Day Six: The Walter White Memorial RV Park
Last night seconds after I hit publish on the day’s post,Zack’s face appeared in the RV window.
“COURT! You published too soon. Some woman just squeezed herselfbetween the back of the RV and the chicken wire of the junkyard, seemed shockedto find us sitting there, and took off muttering about looking for her friend.I think she was trying to break in. You could’ve added that to your littleblog.”
So there we were, at the Walter White Memorial Trailer Parkin Cortez, Colorado. It all had a very sinister feel to it, from the bald guydriving slowly in a circle peering into the RVs to the trailer on blocks nextto us that remained totally dark for our entire stay.
Last fall Evan decided that he really wanted to see the newHalloween movie after he and I watched the original together. I hate horrormovies and I am horrible to watch them with, because they make me so nervousthat my feet sweat and I have to keep telling whoever I am with about my sweatyfeet. Spending two hours with meclutching his arm and loudly whispering MY FEET ARE SWEATING, made Evan regretever suggesting it. I had the same regret myself last night when I went intothe campground bathroom and discovered it looked exactly like the bathrooms thejournalists were murdered in at the beginning of the movie. Exactly.
I was scurrying back to our RV with my head down when Peteyintercepted me outside to tell me that she thought she had an eyelash in hereye. I looked down to see the tell tale swollen red eye that can only mean onething.
Pink eye. Pink eye in an RV where we are essentially on topof each other and hygiene has become questionable. She was quick to hopefullypoint out that her throat hurt and her nose was stuffy so maybe it was justallergies. We filled that child full of Benadryl, contemplated lysoling the RVbut gave that up because family pink eye just felt SO RIGHT at this point, andhunkered down to play a three-person game of rummy with entirely made up rules becauseno one can ever remember how to play. We call it Burns rummy and it involves alot of yelling and sarcasm and I usually wind up winning since I am the onlyone that can make the food.
While people in various stages of disarray wandered the darkpark outside, we also debated what to do about the Mesa Verde mishap. It hadbecome obvious that the dream had to die. Zack promised that we could come backand stay for four days (not in the Walter White Park) when we have our own RV and are towing the jeep.Turns out this is still his retirement dream.
I thought we should head to Hovenweep, which seemed moreaccessible than Mesa Verde, and pled my case by repeating this information twohundred times in a row. I got shot down when Zack discovered online reviewswarning travelers not to take RVs on the trails leading to the monument. Wefinally settled on on the Ute Mountain Tribal Visitor’s Center, which ran afour hour walking tour, led by local Ute Indians, and had an 8:30am sharp checkin. It was actually on our way to Page and just off of the highway and so noone could build a case against it.
Plans made, Zack and I tucked ourselves into bed andhunkered down for a night of laying quietly awake listening hard for the soundsof someone trying to steal our engine and just waited for morning. When it wasfinally time to get up, I sprang from bed and started hassling everyone to stopworking against me and get to the tour on time. Petey stumbled out of the topbunk in a Benadryl haze, but with both eyes normal. After much bullying on mypart, we screeched into the visitor’s center at 8:28am to find it closed.
Zack sent me up to investigate the visitor’s center. While Iwas standing there, a Subaru came flying in directly at me. In an entire emptyparking lot, I had to hop aside so they could park where I was standing. Twoolder couples got out, covered head to toe in Patagonia gear, and immediatelybegan complaining. The heat, the dust, the drive, the fact that the guide waslate, etc. One lady side eyed me and began a rant that they thought this wouldbe a private tour.
I scurried back to the RV just as the guide pulled in and announced that ruins or not I could not spend the next four hours of my life with those people. My family collectively heaved a sigh of relief, since everyone has been humoring me this whole time. I snapped a picture of the kids in the parking lot in front of what I have been calling Church Rock, but is actually not Church Rock.
When we got back in the RV I look over to see Zack chewingon the insides of his cheeks.
“What?”
“I’m sorry that Colorado was such a bust. I’m sorry you didn’tget to do the one thing you wanted to do. But…..don’t you think it’s ironicthat you planned this trip, then made an entire binder just to make fun of me,then planned the food…..then failed to plan the one thing you wanted to do? It’sjust…..ironic.” His shoulders shook with silent laughter.
He’s not wrong.
We headed on. In Kayenta, there is a Burger King museum dedicated to the Navajo Code Talkers of WWII. Turns out the restaurant owner is the son of one of the Marines and built a display in the store of his dad’s memorabilia. I pleaded to go. Evan woke up and pleaded for a burger. What we found was a small display, but so interesting. If you find yourself in this part of the country, it is worth a stop. There is a small cultural center next door featuring hogans, a sweat lodge, and a tiny museum. The kids and I went to check it out, while Zack took a work call in the RV.
The cultural center was cool, but what we found mostexciting was the little yellow dog sleeping in the shade. It wagged its tail aswe approached it and let us scratch its head. The museum worker told us it wasjust a stray reservation dog and we spent the next few minutes trying to figureout if we could lure it into the RV without Zack noticing. There is a good chancethis RV came with fleas, so the res dog couldn’t possible hurt anything.
Back on the road toward Page, Zack and I passed the time bylisting off the things that are wrong with the RV and planning our battle withthe Irishman. This is a great trip, but we seriously got taken on this one.Especially when the Irishman admitted on the phone that this is a “back up RVthat the boss likes to take out dirt biking”, although it does explain why aportion of the paneling as been nail gunned on crookedly.
Remember the old Amityville Horror movie where the housewould get upset and a sulphur smell would fill the air? As we bashed the RV andits owners, a steady odor of egg began to fill the air. It grew stronger as weheaded into the Page Wal-Mart.
***Sidebar Nation – ifyou are going to RV, it is mandatory that you stop at a Wal-Mart. If you don’tdo it, the RV will take it upon itself and just steer you there.
Coming out of the store, the RV still stunk.
“You shouldn’t have talked so loudly. You’ve upset it andnow it’s punishing us.” I scolded Zack.
He remembered some odor eater tablet things the Irishman hadvaguely mentioned so we did that are hoping we don’t get gassed out tonight.
We landed at Wahweap Campground, inside the National Park onLake Powell. We are a short two mile walk from the beachfront and spent part ofthe day swimming in the lake. The other part of the day has been swatting fliesand dodging dust storms. It’s a nice park, with clean facilities and a generalstore. Zack remains hopeful that the clean showers will encourage me to shave,but I think I am just going to accept that this is who I am now. I’m basicallya Bigfoot lurking out here between the trees.
Zack also struck up a conversation with one of thecampground workers about the scorpion population (he’s a bit obsessive afterour infestation at home) and learned that while scorpions aren’t a problemhere, centipedes are.
CENTIPEDES ARE. The guy further explained that whilescorpions can’t really climb up smooth things, centipedes are good climbers andcould CLIMB INTO RVs.
Especially one where the screens are torn away and the ventsare all held on by old tape.
So, if you see on the news tomorrow that an RV was set on fire in Page, Arizona you can assume one got in and you can tell everyone I KNOW HER, I KNOW THE GIRL THAT SET THE RV FIRE.
Tonight is lil smokies, baked sweet potatoes, and veggies.Or leftover chips and whatever garbage is in the cupboard. It’s hot and dirtyand I only slept for an hour and fifteen minutes last night.
Centipedes, you guys. Centipedes.
Number of dogs pet so far: 17 & 1 desert tortoise and 1office cat