August 18, 2022

I consult my phone from a hotel room in Salt Lake City, curious of the weather back at my Wyoming campsite. Monsoon winds and rain? Puzzled by this reality, I considered my abandoned tents and kitchen.The kitchen consists of a small pot with a lid, a stock pot for my bath water, one fork, one spoon, a spatula and three pairing knives. Three because i seem to misplace them or sacrifice them for tools periodically, rendering them useless from then on. None of it added up to much, but I'd only figured on a little rain, nothing of any consequence. Who had ever heard of monsoons in Wyoming anyway?

It was two days before my rental car was up for renewal so I had followed through and called the number I'd been given. A short phone call would solve an on-going monthly expensive trip, or so I was told.

The entire possibility was a farce. I cringed with anxiety. This meant I would need to leave first thing in the morning. The night before had been pure torture. Ridiculous, unforgiving winds battered my tent while dust churned around me the whole night through. It was in my eyes, my ears, my scalp and my nostrils. I was wheezing from inhaling it into my lungs.The next night was a repeat performance. I reached for the pair of knit boxers I'd intended for morning and pulled them over my head for the duration of the night. Sleep was going to have to wait until Utah. Daylight came and I opened my dust crusted eyes and got up for a very long day. After anchoring my belongings to the pasture fence, and securing both tents the best I could, I put those dusty boxers on and left. I didn't have the time to break down this camp and it was less important for me to lose these few belongings than to forfeit my site. If someone found this place and liked it here, it would no longer be mine.The most crucial and difficult part of this healing journey is landing the location. When you've finally found it, you ride it as long as you're able.

I left the Corral site after two nights and drove two miles away where I'd earlier spotted a stunningly, gorgeous view. Unsure of the air, I poked around and explored for about an hour to soak it up.

The dusty sand mixture was loose and the ground cover was mainly sagebrush. I seem to have some aversion to the abundance this plant because it makes me feel miserable. I envisioned the dust blowing into my screens along with the pungent odor of sagebrush. This would not do. I stood back for a bit as my eyes followed the grassy, ribboned hump bordered by tire tracks to the top. I mourned that Toyota 4 runner right about now. It would've gotten me past the high sections in the road.This vehicle would not. Nearing defeat, I noticed crushed, tall grasses leaving a faint sign of tire tracks running parallel to the main drive. Someone else had wanted up there too. I climbed the path in one of the tracks and made it to the top. This place was majestic. There was a 360 view up here. North, south, east, west as far as I could see. A hundred miles or more. A gentle breeze blew. "You're teasing me.", I spoke aloud to the wind."You will blow like hell in time." That's okay, I thought. I would give it a go.I moseyed down and retrieved the Ford Explorer, heart racing with the thrill of this incredible air and the awe of the landscape before me. It was early in the day, so I set up camp slowly. This was the night of the glorious sunrise. It was a welcomed sign. I slept well and rose the following morning. It's the oddest feeling waking up in a new place every morning. Even if I only moved the tent a few feet, there is always an element of surprise. This time, I was bowled over by the magnificence. It took the air from my lungs.Not a dwelling, nor sign of any human aside from the fence behind me. I neared the gate and made out what appeared to be the lid of a 55 gallon oil drum.The words had been chipped and worn away from harsh winds and weather. Barely legible, the sign read "SNAKES IN PASTURE" Now this really got me to cackling. Beside that, was a small sign stating to please close the gate. I had conjured up a pasture full of snakes adorned with miniature, colorful collars that zapped should they near freedom by approaching the fence. I considered this venomous threat. The translation of these two signs was "Stay the hell out", and "please", was an after thought.

