My mother answered my phone call and listened intently as I told her that I was going through another low with my writing. I read to her the first line in Leo Tolstoy’s book, Anna Karenina, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”. I whined to her that I was incapable of creating beautiful prose and that my writing had no depth.

My mother has always believed in my writing and has been my guiding light as she refuels me with her positivity. I take her intellectual praise as the greatest gift since she snubs mediocrity and lives to read. This time her response to my cry for help was not what I expected, “That’s wonderful honey”. When I asked her to elaborate she explained that she was excited that I had no debt.

It is my mother, my sister and a handful of friends who keep me positive and on track. As I plow through these moments of low self esteem they do not accept failure from me encouraging me to explore my own voice and telling me to enjoy the journey and not focus on the end result. I am always so impressed by their words of undying wisdom, they are the ones who should be writing!

Ahhh the journey. Whenever somebody mentions anything to do with travel I slip into a deep reverie. I have never stayed in one place for this long without taking off somewhere, anywhere, to break up the monotony and my life is truly getting more and more monotonous as I deal with troubled finances and rejection letters.

So I think I’ll take off for the desert tomorrow, just me and the kids. We’ll explore the rocks, soak up the sun, inhale the air and reconnect and hopefully I’ll come home with a renewed interest in my writing.

OMMMM

Can’t go to the desert without getting naked!

As Brevitt and I emerged from the Canyonlands backpacking trip I had to mentally prepare myself for the next phase of the trip. I had rallied Wade and three other families to come meet us in Moab for more camping, thus appointing myself as the official scout for the perfect camp site. I have always longed to stay extensively in the desert so I was ready to rise to my self-inflicted challenge.

When I finally found the ideal site, I was slightly embarrassed to get out of my flaming Vini-Man. I approached the group of tousled boys gathered at the campsite and coyly asked them if they were staying or leaving. They animatedly told me that it was all mine since they were just “lunchin’ it”. It could have gone one way or another and I was thankful that luck was with me for the first time this entire month. Not only did they invite me in but they also protected me from the predatory Jeepers who kept driving past the site like sharks circling a meal. I amused them with stories from the last time Wade and I were camping directly next to a monstrous rock which attracted the Jeepers like an over sized magnet. We overheard comments like, “That one just ‘bout made me wanna throw up in my mouth” or “Duuude, toss me a beer, I need to eliminate my fear”. I needed to kick back a beer just to watch. It takes a courageous person to navigate those steep rocks in a Jeep.

I wrestled with my Kelty tent as I set it up in a torrential rain and windstorm offending myself with my own odor, desert du jour. Wade would have been appalled if he had been there to witness his wife moving the tent from one spot to another in a feeble attempt to make it appear as though a professional camper had been there. Finally, sopping wet, stinky and exhausted from the heat, I put rocks in the tent so it would not blow away and went back down to collect Brevitt from the public pool.

We checked into our charming bed and breakfast that Wade had encouraged me to reserve. “Know thyself”, he warned me. “You are not as rugged as you think you are and you will be grateful for a place to shower and a night of clean sheets before you head out again to camp”.

I forewarned Brevitt that the Inn did not allow children under the age of ten and that this would be the perfect opportunity to practice his manners. We took showers, jumped on the bed and went to the Peace Tree Café for dinner. I gagged on my wheat grass shake and Brevitt had a tough time swallowing the melon chunks in his smoothie. I suddenly understood that bumper sticker, “Health Food Sucks”.

On the way back to the Inn Brevitt saw a low rider car blaring music. “Look at those freaks mommy”, and after pausing to reflect he said, “Their car is just like ours.” We were laughing at how absurd our family must look sometimes loaded up in Vini-Man with loud music blaring when suddenly Brevitt started running with his legs apart. When I inquired as to what in Gods name he was doing he explained that he had once again overdosed on sugar at the pool and needed to get to the bathroom fast. We ran together to stave off the impending explosion but alas did not quite make it. It was a good thing that we had a bathroom to clean up in. FYI: Brevitt drafted and  signed a release giving me free license to write about him whenever I wish.

After the trauma, we cuddled in bed listening to the pouring rain very thankful that we were safe and sound inside our cozy room. The next day we ate a lovely complimentary breakfast in an intimidating quiet breakfast room. We had a tough time suppressing our desire to talk loudly and make flatulent noises. I pocketed four of the delicious homemade carrot muffins in honor of my grandmother, who had a quirky habit of “borrowing” memorabilia from the nice hotel rooms she frequented in Europe. When they asked me if I cared for a bag, I mumbled that I was fine with them wrapped in a napkin in my pocket book and Brevitt and I ran off hand in hand.

