankly, it was hot, and Texas and 1:00 p.m. This is not the best time to be biking. There was a time where I was biking saying; I’m so unfit, what was I thinking. Periodically the app, in my pocket would say 1.7 miles. And I would think, come on 3 miles. I kept sipping water from my camelback, staying hydrated as I road on, puffing past cobwebs in the pathway and hoping to see my van.  There was one point where the path rose above all the surroundings. I walked to get to that point. I was high and could see the lake through the trees, and I thought, this is why I do this.

Falling is not an option when mountain biking on this terrain. The cactus that lines the path and the mesquite branches that hang over are deadly.  The mesquite thorns seem like they would be comparable to the thorns in the crown of Jesus.  I wondered several times if I would impale my arm and rip the flesh off as I careened by.  Then I thought snakes.  What does a snake do in a pathway while you are biking? Will it bite your tire? Do they look up and say” black is tire, flesh is flesh,” and reach up and bite you.  I tried to put all of this out of my mind and focus on the silver van, ac, and shade.  Fear could make me stop, could have kept me from starting. If I gave into all of these thoughts, I  would be less fit and less adventurous. I press on.

Getting to my car, I lifted the bike into the van. My energy was spent. I’m still not able to hook it up to the bike rack, because of the lost bike rack pin in Palo Duro Canyon. I go into my van take down the shade that has kept the Texas sun and hopefully the heat out of the van, and I put my key in anticipation of the AC and  … nothing. My van is dead again. So, maybe the guy at Oriely who said my battery had more life was wrong.

A man on a mower was just in the area, cutting grass, but is long gone, I can tell by the distant sound of the mower.  There is a truck next to me. I open my hood, and look at my phone it too is dead- thanks, Run keeper. I take my solar charger out, along with the chord for my phone from the van, which are never together, I remind myself that this is not a good idea, I need to buy a small cord and keep that in the backpack all of the time.

Someone will come by, or I’ll walk to the ranger station. I open the door of the van, sit in the shade and drink more water.  I think, for someone who is trying to go solo, you do need a lot of help. But then I tell myself, that this is not what solo means. There are many people to help along the way that want to bless you, that like to help, they might be interested in the connection. It is alright to ask for help.  I’m beginning to get more comfortable with that.

I wondered who would be in this big truck. I picture a skinny biker guy in his late 20’s.

A rider exits the trail, arriving on the far side of the truck. I see the helmet, but not so much the face underneath. When I ask how the ride was they say “Great” and I realize it is a woman, and a woman with grey hair.  Isn’t it funny that God puts people in your path to say- “You go girl” that is the way it was with the meeting of Stormie

Got car problems?”

“Yep, the battery is dead. “

“Want a jump?”

“Sure,” I say, it is all kind of laid back. But the frustration with this battery must be coming out as she laughs.

I’m afraid of jumper cables I need to get over that fear I decide, but I ask “ I have cables, are you able to do it?”

“Oh yea, she says no problem. “

As we talk she tells me she is taking a break from caring for elderly folks, and, she just needed to get some exercise. We both admit we walked part of the trail.

As the van charges we chat. She asks me if I do this all of the time- camp alone. She is envious.

I tell her I’m a sculptor coming from a vendor and headed back to  Houston- eventually

“Really? I work in ceramic.”

I can see her inner beauty, and love how she wears her grey hair proudly.

We hit it off, I show her some pictures of my work, and we laugh about how we are both styling. I’m down to the last pair of pants and a shirt that does not go with the pants. I have worn these for three days. I just tell her, well… I don’t have any more clean clothes. I lie, I have one clean thing to wear on the long ride home to stop at my daughter’s. I don’t want to offend them upon my arrival.

The van finally starts, and we share contact information.  Once again this battery thing is proving more things to me than just that I need a replacement. I’m feeling kind of thankful for it. I’m learning some great things through what would be an inconvenience to many others. She confirmed to me what I had already known. It does not matter our sex or our age; We can do these things. She is another one of my warrior women that God is bringing into my life.

I’m charged!

Move to Comanches 56.
I travel in a van, without a tent, but it is no different than anyone with a tent. I’m not pulling anything. I just sleep in my vehicle. Perhaps that is why Debra put me in the campsite that she gave me when I arrived, next to the RV’s.  I told her I wanted to be near the water, but my soul also longs for trees, and in the Texas heat, shade is a necessity. Tooling around mid Sunday I explored camanchee trail, “tent only” with electricity and water. Campsite 56 has its own beach with a short distance down to the water. Large boulders line the coast, and just 10 feet out a row of flooded bushes, line the shore. Their grey and brown fans, acting as a barrier between me and the lake. They pop up. A stub of bush here and there until the middle of the lake. Duck and loons find this a prime spot for chasing each other. I pull up a chair and a footstool and watch the antics of the lake. Their little toots call back and forth. I watch them dive in, disappear and come back up. They look like teenagers at the local swimming hole showing off.  I have found my next home for a few days.

I wonder if I should stay or go the next day. It is Halloween, and if I get up and book it I could make the 5-hour drive back to Houston to …..

I’m writing this passage by the side of my van so that I can sit in complete  shade; the sun is a bit too hot. There is a shadow on the brim of my hat, and when I take it off, I see the biggest black spider. Which then falls on my belly and onto my computer. He is dead now. But there are a few things around me overturned.

Where was I? Sorry spider. You freaked me out. I killed you. I’m so sorry.

