Dear Friend,
I hope that you are doing well, staying warm, keeping dry, enjoying outside as much as you can, finding time for friends and family, and to be peacefully alone, too.
As I've mentioned, I really want to be able to get these letters to you every Sunday. My apologies for this very late letter… there are so many reasons that we ended up at Mesquite Springs Campground in Death Valley on Saturday afternoon without cell-service, but that is what happened. While Frank and I are together, neither of us feels lost but this is the longest stretch of time that no one knew where we were and we hope that we didn’t worried anyone.
We were not alone, not during Spring Break in Death Valley. Stove Pipe Wells Campground was full. So, we took our chance and drove the 34 miles to Mesquite Springs Campground, knowing that if there were no spaces left, we would then have to drive that 34 miles back out, it would be dark … and honestly, we didn’t have a great Plan B.
When we arrived at Mesquite, we were in luck… one site left. It was adjacent to the very busy (and outgassing) bathrooms. Grateful for a place to stay, we took the campsite. It was getting dark and it was very cold and windy.
There are 40 campsites at Mesquite, (one reserved for the camp host). There are flushing toilets and cold, running water, several dumpsters for trash, and no cell reception, except for the campers who have the “Star-Link” dishes…
Hmmm… for an additional $134.00 + per month, we’d have reception at all times - we haven’t pulled the trigger on that. We have upped our plan with ATandT, and hope that if we use our cell phones as ‘hot spots,’ (as long as there is cell phone reception), it will be enough for uploading and downloading as we work from the road.
Speaking of working from the road, I want you to know, I’m learning to have a different kind of patience. I’m afraid it has to do with weather, not so much the temperatures or precipitation, but the wind.
It is such an important commodity for sailors and seeds, for smoothing the roughest ridge, and for carrying rain clouds to quench parched places. I’m grateful for wind. Its power and dance, gusting and blowing, puffing and breezing, twirling, lifting. I’m a flute player. I like wind, I need wind. But what I’m learning is how to cohabitate peacefully with such a naturally wild roomy.
For instance, sitting down with a hot plate of food, a gust of wind suddenly flips the plate upside down onto the ground and all over my shoes.
Shrug it off. Laugh.
Then as I’m making breakfast, the wind knocks the hat off of my head into the uncooked eggs in the skillet.
Funny!
And I go to get my toothbrush out of the truck and the wind slams the door on my legs.
Good one!
Living on the road, wind is a factor in our comfort (or discomfort)… I’m learning to breathe through it, as it takes a different kind of balance to live in it. Productive people have lived in wind for eons, obviously, it is not impossible, it’s actually unavoidable. But to be at peace in the wind, I’m learning a new balance. Breathe and slow down, be more aware, be more awake, pay more attention… Everything takes more time in the wind and cold. It is not personal. And, yes, at times, it is hilarious.
I do wish that I could have posted this letter much earlier in the week … I’ll have pics to share in the next letter. Thank you very much for checking back in to read Tracks by the Post. If you’d like to send me a note, please do!
That’s it for now, I hope that you have a good rest of the week! We are grateful for you, for all of these lessons, and that we can be together.
Gently Be,
Leslie
PS: Once in a while, just for fun, (when I have cell phone reception), I’ll ask my phone to tell me a joke. Here’s one:
I went into a book store and told the clerk, “I’d like to buy a book on Turtles.”
“Hard cover?” she asked.
“Yes, and they have tiny heads.”