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The Boonie Reborn

Well, it didn't take some people very long to adjust to traveling again. Neither dog will permit me to stuff him in the trailer; they insist on being in the van, where the big windows are, this despite the fact that the little poodle (age 16.3) is 90% blind.

When we took off this morning, heading through High Lonesome ranch country, it looked great to see how green everything was! Coffee Girl (my Australian kelpie) stuffed her nose into the dashboard vent every few seconds; then she quickly switched over to the window where she shoved half her body out, for yet more exciting new aromas. With great satisfaction, I watched her do this time after time.

In 20 miles or so, we climbed up to a bend in the road-cut. There was the first glimpse of the high peaks of the Gila forest region, in southwestern New Mexico. I probably shouldn't admit it, but that put a lump in my throat and even made my eyes mist over.

Odd isn't it? Imitating a dog does a guy more good than beautiful photography, rhapsodies of poetry, or words of inspiration from writers or philosophers. "Imitating" isn't really the right word. It's more a "surrender" to modesty; I don't seem to connect to the world outdoors until I see myself as an animal, instead of a thinker or analyzer. Watching the dogs put me in the mood to renounce any useless intellectualizing about outdoor experience.

But enough of the heart palpitations and eyelash fluttering -- back to business: what was I going to do better this time? Soon the turnoff to the old mining town of Mogollon NM came along. Just think how many times I wondered why I had never been there. The sign said that 18 feet was the maximum trailer size, which the trailer didn't quite qualify for. What the hell, I need the practice...

Comments

Anonymous said…
Congrats Boonie! New adventures await you! The Gila is a special place. I many wonderful memories there... Scamp
Ted said…
I'm going to guess that it's a little cooler, there's no thumpity-thump-ing of anyone's subwoofer, that if there are pick-em-up trucks sans mufflers there aren't too many of them, and that you have no neighbors playing their A-Team reruns at full volume, beer bottle in one hand and shotgun in the other, yelling "woot! woot! WOOT!!!" at the TV.

The definition of peace and quiet.
If you really want to cool off, keep 'er pointed north.
So glad to see you shake things up... I was beginning to think you had found "home" in the little Pueblo.
Boonie said…
Thanks Scamp. I am in the Band of Brothers again.

Ted, being half-deaf really is the requirement for camping in the city. RVs are better than a nylon tent, but you still hear everything, and most of it is monstrous.

Box Canyon, I'm already cool in Datil NM, but I'm wondering if a certain Coloradan couple was serious about needing a driveway security guard when they take off on their next chapter.