Date: Wed, 1 Dec 1993 15:46:48 -0800
From: Robin Hodgson <hodgson@wobble.hpl.hp.com>
Subject: Vacation Ends, Back To Reality

What a morning. We partied at Compadre's last night for Al's final sendoff
party. Bill drove me home and I left my truck at HP overnight. That would
have been fine except that it was a workout day and I had left my weight
belt in the truck. We had a small detour to pick up the belt this morning.
That would have been OK, except that when I got undressed at the health
club, I realized that I forgot my sweat pants. So I decided to just get
dressed again and blow off workout and just go to work. That would have
been no problem except that since Bill drove me to the YMCA, I would have
to walk to work. Fine. I walked anyway and decided that the walk would be
my workout. That would have been just dandy except that as I walked into
the HP parking lot, I realized that I forgot to bring some stuff for Al and
being as it would be his last day, I had to go get it. So I walked over to
my truck, hopped in, and drove home again and got the stuff. I rode my
motorbike back since it was December and who rides in December? I froze.
It should be colder going home. Oh well, you make decisions, you live with
them. So I finally got to work, and everything was finally fine.

I had to let things mull over a bit before sending this year's desert
account. This year was a bit special given that Al was leaving and the
desert was being closed. I decided that I wouldn't even take any pictures.
I figured that I would try and just take it all in and store some memories
instead. I think that pictures don't age as well as memories anyway.

In the grand tradition of good vacations, I was bummed to be back home
again. One the one hand, it was nice to have long hot showers and electric
lighting seemed like a wonderful new invention but on the other hand, it
was hell to plod down El Camino heading to work with the rest of the
drones. I missed the feeling of blasting down dirt roads, shooting over
jumps, and going around corners hanging out the rear end spraying gravel.
After that, it seems kind of mundane to be a simple commuter again.

Enough about the end.

Did we have fun? You know it! As usual, there were many things to do.
People rode motorbikes and mountain bikes, we shot skeets, we shot Glen's
airplane, we ate well, we drank (even to excess once in a while), and at
night we listened to the mexican radio station around a campfire.

I suppose the desert trip is primarily a social event. We had a few
visitors come and go. They instantly grasped the concept of desert life
which made them OK people. One visitor foolishly brought a bottle of
extremely fine & expensive grappa (distilled wine) which we drank for him.
He was too busy to do much drinking at the time because he was running
around camp participating in a roman candle duel.

Along that line, participation is the key to a good time in the desert.
Participation, and no whining. One of the guys there decided that he
didn't want to pay for the fireworks so he announced that he was not
participating and then sequestered himself in his truck. It didn't take
very long before we invoked the "No Whining" rule and started shooting
rockets at his truck. By pure luck, Glen got a giant rocket to shoot along
the ground and nail the underside of his truck. He heard it and saw the
light from underneath and bailed out in a big hurry. Fortunately, he
didn't close the drivers door so his truck instantly filled up with smoke.
We decided that that made him a participant.

You get the idea.

Glen had the bender of the trip. He showed us what could be done with a
worm from the bottom of a mescal bottle. He may not live that one down for
a while. My personal bender night was during the eclipse night. I don't
ever get too knackered, but that was about my limit. The eclipse was
pretty cool, too. I brought my telescope and we watched it under clear
skies.

That was the last night of the trip. We ceremonially burned our windbreak
which had been made from a bunch of shipping pallets stolen during one of
the Yuma excursions. As part of this so-named "potlatch" ceremony, we
burned our ruined coats and clothing, broken equipment, or anything else
that seemingly needed to be destroyed. It was amazingly hot.

So I finally got home at about 11PM on monday night, tossed all the camping
crap onto the kitchen floor, popped a beer, drank it whilst having a hot
shower, got out of the shower, and in a final desert tribute had two giant
shots of rum and went to bed.

Thus ended what is most likely the last great desert adventure. There is a
bill in the legislature that will close 9 million acres of land to public
access. The bill is expected to pass easily. It will close down access to
the area that we go camping in. I just don't understand it. The
legislators are ostensibly worried about the impact that we have on the
fragile desert ecosystem and maybe they are even correct. What bothers me
is that a mere 10 miles away from our area is a gigantic (and I do mean
gigantic!) gold mine. An open-pit strip mine. The mine has been getting
so much bigger over the years that the mining company had to relocate the
original road heading out to our area so that they could cover the ground
with their tailings. So they get to expand and we get shut out. Figure
that one out.

So there you have it. After re-reading this letter, I decided that it
doesn't begin to convey the good time that was had by all. Oh well, it was
fun.

- Robin