The next day, refreshed and clean, we drove up to our campsite and huddled in the tent to stay out of the rain until Brevitt felt compelled to climb over the rocks and play cowboys and Indians. When I caved in and bought him his first toy gun ever in town, I had no idea that it would incite such creative play. I was almost sorry that I made him wait so long. I had always allowed swords in the house but not guns, go figure? He ran around on the rocks, in the rain, with a handkerchief tied around his mouth shooting at invisible bad guys. I reveled in the fact that he could still become so absorbed in imaginative play.

Night fell upon us and finally the three Coleman Pop Up campers and one Sportsmobile arrived much to our neighboring campers dismay. We crowded into the magnificent camping spot replete with caves for kid exploration and dirt roads for making mountain bike jumps. The kids were also very excited to practice their technical biking skills on the Slick Rock bike trail that was a short drive down the road.

We were happy to get out of the rain and rain it did for the entire weekend. The flash floods and booming nearby lightening only added to the whole experience. As we lay in our camper we watched horrified as a newly formed river rushed under our camper taking with it the picnic table, coolers and everything else in its path. I nervously pointed out to Wade that our Coleman propane light appeared to be a perfect conduit for a lightening bolt and he ran outside to save the day with a bottle of tequila in hand for reinforcement.

We did have relief after each rainstorm when the sun would come out to warm us up and dry out our clothes. The children would race outside to slip and slide in the new river and the parents would start pouring the Margaritas. That night we heard helicopters flying overhead and wondered if it was a “flight for life” victim. We read in the papers later on that a family had climbed a wall to escape several feet of water that had suddenly rushed through the canyon they were in. After the night before I had a clearer vision of how quickly one could get in a dangerous predicament in a flash flood.

The last night we were there I told Wade that I was done with the rain and dirt and that if it rained the next day I was hightailing it out of there. We awoke to a beautiful sunny day and my girlfriends whizzed by me as I hiked my bike on a technical mountain biking trail.  They teased me asking when I had become such a wimp on my bike. I wondered why I picked such crazy friends that pushed me out of my comfort zone. I made a promise to myself that I would get back on my bike when I returned home and become a mountain biking rock star by the end of the summer. Wade, a passionate biker, would be very disappointed in me if I ever tried to give it up.

Warnings of another storm were given to us from the park ranger so we packed up and hit the road. Tucker fell asleep in Vini-Man before I even drove off. Brevitt and Axel, who had a new respect for their daddy after watching him perform on Slick Rock, rode home with him in his Dodge pick up truck and they blared their new favorite XM radio station which played a whole lot of Red Hot Chile Peppers.

I drove quickly away from the impending storm only to realize, twenty minutes later, that the infamous dyslexic location scout had once again driven in the wrong direction. I guess I was so absorbed by NPR that I did not notice that I was heading back to the Canyonlands, or maybe it was subliminal and I secretly wanted to go back for more camping. Reluctantly, I turned around to head into the lightening and pounding rain. I called Wade to let him know that I felt danger abounding and asked him to wait for me so that I could drive behind him in case of flooding. He laughed, not so surprised that I had driven in the wrong direction…yet again, and told me that I would be fine. As I drove home I day dreamed about slipping into a hot bubble bath with a good book in hand knowing that the reality would be that only the children would enjoy that luxury. I was looking forward to not having a  Seventh Generation Baby Wipe bath for a while…or at least for one more day before I set off on Axel’s outdoor ed camping trip. Burton and Speke I was not but I was fairly impressed with myself for having made it through my week in the desert unscathed.

Can’t help myself, four year old’s are precious!

Brevitt at the start of our trek into the Canyonlands.

Desert rocks soaking up the rain

Last week I loaded up Vini-Man with a tent, backpacks and a first aid kit the size of Paris Hilton’s hand bag and took off for the Canyonlands in Utah for Brevitt’s outdoor ed trip. Unfortunately, I needed to take my own car in case Brevitt and I had to bail due to his foot injury and my personal female issues. On the way down I phoned the convoy to tell them that I was taking a quick detour to the doctor to load up on meds. I needed backup to ensure that our adventure did not turn into a game of survival. It occurred to me that any “normal” person would have opted out if afflicted with similar ailments. I wondered if naively leaping into the unknown all my life, without seriously weighing out the consequences, could be considered a positive trait.

Normally, I despise driving and tend to have to slap myself across the face to stay awake. Fortunately, I had just installed XM Satellite radio and listened fascinated to NPR and Oprah Radio for six hours. I was Liza Doolittle waking up to the world around me.

Since becoming a parent, I have developed necessary skills to help me to retain some semblance of sanity in my life. I can listen to numerous conversations at once as well as cook, pay the bills, sweep and talk on the phone all in unison but I have yet to master the art of listening to NPR or reading The New Yorker without getting interrupted by my three monkeys in our zoo we call home.

