Tuesday, June 22, 2010


I remember our last camping experience in the desert before the boy's had to enroll in school. We had a chevy stepvan then, with bunkbeds in the back built by my husband. We were invited to visit Arizona by some folks we met at Buckskin Joe, near Canon City, Colorado, during our previous visits to Colorado. We found a dirt road leading into the desert from the highway near Apache Junction, Az. We parked along side a nice dry wash. Did some Gold Prospecting and seached for Arrowheads, Driftwood and such. We came upon a natural spring along the top of the bank of the wash, about five foot up. My husband put holes in a tin coffee can and attached the can to a shrub just under the spring. We now had a shower! Ice cold, but in the heat of the day it was great!
We had the neccessary camping equipment to cook, and light our camping area with and a huge ice chest that kept our food cold. Once a week we drove into town to replenish our supplies and do laundry.
We met several interesting people while we camped out in the desert. On one of our return trips we were followed into our camp spot. The gentleman introduced himself and we found out he owned the mining claim area we were on. After a nice visit with him he asked if we would be interested in staying in a little trailer he had set up a little farther down the road, as watchmen. We agreed and we spent the rest of the summer and part of the fall there.
I had decided to up-grade our situation a little, and build us an out-house. After all, I did have the material just laying around, a tree saw and a hammer.
After a few hours work and no major incidents involving gushing blood or smashed fingers, I stood back to view my work of art. This was a thing of beauty. Solid 2x4 construction, with plywood flooring, and I had gone so far as to buy a padded seat and cover.
One day while I was enjoying a cup of coffee, an SUV vehicle pulled up in the wash, and a little old gent jumped out and made a bee-line up the path to our little building. "The nerve of some people, not even the courtesy to ask if they could use the restroom!"
I watched with some amuzement as he opened the door and stepped in. Now, give it a few seconds, the door opens, and there's no way to describe the look on this old gent's face, as he waddled back down the trail, mumbling to himself as he got into the vehicle and headed out across the desert.
You see, I had'nt "QUITE" finished the thing. I had yet to find the means to cut a hole for it.
I'll leave it to you to wonder, as I did, the conversation that took place in that vehicle. "It's not my fault, ETHEL, there was no hole in that outhouse!!!"

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