Workmen are out in the hallway doing something very loud to the escalator and I imagine the clattering can be heard on the top floor. My door being closed doesn’t prevent their yammering from filtering in; one of them’s declaiming how you can’t go wrong with Schlotzkys, a sentiment with which I very much beg to differ but I’m not getting into the act. Right now it sounds like they’re busy with a hacksaw and I’ve seen enough movies to know you don’t disagree with the man holding the hacksaw.
Apart from them it’s wonderfully quiet on the hall. Smelly Gal has once again given the gift of her absence, three weeks “painting in Italy” (how positively original!), so we’re free of her Scarlett O’Hara phrasings for a good long time. And just as she comes back I’m outta here for another two. Couldn’t have timed that one better if I’d tried.
Details of the workshop part of my trip are finally starting to come clear and I now know where we’ll be staying (June Lake) and in what campground. What the elevation there is (6K) and what major gear I’ll need to provide on my own (sleeping bag). What the outfitting company is taking care of (pretty much everything) and whether we’ll be writing every single day (probably not). And most important, whether our site has wifi, or internet access at all (it doesn’t).
So now I’ve got a little over two weeks to finalize arrangements on my end, like figuring what if any small personal camping gear I won’t be able to last a week without, dig it out and ship it to my sister with the sleeping bag. (I need a new headlamp, have for years, but that can wait until Berkeley probably.) Arrange for leave without pay: Nadine says only one day won’t be covered by vacation time, which is much better than I feared. Make the necessary arrangements to have my Freecycle duties covered while I’m offline, reconfirm my reservation at the one motel in Gerlach, plan cat care and so on.
The most fun prep to date has been brainstorming what I most want to do on our non-writing days: sure, Mono Lake and Bodie and Devil’s Postpile and the predictable upper Rt. 395 stuff with the group, but I plan to see if I can’t get in a trip to the Eureka Dunes also. I was there 10-plus years ago with burner folk and I recall that as usual on those expeditions there was a lot of drugs and drama involved, so I’d like to re-experience that particular patch of desert splendor from a place of relative internal peace. Fellow writers understand these things, I presume.
(Someday I’ll get back to Saline Valley too, but it won’t be in a low-clearance rental car. In 96 I made it in and out in my trusty Golf without even needing the spare and I still don’t know how that happened.)
(Yes, I know Enterprise will try to get me to upgrade to an SUV and I might actually consider it since I want to get in some playa time while in Gerlach. But Saline Valley’s just too far from June Lake for a comfortable day trip. Too bad.)
This time the only drugs are going to be prescription. Neither do I think we’ll be exactly roughing it; roughing it is when you choose a National Forest campground down 30 miles of bad road and on arrival decide you’d rather dig your own hole than use the Augean-caliber privies provided. Or better yet, just pitch in the middle of a National Forest without any facilities at all. Where we’re staying for the workshop is a private facility with a website that promises laundry and showers. Showers! Almost certainly the type of place I’d have avoided like the plague on my own travels.
Then again, on my own travels I never needed an electrical hookup to breathe while I slept. Everything, including plans for day trips, is secondary to getting a good night’s sleep every night I’m there or as close as is possible. When I sleep poorly it pretty much kills either my interest in writing or my satisfaction with what I produce or both. If I wanted that I’d just stay home.
(There’s talk about camping out on the lake beach, an alleged 5-minute walk from camp, one night to watch the Perseid showers. Sounds good if you can find an extension cord to reach that far.)
I’m a little nervous as I haven’t been camping in any way, shape or form in seven years and cushly outfitted though I’ll likely be, being far from home and climate stabilization or even from a friend’s guest room is a barely-remembered experience by now. I’m glad for the adventure, though. That’s what I say with two weeks to go anyway.
I pacify myself with thinking of all the lovely pictures I’ll take. Beats hacking with paint in Europe, I figure.
Comments