Heaven and Hell — Unruly Skoolie

We don’t always hang out with a bunch of naked strangers, but when we do, we’re typically at a hot spring. This time it’s Orvis Hot Spring, off the Million Dollar Highway in Colorado, one of the most dangerous and beautiful roads in the country. But first, the journey…

Miller Creek Campground in Durango was glorious. It hadn’t gotten too cold and we were still jubilant from our successful escape from the mud. We spent a quiet morning at the lake and cruised into town for some wifi. We find Durango to be an extremely attractive mix of progressives, students, nature-lovers, mountain hipsters, old-time mountaineers and friendly, long-time entrepreneurs set against gorgeous vistas of mountains, rivers and pastures. It’s wetter here, better for farming than New Mexico, but I’m afraid it’s a bit too…. homogenous for me. The Ute reservations are all around and with town names like Cortez and Durango I thought I’d see a bit more diversity, but not so much. Is that a deal breaker when seeking a future home? I don’t know. Probably. I can’t usually stand for long the monotony of a group of people who are only ever around and exposed to their own kind, unphased by or unaware of the lives of others- worse, a group of people musing about the hardships of the others and how those people might help themselves. It’s bound to come up. Or maybe it won’t. Maybe we’ll move here and live in clean, white heaven. As a woman of color and one who knows herself well, there’s only so much of one thing I can take. Nevertheless, let me reiterate that the place is, in many ways, heavenly.

The bus drew the normal attention during our time at the park and eventually we were approached by a friendly, cute and sporty looking gal. She tells us that her husband and she are building a bus too, that they want to hit the road with their two children and she’d love to see the layout and pick Skeets’ brain about the solar. She tells us about their lives; they are mountain kids, avid outdoorsmen, do-it-yourselfers, resourceful and tough. She invites us out later for a playdate for the kids and disc golf- She’s nice and I’m almost taken aback by a conversation with someone other than Skeets and Phoenix. I realize that although we’ve had plenty of short, passing conversations here on the road, we haven’t yet gone beyond the surface, and here, on the brink of going a little deeper, I feel guarded and strange. I remember this feeling. It’s similar to how I felt reintegrating into society after my year in Hawaii, after living in a treehouse and communing with the spirits of nature. It’s hard to relate. But that was extreme. This is not. I remember quickly how to be a person and Im grateful for the invitation and the show of kindness and solidarity- the road can feel lonely.

This is part is just silly. We head up to the ridge above town where the college sits, where we were supposed to meet for disc golf. We were early so we cruise around taking in the charming and impressive hamlet below. We begin to pass a golf course on our right and driving, I begin musing to myself about how I hate golf. Such a gross waste of space and resources, such a symbol of privilege and backdoor deals and haughty ego. Such…. CRASH! “What the…?!” Out from the green a ball came flying straight at us smashing our passenger side windshield. Ugh! We pull over and find the ball. There are only three men close by behind the chain link fence at the closes hole. Skeets walks over, has an exchange I can’t hear, comes back and relays that the golfer says he isn’t responsible for the damage, the golf club is and “at least now we have a souvenir". I don’t know what got into me. Maybe it was the sass, maybe it was golf, maybe it was having just gotten the dang bus out of the shop and out of the mud… either way, I went on a shake down.

The owner of the club tell me that it’s actually the golfer’s responsibility and that his homeowner’s insurance will cover the damage. He drives me out in a cart to find the “gentleman” at the next hole and the old man is surly at best. “Sir,” I say, “ I’m not mad. No one got hurt. Just please do the right thing and allow our insurance companies to work it out so that we can be on our way.” He won’t even look at me. He only regards the male owner. I hate men like that- it’s so fucking pathetic. The very kind and diplomatic owner tries to reason with the proud old fool, but the fool won’t budge. He hit a shitty shot and he’s mad. Some brown little hippy girl is here in his club trying to tell him what-for and he’s refusing to help. I’m being cool, but I’m losing patience. “Sir, do the right thing. My family is in the FBI and law enforcement and I’d hate to get them involved for such a minor issue.” Haha. Now, this is true, but rest assured Cousins C and M, Aunties M and M and Uncle J that I’d never abuse my connections for such a ridiculous situation. I was just trying to buck up a little.

Anyway, the jerk wouldn’t budge so I did end up calling local law enforcement who were incredibly kind but were not impressive by my joke about going all together to go “shake him down.” The sight of the law and probably the realization that golf was never his strong suit allowed him swallow seventy years worth of pride and call his sweet old wife who took care of everything for him, we never spoke to him again, she took care of everything.

A word about attitude. I’m not exactly the sweetest person. I’m firm and salty but I’m honest and loyal and I try to live with integrity. I’m not unpredictable in my dealings. The club owner, the wife and even the small town cops who knew the man assured me that “usually he’s such a nice man. I’m not sure why he’s acting like this.” His wife, sweet as can be, even went as far as to say, “ You know how it is when you have a bad golf game, it just ruins your whole day.” No, lady, I don’t know how it is when you suck at golf and ruin other people’s property, but I can tell you that when I’m responsible for damage, I grow some ovaries and do the right thing. Whatever. I’m sure he’s an angel.

This debacle makes us late for disc golf with our new road friends, but we meet up with them and Phoenix has a much welcomed play session with their two and four year old kids while we sit on the grass, faces in the sun and talk about our journeys, about what got us all here and what we’ve found along the way.

Generously, they invite us to their home for the night and follow them up a steep and narrow road to the top of a hill with a downright heavenly view of snowy mountain in the far distance. We make dinner together, the kids play and we imbibe a little, enjoying each others company the way old friends might. It’s extremely nice to have a “break” from Phoenix, from being his sole playmates and he, Im quite certain, feels the same. He is in heaven with these two mountain kids, running inside and out, playing with new toys, working with them on “building something” I can’t quite figure out from this distance and generally being engrossed with his peers. He’s been so flexible and fun. I hope he doesn’t end up hating the road- hating nature because of our relentless pursuits to connect with her. Surely he won't.

Morning comes and our friend’s have filled our water tank, shared their food for the road and are leaving us with the warmest wishes and thanks for our visit. It is we who are more grateful if gratitude can be measured and compared. We have everything we need and more here with each other and in The Unruly, but as we’ve found, the road has challenges, and although we seek them, need them, in fact, to feel strong and alive and capable and invigorated, it’s nice to reconnect also with the people of the world. With kin- brothers and sisters who understand the Unruly spirit, the call of the wild and are there to share a story, wine and water and a safe place whenever the opportunity find us.

To Jacob, Rebekah, Elan and Koru: Thank you. And we’ll see you again down the road.

We have an appointment to have the windshield replaced in five days so we decide to head up through the mountains and seek some hot waters. And that’s what lead us over the Million Dollar Highway…

May all the most incredible lands remind us of the grace of heaven and the power of hell.