Drive to Arizona

Today, on April 13th, 1743, Thomas Jefferson was born. It's his birthday today. He was born into a wealthy family in Virginia, and he loved books and was interested in many different subjects, becoming an avid reader, like me. At 14 his father died leaving Thomas thousands of acres of land, and that's where he later built his mountain estate, Monticello. Pop told me to go there while we were in the D.C. area in August, but sadly we never made the trip. At 19 Thomas became a lawyer, at a very young age. He soon became popular and married a lady with the last name Skelton (funny because his birthday is on Friday the 13th and he married a lady named Skelton, close to Skeleton.) They had 6 children but only 2 survived to be adults. Sad. He entered politics and was elected in the House of Burgess, speaking and writing out against the unfair acts Britain had put on the colonies. He was an awkward speaker, but people said that he was a wonderful writer... like me. George Washington and Alexander Hamilton, both encouraged the very young Jefferson to write the Declaration of Independence, and Jefferson did so, after only 17 days. It was the draft, anyway. Then on July fourth, they officially made it the document of their nation declaring independence. After the war, Jefferson was appointed Secretary of State, and had heated debates with Hamilton, who was a Federalist. He wanted a Central Government and Jefferson wanted more rights to the states. But Washington sided with Hamilton, so Jefferson, still a young person- so it was known for him to do this... pouted and went back to Monticello.

Three years later he ran against John Adams and lost, but became his Vice President as was the law at the time. He disagreed with him though on certain issues, so then beat him out and became president four years later. In 1803 he supervised the Louisiana Purchase and bought all this land that he told Meriweather Lewis and William Clark to go explore. He was a wonderfully nice guy who did many things for our country, writing the Declaration of Independence almost single-handingly and buying all that land which now so much of the country lives in. If you live in Arkansas or Missouri or Iowa, North or South Dakota, Kansas or Nebraska,almost all of Montana and Wyoming, Oklahoma and parts of Louisiana, I'd be thanking Thomas Jefferson right now. I'm planning to read his biography soon actually. But to the blog now.

I woke up on Feb 17th, and saw some white blanket and flurries outside our R.V., through the glass. Snow! Mom had her large green jacket on and was leashing up the dogs and getting the plastic bags in which to poop them with. I shouted, "Wait for me, Mom!" as I got up out of my gold blankets on my blow up mattress, and then got on my dirty jeans I had worn the day before, getting my blue fleece jacket and also a baseball cap as I followed her outside. I was wearing my almost dead sneakers, and went outside out into the snow. It was wet and only like two inches, contrary to what Devin had said about it being a lot deeper, but it looked so pretty dancing on the tops of the green big bush that was parked beside our motorhome. Rebecca had woken up too but stated she was too tired to go outside, even though I had told her about the snow. We had seen snow at Cloudcroft, and now saw it again. The dogs made yellow marks on the now broken in spots snow (because of our paws and feet), making a new color for us to trod on. Kind of gross. NEVER EAT YELLOW SNOW! EVEN IF YOUR SNICKERING FRIENDS, RED FROM THE WEATHER (they say) STATE IT'S LEMONADE! IT'S NOT! You have been warned. Remember that.

We went on where there was a Recreation hall building, which had snow on the roof and screened in porch stuff. Very nice. We peeked in there at some white plastic chairs, and then moved on. You couldn't really see through the openings, but oh well. We then made them go to the restroom and saw this big long half moon ditch that was very sunken in. I heard a noise and then Rebecca joined us. I guess she wasn't that tired indeed. Well, the dogs went to the restroom and then we went back inside the R.V., and did our morning routine of watching a little T.V. while we ate breakfast after wiping off the snow on our feet. During the walk back via another road we had talked about old times playing in the snow with neighbors and the Poje's. It was a good time talking of old times. Next we took showers and got dressed, as the others just blogged and did other things and Dad looked on the computer for a place to stay. He told us that we were going to Arizona today and would go back to the grand old town of Tucson (pronounced TOO-SAHN instead of TUC-SON). It would be a return for Mom, Rebecca and I. I'll tell you why when we arrive... in the blog, I mean. We're nowhere close to Tucson right now. But when I write about when we arrive I'll give you a little history of the Jordan family.

We unhooked and then drove off, hooking up the jeep. You know, it was funny because neither I nor Mom had ever been into the office of the Rose Valley R.V. Ranch. That was the same thing when we were in Roswell, New Mexico, only then Dad didn't go into the office either. EE-thur. I-thur. EE-thur, I-thur. Which one is your pronunciation?

There was a little bit of desert, but it wasn't long after doing some math and blogging, T.V. watching and Barbie-playing when we arrived at the State Sign of Arizona. As we get ready with our cameras and put on shoes and jackets, lets talk a little about New Mexico. In New Mexico, we saw the place which had been made so famous because of supposed alien landing, and also saw a great bird migration and cool habitats. We went to Carlsbad Caverns and saw the beautiful underground caves, and later went to White Sands via Roswell and saw some glittering gypsum sand. We went to a snow filled town in the clouds, where we saw our first snow and met an Irish man later in the evening at a bookstore. The next day we went to a space museum and went to Gila Cliff Dwellings, where we learned how Indians lived and talked to awesome cyclists. New Mexico didn't have any really big towns we visited, but it had some great science improvement, history (space and atomic bombs) and beautiful sites. It was used in the past, because of the lack of people, as nuclear training sites to see if their A-bomb would work. New Mexico wasn't like Texas with the big towns and ports and cowboy stuff, but it sure was unique. Okay, back to the blog, I think that we've gotten out now.

I always thought that the name Arizona was my favorite state's name, because I just liked the name, for some reason. Rebecca and I took our picture by the sign, and I was shocked to realize how like Texas's it was. It, firstly, had a star, and also red and blue and white. There was yellow coming out of the points to the star... well you'll see in the picture later on. It wasn't too big of a sign, and behind it was a rest stop that we pulled into. There were nice parking places and then also some stone buildings, restrooms, on the right, by a patch of not grass. But here's the best part: there was a mound of beige rocks that we took pictures of after walking the dogs. Really cool, all those rocks on top of each other, like the rulers of Rome, always trying to be on the top of the pack, where they have power. Greed has fueled want of power, which has fueled deceiving people, which has made violence possible...through the funding and helping of viewers like you... wait is this PBS? Okay, no. But back to the blog. After Dad had a little break, we were off to Tucson again.

