HAPPY APRIL FOOLS AND PALM SUNDAY, ONE ABOUT PEOPLE AS STUPID AS DONKEYS AND ONE INVOLVING DONKEYS! Jesus is so great, and this was the day in which he came into Jerusalem and came into the city in which his Resurrection would occur. Hosanna in the highest indeed! (It was April Fools when I started this blog post but we ended up being very busy and I was under the weather so I did not end up finishing it on that day.)
But about April Fools. Here's a little history: Pope Gregory made that 365 days a year calendar, beginning on Jan. 1st. That was in 1582, and in case you guys don't know, that was a while ago. Your great-grandparents weren't living, I must say. And also, we didn't have Google, cell phones, Email, or even mail or telegraph at that time, so people in France didn't know about the whole "Christian Calendar" that The Pope endorsed. Some in Paris did, because Vatican City isn't TOO far from France, if you look on a map. They made fun of people who still celebrated the first of the year on April 1st. They were fools, making them go on fool's errands like getting blue grass and some backwards Bibles or Dante's books. The pranks might be tarred and feathered stuff, and then throw some porridge on their face. They didn't exactly have whoopie cushions or "Kick Me" signs. Oh well. But they might even say things like, "Bourne's Big Trip is not good blog posts" which only fools would believe that. Or, it might not be good blog posts. You know what I don't think it is. I am sorry to inform you but, with 318 blog posts, I think it's time to stop BBT. Yeah, I think so. Goodbye for ever, readers. I hope you have a good life!
JUST KIDDING!!!! APRIL FOOLS!!!!
Now to the blog. Hope you enjoy the day. Trick somebody for ole Andrew.
"We're going to some mountain apartments for old people. Get on some hiking stuff. It takes a long time to get to them. Walking stick, big coat, hat, and jeans. It'll be a long ride too, so snacks and a book and your phone are good to have."
I was a little disappointed with this. I mean, apartments in the mountains for elderly folks? And why would we need to hike? I had already gone up a mountain and so this was kind of old. I had already seen snow at Cloudcroft. And I'd seen trailers from an Indian reservation, so why did I want to see some senior people's apartments? I guess I just didn't feel too energetic that day, after all the stuff we'd done in the past few days, going to Roswell New Mexico and going into a museum, hiking in Carlsbad Caverns, seeing White Sands, sledding, and going in the bumpy jeep up to Cloudcroft. Also, when just comfortable at an R.V. park, we had to leave the following day. Or maybe I was turning into an unhappy teenager. I really believed that this was going to be boring, stupid, and not worth it at all. Boy was I wrong....
I chuckled over reading last night's lines in the Tramp Abroad book that Mark Twain wrote over again, Twain taking two full pages of paragraphs to describe an ant going around in circles and being an idiot, and how they woke up late everyday, missing that mountain sunrise that all love to see, and some accounts of going up Mount Blanc. It was all pretty funny, but I was done with the book I had begun in Texas and was still reading even to the date, in New Mexico. I really wanted to finish it and read some other things. Alright, well I got everything I needed as mentioned earlier, especially my Indiana Jones hat and two jackets. My shoes were almost worn out, and I believed it was only a few days more until they were going to be retired. Their last hard hike could be a foreshadowing to them maybe; a hike to a nursery for old people would be appropriate as they were about to be done with their long time on the trip. My shoes were almost done. So, all ready, we went and took the dogs out and after that we got in the jeep. We would pass by the Lincoln Forest, where Smoky the Bear was found in the fire and brought to safety, away from his Mom. Then he was used as a spokesperson against forest fires. And he's still alive to this day, or his legacy is, anyway. I had read the story before and seen his image everywhere! This was the lucky place where his story began!
We went up a snow tipped mountain, which was Gila Mountain range of jagged peaks. Very pretty, all the snow and dagger-shaped things, they were evil people looking down on us. The cell reception wasn't good as we ascended, so I had to say goodbye to some people. It was very much like Cloudcroft. I thought up a story, as we looked over the beautiful Rose Valley, how good a story it would be to have two male twins who don't know each other exist, one a logger and an outdoorsman in New Mexico and one a city boy in Los Angeles. I'm always thinking up new story ideas, but most of them go in and then out, with no planning or actual writing involved. Maybe I could just come up with ideas for books and have others write them, as I don't develop my stories too well. Rebecca was playing some game called Temple Run as we looked off into a huge outlook onto the morning valley, and all the clouds in the distance making a great impact on the city below, small and big houses. We went to the restroom as the crackly radio made out noises, and then went down again around the trees, forest, with a little bit of snow. It made a great picture, as I dreamed of book ideas and listened to "Red Solo Cup" on the radio, and the great Lincoln Forest surrounded me with it's dream of white blanket and green trees, damp from the rain and dew that I morning brings. Patt, patt, against our windshield. Red Solo Cups are praised as we make our way down on the dirt road.
