Being alone

I estimate that yesterday, for most of the day, there was not a single other person for miles in any direction.

Miles.  Think about it.  Even when we're alone, we're not that far from someone.

Moo.

My motto for the Four Corners area: "seal your stuff up, and then get sand in it anyway."

Recent rains gave me flowers.

My trusty steed.

Mokie Dugway.  That road at the bottom is the start. That ribbon of gravel on the right...

In any case, keep your eyes on the damn road.

I think I could lose myself for decades in this place.

When life offers you the chance to camp on a (small) (not that exposed) cliff, do it.

I came out here hoping to see stars.  I got a hazy morning instead.

The storm comes, the storm goes.  The cows, I guess, just hang around.

5 years and 9 months ago, I drove to the Arctic Ocean with some of my best friends. A feeling I remember from all the emptiness we saw was...friendly?  The people we did run into were friendly.  Interested in why we were there.  Interested in helping where they could.  But nowhere did I feel that they were excited to see more people.  Yesterday, in the Valley of the Gods, I crossed paths with a very polite German man. We exchanged reports on road conditions, and went our separate ways.  And the first thought I had when he moved past me was, "If I wait a few seconds, he'll be around that bend before I start moving again, and I won't have to see him."

I'm wary of sounding melancholy about this sort of thing, this solitude.  It's not.  It's just quieter.  When I'm alone, my thoughts rarely end with exclamation points.

Canyon de Chelly

Pronounced duh-SHAY.  Like it's a french place.  But apparently, the word they were looking for is Tséyiʼ, a Navajo word that means canyon.  So, Canyon de canyon.

Whatever.  The important thing is this insanity:

It's worse than it looks.

Buffalo Pass, connecting (roughly) Shiprock, NM to Chinle, AZ, was amazing.  I love a good driving road, and this was one of the best.  Great views in places, 

I mean, decent views.

decent road quality, insane curves and elevation changes, and low traffic.

Did I mention elevation changes?

That was a heck of a welcome to Arizona.  And despite the fact that I checked the weather and there was a 0% chance of precipitation for 3 days, and I'm in the, y'know, desert...

This nonsense happened on the way back:

The view from Buffalo pass.  A sign there tells you the names of all those distant mountains you can see.

I had thought to camp here, but I didn't bring my cross-country skis.

So I didn't end up camping in the pass.  I will, though.  I suspect the views on a clear night are absolutely astounding.  It's also cold up there, so I suppose a few weeks to let it warm up won't hurt.  In between the fun driving, and racing home through a snowstorm, there was this:

White House ruins.

I love a hike with tunnels.

Spider Rock.

When I got here, there was a girl probably in her early 20's, just sitting and thinking.  Not a lot of sitting on this cold day, but there she was.  I was there for a good 20 minutes, I don't know how long she had been there, but she sat for at least another 10 while I wandered around.  I guess what I'm saying is that if you have some thinking to do, this is a decent place to do it.

I didn't do any of the tours you need a Navajo guide for.  Maybe another time.

Ya’at’eeh

Ya’at’eeh - Hello in Navajo. At this rate I'll be fluent by the time my grandchildren are at space college.

I'm finished with my first week, and I'm at the stage where my incoherent thoughts are finally starting to turn into baby thoughts, and eventually hopefully turn into ideas and opinions.

First off, here's my room:

It is a little sparse, to be sure, but it has everything I need.  No roommate, which is nice, because then I can lounge about in my short shorts without fear of judgement.

There's a mini fridge with a tiny freezer that barely freezes ice, a microwave, a table, a giant couch, a sink, and a bathroom that has hot water nearly 50% of the time.  Lots of closet space, too.  No oven, no toaster, nothing with a heating element, which makes dinner interesting sometimes. Maybe I'll post my microwave masterpieces as they develop.

About work:

I'm working with a PT named Melissa Schosser, who seems pretty great so far.  She's a relatively new grad, and has been practicing about 3 years.  She is Navajo, but was raised in Flagstaff, so she claims she doesn't speak the language very well - a baldfaced lie as I learned today.  We work from 7:30-10 in outpatient, then 10-12:30 inpatient.  1-3:30 outpatient, and 3:30-5 inpatient, Monday through Thursday.  In that time we fit 8 outpatient patients (half-hour slots, 45 minutes for evals) and however many inpatient patients happen to be there.  I'll talk more about the treatment philosophy here as the experience goes on, for sure.

There are 3 other full-timers, a contract PT, an OT, and an SPT.  There's also a tech who's been there so long they grandfathered her into being a PTA, which is pretty cool. 

All the full-timers are Public Health Service Corps. I'll probably do a whole post on that - it's a pretty cool gig.

Sorry for the long post with so few pictures. I'll make it up to you this weekend, dear readers.

Green Table

Good morning, climber.

I may have been talked into a relay marathon, whatever that is.  I think I can survive running 5ish miles, but I’ll need a nap after, based on my emergency nap requirements after today’s hike:

I climbed a ladder! Also, there was a tunnel. 

I went inside one of those tiny holes. It's a kiva.

Kiva!

It's important to look pensive while hiking.

You see what I mean?

Tomorrow is my first day of clinic. Of course I’m a tiny bit nervous, but I suspect a lot of the first-day-thrown-into-the-deep-end feelings will be assuaged by the piles of paperwork and orientation modules I have to accomplish before I’m allowed to look directly at the patients.

Until then, I suppose I should go hunt down some laundry detergent – I have a week’s worth of clinic clothes, but at this rate I’ll be in a tank top and socks around town before I know it.

New friends!

I’m settling in here at the housing complex.  My room is not as tiny as I had expected, and neither is Shiprock.

"Thatsaburger"

"7-2-11 Food Store"

I’ve heard a few other people up and about, but it’s definitely not filled to capacity – lots of empty rooms.  The only person I’ve run into (and so far, run into twice) is a woman named Wendy who is a student nurse midwife. 

Left to Right: Molly, Wendy, Pueblo ruins

I’ve gotten myself invited to dinner with her and her friend Molly. We’re going to get cooked food, since apparently they are already sick of sandwiches, yogurt, baby carrots, and other food that can be prepared without a full kitchen.

I went on my first run here in Shiprock this morning, and felt great, until I ran out of air and there was no more to breathe.   Even with a week or so at altitude, I suppose it will take some time to really get into the shape required to run at ~5100ft.

Apparently it looks more like a ship from other angles.

My goal is to run here.  I don’t know exactly how far it is, but that’s immaterial.  I saw it for the first time just outside Farmington, and was excited. I saw it this morning on my run, and was entranced. It’s a beautiful rock, and I mean it to be mine.

Into Santa Fe.

No thoughts today.  Nearing the end of the trip, this is our last big drive together.  So, as Bonnie suggested, here’s the drive:

I will dream of Utah for a long while.

Sweeping sandstone vistas.

  

 

 

The Legend People, turned to stone by that trickster Coyote.

Bright or windy, in any case squintin' weather for sure.

Unearthly stacks of boulders formed in place, looking for all the world like they had been placed by giants.

Giants, I tells ya.

 

What a bizarre land. If you get the chance, I highly recommend Arches NP.

Bonnie is feeling better.

:D

This trip is slowly approaching its end, which brings up an odd feeling.  The trip will end, Bonnie will leave, but I'll still be out here.  Every time I mention this trip to someone, they bring up the distance between us.  3 months - I don't doubt it will be difficult, but I also don't doubt it will be worth it.

I never regret travel, and I never regret a difficult hike.