When we entered the city I was shockingly surprised. It was a huge town, with everything from skyscrapers to little old people's housing, red tile roofs and the whole bit. We didn't go through it, but I saw the silver and glass huge buildings rising up, with some mountains surrounding this area. I guess as we approach the city it's time for a little history involving my mother's side of our family, the Jordan's. In the summer of 1950, my grandpa's father had asthma and was looking for an area with a dry climate in which to live in to make sure he stayed in good health. Pop, my grandfather, had just finished high school in a town we have visited on the trip, called Union City. They looked for places all around the desert-filled Southwest, in Alamogordo, New Mexico (been there) and parts of Texas. My great grandfather, whom I never had the privilege to meet, found a little town of 100,000 residents, called Tucson, named by the Indians to mean 'chuk-son,' meaning village under the shadow of mountains. There was a school there of roughly 5,000 students, the University of Arizona. Pop enrolled in U of A, and he left Tucson in 1954 when he applied to become an Air Force Lietanant. He moved to the Bay Area close to San Francisco, and stayed there for two years before going on in his life, becoming an employee for Kaiser Aluminum. He met my grandmother while training for a job in Ohio, and then she followed him to CA, where they married and had three children. My mom was almost five years old when they moved to Atlanta, where my Uncle Andy was born. The rest is history.

But Pop always had a dedication to Tucson, taking his family to Tucson to visit his parents, in an R.V. I'll talk about that more in a different blog post, the one after this one. Also, when I was eight, we went to Tucson with my flip video camera still in hand. That was my first video camera. We went to a desert museum where I saw all these live animals, and we stayed in a condo where in the mornings I would run down the block and back, trying to stay in shape. We saw a graveyard full of decommissioned planes and went to a place called Old Tucson where in the past they made cowboy movies, and we went in train cars, saw shooting shows, and went down an old horrible mine... and I still have the memories of all the skeletons gnashing out. Those were just some of the very cool things we did in the old town of Tucson. I'll never forget the experiences and memories gained there with my grandparents. For some reason Dad didn't go, and I don't know why. But now, as we came off the highway heading to the city, we were going to return to the city which started my grandfather's career and I was really excited. I remembered coming through this hotel onto the property where are condo was, and the ear popping ride where I read about Native Americans and read a story about a dog, all that school books in my back pack that weighed me down. I remembered going to Sabina Canyon, seeing an old mission called San Xavier del Bac, where there was a lot of paintings and also a gift shop. There I accidentally went into a girls restroom. It was memories like these that made my time at Tucson eternal.

But that's some of the history, in vague detail, of the Jordan's time at Tucson.

There was an R.V. park just off the freeway, outside of Tucson. Luckily we didn't have to go into the city with a motorhome of our size. It was down a hill, and we took an asphalt exit and then came down there. There was a yellow sign on there with a short cartoon gunslinger, and the R.V. park was called Prince of Tucson. On our right was several sites and some long cabins with driveways and trinkets in the yard that make the house or cabin more of a home. There was a wall on our left, many little cacti and then a driveway going down. We went down that a little bit before getting out of the R.V. with the engine still roaring. There was a three sided square building after a little courtyard in front of it, complete with some horseshoe and cricket places. Well, in the middle we peaked through some large glass windows, going on the right side of it into a door which had stickers and all the Good Sam and "This park was nominated for a president's choice award"-- let me just tell you, campgrounds aren't humble about their winnings--- and other things as we walked in. There was a counter going the full length of the room, and some clocks and doors to offices behind a bearded man and a white haired lady. It had all been done before. The brochures, the process of filling in paperwork, how many nights you'll be here, where did you hear about us, how many in your party, the map of how to get into the site, counting all the amenities, it had all been done before!!!!

It's get boring after a while so that's why sometimes I skip that process and blog.

But then again, it makes it fun 'cause sometimes they look different or have decorations.

What about when it's a chain like bland KOA?

You know what, I'm done arguing with myself. We signed up to all the stuff and the lady said that there was a laundry room through the door on the corner of the middle square side and the right one, to the laundry and recreation hall, bathrooms and such. The place seemed like a nice place, and we resorted to chit-chat about Vermont (above all things; the people were from there) and some other things as the people smiled awkwardly. The site on the map looked like it wasn't very good, because it was at the end... and, well the man said that he was sorry he had given us such a poor site, but an R.V. of our size couldn't fit in any of the other ones. What was bad about our site? Only time would tell. Thanking them, we got back into the R.V., very happy to be at Tucson once more. It was going to be such an adventure in the "Old Pueblo"(nickname of Tucson) and to explore all the things with a fresh anew memory. But Mom's cough was still haunting her nights and days, giving her what we liked to call, 'the creaking croak.' It was sad that she kept coughing and coughing and coughing, so would this contribute to the experience of our trip in a negative way? Read the next posts, reader, to confirm this scary possibility!

With the guy in front of us in a golf cart, we went around the exterior and then passed turning around where some lodges were, houses I guess they could be called, little ones, and saw a chain link fence with a big hole and many poles, white and metal, going up and down. Odd, what was this? The people hadn't mentioned it. Well, here we were now and we saw why the site was so bad. It was right on the exit to the freeway, right below the actual big road in which we all know so well to be so loud. And that wasn't the worst part of it. On the left side of our newly parked motorhome, was a blue dumpster, the only one in the park, in which people ride their cars over there or walk, making a big rumble as their trash falls into the metal container. But wait, there's more to make this offer even seem greater... we were right by a chain link fence and construction site, where every morning men with cranes and big KAT yellow machines move a sign that was held down by cinder blocks, creating great tension on the concrete, and then with all the dirt and the building and the flashing lights and all that building and knocking down.... ah, wasn't this to be the best and most serene of our locations for our R.V. in the past? I closed my eyes as the sweet tunes of these heavenly noises shifted through my brain.

We didn't use our outlet because it was far away from our electrical cord, but did use another one nobody was using. We had some people, with another big R.V., and they were from Canada, behind us. That night, I blogged and wrote about New Orleans, trying desperately to finish the blog post by the end of the day and be done with that, to talk about Dad's birthday the next day. Combined with the ride to Arizona and the time that Mom was at the laundry and Dad and Rebecca were washing one side of the R.V., I thought I could make it. Bored for a little while after posting the post and playing with my dogs, I asked Dad what I could do as they were cleaning the back of the R.V. with water, soap and other materials. He told me to go to the laundry mat, as I did, walking through the cabins and going up to the courtyard, where some really poky cacti where, nice and pink or green as they made imposing impressions on me. Which one do you think will win in a fight? A porcupine or cactus? Well, let's examine the facts. A porcupine is really small and doesn't have near as many sticks as the cactus does, but it has a tail, claws, teeth, and can move. So I'm betting on the thing that is living and breathing. Just me.

A woman was in the laundry mat with Mom when I entered. Too much white and swirling noises in there, too many circles in one place. There was a table in which she was seated. There was a hallway forward when I entered on the left, and a door to the left which was the recreation place, but people under 18 weren't allowed. I saw a bar, so nodded in agreement. The lady was nice, as I sat down and Mom told me not to because that was her husband's seat. She had glasses, brown hair that was fading into a grey, and was kind of plump. Nice enough though. She was incredibly interested in my eyes for some reason, oh and my hair color, blonde and all that. It was kind of scaring me... did she want to cut it off and take it and put it under her pillow? Hmmmm.... But I smiled as Mom told her about the trip and about homeschooling, as I folded clothes and put them in the white circular things. I hate laundry, it's so girly and I much wanted more to be out there helping Dad with the R.V. then I did wanting to do something that a lady out of Little Women or Pride and Prejudice might of done. But, I loved this time that I had with my mom, and Mom stated I was a good helper. We went through a place that had some billboards, a no-age-restricted one, as we went down a staircase and out to the R.V. I met the man earlier and he was gruff, white bearded and not very talkative.

