13th Day

July 12th. We have left the spaceship cruiser of Flagstaff. No more other-worldly entertainment. We have our eyes fixed on Palo Duro Canyon State Park, in Texas. We opted for a night in a canyonized state park over the alternative of a KOA campground that runs a standard of quality convenience and nothing-out-of-the-ordinary for camping. You get the honey like all the other bees, which is nice, but your campsite is just like any other parking spot in the hive. This is not what adventure is about. So here we come, Palo Duro Canyon, TX!
We wake up early. I thought it felt like 8am. The sun was up. It was 5am. I was wide awake. Time to do a few good runs in the spaceship of Priest Draw. I try the forty-foot roof traverse and get very pumped (my arms are throbbing such that the unflexed state of my forearms thoroughly matches the flexed state, resulting in an inability to hold onto anything). Without a rest, my circuit takes another lap on Bat Roof, V2. It was fun and quite challenging immediately following the roof route. For one last grapple, I tape up my hurting hands a bit and hop on some moves on Carnivore Direct. And we're off!

Our drive navigates swirling death clouds which might have well been wielding Poseidon-trident spikes and hurling them at random around the road that we could no longer tell was paved. That is, thanks to the torrential rains. You drive. You drive through a wall, entering an imaginary building of solid water. No rooms. Just water. We pass through these drunken cloud parties getting out of control and make our way to some sunshine and draw closer to Palo Duro Canyon S.P.Gassing up is fun now. We're paying less than $4/gal. We pass through a 2-hour time change, causing us to barely make it to the state park before closing. It was quarter of 10pm. Not 2:30pm; I mean a quarter of an hour shy of 10pm. Equals 9:45pm. Whew! Let's enjoy the nighttime scenery as much as we can, knowing it'll probably look nice in the morning, and drop 800 feet down to campsites, showers, 3-minute-stove-pasta, and a good night's rest.
Or not. Upon opening the floodgates of our car doors, were greeted by a warm blanket. Of bugs. How do you say, "Not ideal"? I start with denial and the solution of moving very very fast with a headlamp to set up tent. We split the dinner and setup tasks between us. I keep hearing Alisa asking me if I, too, am getting coated with bugs of all sorts. Yes, Alisa, I, too, am, getting, coated, and, annoyed, by, all, of, the, bugs. Just keep going! Quicker!

Tent is up. Water is about to boil. We shine a light on the water-bubbling pot and scratch our bite-bubbling bodies. I remember why my ankles are itching the most and act accordingly: I roll down my rolled-up -from-climbing pant legs and return to scratching. The light on the pot now shows mosquitoes falling into the double double, toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble! Alisa and I first say, "Oh no," and quickly pick up forks and scoop them out. What else are we to do? It's bubbling and we must eat. We hold a plate over it to try and prevent further kamakaze bugs from sharing fates. Done!

Too many bugs, though; we can't eat here! We pick up our towels, clothes, headlamps and food eating accessories and head off to find the bath- and shower-rooms. A quarter of a mile down the road we go. Not a quarter of a mile 'til the road, as in 3/4 mile; I mean 1/4 of a mile down the road. We find a sign for Sunflower Restrooms. But the road quickly ends up in a gate. I'm hungry. The food is getting cold. We see a dear at the gate, 10 feet away. It runs. I say let's eat so we do! Thankfully it's dark and we eat with serengeti spaghetti. This combination of dark and other ingredients masks us and hides just how many bugs we're eating. Ulgh! El fin!

Back to the campsite to look at the map we got upon entering. Lo and behold: just down the road from where we sat on a rock to eat! We decide to drive. We drive. Shower-room! We run in, turn the time-dialed light past the 30-minute limit, and are each on our way to being clean and re-freshed. Unfortunately, the bath- and shower-rooms are bug-ridden too! What is this canyon's deal? On top of that with which I can deal, someone left a dirty present in one of the two men's showers. Not funny. I prefer the clean bug shower. Start the water, water-escourt the bugs out of the shower. It's my turn, buddies! Try the next stall over!

The drama appears to be over. One more large spider running at me followed by a large sandal smack concludes the nights soap-sudsy opera. We drive back to the campsite. Pick up our mess a bit by shoving it in the car, and head to be. In the tent it's nice: no bugs; no bites. Well, nearly.

The nice part of the drama at Palo Duro Canyon State Park was the drama that we weren't a part of. Over at campsite 41, next to our 43 was a family. The son had to No. 2 late at night. The parents were incredulous: "You got to be kidding." They even tried to make it easier for themselves, convincing their son that maybe he didn't have to No. 2: "Do you have to pee? Do you have to pee, instead?" I was on the son's side. Yet I couldn't help laughing to Alisa and repeating in the thick southern accents, "Yew guttahbih kiddin!" And adding on to the ludacrous proposals, "No. Nuh-uh. You stop that No. 2. Put it back in. Tell it not until the morning. We're tired."

The reasons I was on the son's side are these. First, you can't stop a poo. You need to facilitate it. The facilities were too far away at night for the kid to walk, so I find it to be the parents' job to drive their bathroom-seeking son there. And not to tell him to stop the poo or vie for a pee instead. That's ridiculous. Not fair. Heinous. A crime! Second, well, there's a story. Two kids pull up in Site 43. They're older. Maybe adults. They have lights on their heads. Site 41-kid is excited and intrigued. Hey, dad! Look at the lights on their heads! Look! They have lights on their heads. The kid-adults set up tent. In the tent is a canopy for storing wallets and accessories above your sleeping head. On this canopy are two little twist-on red lights. The Site 41-kid is interested again. Whoa! Dad, check it out! There are red lights! They have red lights! Cool! Now the dad chimes in with his own thoughts. Hey, listen to me. You can't just talk about their lights; they don't want to hear you talking about their lights. Co'mon. Meanwhile, the kid-adults are happily smile-laughing about the magical intrigue their lights hold over kid-kids. For the record, we were not happily smile-laughing about the scolding of having interest.
That's over. We visited the visitor's center. Is it the visitor's center or the visited center? Snapped some photos, hit the road to go to see my good ole' buddy, Brian Stuenkel in Fayetteville, Arkansas! Here he is at home sweet home, with tea sweet tea, as I'm pointing at him and striding for a hug! Long time, no see! Onwards to good times!
Brian promises to give us good climbing and - get this, Alisa! - good culture while we're here! Sounds promising for sure!

-Your Land-for-water-escaper, N8