I spend my first day “working” at Howard Mesa.
Sunrise this morning was extra beautiful. There was a line of light clouds just above the eastern horizon and, as the sun made its way west, it illuminated the cloud bottoms. First brilliant orange, then gray, then lavender, and finally pink. Then the sun was up, casting a golden glow over my “camp” before disappearing briefly behind those clouds. Then it was daytime.
It was surprisingly warm this morning: 61°F at dawn. That’s warm enough to have my morning coffee outside, in the sunshine. Alex went right into his cage and Jack, after scouting around a bit, retreated to his favorite hangout, under the trailer. The horses even put in an appearance for a drink and the alfalfa I’d left for them.
The wind started picking up right after dawn. I’d been thinking about burning some of the cardboard boxes we’ve been accumulating, but I won’t start a fire if there’s anything more than a breeze. By the time I was ready to do it, it was already too windy. I’d have to wait until tomorrow. I started work on the partition wall framing in the shed. The wall is 80 inches long and about 70 inches tall, and divides off a 44 inch portion of the shed that will someday be a tiny bathroom. I’d bought a book about basic carpentry, so I knew what to do: nail in the header, use a plumb bob to position the footer, and nail in the footer. Then position the vertical studs 24 inches on center apart.
I didn’t have to cut any wood. I’d bought all the wood pre-cut to my specifications. There’s a hardware store in Wickenburg (Johnson Lumber) that is very nice about cutting wood for me and that’s where I bought it. I took measurements last time I was up here, so I had exact numbers. That was odd because the vertical studs each needed to be a different length. When I assembled all the pieces, they fit perfectly.
I used 2x6s for this partition wall. The reason: all the piping between the bathroom and kitchen will be in it and I wanted to make sure the wood was wide enough to drill through for the pipes.
Unfortunately, I’d neglected to buy the metal do-dads I needed to attach the studs to the header and footer. (There’s no way I’m going to be able to sink a nail on a 45° angle.) I debated making my trip to Flagstaff today — I even told Mike I would — but I decided to see how far I could get without them. Because the pieces of wood fit so snugly, I was able to wedge them into place. That made it possible to get accurate measurements for the horizontal pieces that need to go between them. I hope the folks at the Home Depot in Flag are as nice about cutting lumber as the Johnson Lumber folks.
To see whether I’d be able to get my ever-growing butt past the bathroom vanity once it was installed, I took it out of its box and set it in place. That’s when I realized why it had only cost me $78 assembled with a sink basin: it was a piece of junk. It was falling apart and I had to use some skinny nails I happened to have to bang it all back together. Then I placed the basin in (partially to help hold the thing together) and moved it into place, trying to imagine a wall behind it. Yes, I could walk past it. Next, I worked on the ladder we’d use to get up to the loft. The loft is about 6-1/2 feet high, and just tall enough to sit up comfortably on. We’ll be putting a bed up there. Well, a mattress. And some carpeting under it. I positioned one 8-foot 2×4 on an angle against the edge of the loft, then took the precut 18-inch long pieces and a level and marked off where they’d need to be nailed in. The ladder’s rungs need to be parallel to the ground. This is something I learned when I built my first loft, back in college. The first ladder’s steps had been perpendicular to the sides and the ladder had been placed vertically. This made it very difficult to negotiate. So I put the ladder on an angle and then had to reposition the steps so I wouldn’t hurt my bare feet climbing up and down.
While in the process of nailing in rungs, I managed to bash the top segment of my left index finger really hard. It’s purplish and swollen now and tender to the touch. It’s a good thing that for some reason, that’s one of only two fingers I don’t use when I type. It just hangs out there in space, along with my left thumb, while the other eight get the job done.
There’s one thing you can count on just about all the time at Howard Mesa: wind. The wind picked up as I worked and kept picking up all morning. By 11 AM, when I stopped for a break, it was howling. I tuned in my aviation radio to Weather Channel 2, which covers northern Arizona and heard that a wind advisory was in effect for my area, with winds of 25 to 35 mph, gusting to 45 mph. Soon I began worrying about the trailer’s awning, which was taking a real beating. And Alex, in his cage, having trouble moving around without getting blown around.
I took a shower and had lunch. I ate outside on the picnic table to keep Alex company. Bad idea. My wet hair dried in seconds in a style reminiscent of Einstein. I really need a haircut.
By 1 PM, the wind was very bad. I set up Alex’s small cage in the back half of the trailer, with the connecting door open so he could see me. Then I settled onto the sofa inside the trailer and worked on the index cards I’m using to organize my novel. I turned on my PowerBook and fired up iTunes. Although my 12-inch PowerBook doesn’t have great speakers, I’d rather have 2,205 songs to choose from than listen to whatever’s playing on NPR or the local classic rock station. I mostly played Native American flute music, since Alex likes it. He didn’t like being in the camper’s back room and the camper’s constant shaking and rattling was making him nervous.