That night we ordered pizza from a sarcastic teen over the phone who made us jump through a few hoops. When a female pizza woman arrived she apologized for his behavior and stated he was new. The pizza was really good, as we munched on it while watching Piers Morgan in his English accent ask Morgan Freeman about politics... as he does to every one of his guests. I slept up there with holes in my bed that deflated it... and I didn't want to sleep on a bed that was deflating. In the past we had looked for holes, but couldn't find any. Would we get another one? I don't know. But mine wasn't good, and so I slept on the couch with the sweet melodious tones of construction, cars on the highway, a train going past behind us, and people putting stuff in the dumpster.

WHOOSH

CRRRRRR.

BANG BANG.

Paradise.

And so ends the first night in our Tucson adventure,

Andrew.

Gila Cliff Dwellings National Park Part 2

HAPPY EASTER! (I know I'm a few days behind, sorry.) THE CHRIST IS ALIVE! SALVATION IS NEAR! SPREAD THE GOOD NEWS ALL AROUND THE WORLD, FELLOW CHRISTIANS!

And for my Jewish friends, Happy Passover! The Angel of Death has passed over the walls of the Jews who have the lamb's blood on their doors. Don't act like I don't know the story because I don't share your religion. It's in Exodus 11 and 12. He didn't kill your oldest sons. So please celebrate it!

(SEE PART 1 BEFORE READING THIS OR ELSE YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND THE PLOT.)

My stick, with a rubber bottom that was black, hit the first patch of brown mud, mixed with water, put there by the morning dew and the evening rain. It was as brown as wood, but looked nothing like wood at the same time. That doesn't make sense, does it? The color was right, just not the hardness or the amount of water. I've never really seen water stay on wood if it's vertical or even horizontal, because of evaporation and of the condensation of the water going into the brown wood. But it was dark mud, as black rubber hit a big bulk on my left side of this small trail set before us. We were to hike along the river, cross it, and go up to the canyon. Already through the green foliage we had seen some great sights. A trickling stream, not as blue as paintings present but as silver reflected off the little stones and weeds around it. Brown dirt mounds surrounded this small twisty river, that acted like a snake. Rebecca and I looked on our right side, and my video flashed even though we were only a few minutes into this dazzling performance, called "Gila Cliff Dwellings." The set director was God, the actors these people called Mongolian Indian people. And it was an old traditional play, and we were to go to the theater in a few minutes. Right now was the introduction to this beautiful area in New Mexico.

This is a metaphor, for you very literal people.

Dad and Mom trailed behind, but somehow Rebecca got way in front. She wanted to lead our caravan. Some little trees on the right had sickly branches, and had little touches of green buds on them, embracing spring as it came off it's Rolls Royce and into the house. We saw, through all the trees and branches, some beige and light brown flat rock up higher, crevasses coming out of the canyon. This was our first canyon since Palo Duro in Texas, which wasn't actually so long ago, so we weren't really surprised with this. However, this was the first time for many of us that we had actually gone into the actual canyon. And this was prettier. Dad told us to go along, faster faster, as we trotted uphill, and he said that we needed to go fast because we needed to catch the tour which was going to start up at the summit. So video taping the streams and forest would have to wait 'til the descent. Rebecca continued to lead as we passed a small stone bridge, barely wide at all,that went across the trickling brook, with some little stone fences that made up some sides. I went in front now, wishing I had brought boots because of all this mud coming on my delicate sneakers. Okay, so now this was the final climb or final hike for my precious little tennis shoes. They we're being asked too much of the laces that were destroyed and wrinkled, the smallness that they have up against my large feet, and the dustiness and now muddiness. They were about to die.

I wanted to lead now. The trail was a series of zig zags and only mud road, go across the stream once, then go across it to the right, to the left, to the right (this is sounding like a recent pop song isn't it called "Cupid Shuffle".) The little silver and grey and clear water rushed through, as Rebecca and I joked about wouldn't it be fun if we took leggos, barbies, and rescue heroes and had them go through the now rushing river. We looked up higher, now on the left side as a sheer hill, like 7 ft, arose on our left. It was of condensed mud and dirt, mixed a little with rocks and some other things. I was getting tired of carrying my water as I drank sips, and of video taping also. I was sad that we had to speed on through the very nice scenery, but it is what is and this was only the cream of the crop, the icing on the cake, the tip of the iceberg, the cap of the bottle, the hair of the dog. Okay, I'm done with that for now. We would sacrifice this area and get a really cool thing to see later on, they told us. I lead now, as we saw some really cool plants and leaves all around. You wouldn't ever think you were in New MEXICO, if you know what I mean. It's not all desert in these Western states. That info was presented to us as we went on.

I was stupid for bringing my phone. No service anyway, and there was no reason for taking it. So, I didn't take it.

Your confused, aren't you?

"Keep going. Don't stop." Dad pushed us on, telling Mom to take some pictures along the way, if mandatory. I was liking this walk. Tying my almost dead shoes, I then saw I was very behind our caravan. We had crossed a bigger longer bridge on the left side, and had looked at the board going down slowly. I loved this scenery. We were on our right side now, and I could see that we were going steeply uphill. There was this mound of dirt again, some leaves and weeds growing out of the undergrowth, and some very wide and small stone stairs which the family was embarking up. I caught up, and then Dad was behind me. I looked behind us down at the sprinting river, but Dad told me to go on. Why must we not take in this glorious surroundings? Dad told me to run up this new harder route, where the mud was fresh and slippery. I ran up, step by step, as I saw that some of these "stable" little rock steps I had gone up had cracks, and little crumbled off parts, more than Spencer's grandmother. Boy is she ugly. I stepped up, fairly speedy, and hoped that I would satisfy Dad, who was chugging up behind. I wanted to make it to that bench up nearer. We were going in a swirl, up to the right, where it was going up in a circle and zig zag. I was facing the vertical way of the canyon, going up one step, which was right at a corner... when... it happened.

I.

Fell.

Down.

