Desert Flail

Took a selfie when I first woke up and had the ill-considered idea of posting it this morning.  Then I thought, nobody needs to see that.  Then I deleted it.

Not too bad a night last night.  Did morning housekeeping chores throwing the truck back together, and staggered in to the Pilot to get a coffee.   When I took it to the counter to pay, the gal asked me if that was all I was getting and then waved a hand at me and said, "Don't worry about it."  I asked her if she was sure and she said yes, so I thanked her and told her I appreciated it.  I think she may have looked at my bleary eyed, rumpled person and decided it was a matter of some urgency as well as being an act of charity.  I wasn't going to gas up here since I have more than enough to make it to Cheyenne, but I might buy gas here just to give this Pilot the business.  They've been very kind.  Also there is the usual crop of bugs on the windshield that need to be scraped off. 

I once read about a phenomenon that at least one Burning Man participant referred to as "desert flail."  It's that thing that happens where you are traveling or camping and out of your element, and you try to get some small but necessary task or series of tasks done and you work away at it but nothing seems to happen.  You pick one thing up only to realize you need another thing that is on the other side of the vehicle (or tent), you put something down for a moment and seconds later it has vanished and you have to spend a good ten minutes searching for it before you find it sitting out in plain sight.  You forget what you were doing, you think of eighteen tiny things that you need to do (brush teeth, change underwear, reorganize load bed of truck, clear accumulated garbage out of front of vehicle, drain cooler water, etc.), and they stretch out in front of you in an endless parade of Sisyphean tasks that never seem to get done no matter how long you putter away at them.  This tends to happen in the harsh environment of the Black Rock Desert, especially to people who are suffering from Altitude Adjustment Syndrome (I just made that term up, but it works).  The lower oxygen levels subtly work to make you stupid.

I'm not in the desert anymore, but when that thing starts happening to me I always think, oh darn, I'm having desert flail again.  Had it this morning.  I'm adapting, but the elevation here is above 7,000 feet.  I find the best thing to do is break off and have a coffee.

And speaking of elevation, it was downright brisk last night.  The 40-degree sleeping bag was just right, but I actually zipped it closed instead of just using it like a blanket, which was all that was necessary on the other side of the divide.  Things are green here now, but everywhere there are signs that winter in this country is brutal.  Snow fences, gates that completely close off sections of the Interstate, with stern signs warning that if the gates are closed and the lights are flashing, you need to turn around and go back to the previous town.  I'm glad I'm here at the beginning of summer.

I wasn't planning on a big update first thing this morning, but the nice tables and power outlets called to me, and I needed to sit and have a cold orange juice and decide where I'm going first.  I want to check out downtown Laramie and go to one or two places I had listed to check out while I'm here.