Day 9 May 3
Water faucet to Whitewater Creek
“Last one in, first out!” Tarzan sat up from his sleeping bag bewildered. Who was this “American made” girl next door, hikin alone in the dark, gettin up before sun rise, pushin the miles. A girl with cellulite thighs, a strong back, and anxious eyes.
Pushin the miles huh ? How’s a 14.5 day pushin the miles? I got to Ziggy and the Bear’s and stayed there until 4 pm. I felt lazy in the 105 degree heat. It trapped me. And I was clawing at the cage to get out.
For one, the father-in- law of my former trailmance was taking up space and stirring up past memories. “You can’t sit on the cushy chairs without a shirt on!” he tells the shirtless male hikers. I wonder if the same rule applies to the female hikers? Are the chairs made in Isfahan?
Secondly, Ziggy and the Bear had indubitably had enough of hiker trash. Apparently they had made only $2 off of 50 hikers the previous day. A lady from “Team Turtle” yelled at us like we were cattle. I felt guilty for being there.
So who wants to run a hostel in the middle of the desert?
At 4 pm I got out. Me, Carrot, Sheriff, McButter, and Twinkle Toes set our sights on Whitewater creek; a real creek! water! sand! living trees!
Have I told you that Carrot is one of the most interesting women I’ve ever met? She is bold and beautiful. And these boys are so genuine and funny. Them’s real gems I tell ya.
The air is warm, my bed soft, and I am sung to sleep by the cricket symphony.