SMACK! My feet had been snagged on a step, made possible by going fast and not paying attention. Face right in the new mud, my hands straight down now browner than a warthog, filled with dots of black in the middle. My hair had dirt all over it also. Knees throbbing with pain and scrapes, I was a numb boy, with brown mud on my jeans also too. Everything happened so fast that it was amazing that I was up one second and down the next. My phone hung loosely on the side, the black holster and the blue otterbox hugging to escape this coming brown mess. I stayed there for a few seconds, and Dad told me to give him my dirty water bottle and my video camera. I did so, and then steadied myself with the stick. Getting up, I limped to the left and then went and sat down. Dad was kind to carry everything. We still went on however, still went on because we didn't want to miss the thing. Mom said to Dad that he shouldn't of rushed me, and the fall wouldn't of happened. I was okay, but still hurting after a while. Water was like a sweet American Idol song to my lips. After sitting down among some big rocks, we saw a man by a bench and Dad talked to him for a little while. We have to speed on but Dad can talk to a man? Unbelievable, we thought.

We all rested on the benches, gracious for their wooden support. It had been a long hike, falling, crossing bridges, the like. But we were almost done, which was the good part. Almost done with the hike, and then we tour for an hour of these caves and dwellings! When we got home that night I knew I would be tuckered out. Then the next day we would leave for another scenic thing, do it one day, and then leave the next. I was so finished with all this two night stay deal. What was next on our agenda of places to go in New Mexico?

After a little while of staying still, we got up again. Rebecca was still energetic, as I would be, if my feet weren't hurting from that very bad fall. Mom and Dad, because they were adults, weren't too energetic. Right now we heard voices to our forward and right, up higher than us. I already saw light brown rock coming out of the cliffs. We went up higher, to find a group of people sitting on some flat rocks, surrounding each other. A ranger, grey haired, long, and a lady, was guiding the conversation. She welcomed us and asked where we were from, after finishing some kind of conversation with some other people. I could tell now that this was Beverly. Two people by us as we sat down with our backs to the canyon and their backs to the cliff spoke. The man was younger, in the 30's, and had black hair, crisp and smooth, with a small beard that hung lightly to his face, not very big. He had on a jacket, and long sneakers that came up high to his ankles. By his accent I could tell that he was English, and it confirmed it when he told Beverly where he was from. His companion, a lady about his age with blonde hair, a plumper face, and a little bit of freckles, also had an English accent. They were either married or brother in sister, I supposed. Now, let me describe some of the other members of the group.

There was a guy with a beard too, brown hair and blue eyes, who was also young with a baseball cap that was the Boston Red socks and had a red nice jacket, a rain one probably. Thin, but strong. There was a man with a ski hat and a goatee, who had a jacket with a Union Jack which the British guy commented on. Underneath, as we would see later, was a black shirt with white letters that said, "Got Jesus." Later we would classify him as a Christian man. Forgive me if I have some of the facts wrong, people who are reading this involved in the saga (I'll tell you how later) my memory is only a vague one. As they talked and one guy said he was from Rhode Island and then Mom talked about us living in Georgia, I zoned out, and looked with curiosity at how the Brit tied his converse shoes, ever so lightly, very slowly but surely. I don't know why I remember those little seconds of watching him tie his shoes, but strangely I do. It's not a very exciting part to the adventure, but for some reason I zoned out and remember the white laces, blue and red background, and the tying of his skinny long hands very clearly. I still have the image in my mind. Over, under. over, under. Over, under. Loop, pull. Maybe I shouldn't have had that milkshake a few minutes ago.

Remember what these people look like; they will be very important later on.

Until you learn their names I will address them as Sir Brit, Lady Brit, Rhodes, and Ski. There were some other people in the crowd, but I remember them the most clearly.

"Well, now that we're all met, let me tell you a little history and place you in the right time period before we start the tour. Well, wait, let me go over the safety rules first. There's no bathroom up here, so please ration your water. Stay by me and do not peek over the canyon far... or else you might see Elvis and Martin Luther King. People with health issues and bad knees, feet, or anything below the waste are not recommended for the venture. Common sense should be used and... okay now for the good part." This was something like how Beverly was, and I liked the steady sound of her old voice. She had a clipboard. "I haven't been here long, but I know some things about rocks because I was a geologist and (she said a hard word involving searching up Indian Artifacts and the like) know enough about these Indians... or Native Americans, to do a tour. (she looked down at her clipboard.) The time that the Mogollon Indians came into these caves was between 1275 and 1300 A.D., about 700 years ago. They were part of the Hopi people perhaps of this region, and as you know from the video you might of watched they were nomads, moving around by the seasons and by the source of food. They might have, however, gone back to this sight again and again for they made pretty permanent housing in the dwellings. This area... well I'll get to that later.

"There are like 5-6 caves, and 46 rooms in there. There are other caves they didn't use because they were small and hard to get in and out of, no accessibility. I'll talk about what they used and why they used them later. I really hope you enjoy this tour of Gila Cliff Dwellings."

I could tell I was going to like Bev. We got all our stuff together as cameras came out, and video cameras too. Some of the other people had the flash on and some had them off. To my right was a sheer drop. It wasn't near as much a fall as it was in Palo Duro, or maybe it was. It didn't look super deep, possibly because of all the rich green fauna and flora that was blocking the view a bit. It did look really pretty, all of the green plants and trees and the small skinny trickle of water they call a river going by, reflected off of light brown rock that was flat, coming on both sides of this little canyon. On our left as we walked along was a little alcove, the first one of many that we were yet to see more of. Beverly told us that these two little square holes were for storing food, and that the rectangular outlined with dirt outlines might of been for kids to sleep in, that maybe our ancestors were really short. I was kind of getting annoyed with all of the MAYBE'S, WE THINK, THOUGHT, ABOUT, and other things, but I kept trying to remind myself that it was amazing they knew how much they did right now, and it was hard to find out about people's lives 700 years ago. There was a little circle outline, and Bev said that this was... and she asked the kids what it might of been for.

"The kids" were only Rebecca and I. The remaining of the group were adults, both on the young side (mostly them) and on the older side. Rebecca and I thought and thought, and Rebecca came up with perhaps a washing hands place? I said maybe for storing more food. Beverly said those were good choices, but that alas we were wrong in that respect. It was a little fireplace, and was when fire was needed to be made and contained. This little alcove was about as big as a bedroom, but not square, circular like a half moon cut into the wall, very high. Nice place though. Not too big though. Beverly told us to move on, after a very long interesting talk about rocks, and different things of that nature, matter and materials. She pointed out different layers in the rock, telling us that each rock was at least a century in difference of time... or more. Ski walked along calmly and took some pictures while Sir Brit and Lady Brit stayed up ahead. I wanted to talk to them, but Beverly was talking like a fiend. The second alcove was up ahead. This time, there was a rock wall, and a little window that was up higher of a T shape, and on the right a big hole,with a small round door at the other end, some little ones, a tall area of air only on the top and strangely on the left side, some wooden cylinder beams that were coming out. Beverly explained a little as we stood there, a bit puzzled.

