Living like desert rats

New Mexico is not green, at least not the kind of green we learned to associate with living in Germany.  The prevailing color is adobe brown, whether it is blowing around you in great gusts or in the colors of the Sandias.  Even the houses reflect the futility of departing from an earth-toned palate, stuccoed in various shades of brown.  In time, everything becomes dirt coloured.  There are a few greens in carefully cultivated and irrigated yards, but past the spray of the sprinklers the most green you will see is in the sagebrush or cacti lining the open spaces

This was made obviously apparent on trek where there were no showers to be had and the only water was in containers laboriously carried in the handcarts.  The wind blows the dirt everywhere and everyone acquires a layer of adobe tan which wipes off at the end of the day.  

The worst was the dirt filling my hair.  Even when covered by a bandanna and bonnet, the little hairs at the back of my neck became so full of dirt it was nearly impossible to get a comb through them .  We got used to the grit which accompanied every meal and resigned ourselves to applying Chapstick and sunblock over the dirt layer.  Perhaps the dusty layer helped block the sun, who knows.  Even when water was brought up for the girls to wash their hair, the clean feeling only lasted until the next wind burst.  

The simple pleasure of taking a shower once we returned home was unimaginable luxury.  Such bliss to no longer be covered in the fine grit of adobe dirt!  

Trek

I feel like I should start with the disclaimer that I've always thought people who are into reenactments are a little. . . special.  The benefit of living in modern day society is that I can wear comfy shoes and wicking fabrics and when I want to get away from the world I can hike up the canyon away from any cell signal (also, there are trees up there!)  I can appreciate that they are enthusiastic about the time period and want to be as authentic as possible, but it never appealed to me.

And then last December the bishop asked if we would be a Ma and Pa on trek, which is a reenactment of the Mormon pioneers who pushed handcarts across the plains to Utah.  And we said yes.  I immediately began to wonder why we couldn't re-enact my great-grandparents journey to Utah by train; and thus the murmuring began.  No surprise there, I'm quite the complainer.

This is the desert out by Magdalena, the site of our Trek.   It is on private lands owned by the Tigner Cattle Company, which has had 5 very hard years due to the drought.  Think about that for a minute, how bad the drought must be if they are having a hard time out in the desert.  

handcarts coming down the hill

5 days, 4 nights, 30 miles.  The hardest part was probably the lack of shade and the brutally hot temps.  

First pioneer dilemma, Ma's 'broken' arm

It was amazing to see the youth look after each other, help each other and be supportive of each other.  There was plenty of whining and complaining, but we all came together to work and do what was needed.  Most impressive were the 'weak' girls who insisted on pulling most of the time--without complaint!  

Family Cookie

dying after the hardest day

Lia, learning to love the shade tarps

 There is a tradition to do a women's pull, where the boys line the road and watch the girls pull the wagons up a hill.  Our girls didn't just pull, they ran up most of the hill.  I couldn't keep up with them.  (which isn't that surprising, I'm old)  That day was a rest day after the big hill, and given the chance to relax my knee decided to give up.  Getting up and down off the ground is hard on a hurting knee, and when the 'military' dose of ibuprofen didn't do doodly squat to help me I had to ride in the med van for the next  half day.    One of the med guys is a nurse in a sports medicine clinic and he wrapped me up good enough to hobble around to get camp set up, but he warned me not to walk on it.  That night at the hoedown I watched from our family blanket as the kids danced and played and had fun.  By the end of the night quite a few of the kids were on our blanket, singing and talking into the dark.  It made me feel good that the kids didn't abandon their broken Ma.

I love camping, love backpacking, love sleeping under the stars; and this trip was no exception.  I think it does the soul good to look into the infinity of stars in the sky and feel small.  Less good were the cactus waiting to spear unsuspecting feet on a midnight potty run, but I still loved the experience and would do it again.  CRAZY!

The last day the kids in the Cookie family voted unanimously to throw me in the cart for the last stretch.  I was feeling all warm and fuzzy about how we were acting like a family who care about each other until I realised that I weigh less than the gear we got to offload into the logistics van.  Oh well, at least we were together on the last day.  The ride in the handcart was the bumpiest ride I have ever experienced.  The roads were rocky and quite bumpy even for cars with a decent suspension, so just imagine the ruts and rocks hitting those wooden wheels.  With a layer of sleeping bags, sleeping pads and pillows under me it was still truly uncomfortable.  But, we made it!

I'm proud that I made it 22 miles.  Too bad I get to pay for it now.

Lookit Black Bart's beard!

Also, I gained 3 pounds on Trek.  I think Gumper really loves me.

Thespian induction and Mother's Day

Talia's 8th grade advancement

4.0 for all three years

Memma's birthday

The expressions kill me

We are continuing the tradition of making a cake as ugly as possible, but completely tasty.   Em wanted a 'white cake, white frosting, with strawberries'.  The white cake fell in the oven and was completely lopsided, and I tried to add enough frosting to even it out, but ended up with a crater which I filled with strawberries.  Good enough!

Learning to Dance

The first week of June, Ben and I are leading a 'family' on Trek.  Trek is one of those weird Mormon traditions which tend to sound completely insane when I try to explain it to people who don't have a Mormon background.  (the guy at Sportsman's warehouse was very incredulous)  To sum up, we are going camping for a week, pushing all our gear in a handcart and we are going to love it!  I think one of the main purposes is to try and help the youth understand what the early Mormon pioneers went through coming across the plains.  One of the things we are learning is square dancing, with the intent of participating in a 'hoe-down' on the last night of Trek.  

It is always fun when the youth surprise me with enthusiasm and happiness during activities, and this night of dancing turned out to be one of my favorite activities we've had so far.  I can't wait to dance out on the trail!