Before we start climbing the shelf road in our jeeps, Leyman stops the convoy and walks back to my window. In a deep, somber voice he says, “I called to get the road conditions up ahead before we left and a photographer who travels up here all the time told me that his last trip up this road scared him more than ever. So be sure to hug the wall crawling up.”
My passengers faces morph into grave expressions of concern and mild terror as I downshift to 4 wheel low and prepare to meet my maker and hopefully Storm too. In spite of the dangers foretold by the photographer, the road has been recently graded. For a rocky, cliffhanger most of our passage is pretty easy stuff. We take a break at China Camp where the laborers who mined nearby lived. Retracing our ascent, we take a BLM valley road to visit Council Rocks. This little known historic stop is decorated with pictographs and grinding mortars thought to be over 1000 years old (by someone on the internet – if you want more factual info you should probably research more deeply than I did).
Christmas with Covaid
So that’s what I have been up to for the last little bit. Oh and over the Christmas holidays, I contract an extremely mild case of Covaid that resembles a hardly noticeable head cold.
This in spite of being completely vaccinated. I am among the last of the folks who actually remain in quarantine for 10 days. The CDC changes the rule to five on the day I am released from my RV prison. I can see why this is spreading so quickly though. I thought my allergies were acting up. The Covaid test I picked up from Walgreen’s was just to prove to my music friends that my sniffles were not indicative of Covaid. That certainly did not work out as I planned.
Some Additional Holiday Stress
While I am in quarantine, my refrigerator stops working. At first, I am overwhelmed with the conundrum of dealing with this challenge, not starving to death and not infecting anyone else. My music family comes to the rescue in a flash.
Connie responds to my text plea for help by rounding up a dumpster fridge and organizing a rapid response fridge delivery team. The dorm size unit they squeeze into my rig allows me to have food through the holidays until I complete my medical sentence.
Otherwise I have been jamming everyday that I possibly can with my many, many musical family and friends staying here at the park. Some days it is fiddles and dulcimers, others I play banjo with a variety of other musicians.
But everyday is a musical blast. By the time I play music for several hours, walk 5-10 miles, do broomstick exercise and test my twinkle toes at dance class or with the boot scootin’ crowd on Friday nights, I am almost too tired to do chores or worry about the multitude of pesky problems that my petulant RV devises to plague me.