The unknown number of acres housed a slew of cattle and plenty of quarter horses though there was so much land I'd never laid eyes on them. I could hear them bellowing in the distance around nightfall. Dalton, a handsome, fit, young cowboy drove up in a diesel work truck, using the road I could not. He was running fence as there were new foals roaming about. When he introduced himself, I couldn't take my eyes off of this grassy barb poking out of his white t-shirt just below his left ear. Not thinking, I reached over and plucked it out. "Those things hurt," I'd said. He didn't flinch, but I recognized my odd behavior. I had been uncivilized for too long and had invaded his intimate space. I was mothering him. He asked about my camping here and voluntarily shared his yearly camping trip of taking pack horses 50 miles back into the North Western Wyoming territory...for an entire month. I was an amateur in his eyes. How long would I stay?, he asked. "Well, till it gets cold or I get blown off this plateau", I responded. He laughed and got back into his truck. "Well," he said drawing it out, "if ya git in a peeench, we live right down there." Pointing into the vastness far and below. Ever since he said that, I've been trying to determine where "down there" is exactly, because I am ten miles in on this road and there is nothing but BLM land and out on the main road, there is nothing still for miles and miles.

After two weeks of this air, I was feeling lighter and more confident. My head was clearer than it had been in a long time. I was high on good air. The ride to Casper was getting easier. I went with purpose and returned quickly being sure to go through a car wash at the edge of the city to keep my site pristine.

Leaving for Utah was not on my radar, but after the challenge of the drive and the four moldy hotels, I finally entered a room that would not harm me. For those of you who have recovered from MCS, (multiple chemical sensitivity) this is the place for you.The Tru Hilton. All vinyl flooring and tile. No overstuffed furniture or carpet. The fridge even rests on a steel shelf away from the flooring.

I immediately stripped bare and got into the shower of luxury and stood for as long as I could, rinsing away the last month that was embedded into my pores.I hadn't brought my own soap since I'd used the last scrap back at camp the night before. A challenge lay before me. Shampoo, conditioner and a body wash hung from the wall in dispensers. I was to simply squeeze the bottle for a portion. There were no ingredients to review or peruse. I was going in blind.The last time I attempted this, I suffered the entire night with a migraine from the fragrance and chemicals. I had no choice. I was filthy.

I squeezed a small amount into my palm and timidly sniffed. It smelled delicious, like lemons. Usually I could not get past the tearing of my eyes, the swelling of my throat, nor the headache to enjoy the scent. I lathered the cardboard, dirt coated strands of my hair and rinsed once, twice and then a third time. I was actually shocked as the texture of my hair returned. Then for my body. I was so weary from the drive and lack of sleep, i wished for a stool, but stayed standing watching the frothy discolored suds guide themselves into the drain until they were pure.

After toweling dry, I stared at this turbanned reflection. My tanned and ropey arms showed strength from lifting gallons of water...off the shelf, into the cart, out of the cart, into the car, out of the car on to the grass, into the pot on to boil. So much lifting for months, these gallon weights in repetition. My face was weathered, my nose sunburned and peeling, my lips chapped. My lower body needed some work or was this it? The way my body would be from here on out, closing in on 60. Too much driving over all of these months and some strange and desperate food choices. I've got it figured out at camp, but the road is a whole different life for food.

The bed was exactly what I was afraid of. In every essence of the word. Extravagance. It was a tease for a short while and then I'd be thrust back into my nights on a stiff canvas cot with no cushy matress, no pillow, nor the pleasure of sheets. I used every pillow on the bed. One for my head, one for my body and another to divide the bed in half, suggestive of my partner for company. I slept heavy and long.

The next day, after a couple of hours and a thorough cleaning of my car, I arranged to meet Stephanie, my long term car rental connection via text. She put me off by two hours and then fifteen minutes and then another fifteen minutes...all while i waited in the toxic city heat. When she arrived, I gave her a once over. Pure barbie from head to toe. Fakery at it's finest. The boob job, her nails, the works. I knew i would hold my judgement had she been more respectful , knowledgeable and timely, but I'd had enough of her wrangling me about. Spending money I did not have. I glanced down reaquainting myself with my own appearance. My civility was in question, however the rental proved otherwise. There was no sign of my off-grid desert life. It was Friday and again I did not have the information necessary, unknowingly,of course. This time, from the insurance company. She did not have it together at all. Barbie wasn't willing to wait either as it was Friday night and she mentioned a few times she needed to get back to Salt Lake. I figured Ken into the picture now. Nothing could be done until the next business day anyway now.That meant monday. She got into her little black sporty car and sped away.