… I could make it back to Houston to share in the special time of Halloween that my daughter and her family and I create. I have a projector, and we play a movie on their garage door, inviting kids and other households to come. Sometimes we all sit their together; Kids make one stop and several families toll out candy. It has been fun, and I hate to miss it, I hate to miss my little Jedi in her experience. That kid makes me happy. I’m torn, do I leave and try to make it or do I stay and relax for two more days.

On a Sunday most everyone is pulling out of the camp, there are just three left in Comanche. The group across the way looks to be in their 20’s they have not said hello or made any effort to meet. That is fine. While showering in the evening, I met the woman in the campsite across the way and two down. The one with the purple lights. The few times I have seen her she was reading. We greet each other, and I mention that she is across the way, and  we can walk back together. She said she is waiting for her boyfriend who comes out at that moment. “I saw you earlier, Yes, you were on the way to pee, we have become very intimate in this short time, I know your pee schedule.” We all laugh.
“You looked lost.” They say.
“No, it was dusk, and I knew that would be the best time to see wildlife, so I thought I would walk the campground to see what I could see. There were huge deer and lots of foxes.” He is excited because he has been waiting to see some wildlife. “Dusk or dawn is the time, and with so many people leaving, I bet we see more.” He flashes his light as we are walking and he sees green eyes. “There is a deer,” He tries to point it out, but my eyes can barely see that far away. Better to see it at dusk, I think, then at 10:00 at night.
“You are alone,” he puzzles, “May I ask why?”
That is a very deep question I think, but I quickly answer. “I love to camp, and I love camping alone.” It is true. I do love to camp, and I’m testing this alone thing. But I don’t tell him, and I silently wonder why he asked why?

I always shower in the evening after sitting at the fire. I want the smell of smoke off of me before I retire. The showers at Texas state parks are warm. You are fine if you member some shower shoes or flip-flops. I noticed the lock on the inside of the bathroom. I wonder if I should use that this evening. I think. Remember I am from a big city, we lock everything. “But if someone is here, they can get you in the shower, or at the camp. You see I am more worried about the two-legged critters than the wild ones. I do love the camping alone, but I quickly realize that no one will be in this campground the next two days. There will be no one for the couple miles between me, the rangers and the other campsite with my retired friends. I will make this walk past seven campsites to the bathroom at night to shower. There will be no one to hear my screams if something happens, I am alone. With those thoughts, I do wish I had a dog.

That will be tomorrow, for now, the group of 20 somethings across the way are a bit loud, but not annoying. It is hard to sit and hear the “nothing” at the campfire that I long for. That evening with them posing questions to each other, it is hard not to overhear. Somehow the water, and outdoor air makes the sound travel. I will listen to the quiet tomorrow evening, “ You don’t have to have a fire, you could go right to bed at night and write.” I hear a voice in my head. No, it is not like you are “in the wild” this is a state park.

 

While I’m preparing for my nighttime ritual in my van, the curtains blocking out the view. I start the van. I’m still a bit worried about the battery, and I remembered my promise to run the van at night just a moment. Then I hear BOOM , BOOM, BOOM. On the side of my van. I jump but the person knocking can’t see me as the curtains do block everything. I don’t open the door but shout, “Yes, can I help you?” In my most secure voice. “SHUT OFF YOUR FUCKING LIGHTS! ” Comes a female voice. I stick my head out of the van and say, “Can I help you?” but the woman from across the way doesn’t want communication she wants confrontation.

I turn the car off, there is no way to run it without running lights on, and I stew. Between wondering to stay or go, the confrontation with these people and another confrontation on the phone with a girlfriend earlier my stomach starts to ache. At 2:45 I’m awake with what appears to be another bought of CVS. It just can’t be. I never have them this close. I’m supposed to be relaxing. I try to down an Imitrex and hope it will take hold. I open my van door quietly and take a long walk to the bathroom, zig-zagging, in hopes to walk off the pain. I do the same coming back. If the loud young lady is watching at this wee hour, she probably thinks I’m drunk. I grab the kitchen basin, bring it into the van, and throw up for the rest of the evening.

I decide to stay and pay for a few more days. But, I don’t want to leave my campground with the loud young lady lurking. They are packing up to leave the campground. If I drove up to the station now, I would be leaving all of my stuff. I’m just not sure what to think of them. So I hang at camp until they depart, then make the treck up and book two more nights. I’m going to do this alone, “night time thing.” No RV’s or tents, no couples, no families. If I rest and write all day which I will need after the CVS, then the next day, the last day, I can plan my bike hikes and trail hikes. I check how much clean underwear is left. Yep, I can stay.

Pusche

 

Arriving late into Lake Brownwood I have been given campsite 23 in Willow Point, but the trees in this area are sparse and should I desire both water and trees, I’m out of luck. The sunset, which I barely caught, was beautiful. Children were dressed up in costumes, doing some reverse trick or treat, giving away candy to each of the campers. The children remind me that Halloween is in a few days and I am torn, as I would love to be with my granddaughter. My next door neighbors are retired from the prison system. They have a boat, a huge trailer and I have no idea how they got each of those here to the park. They are regulars have been here for a while and told me all of the best sites. Though they can’t fit in many because of the size of their RV and the antennas. I stayed the night and then ventured out the next day. I have to go up and pay, being a late arriver. There are three women in the ranger station, I comment about how good it is to see women rangers and tell them I’m camping along and how some people think that is strange. “ We have hundreds of women who camp alone here.” She says. See I am one of many.

I can’t wait to explore and the first thing I’m after is the opportunity to move to shade.

Pusche