We were at a peak and looked over and saw a lot of green shrub and some brown patches of dirt, and then after saw some pointed brown rocks that looked like there was a lot of them and that they were on top of each other.
We drove in the jeep for a LONG time, running out of snacks for our bodies. We went through forest, and on high roads, low roads, flat roads, you know the whole deal. Under a bridge the day before we had passed a thin biker with brown hair and red suit, and I wondered if a biker could EVER bike up this place. We then saw a building, our first one in this hostile wilderness. It was rectangular, as many are, and had a sign, and also there was a broad hill in which some trailers and R.V.'s were parked, and some sites also. There was a nice red house across the dirt road from the building. The building was a shop, and the lights were on, the open sign there. Coming in, we saw rows and rows of different shirts, trinkets, and gift shop stuff. We saw animal heads of different kinds all on the wall, deer, elk, and other unlucky creatures to end up on the wall. This whole area was like the only valley I had really seen so far, with sites and a few trees that we saw through there against the hillside,straight away from and perpendicular to the store. We saw in there also, at the far end of the room and the middle, a balcony made out of cylinder wood and another little floor, only taking up the end. We walked around, seeing no soul in the middle where a four sided counter was. A square. Then we heard a voice, a sentence like, "I'm coming" and we heard feet. Our first person of the whole time.
The man was wearing a green jumpsuit, the camouflage ones for hunters. He was an old man, but didn't look feeble at all. On his head a cap rested, but he took it off time and time again. He had white whiskers on his mustache like a polar bear's, and I bet they were snow from the mountain which we had seen all around. His beard he had too. We said hello to the gruff outdoorsman, who wasn't the nicest guy. I looked at some trinkets and a book by that author the lady had said at White Sands, who told about Indians. I noticed a Swiss accent on the man, but didn't say anything. Mark Twain, in that book, had just talked about an animal called a chamois that was very illusive and that in that time period everybody had known about it. Mark Twain was talking about an animal he had seen in Germany and Switzerland. So if this guy was European, he would know what exactly a chamois was. Plus by his attire I knew him to be a hunter.Venturing out, I asked the question. He told me it was some kind of goat or antelope, only in Europe but also known in the Colorado mountains. Not in New Mexico. Well, I did not continue the conversation as this was a gruff hunter man, not Zig Ziglar. Dad did ask him a question:
"How long have you been here?"
In a Swiss accent he answered that married this lady and their parents lived here. He would be in the South of France or maybe even the Florida Keys if he didn't love his wife so, and she wanted to stay here with her parents. Then, he stayed. 20 years later, he still has the little shop and is hating every day, the only good part being his wife staying there with him. It was very funny actually, I mean not that the guys life was wasted in the Gila Mountain Chain, but that love tied so closely together two people as a man's tongue to a pole, which is what happens to him in the winter. :)
The man told us of some homemade ice cream that his wife made. It was in a freezer on the right side of the room, and in white little plastic cups. Everybody save me got some of that, coffee flavored and Rebecca got chocolate, as Vanilla wasn't around. Me myself got a green honey oats bar, and the Swiss man said that it was a very good choice for hiking. Would I even need it? Would this hike be like a day in a park or the Everest mountain? Only time would tell. We said goodbye to Mr. Scrooge, and then paid and went back into the jeep. I would never meet him again that day, and probably won't meet him again ever, even if we return to Gila Cliff Dwellings. He was an interesting old hag. Okay, so down the road we traveled, dirt and slush, mountain and beautiful ravine, green and all lush and then some white. The pine trees were like spears were pointed up against their enemy, the sky! We went down and up and down and up and then down and down and then up twice also.Our second arrive at civilization! There was a building on the left, and a parking lot on the middle and right, with some trees making little blockades with cacti of all little kinds, purple and green prickly buffed up circles. We parked in, and saw the National Park building.
The building was with a brown roof and a beige sides. No snow mixed with brown, which is what we had seen earlier, bits of snow with dirt and slush and green. So, these seniors' apartments were a national park? That didn't make sense. Maybe it was a national recreation area, where old people could hike, bike, walk, jog, and do different activities. We would soon find out. Dad, coming up against the two buildings(there was one kind of close to it that was a bathroom place; it looked nice) on my side, told me to go in and see what there was in there. I walked in, kind of strided as I came to the realization I had left my phone in the car. Oh well. There was a counter on my left and then in the remaining space of the square room, very little, shelves of books and other gifts, badges and the like. Well, a cleanshaven 30-40 year old with brown hair was in there in National Park attire, grey or khaki pants, green jacket, brown cowboy hat. THIS WILL BE THE LAST TIME I WILL DESCRIBE THE UNIFORM! You should, readers, know it by now. I will no longer describe the clothes of a National Park Ranger, because it is too hard to repeat again and again and again and again. Now, let me tell you what he said.