"This is the one that Henry B. Ailman discovered. (He was mentioned in the video.) He, not very concerned about conserving anything, went in here with some hammers and looked all around. (Pulling out of her clipboard, she showed us a picture of them inside, in black and white. They looked like regular archaeologists.) Finding no profit, they abandoned the place after telling about it. Vandals came and graffitied the place up, and also slept in here and such. The National Park Service, when the park was made and dedicated, had to patch up the walls and if you look closely you can see the newer patches of plaster and concrete and mud and dirt from the old. (We looked closely, and Rhodes confirmed that he saw it with a "Oh yeah!") Now, we know from all the windows that this was in fact used, but because their's no good way to get it, we do not allow the visitors to come in here. You will, however, get that chance later on in the tour. (She told a lot of science things too and history about how we knew they came in and lived here, hyola... oh I can't say that word.) Now, who's guessing about these wooden cylinders? Well I'll tell you about that in a sec. Sorry, but I do everything by the book." (The Brit's chuckled a little, and Lady Brit smiled large.)

She told us also that the tin windows, as they were called, were used for they don't know what. Again with the wedon'tknowforsurebecauseitwasbeforewritteninfo scheme. Rhodes joked that maybe when a lady went in from gathering food that she used the two sides on the T (oh and it was a block T at that) were used to push herself up perhaps. Well, we didn't know exactly. She said that the women gathered and helped build the house, the men hunted, and the children helped the women. Well, we walked on, along the edge of the canyon, down little humps, and then sat down again at another big rock bench, as Beverly told some more things. She asked Rebecca and I what kinds of things that Native Americans ate. My favorite year for a long time was in 3rd grade Social Studies, when I learned about the North and South East, the Plains, the Southwest, and the Northwest Indians, and all their different traits. So much info was stored in my brain but I knew of this, "rice, beans, and...." I said the two and Beverly finished it out with corn. Thanking us, she also made us look over to the other canyon side, on the flat top, stating that the grandfather would go with the kids and tend the farm, guarding against animals and rival tribes. She said something funny and cute, like, "I can't imagine that the kids didn't..." but I don't remember the rest. I wish I had remembered that and forgotten the whole tying the shoes thing. Oh well.

I was really loving this tour, super glad we had gone on it even though in the beginning I wasn't so up for it. It had been fun to just learn about how these ancient peoples lived, flourished, and tended their gardens and killed their food. Beverly said that the Indians might have stayed here so long and made these places because it was away from the enemy and very high up, with great protection and a big river flowing down. Earlier she had talked about how the whole canyon was formed, through the erosion of the water and the other elements which made Gila Canyon possible. Through the funding and helping of viewers like you... no wait, that's a line from PBS, right?

Okay, so now we were ready to get up again. This next cave would be the one to remember. Beverly assured us that we would get to go into the next dwellings, and there was an entrance to yet the next one. Both Rebecca and I asked some questions before we moved on, and Mom took some pictures of the nice canyon and cliff dwellings. Rhodes seemed very interested, and Ski for some weird reason moved ahead of the group. As did another ranger, supposedly a back up and helper who was studying. He was an old man though. But on the other hand, Beverly had just began and she wasn't too young. (not trying to be mean.) Walking along the edge and being rather slow, holding onto some rocks and looking at the sheer canyon below. We weren't actually that close to the edge, but there was no wall or rope so it was still rather frightening. Turning to my left, I saw that there was a large cave on the left. Let me describe it. It was all of light brown, and an alcove it was, very large in fact, the biggest we had seen so far. Also, there was a medium sized arch doorway, where some air was. On the left was a makeshift staircase of light brown rock, and the whole big area was curved into an arch kind of huge entering. I remembered from earlier how we had seen, when hiking close to the river, the curved dwellings coming out of the bulging rock and the light brown texture. But this was the famed cave of the entire tour.

Beverly told us not to touch anything, and that we would go up along the little staircase and see inside. Then she proceeded to talk more about those Indians, stating that the wooden poles protruding from above the little curvy staircase was in fact a roof at one time, and that people would sit and weave and talk with their neighbors on there, to get out of the dark dreariness of the dwelling. They'd talk about that new pelt skin that Madonna's great great great great (x 10 great's) grandmother was endorsing, and maybe about Chief Seinfield's banquet that was going to happen live on the Moon Festival. The kids would watch Barney the dinosaur, live, because of the time period.

She told us also about that this was the large cave, the meeting place and the sleeping place for many of the tribe. I looked to the right where I saw a little square fronts to the houses, with little windows and a ledge along the two on the left. Well, Beverly lead on, telling us to be careful, even though there was another man that was already standing up there taking pictures. It wasn't Ski, no, it was some other thinner guy who looked kind of the same, but had a cap on and brown hair. I tread up the stairs, and looked around now as I saw myself inside, with a large black roof casting darkness overhead us. As Beverly told us to turn left and look around, we did so. There were some of those wooden beams, the original ones that were there 700 years ago! It was probably the oldest man-made thing I had ever seen, older than the artifacts at Jamestown, older than the King James Bibles (wow a lot of old things involve King James; both those things were in early 1600's, when King James was king and when he did a lot of stuff. To pay for the money that King James supplied the settlers they named the settlement after the monarch. ) that we had seen in Dallas, Texas. Older than the Plymouth Rock. The oldest man-made things I had ever seen with my two eyes, I think. There might have been Indian pots we had seen that day that were a little older, but these presumably unimportant wooden beams were the oldest man-made things I had EVER seen.

She told us where they would sit as Sir Brit looked behind her at the long area with kind of low rock ceiling, filled with big and little rocks alike. Beverly stated this was probably where they sat and slept, and that they had found black streaks on the rock(it was already pretty dark in there so she said we couldn't see where) and they had found out that this was smoke, so it was probably an area for celebration and jubilation of a harvest or something like that. To our right was a room below us, square in form with a few windows but not many, and a panel as we looked down on it. What was this illusive room for? Bev told us that they thought (oh here comes that word again) that it was a Ceremony Room, where they would do different ceremonies, and they supposed it was that because all the walls were decorated and the smoke was released from the ceiling. I asked innocently what kind of things that they might do in here? And she didn't answer my question in a straight answer, saying that we couldn't suppose what kind of things they did, because we didn't know and sometimes an Indian from the Hopi tribe would come in and tell a little bit, but it wasn't write to assume. I didn't know what she meant by that until Mom told me later what she meant.

While videos snapped and people told pictures (still remember the SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! so clearly), I asked the Brit's if they liked Sherlock Holmes. They said yes, that even to this day he was still popular in England, and we talked a little about that when they said they had a mural under the Madame Theusso's on Baker Street(spelled incorrectly I think) which had some of the adventures put on there. They didn't know if a 22 Baker Street existed however, and for you non-Holmes fans that is the residence that Holmes and Dr. Watson share in most of the books and short stories. But even if you didn't know that, you should have. Sir Brit told me Madame was a person in the French Revolution who ran away to England with some busts of famous leaders, and then she started a wax shop, later to become a museum in which iconic leaders are shown in wax around the world. Remember the name, reader. It will come up in the blog posts later on. FORESHADOWING! But anyhow, I thanked them for the info as we talked about SH a little longer, and then they asked if I knew a lot of things about England. I asked them about London, where they live. You know, I love talking to people of different nations, British people specially,(because I like so many of their leaders and authors and personalities and their history is so known to me too) because it's cool to hear how they live, how it is in different countries, and how different their government is. They were nice, I supposed then as Beverly spoke again.