Every once in a while, I’d have to go outside and reattach one of the do-dads that keep the awning from flopping around. That requires standing on a stepladder and using a pair of pliers to twist a wing nut tight. I even had to adjust the tie-downs on the helicopter’s blades. They were flopping around far too much.
I made some baked beans on the stove. When I went to add the tomato paste, however, I discovered that the can I’d picked up included garlic, basil, and oregano. Not exactly what I had in mind for baked beans. Why is it that you can’t buy plain canned food? Why do they feel as if they need to add all the seasonings for you?
By 4 PM, the wind was calming down. I brought Alex back outside and came out with a book I’d bought long ago, Cause of Death. This Writer’s Digest Publishing book provides a lot of information about death and bodies for people writing about it. I learned enough to accurately describe the dead body my protagonists discover and get some additional information I may use in the future.
I went on my afternoon walk at 5:40 PM. I know the exact time because I called Mike and left a message for him on his cell phone just before I left. He called back when I reached the gate. Because I didn’t have much confidence in the cell signal, I remained rooted in position for the entire five-minute conversation. Then Jack the Dog and I walked down to “Four Corners” and back, a distance of about a mile. I walked briskly both ways. Jack ran. He chased rabbits, smelled things, and left urine samples here and there.
Back at the camper, I settled down with my PowerBook to write this blog. And that’s where I am now.
Tomorrow, I’m going to Flagstaff. I have a very long list of things to buy before the weekend and expect to spend most of the day there. I’ll stop in Williams on my way to publish my latest blog entries, collect my e-mail, and gather the incoming messages I’m expecting.
Horses are herd animals. That means they like to be together. When the lead horse moves, the rest of the herd follows. My horses follow that rule. I only have two of them: Jake, a sorrel Quarter Horse, and Cherokee, a Paint Quarter Horse. Jake is generally the boss, but they’re good buddies and they’re always within sight of each other, if not right next to each other.
It took some doing, but I finally found Jake about a third of the way down the hill, at least a quarter mile away. I called him, but even if he heard me (which I doubt), I knew he wouldn’t come. (Jake is not like a dog. He’s more like a cat.) So I called Cherokee. At least he indicated that he heard me. But he was too panicky to even think of why I might be calling him. Long story not as long: I went back to the round pen, put the lead rope on Cherokee, and led him down toward Jake. When I had a good view of him, I pointed him out. But horses don’t understand pointing fingers. He looked everywhere except where I was pointing. Then Jake saw us. He let out a loud whinny that seemed to say, “What the hell are you doing up there?” Cherokee whinnied back. I took off the lead rope and he trotted down to his buddy.
I landed on my gravel helipad near the trailer and shut down. Then I proceeded to do chores. Unlocking the camper, turning on the power and refrigerator, tuning in the stereo (presets get lost when you shut power), hooking up the water, setting up the pump, opening the gate, putting out the carpet. I was just staking down the awning when I heard Mike’s truck pull in. He unloaded the horses and other critters and I made him lunch. Then we put away all the things he’d brought: Alex’s big cage from the coffee shop, the cabinets I’d bought for the shed, and the tools I’d need to work over the summer.
Mike spent the afternoon hooking up the camper to our septic system. It was a good thing he did, because the camper had been used for three short trips without being dumped and it was beginning to get stinky. I took care of things inside — putting away groceries, making the bed, cleaning things up. Two hot showers later, we had dinner at the picnic table outside the camper, with our horses and the San Francisco Peaks to admire while we ate. Cherokee decided to stand on the other side of the bird cage while we ate dinner. His head was about 2 feet from Alex. Alex was very quiet while Cherokee was there. Then Cherokee decided to sample the corn cob litter I’m using at the bottom of Alex’s cage. I think he likes it. We had to scold him and chase him off. Jake came over and watched us eat our corn. I think he was begging. It was very weird having the horses so close to us — less than five feet away — while we ate. I’m not sure how much I like it. Meanwhile, Alex has already learned to imitate the squeaky screen door. He makes the sound every time we open the door. I’m waiting for him to learn how to call Cherokee.
Back on the mesa, we relaxed for a while before doing our final chore for the day: surrounding the helicopter’s landing area with a “fence.” We had some plastic fence posts designed to hold electric tape. We’d bought the whole system — complete with solar fence charger — as an option for when we went camping with the boys. But we’d since used the fence charger and some of the tape to surround the chicken coop and keep our neighbors dogs and coyotes out. We had these posts and plenty of tape left, so we used them to make a perimeter around the helicopter. The idea is to keep the horses out of the landing zone when the engine is running. Our horses respect fences, so we knew it would keep them out. We just weren’t sure how well the posts and tape would hold up to rotor wash.