I called my husband and we considered forgetting the whole rental thing altogether as purchasing a truck would be less than half of what I was paying monthly and i could sleep in it instead of the continual waste of tents. I am donating them to the homeless shelter, but i needed to think practically. They spoiled easily with moisture but with a truck, i could hose the bed out weekly. So I went looking for the right truck and I may have an option in a week or two.

This made so much sense now. I returned to my room, chopped up a bunch of veggies and made a salad. This was the next step for folks like me. It's getting down to low 50's and high 40's where I'm camping.The desert takes a dramatic temperature dive nearing nightfall and I really need to get away from the ground. I'd had enough of the dust and creatures. I am healing. I feel ready to navigate a vehicle in and out of these toxins whether i am or not. I am on a call list for a Ford Ranger. I had set my sights on a Toyota Tacoma, but my support group mentioned an HVAC mold problem they have yet to address, and google confirmed that to be true. Clean and snuggled up in these exquisite sheets, i again checked the weather back at camp. 90% chance of heavy rain and thunderstorms the following day. I will leave Monday morning. It will be full sun all day which should be sufficient to dry out my 10 mile drive in on that desert dirt road. Sunday was pure bliss. I stayed in bed most of the day, ate salad, sat in the hot tub and slept early.The decadence laddened me with guilt.

My drive back was pleasant and streamlined. I came to my road to drive in and I was pleased, until I had to make some climbs in altitude. Entire sections of the road were gone. Fault lines separated the midsection. Should I attempt to turn around? Someone had struggled here. One set of slippery, sliding, tracks and an attempt to turn back. I kept a steady speed of 45 to give me the momentum I needed to glide through the muck. At one point there was a section of 4 or 5 car lengths with resting water that I had to plow through. I could hear the wheel wells caking with the silty mud. I got to the top and pulled over and exhaled. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. It was dry here, but I'd lost my drive up to my camp spot. It was filled in and unrecognizable. I got out, surveyed the mess and drove up over the dirt filled climb.

I made it up to the plateau and to my surprise everything was in tact. Both tents were coated with a pulverized mixture of sand and grass. My stove and my pots and pans were as well. But it was all here. The sky was threatening rain. The wind began taunting me again as I struggled to set up a fresh dry tent. My forearms were weak from gripping the steering wheel out of fear. They needed to hold out for the rest of this task. I pushed on as night was falling. The water was on for my bath and it was going to be a shocker as I had been spoiled for a few days, the wind was up and I was just plain tired. All was good in the end. I was fully clothed in long sleeves, leggings and socks and tucked under a couple of blankets.Tonight I would be warm and there would be no dust for days as the ground was glued over by a hard rain sealing in the fine particles.

Come daylight, i awoke rested to a stillness and stayed put till the sun baked me out. Hunger was beckoning me too. i crawled out of my tent and walked to the fence where I'd draped my daytime leggings.They were gone...with the wind, I supposed. Of course, I thought. I was going in. Half naked, I roamed around in the snake pit feeling uneasy. All because of that silly sign. It's wierd how the mind works. Never to be found again, I decided. I was peeling an apple to sauté when I heard the diesel engine of Daltons truck coming through the pasture. It went on farther than the eyes could see. I was glad to be clothed at this point. He stopped, cut the engine, introduced me to Tyler, his cherubic younger brother and talked about the storm. He had just found four cows struck dead from lightning. I could see them in my mind, in a heap, bloated and scorched. I imagined myself riding out that storm here. I'm glad i didn't.These plains are just that. No trees to speak of, low grasses and tufts of sagebrush. Lightning singles out the significant relief. Could have been me, with our history and all. Like I said, we go back a ways, lightning and me. As much as I'd dreaded going down to Utah, I'd say it was in the cards for me to make that trip.

So, yes, I am healing. I have a long road ahead and obstacles to overcome, but I am on the right path. I am trying hard for this truck as a safe and warmer place to sleep. Thank you all so much for every bit of support. For the first extended period of time, i feel like living! Here's an analogy paraphrased of course:

A fish is living in dirty, polluted water. The fish is sick. She is prescribed vitamins, healthy food, anti depressants and anxiety medications. The fish stays sick. Take the fish from the polluted water and give her a clean environment. She heals. Thank you, Alicia Swamy