He was a happy ole fellow, in contrast starkly to the abrupt old Swiss man we had met at the store he owned. The man was happy to answer my questions about what the chamois was, looking it up in a flashy glossened wildlife book on the right side of the room. I noticed a doorway and then some displays. Ah, a little museum. Such a good thing I love to have my eyes look upon. The man, so nice as could be, informed me that their wasn't such thing as a chamois in the desert area, Arizona, New Mexico, or Texas. Oh, I said, I was told it was in Europe and told him about the book, and the curt Swiss man. Well he apologized for any inconvenience, and I was amazed that he was apologizing for another man's behavior. Well, thanking him and having to really need to go to the restroom, I stepped outside, and I wish I remembered the jolly gent's name. Alas! I looked around for my family, but couldn't find them. Uh-oh. But then I saw them to the right and forward some, seeing the jeep. Well, walking over, I saw them with their plastic ice cream and things, getting out and trying to squeeze through the opening between the jeep and the dodge sudan next to us. I walked over and then walked back as we talked a little. Dad and I went to the restroom, a practice Rebecca and Mom shared also.
Then Rebecca asked to go take a picture of some of the really nice plants and cacti, and did so as we went in. That nice guy was still there, and standing up to the counter I saw straight behind some offices, a hallway and other workers, and even a little break room for eating. The man welcomed our family just as he had welcomed me, open words, not really arms though because that would require a more close relationship. Mom asked how to get to the Gila Apartments. I still thought it was a waste of time to see these weird old people's homes, only because I saw apartments all the time, had seen an Indian Reservation in earlier days, and I was really behind on the blog and could have written that. Call it adolescence, or being tired from recent days, I really was confused and didn't want to go. The nice man---we'll call him Patrick from now on---- told Mom of turning left, and gave her a map and showed her it on the actual wall map, also some other cool things like to arrive at a certain time, bring plenty of water, hiking boots, sticks, and warm clothes, as it was a long and tedious hike. Upon arriving, we were supposed to go up a canyon by a river and then come up to the dwellings. That was the first time I would hear that word.
As Dad came in Patrick kindly repeated the spiel for the sake of Dad, and then told him that he had like 15 minutes before we had to go on the jeep. We could look at some displays, and watch the movie about the dwellings. Patrick gave Rebecca a little pin with Smoky the Bear's face on it, stating that this was the place where it happened and saying they had Junior Ranger activities and giving us a little comic story about Smoky's beginning. He walked over to the hallway and picked it up, and gave it to us. And then I looked at a book called 1492 which caught my eye while Patrick talked to Rebecca. Another man told Mom, in answer to "How in the World do you come to work every day up this crazy mountain chain" said that they have boarding and they can move around to different National Parks, and all their restaurant and water and electricity are payed for if they work for minimal salary. That was kind of what a guy that we met in Roswell, New Mexico, had said kind of the same thing at a park. Well, thanking the man we began to enter through a dark little area with glass display cases and a carpeted path in front of us. There were benches further on to our left and then to the right, a small, small television with a button. As the trio slurped on their coffee and chocolate ice cream and groaned when the milk combined with sugar and liquids ran dry, Rebecca pressed on the T.V. Images flashed on as it started up.
The thing had to be made in either the 80's or 90's, because it wasn't great cinematography and wasn't in HD also. But it talked about the Mongolian Native Americans. Was this another reservation? But no! As they showed maps, and fly-T.V.(the black and white stuff in patches along the screen) the program talked about Gila CLIFF DWELLINGS, chambers where these Indians did certain things and....tools and arrows and hunting skins? HUH? I thought it was a nursery or modern apartment for old people in the mountains. Wait, back up a bit... it wasn't apartments, it was little caves, it was in the mountains... and also it was not elderly apartments. Dad had steered me on the wrong path to confuse me; he meant people who had lived a really long time ago, thousands of years! THEY WERE OLD! I had one of those big "AHA!" moments that you have occasionally. I told that to Dad as he chuckled and told me to listen and watch the T.V., as fragrance of coffee homemade ice cream danced in the air. A deep-voiced narrator told us about the 8 chambers or so, I believe, and then what purpose we THINK they served. A lot of THOUGHTS, because it happened so many years ago so we didn't know exactly what happened. Kind of made history a guessing game but oh well.