She told us that we were going on, after telling about many really cool science and history things. Their daily life was rather bland and repetitive, wake up and gather food, and if you were male go out and find it, if a child then help your Mom and play with some other children. Rather repeating indeed. Then they would eat a big meal as a family, and then go to sleep and have the same day repeated. She told us to go on as I talked a little bit more to Sir Brit. We turned left with the mound on our left, and there were several littler rooms. Beverly stated that we were sadly at the very end of this great tour. Well, she didn't call her own tour great, but she said that... dang my dog just pooped. So gross.

Now, why did he do that inside? It's from Rebecca giving him too many treats, that's what it is.

But back to the blog.

Beverly told us that we went down a ladder and then to the left down the trail, and that we would go down back to the visitor's center at the base of the canyon, and there was a little interpretive center there. We could join her in another room first, or we could just go down from here if anyone was in a hurry to go somewhere. There was a holographic thing in the other room that she could also show us. There was a little square room that was by a wall with some little chalk sketchings, and it had a small ladder. Ski offered some money to Beverly but she said she couldn't take it, but that he could make a donation at the visitor's center. She was such a good tour guide and a nice lady, I think. Well, Ski said okay and then him and a few others went down back down the staircase, taking some more pictures. As Rebecca went up a very small wooden beam ladder to the left of us, I got into a talk with The Brit's and another guy, Rhodes, pitched in also. Rebecca looked down on the room she couldn't go in, and then I went up it too and looked at it. Pretty plain rooms, really. On our right though was one room where we actually were in there, and we looked around. It had no walls and was part of everything else, however.

There was another square place there in this huge chamber, and Beverly told us something about the smoke rising in there and that being the only room in there that had two levels, probably to... well I'm sorry I forget. I wish I catch up soon. My facts are all so jumbled.

I told the Brit's about the trip a little, as we passed on into the other room and looked at a red little curved room where some red rocks were coming out, and some outlines of a bed were also there. Lady Brit, when I couldn't see the figure that Beverly was talking about, told me to stand in her place and then I saw it more clearly. It was also in red, from hundreds of years ago, and was an ancient sketch of some kind of monkey or man, with curved arms like it was laughing or something. Mom will post a picture later. It was on a wall on the left, and we had to face it forward and lean over to see it, craning our necks. Mom talked a little to Beverly about the trip and also talked to Rhodes a little bit as we went down a ladder and I held the camera while Mom went down. A little hard to juggle it out. We stood at the base of the final dwelling for a little while, talking to those people, now in a different room than before. We found out by pursing the conversation and talking with them that The Brit's were on their honeymoon, to go from Florida all the way to San Diego... and here's the best part, by bike! I was really impressed, noticing that they had to be the most in-shape people to try out this venture. Rhodes said that it was really fun.

But I was a little confused? Wasn't Rhodes from Rhode Island? So how was it possible that he was going on it with the British people? The guy quickly explained it as Mom and I listened, while Dad and Rebecca went down the trail to the left of the dwellings and talked to another couple, and I don't remember what they looked like. He said that they were a part of a program that takes bikers from Saint Augustine, FL, to San Diego, CA, and that Rhodes was with a thing called "Executives without Borders"; the money would be benefited to help poor people in Haiti. I was really amazed that someone could be that generous and nice, and asked myself if I could ever do something even close to that nice thing. Mom said that perhaps we had passed them on the road to Silver City, and I described a skinny biker in red. Rhodes said that it was maybe a French guy named Paul or something, and the Brit's agreed. Well, we walked down, now deep in the conversation with our new acquaintances.

I shook hands with them as we went down the leafy trail, with pretty much the same scenery as before, muddy roads, green trees filled with foliage, and brown trunks. Mom was talking with Brit in the front, and I shook hands with Lady Brit.

"And what was your name, Miss?"

"Katie," she answered.

I also saw that the other guy, from Rhode Island, was named Devin. Katie's newly wed husband was named Ed.

They were great conversationalists. I told them about the trip, we shared memories of areas we had both been to, and Devin told me a little bit about the part of Rhode Island that he lived in. The name sounded familiar, so I wondered if we had passed through there on our way out to Newport on our stay there. He told me that in any part of Rhode Island that you were in you could drive to another part of it, and be there in an hour or less. CRAZY! I resisted the urge to play a joke which I had used many times in describing the state, but I thought maybe as a resident of our smallest state he might feel offended at the gesture. The joke was, for you curious readers, was, "I told my dad when we were driving through the state line not to blink, 'cause we'd be in the ocean." But I'm pretty sure I didn't say the joke. As I have grown to know Devin, I have realized that he is a kind of person to just laugh about it. Mom called back to me as we went down that Ed was a Special Effects guy and worked in movies. I enjoyed talking to Katie about England and Devin about Rhode Island and other mediums, the trip and all, but as a kid who LOVES the film industry and wants to be a director, I was intrigued to learn a bit more about what Ed had to say about the other side to the movie spectrum, the handymen who made Harry Potter fight dragons...special effects.

But there was no real way to get in front and talk to Ed...technically. I finally just came out with it as we moved along that I would like to ask Ed a a question, and skinnied over as Katie kindly let me by. Thank you. Katie was very nice and good to talk to. Devin super nice and really interesting. I would only find out later in the car that Mom had talked to Devin and that he was a Golf Pro, coming down to the Masters every year in Augusta to help out. He wasn't a golf player, I would find out only this month, but a guy who did all the administrative genius and was the backbone of all that made the tournament and the maintenance of the course work. Mom had talked to him a little about her past as a amateur golfer and of some other things in the golf field... not the green rolling hills and flags with holes but the line of work or the spectrum of golf stuff... I just needed another word to make it more interesting. So, I was now caught up with Ed. I told him of my desire to be a director, screenwriter, or cinematographer and asked about the special effects process a little bit. I wish I had a note pad and paper, because I can honestly admit to you that I don't remember everything he said. But I'll tell you the things that I did remember...other than the stuff that is too confusing to even explain verbally and that to write down would take days.

