On The Edge — Unruly Skoolie

The Million Dollar Highway is known as one of the most beautiful and dangerous roads in the country. Apparently you "couldn’t pay the locals a million dollars to drive the thing in the snow,” but lucky for us, it was a clear and beautiful day. Avalanche season is done but for this Caribbean/ South Texas gal the blankets of snow still covering the earth at 11,000 feet scare me enough to keep me moving on, ignoring the folks pulling over to snowshoe or cross country ski and to keep one eye always on the Cliff of Imminent Death on my passenger side.

Phoenix was passed out and Skeets was kicked back casually drinking beer so the weight of the world fell onto my broad shoulders. Ascending the mountain is always less scary than the decent. I put the bus in second gear to let the engine take some pressure off the breaks but The Unruly is heavy as hell and in my morbid mind I imagine losing control and tumbling down the side of the mountain. Surely Im not the only one who has had these thoughts on this road. Whatever. Suffice it to say that when we reach Orvis Hot Spring having gone through the surprising towns of Silver City and Ouray, I am ready for a beer, a soak, a massage and a nap.

It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but there’s definitely something inside that mysteriously high impermeable fence set basically in the middle of a cow pasture. The mountains around the scene are magnificent and as someone with considerable experience with and regard for farm animals, Im not at all offended by the smell of manure. Im more offended by the simply enormous propane tank surrounded by chain link and barbed wire that we have to park next to, but soon enough we are getting a tour of what lines beyond the mysterious wall and all perceived inconveniences melt away.

Inside the fence is the love-child of a Japanese zen-garden and a springtime mountain meadow paradise. Hot, mineral rich water flows into five different ponds ranging from 102-112 degrees and are surrounded by soft grasses, ponderosa pines, rock gardens, bulbs in bloom, herbs and blooming weeds and beautiful, freedom loving, naked mountain men and women…. mostly above the age of 60.

Phoenix, with Skeets’ tutelage, has recently taken to the phrase, “YOU’RE BUTT NAKED!” or “I’M BUTT NAKED!” so I was relieved when our three days at Orvis were behind us without one of these exclamations from Captain Obvious Jr. Day one, however, I was sure to remind him regularly that this was a quiet place so at least any shocking observations should be announced discretely. Turns out, group nudity didn’t appear to phase him one bit. I had a moment of mom patrol where I considered pedophiles doing whatever the heck they do to thoughts of Captain Obvious Jr. walking around “BUTT NAKED!” but in the end I decided that the risk to the kid’s wellbeing was low, so whatever. Get naked if you want. He and Skeets enjoyed about 50% of their time in the buff, while I, ever prideful opted for the mom-suit. Thankful, I wasn’t the only one raised with some shame, however there comes a point when if you’re the only one with a swimsuit on, you become the elephant in the room. Suddenly this lycra-poly blend in ridiculous colors doesn’t make sense pressed against your skin. This was not the case, yet. I was well within my societal rights to modesty.

The water at Orvis is some of the best we’ve had the privilege enjoy, which is to say, it’s hot and the ponds are big and well maintained. I will almost always choose a primitive hot spring over a resort, but Orvis is so remote, and mellow, it was almost a little bit of both. After dinner and when darkness falls we walk through the brisk night back to the ponds and ease our way into the hot water. This time everyone’s naked (even me!) and all though the moon is almost full (pun not intended but appropriate) we can all only see silhouettes of each other through the steam.

It’s important to be respectful and not creepy when bathing naked with strangers. This means no staring. But I find that it is normal to look discreetly and for a second, perhaps when people are entering or exiting the pond or maybe when they are floating (shamelessly) on their backs in the middle of everyone. I want to say that it isn’t sexual, but in the mountain wilderness, under the full moon in these ancient waters, it is…. sensuous. We are human animals here and we’re perfectly content in this Eden we’ve found.

I get a massage the next morning and as I lay down and begin to relax, tears begin to fill my eyes. This happens to me often at the beginning of a yoga session or before a massage. I realize that I tend to live my life on the offensive, always ready and one step ahead of whatever wants to happen next. Always anticipating and strategizing…. But in these times, when the space is safe and being held for me and time exists solely for my healing, stored trauma is released. I realize that the violent deaths of my dad and sister are still very much with me. That Im not over it, and that although Im able to function well day to day, what happened to them will always be with me… in fact, it’s what drives me to this freedom. It’s nice to let it out and after my session, the therapist seems to know somethings up. I thank her for her work and briefly explain my story and she is validated in her service. She is a trauma survival specialist and works with those in grief to help help them release and heal.

To Moni- Thank you again. The kind touch of a wise healer is never forgotten.

We make our way down to Cortez where for the next couple of days we explore Mancos State Park and Mesa Verde National Park. We are taken by the beauty of this area and can imagine ourselves here. Mancos is especially nice, a fertile little hamlet surrounded by national forest with easy access to both Cortez to the west and Durango to the east. The locals are nice and we enjoy a beautiful dinner at the local farm-to-table restaurant which also serves as a mini-market and art gallery.

Mesa Verde National Park is impressive and thought provoking. What drove the ancient Puebloans off of the mesa and into these hard but homey cliff dwellings is the mystery of the century and one of the topics of research here at the academic center. I am convinced it was wartime but I’m not a historian or archaeologist so don’t bet on my word. It just the pattern. It’s the same reason the Christians built the massive underground cities in Turkey we toured a few ago when they moved to escape the Arabs during the Byzantine Wars. Maybe it was weather related. For whatever reason, these ancient ones established themselves as cliff dwellers for a hundred years, building settlements that were only accessible by descending the cliff’s edge by hand and toe holes- an easily defendable abode, if you ask me. Not good enough though, I guess. Eventually they disappeared.

Driving down back down the mountain and out of the park I wonder if Cyborg-humanoids will travel to view the anceint settlements of today’s simple people. “What crappy materials they used! What foolish inefficient heating and cooling systems!” Earthships, y’all. Build you one….

We’re back in Durango to get our windshield fixed and then it’s off to Utah. We were headed for Moab and Arches, but turns out it’s Jeep Week up there and although I’m a huge fan, it’s desert solitaire I seek so instead we’ll turn our wheels to Grand Staircase Escalante. I love Utah and I’m ready to cross a border again.

Saguaro, our faithful pit-bull companion has an appointment to get either medication or euthanized today. He’s old as the hills and for the last four months or so he’s been having seizures every couple of weeks. He hadn’t had a single one since we embarked on The Unruly three weeks ago, but he had one two nights in a row recently and Skeets is realizing the end is near. We left home knowing this could be his last big adventure, but still, it sucks. For now, he lays in the sun contentedly while I sit in the shade and fein control.

May we always recognize and respect points of no return.