Dear Friends and Family of the Kinsella Great South West Trek,

 

Larry and I got home late Monday afternoon after nearly 4000 miles on the road. The trip exceeded our expectations. We had such fun! It started by meeting Larry's Wintercount friends in Tucson where the town was engulfed in gem and mineral show. We wove in and out of cavernous rooms filled with gold, silver, turquoise and every precious gem imaginable. Somehow, I emerged without depleting our vacation funds!

 

Before we arrived in San Diego, Larry had to get directions for me to get to Wintercount - 40 miles from Phoenix; nestled between the Desert Mountains. It had been raining like a banshee, but the rain stopped as we approached the dirt roads that led back to the desolate campsite. I must digress...did you ever see the documentary where unexpected floods catch travelers unaware and think...how can someone be so stupid? Well, that's what happened. There we were with our truck loaded down with camping equipment, Larry's flint knapping paraphernalia, 2 weeks worth of clothes and Larry's trap drum set. Yes, I said "Larry's trap drum set." More on that later. Anyway, there we were on the dirt road. We noticed that little rivulets of water were streaming across the road. There are no ditches. Hmmm. We slowed down to a crawl. No traffic coming from the opposite direction. Hmmm. Now, the road has broken away in so many places that it makes a steady stream of water washing across the road. We didn't really panic until the back end of the truck loaded with (refer to list above) started to fish tail. OHMAGA! We passed a cross road where the water was white-capping! Now we're scared. How deep is it getting? Time for prayer - "St. Christopher, I know they say you really didn't exist, but please see us through this. You carried the Christ child on your shoulders through the raging river. Please place us on your shoulders to safety." Who says St. Christopher wasn't real? For right then, we miraculously rose to higher ground. When we got to the camp, we had white knuckled the dash, and we couldn't move. Larry retrieved the directions for me and in a couple of hours we made it back onto the Interstate. I wanted to open the door and kiss the pavement!

 

On to San Diego! I was there for the storytelling conference in '99 and fell in love with the city. I wasn't disappointed when I returned. If anything, it outdid my memories. We spent a couple of nights with Larry's cousin, Joe and his wife Bridgit. We were introduced to their two little girls - Emily (3) and Elise (2). What charmers they are! We sipped tea at Elise's birthday tea party, watched Blue's Clues, and drew funny pictures on the new improved Etch-a-Sketch. We went to the beach on Coronado Island and collected seashells and got our feet soaked as a wave slipped under our unsuspecting foot falls. Bridgit and I spent an afternoon away from the kids at the gas light area in a wonderful shop called "Splash" where they produce "wearable art." Again, I escaped with my checking account in tact. Later we went to see the delightfully funny "Triple Expresso."  I stayed a couple of extra days to meet up with my childhood friend while Larry left for Wintercount.

 

How much fun to meet up with Joan. 40 years slipped away and we were young teenagers once again sharing secrets and giggling our way through the Wild Animal Park. Clashes of rhinos, herds of wild deer, and flocks of wildly feathered birds lined our walk through the African countryside. Later we met up with her manfriend, George, at the seaside restaurant - The Beach House. After a totally delicious meal we sipped Kailua and coffee and watched the sun slip under the marine layer. A cool breeze, salty sea air, and white-capped waves put the finishing touches on that perfect evening. I even had a sleepover at Joan and George's beautiful home in Del Mar. Early the next morning Joan took me to the airport. As I rose above the Pacific, I waved good-bye to beautiful San Diego and memories of family and friends.

 

When I got to Phoenix, I was greeted by another childhood friend, Roger. We've kept in touch over the years and it was good to spend some real time together. He surprised me by taking me up to Sedona for lunch. This country truly takes my breath away. The creative spirit took extra care carving out the red mountains. Everywhere you look there is another picture postcard etched into the memory bank. We ate at a little artsy fartsy, new agey, Hispanic "mission." After taking in the art and, of course, clothing stores, we ate at a Mexican Restaurant. Roger gave me a private tour of the many places that he and his wife, Toni, had visited in the past. We were never at a loss for words - sharing stories of family, jobs, and great genealogical "finds."

 

When we arrived back at Phoenix, he took me to my cousin, Vince and Gloria's, house. We dined that night at the Javelina Inn. I was hoping for "pickled Javelina feet" or Javelina on a stick, but was forewarned about those smelly little critters. I settled for some good ole American meat loaf. Next day Gloria graciously took me to the bus depot to take the Greyhound bus to Prescott. I love riding the bus - such an eclectic mix of people. After some major people watching, I dosed off until I "came home" to Prescott.