The time period they said the Mongolians lived there between 1275 and 1300 A.D., migrating ever so often as many of the Native Americans did. We liked the movie, but it had no flow and the cinematography wasn't the best, and the other things like what to do. Most of it wasn't facts, but "We think this is where we live" or "ABOUT the time" "Maybe they might've" But, I supposed that about the time that Jesus walked we didn't know much, and archeologist's data supply was only limited as the symbols were unreadable and they wrote down no day-to-day planners from Wal-Mart... that we know of. Then, at the end of the little film, the screen turned black. I looked behind them, laughingly acknowledging that Dad had tricked me. Mom went to do something, I forget what it was at the moment, and Dad told us to look at the displays for when she returned we would have to leave to go to the Cliff Dwellings. I was now really interested, there would be history and we would get to hike in some real caves and see how Indians lived! Great! I was now really exhilarated for this new venture we were to embark on. I looked at some really cool displays, arrow heads, pottery shards and brown little vases, and many little pictographs, all gathered sources of info from Native American Hopi Tribes. I had to go on because Dad told us to come, but I liked looking at the really small maze of black displays.
Mom came back from whatever she went to do, and the three or four adults in the room got in different conversations. This is actually when the man gave us the pins and then told once again the route to take to get to the difficult climb. Why was I ever bored and non-energetic about the hike about to happen? All hikes would be great. Looking around at the books, in the right hand corner undiscovered beforehand, I saw a large nonfiction hardback book with pictures on it, saying the "Wild,Wild West of Louis La'Mour" mentioning his life, his characters and places, would all be told about in the book.
It was called:
The Wild, Wild, West of Louis L'amour
The Illustrated Guide to Cowboys, Indians, Gunslingers, Outlaws and Texas Rangers
It had knives, colts, a cowboy on a horse in the middle with western font writing and bright gold words, with a white background and many other weapons and such. It was a 7'' by 12''. Nice book.
Mom had tried reading just in the beginning of the trip(we got the book at a place where we got many other books called "Homeschool Hangout") The Education of a Traveling Man which was about Louis traveling as a young dude. So I knew that this guy was a Western Writer from different sources. I showed the book to Dad, not implying, "I want you to buy this" but rather, "Look at this interesting spectacle" and he said that his Dad, my grandpa, really liked Louis L'amour and that he had a huge set, that my father gave to Jack, Joyce's husband, step uncle, who Dad forgot the last name to. Dad doesn't know his last name. We'll just say Jack Be Nimble.
Dad wanted to buy the book... for himself. That was for a change, because he wasn't usually a book reading all the time guy who always bought books, like myself. But he bought it, and then we walked outside, went to the restroom, and to the car. I still hadn't eaten that bar I had been given earlier. Well, map in hand and then GPS it into our car, we went away, ready to go on a hike to old Indian cliff Dwellings!
We went down a lot of downhill stuff, and there wasn't much scenery actually, believe it or not at the moment. I read a little bit of A Tramp Abroad and also looked at the Louis L'amour book. It looked interesting. Dad told me a little about his novels, that they were about cowboys and involved a lot of action. He said I might like them. Well, our talk and me reading was cut short by us arriving at our destination. They had a good gift shop here and some other things at this location. There was a parking lot on the right and middle, trees all around, and some John's on the right, and also an energy efficient golf cart. The John's were actually buildings that were a hybrid between public restroom and Jiffy John. On the left you had a brown building with sign, and also ramp and windows, and a big porch with chairs. Some people were outside and some were in. We walked over, and they told us to pay in the slot on their right hand side, which was on a board protected by glass, standing up, with calendars and dates and such. A billboard, or something similar. They told us to go to the restroom for there were none up on the summit, and told us of the route to walk with warm clothes, boots or tennis shoes, and a walking stick, and to take the map.
We would go along a trail by a river, and go up fast for a tour guide would start without you up there. Her name was Beverly. Instantly, because of my relation to a lady who was a Music Instructor at our church in a children's program called WOW, I dreamt up a lady who had black long hair, very skinny, many wrinkles and kind of old, with a nice country accent. I wondered if that was who Beverly was really going to be. The rangers down there just standing around idly told us that Bev (her shortened name) was really informal even though she had been doing it only a few years. Okay, so I knew now she must be some kind of sarcastic teenager guide. Nope. She was actually quite old, and loved to ask questions to the children on the tour. But, make haste, they told us, because we must need to go to the very top before she started without us and to not take in the scenic highlights the river had as much as we probably should. Mom and Rebecca went to the restroom as I brought along a water and my video camera, and then Dad got out some of the sticks out of the back. I took my curved dark wooden one as Dad got his shaved red wood stick that was handmade by us over two summers ago. I cut it down and then Dad fashioned it... It was a great bonding time. But now we prepared to go up, and I took my breakfast bar.
We walked under the wooden post as the stand-by-makeyoupaymoney- park rangers told us good luck.
This was going to be the greatest and craziest and most interesting and most fun hike of my entire life...so far!
TO BE CONTINUED...(SEE "GILA CLIFF DWELLINGS NATIONAL PARK PART 2" FOR THE NEXT PART... THE FINAL PART!)
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