Ed, in his British accent style, told me that he had recently worked on a movie I might know of, called "The Prince of Persia" and that he had helped out with some of the scenes at the very end. He worked for a company based out of London called Double Negative, and they did some diagrammatically work with a domed roof that I think the Prince of Persia either got in or out of the palace by... I'm not sure exactly I haven't seen the movie in a while. But it was really cool to hear about the behind the scenes part of common movies that I had seen without knowing how they did all the magic... and now it was being spoken about by an actual technological wizard that was a part of the creative expertise. He told me also that they hid gases behind certain places for things, worked with costume and props, but also worked on the computer where they made all the 1's and 0's connect, which was basically all it was. It was a good back and forth time of me questioning, him answering in a paragraph or more and then me commenting lightly on the rich conversation. Katie caught up again as Ed told me some more things about the process as we went continually downhill, passing little streams. Back to Katie and Devin from a stop of tying my shoes, I continued to talk to them.

Devin told me that he had a blog called Biking Across America which he had started, and I mentioned I had one too, saying that I was behind and that I probably wouldn't write about it for a long time. And now I have written about it, like two months afterwards. Sorry about that, Ed, Katie, and Devin. It's just me trying to fill up every detail so I can remember the trip forevermore. I told Devin that, and he said that there was nothing wrong with being detailed and having long blog posts. He told me that we better watch out if we were in a motorhome, because weather channels said that a lot of snow was coming in so they might block the roads, so we might be stuck in Silver City a few more days. Which wouldn't be too bad; it would be good to just chill and blog and not "go, go go!" all the time, just to settle in and brake the two night pattern of staying at places. I took the info in account and would tell Dad later as we came back down across another small bridge by the river and just by the rangers. I was telling Katie and Devin my favorite places on the trip, telling them that I couldn't possibly pick one and that I liked Maine and Michigan for prettiness, D.C. for museums and monuments, and Texas too for some history and stuff. But I told them that every state...and I mean every state.. is important in it's own little way and has separate really cool stuff... if you dig deep.

Well, the rangers smiled and asked us how we liked the tour. The tour was awesome, informative, really fun to hike up, stellar, beautiful, and interesting as we talked to the really nice bikers on the way down. As a large group us four, plus Ed and Katie, Devin, the rangers, and that couple that Rebecca and Dad talked to a lot engaged in a series of different conversations. I asked Ed how the British movies were different than American ones and he said there was a different sort of humor (he said his humor with a u, his color with a u, his profound with a u...wait a second that's how all nationalities spell it right?) more sarcastic and that America's film industry was more commercial and Hollywood, a lot more of British ones were independent, I guess it was hard for him to explain.

"One more question: what is a recent film that I would absolutely know that you worked on."

He told me about John Carter, and gave me a little history also. The idea for John Carter was about a Confederate Captain that got stuck on Mars, and it started out as a book called A Princess of Mars by some guy that Ed couldn't remember the name of.(It was actually by Edgar Rice Burroughs, creator of Tarzan) Disney has had the rights for like 80 years, but neither the time nor the technology nor the money to make the movie, maybe one of the three, two of the three, or none of the three, but never all three, until 2011. He worked on it putting the humans in there with all the aliens, and said that it was kind of cheesy(in answer to if it was a good movie) because it was partly written and made by some of the people who helped out on the Pixar films, and for anyone who knows Pixar you know that those are kids cartoon movies, animations. It was very interesting also. Well, I told Dad across the circle of people talking that Devin had told me about the weather, and we also asked the bikers(I still think that it is so crazy their doing that, I would never have enough energy or gumption to attempt their feat, their awesome) for contact info. Devin handed me a crisp un-glossened card with a sky and prarie and open highway in the background, with his Biking Across America in the right corner, talking about Executives without Borders and their life-saving work in Haiti below that.

Then there's his blog lower, his name, profession as a PGA GOLF Pro, and then his email. On the left was his phone number and a twitter account maybe? But I thanked him as Dad took his card and gave one to Ed with the blog on it and then Ed wrote down the blog in tiny British letters, the Double Negative Site, and his email. I must say that I couldn't understand the words at first until I had Ed tell me again, and later I copied it into my phone. He must have had not the best writing right then because of no hard surface to write on. Well, thanking them, they went off in the direction of a yellow Volkswagen Bug that was over on the left side of the visitor's center. I will never forget those three wonderful people, Devin's lightly move, good advice and good talking skills, Katie's kindness and conversation loving mouth, Ed's wisdom of the film industry and encouraging words of a pick in the motion picture business. They were really nice. Well, I have emailed back Devin the blog post five times, and then emailed him on the 21st of February giving them our phone number if he was to come into a pickle. On that single email, replying back and forth and corresponding, we have talked about everything from videos to Jack London to golfing to lake houses... drum roll please... we have emailed each other back a total of 77 times! Now that's a conversation!

Devin, thanks a lot for talking to me even though you didn't have to both on the tour and on the email, you're a really interesting person!

Ed has given me advice on things to do in some of the cities he's been to in CA and now is working on special effects on the next Bourne Spy film! I know someone who is helping to make the movies you'll be seeing in the theater only a few months from now!

I'm sorry guys that it took me so long to tell about you, though.

Only the next day both Ed and Katie on their honeymoon blog (did I forget to mention they have a blog too?) and Devin on his told about me. I'll give you their blog addresses, if that's okay with you three bikers. They are finished now with their two month adventure, but it would still be cool to read about their time if you feel interested, reader. No obligation.

http://becksbiketrip.blogspot.com (You can see when he talked about the cliff dwellings and us on "Day 37(32 Riding): OFF DAY." You'll see it under Blog Archive on February. It's really hilarious in the beginning of the blogs when he does his laugh-out-loud Random Thoughts of the day.) You have to do the http:// unless it won't work.

http://eatiemoon.wordpress.com. (Go under "We shall fear no hill" which is under Archive to the right of the page, as is Devin's, and February 2012. Since they combine days, scroll down before you get there and you'll see a picture of them.)

Devin said I was, and I quote "this kid, Andrew, was probably the most mature and well-manured kid I've ever met. We had quite possibly the most intelligent conversation that I've had with anyone I've met for an hour or two along this trip. He was a sponge for information and just a really cool kid." First of all, I'm definitely not the most mature and well mannered kid Devin has ever met. I know tons of kids who are a lot nicer than I am. But thanks for the compliment, and thank you so much Devin for putting me in your blog! I feel really honored. Ed and Katie also said some things that said I was "all this" which I can assure you I'm not.:) But it was really great to meet you guys!

Oh and I forgot to mention that they were very sympathetic when I told them about my bike being stolen. Bikers are sad of stolen property.

I really hope you readers enjoy those blogs.

Well, we talked a little more to those in active talking rangers, and then we went to the restroom once more in a Jiffy John and then went into the jeep. Mom had talked to Beverly(oh and and we said goodbye to her too) and Bev had stated there was a little dessert, as she called it, a few miles away, a lot of little pictures on a really big rock, and then a small home up a trail. I wrote down the contact info in my phone, and since then I have gotten really to talk to Devin a lot more and have found out that he is a truly nice and wonderful guy... of course he was great on the walk back down also. We drove to the place, and parked in a little grass overgrown asphalt patch. There was a concrete rock bugling out, circular in form with a few trees around and two slick rocks in front of it like slides, and we took pictures and videos of the amazing red and white chalk symbols. It was crazy to interpret what those puzzling marks meant. Was that oval thing a fish, or that thing with four legs an ox. That person with a stick was fighting or leading the beast? I wish the Native American's knew a language and put captions in.

