Phoenix to the Grand Canyon to Gallup to Albuquerque to Bottomless Lake

Amy here again.

Last night was our fourth night sleeping in a strange place filled with unusual creatures.  We wanted to camp near Roswell, NM, and found Bottomless Lake State Park.  The beach here is sandy, the water salty and tinged with minerals.  It made for a relaxing swim just before sunset.  After a ride into town for supplies, we cooked a simple dinner and mediocre sourdough bread.  Maybe it’s the high altitude that caused challenges, or perhaps it’s the toaster oven we baked it in.  Thankfully, everything tastes better when you’re camping.

We’re now packing up the car (actually, Clif is while I’m typing this and swatting away flies) to head down to Carlsbad Caverns.  The ranger says there are fires down there, so we best be careful, though the park is still open.

Since preliminary poll results show that our readers want more stories of Death, Fear, and Bodily Functions, here’s mine:  I’m normally not squeamish about any creature other than cockroaches.  I’ve caught more than my share of scorpions.  I like to pet snakes.  I’ll let spiders stay in my home because they eat less-desirable visitors.  I’ve never had a problem camping.  Until last night.

Perhaps it was exhaustion, but when Clif found a scorpion near our tent, I, wearing flip-flops, got scared.  I was well aware of the irony of living in Arizona for so many years, only to get stung while on vacation.  I wasn’t going to let any New Mexico scorpion get this camper.  Diligently, I inspected the campsite over and over, finding no other culprits.  Feeling tentatively safe, I went to the ladies’ room.  An elaborate spiderweb connected the toilet to the wall beside it.  On that web was a big, shiny, upside-down, red-hourglass-tattooed black window spider.  I really, really needed to go to the bathroom, so I went into another stall and… I couldn’t.  I was too scared to pee.  More precisely, I couldn’t relax enough, I was still on guard.  I came out and Clif know.  Though he later killed the black widow, I never could relax enough to go.  So I held it all night.

When I had meningitis a few years ago, I was given a spinal tap.  During it, the doctor nicked my spinal cord, making my right outer leg numb.  Once I found out the numbness wasn’t due to brain damage, I learned to love it.  It’s my “camping hip,” and because of it I slept well last night.  So well, in fact, that this morning I wasn’t so afraid of the bathroom.

And there’s your story of Death, Fear and Bodily Functions.

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