Driving down to the Canyonlands, Brevitt opted to go with his buddies in Tori’s Ford Explorer and I had no problem encouraging it. Tori was much better suited to handle three rambunctious boys than I was in my sick and emotionally fragile state. I followed behind her marveling at her innovative use of zip ties to hold the panels of her car together.

Six hours later I arrived satiated and filled with interesting topics to share with my fellow backpackers. I felt fortunate that my group consisted of good friends, Chuck and Tori, and their boys, Logan and Cooper, two of Brevitt’s closest friends. I couldn’t be with more efficient parents. Chuck was an experienced boating guide and because he was deathly afraid of hiking through the hot, dry desert without a river nearby he made certain that he was sufficiently equipped with his water filter to pump water out of any swampy puddle we would find. As I eyed Tori’s minimalist approach to packing, I slyly exchanged my beauty supplies and ample changes of clothing for food and kitchen supplies.

I was well aware of my deficiencies as a backpacker and knew that my proficient car camping skills could not be applied to this trip. I had flashbacks of my previous backpacking experience where my good friend Stephanie and I poured Jagermeister into our camelback bladders to help us hike the last two grueling miles up to the campsite where my overzealous sister, Michele, was waiting for us.

I was very impressed with Brevitt as he set up the tent but quickly became slightly embarrassed as I watched him drag his head through the dirt, a strange compulsion he has had since babydom. I reassured our group not to worry about the screws that were missing in Brevitt’s head and I lamented that  I should have cut his hair shorter to discourage the gnats from nesting in his mop.

As we packed up our freeze dried food and ate hot dogs for dinner I mentally prepared my body for a week of the alien substances that would be entering my gastrointestinal tract.

The teachers had made a rule that the boys would sleep with each other in one tent and the mothers would sleep together in another. Chuck would sleep alone. It was a great idea in theory but try how they might to be brave, the boys ended up in our tents every night. The second night Brevitt was the first to sneak out of the tent and sleep with me. He thought he heard somebody creepily whisper his name and shot out of the tent shaking from head to foot. Later, Cooper awoke yelling for Brevitt who appeared to have been dragged off by coyotes. He woke up just in time to see Logan leaving the tent. When Logan told him that he was just going for a pee he inquired as to why he had his sleeping bag and pillow tucked under his arms. Snagged!

Backpacking with our small group quickly revealed all of our quirks. I was entertained by Tori’s habit of saying “umhummm” to let us know that even though she was busy multitasking she was still processing every word that we were saying. As for me, I’m certain that my lack of pioneering skills did not go unnoticed by Chuck and Tori.

Nature mercifully saved us from heat stroke providing us with low lying clouds throughout the trip as well as a welcome rainstorm that dusted us off and washed away our electronic habits. It was fascinating and somewhat scary to watch how quickly the torrential rain formed waterfalls and streams where there had been drought five minutes earlier. There is such a fine line between enjoying nature and getting trapped in its dangers.

As I hiked along the trail into the rocks, I thought about how important and rare it was for us to become one with nature. In the mornings I would hike up onto the rocks and try to meditate, a work in progress, and do yoga as the sun rose. Once again I felt like Homer Simpson as I tried to chant Ommm and eliminate the running commentary in my head.

After a breakfast of nuts and bagels we hiked two to five miles a day stopping often for water breaks in the shade. We loaded the boys up with salt and Gatorade to replace the important minerals and electrolytes they were losing in the heat and continued on our journey. In the afternoons we would crawl over the rocks exploring the nooks and crannies and the boys would traumatize the lizards.

As I hiked through the wilderness I inhaled the sweet air and let the spirited presence of Indians and a long time passed ocean soak into my being. I imagined what it was like to survive on the land back then and was thankful that I could eliminate dinosaurs from my list of phobias.

In the early evening of our last night we climbed way up on the rocks where we were rewarded with three hundred and sixty degree views. Everywhere we looked the rock formations changed. One group of rocks looked like they were holding council over the rest of the land. The boys couldn’t help themselves and stripped down to their bare essentials. We resisted the urge to also strip down and watched as they ran like wild beings over the rocks.

Last night I kept waking up in total confusion at my great tent that had beams and a fan at the top. Slowly I would awaken and  know that I was not in a tent but in my own, cozy bedroom with two little boys asleep in my bed next to me. I realized that I kept waking up because Brevitt was loudly shouting in my sleep, “Go to the mud – Cool” he would yell. I think that he was also dreaming about still being in the desert with flash floods and lightening booming around us, but that is another story that will be told soon.

It is bittersweet to return home to my computer and cell phone. My addiction to electronics may have been shed quickly when entering the desert but the wonderful aromas and warm breezes of the desert are not as easily shed and will stay with me for a long time.