Boy was there a lot of those symbols, like as many as lights in a house. Then Rebecca did something INTERESTING, as Mom and Dad went around the ropes to the left along some rocks to see the small dwelling. Dad chugged ahead while Mom was a little slower, waiting for us. Rebecca got on one of the sleek rocks that had bumps and was of a grey and black, and proceeded to slide down on her bottom. Well, at the bottom she just laughed and then wanted to do it again. I tried it there and at another place, and it's really fun, actually. I felt like a Native American child who might be playing with Little Boots and Petite Flowers, my two best friends, after a corn meal in the dinner. It was amazing to just play on a thing thousands of years old that generations of Indians before had also played on. You know what, I wonder how many people actually think of others who have read a book before them at a library, or touched a table at a restaurant that was around since 50 years, or think of others before them that had done a certain thing they had thought original? It would be an interesting remininsce or talk to have with someone.

Mom took some pictures of our funny acting upon the rocks. Then she went on up the trail. We followed her after pleading her to come back, more poses and pictures to make, but she continued up. Then I followed her up the beaten path, thirsty for some water as mine was gone dry. Even Rebecca was tired now, because of the big climb up to the dwellings, the dwellings themselves, and then down again. It had been really cool to learn about their lives in the past and to imagine the place full of Indians, and their daily lives and traditions. As we had another small brook on our right and some rocks and growth sticking out on our left, we went up higher. Rebecca had ran around a lot in the beginning and was now really slow, telling us to wait for her and stopping a lot. We felt bad for her, but doubted that this was really a true act. So, we planned to trick the little girl, by yelling in exasperation about some animal we had seen( I think it was a bob cat or javelina) saying things like, "Woah, what was that?" or "Dang, wasn't that some animal!" and still Rebecca didn't come up; Mom said it was by my bad acting skills. But I think she just didn't believe it.

We saw it, now, up by it. It was a little cave with a rock curved ceiling over it, and barely any room to breathe where some more sketches and pictographs were. It was long too. It wasn't much, but it was pretty nice actually, and we took our pictures by it as we caught our breath from the long walk up there. It was cool to imagine how these people hundreds of years ago had lived, on a daily basis. I wondered if they liked to do art and study rocks as Rebecca did, or had a Southern accent like my father. It was sad that they hadn't had a written language. Oh well. We walked down back to the car, and I was in front ahead with Mom. I asked her what Beverly meant when she said she couldn't tell me what kind of ceremonies the Indians performed. Mom told me it wasn't right to assume and that it wasn't politically correct to guess about their religious beliefs. And that's right.

We drove up hills, and then saw a sign in green that was on a post to the right of the road, It said:

CONTINENTAL

DIVIDE

ELEV 6,599

This was the drainage divide that was the division between water going from the East to the West, the Great Continental Divide. It was really cool to be at this place that was so famous, at an elevation of 6,599 feet. Let me explain this a little further. We were at the "Great" Continental Divide, which divided the water sheds that took the water into different parts of the America's, the ones traveling from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Even though it's not in Verticalness exactly in the center of America if you look on a map of geography, mountain layout of the Andes provide more miles of the land going up the mountain, and so the miles is really split in part. I guess your a little confused at this; maybe on Google they can describe it a lot better than a 12 year old can from GA. Hopefully yes. Mom, Rebecca and I got out as we saw some horned cattle that were separated from a fence surrounded by trees, with one underneath a big maple. A field going downhill was being the cows. Still kind of scary, considering. Stupid cow joke: Where was the foreign exchange student cattle from? MosCOW!(when I said this to my Mom, she innocently said, "MOOScow!" I guess it can work both ways;)

We were hungry, so drove down into Silver City for a bite to eat. We saw a nice little place called Diane's Restaurant on some old storefronts with brick buildings and little trinket shops, and so parked in a little alley on the side of the line of emporiums. Then we tried to walk into an entrance, but saw that the sign said no entry via that door. There were some nice tables and then the kitchen with all the workers behind there. At the other door we were led to a table by a nice hostess. In our boots with mud all over and hats and sunscreen and cameras, we found ourselves a bit out of place at this fine dining restaurant. Never the less they were very nice to us. All girl waitresses wearing black, many of them with tattoos. After ordering Rebecca and I entertained ourselves by looking at some nice little fish in an aquarium where a rusty green and stone Buddha did a weird pose. We looked at the different colored fish, and some went through holes or skimmed on the tank floor, while others had bulging eyes and fat faces, or sleek fat 2-d forms as their tails whizzed by. Some big and gruff as Swiss hunters, some small and silver with some weird designs. A few had strange features, which I can't describe. It was a good time for us.

We also saw a fireman who had a badge and his wife and a special needs child at an aquarium facing the other one in the back, which they were at. I felt sad about the special needs kid. But my attention was blurred from him as the food came out.

Dad and I had ordered meatloaf, and Rebecca mac n' cheese with Mom a nice salad. It was all super good when it came out. Our waitress had a tattoo with some weird writing and Dad asked what it was. She quoted a saying by Buddha. Now, earlier in this very blog post you read that I really like Sherlock Holmes. Well, I used a little bit of his science of deduction to solve the case. The waitress made it all clear. Someone who owned the place was a Buddhist, even though no person who was an employee looked Asian. So I asked her, our waitress, if the place was a family business. She said yeah. So now it made it all come together, the icing on the tape. I supposed that she was a friend or somehow related to the owner, who was in fact a lady named Diane.(hence "Diane's restaurant"). The aquarium had a Buddha statue. The waitress had that tattoo, and others shared it. So they were Buddhists. Sigh, me being a Christian. Oh well. No offense to you Buddhists.

The food was really good their and exquisite, and we kind of pretended that that was our Valentine's Day meal, even though the real one was two days ago and at a Mexican restaurant.

We went home and went to bed in the R.V. park, Rose Valley Ranch. I wished that at the next place we could just chill and stay around for a while... and that feeling was shared by everybody of the Bourne family. Rebecca wanted time to do barbies, Dad needed a break from driving every other day, and Mom needed to catch up on laundry. And I needed to catch up on my blog. So we demanded a time to rest. Goodbye for now.

Since I basically ended the day talking about Buddhists, let's have a transition to the Bible:

"The Lord is my light, and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27:1)

-The Blogger.

Before the Fall!

Ed (Sir Brit), Katie (Lady Brit), Devin (Rhodes), and me:)

Gila Cliff Dwellings National Park Part 1

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.

"What are we doing today?" I asked Dad on Thursday, February 16th, the day after we had entered into Silver City, NM.

"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!)