 

I say, "came home" because Prescott is my home away from home. When I was a teenager, I spent 3 weeks at my cousins - The Gray Family. It was a magical time where I experienced my coming of age! Bobby met me at the station. Prescott has changed immeasurably since I strolled around the square during the Goldwater years. We stopped for lunch at a college coffee/sandwich bistro and meandered around a block of homes that I can only describe as "retro." Each little cottage was brightly colored with a mix of psychedelic colors with funky little yard ornaments. Each house had its own character - fabrics, art, music and "the Mad Linguist." As is happened, the mad linguist was featuring an evening of poetry and song that evening. So later that night we entered into a "safe" house full of words and music. Most of the work presented that night was actually fairly good and all of it was enjoyable.

 

I spent most of the time at my cousin Sara and Pat's home. They have this absolutely, to die for, adobe home on the outskirts of Prescott. It was the perfect reprieve for some quiet downtime. Since everyone had to work, I stayed in to do some reading and major lolling around. In the evenings we had supper together. One evening we spent with another "Gray" - Brian and his wife, Vickie. On Friday, Bobby took me down to Wintercount. It was "a fer piece" and I can't tell him how much I appreciated his willingness to take me to the hinterlands.

 

The last night of our true vacation was pure magic. I admit, I cursed this place - dry, arid piece of no-man's-land full of nasty nettle and stickers. But at night? Well a blanket of darkness gently covers the earth and the night sky is wrapped in a canopy of starlight. The colorful pod-like tents glowed in a myriad of vibrant colors. Around the flickering fires I was introduced to many of Larry's Abo-buddies. These wonderful people come from many walks of life to experience a back-to-the-mother earth week of workshops on wilderness survival. They asked me to do a session of storytelling. I hadn't told in 3 weeks. But the stories came pouring out. My muse was sitting on the half moon as Br'er Possum, The Hobyhahs, and the Whistling Tsonaquas made their appearance around the fire.

 

Later Larry got out his trap drum set (remember I told you I'd get around to us traveling with his drums). Larry has a theory that there is something inherent in abo-people and music. There are many musicians in the group. Not just piddlers - real musicians. So, there was our friend Rob playing the guitar and singing his original songs including his "I'm an Ab-original man looking for an aboriginal girl. There was a fabulous young banjo/mandolin/guitarist/singer by the name of Tim. I can only say that when he played, the stars got brighter as they came in closer to hear his music. We expect to hear great things from him. Doug was there to play bass and, of course, Larry on the drums. They played blues and jazz and some neo-country. It was one of those special times in your life when you have to pinch yourself to believe you are really there.

 

We left with moon still hanging above the mountains. After a night in Phoenix, we faced the truck towards the rising sun and took off for home.

 

And that would be the end of the story...except. When we left Amarillo, TX the next morning there were dire predictions for a major snowstorm. Being the eternal optimists that we are, we thought mayhaps we could "out-distance" the storm. We were in the lead until we almost...almost reached Oklahoma City. There was an icy white out that whistled eerily "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature." We began white-knuckling the dashboard once again. Luckily, St. Christopher (or was it Our Lady of the Snows) was still with us. Out of the fog and ice and snow there loomed a new Microtel Motel. We made the quick (and soon to be confirmed) wise decision to call it a day at 10:00 am. So, we extended our vacation one more day. The next day as we trudged onward we saw at least a 100 cars (or their tracks) that were stranded in the snow along I-40 and I-44. Thank goodness we listened to that wise inner voice - stop...stop now!

 

Well, we got home late Monday. Our house never looked so warm and inviting. That night as we drifted off to sleep in our own beds with our own pillows and blankets we slept perchance to dream of that wonderful vacation to the great Southwest.

 

Thank you to you all who gave us a scrapbook of memories to carry with us. Marilyn

 

Mom and Dad,
    I am so glad to hear of your fantastic vacation.  It sounds like you both had a great time and took some well-deserved time for you both.  I am very glad that you get the chance to do these things.  Experience life, if you will.  
Mom,
  Once again your encounter of your trip was not only a story, but you painted pictures and truly made music with your words.  Once again I was there with you in San Diego, in Phoenix, and mostly in Prescott.  I am glad God gave you such a gift to allow you to tell me something that I cannot only listen to or read...but I can feel. Your passion for words is what makes you the wonderful person everyone knows, but only a select few can feel that passion every time you talk.  
  I thank you for telling me stories, for it does not seem like you are talking to anyone but me when you speak.  
      I missed you both, I am glad you are back...BUT
I look forward to many more stories...of trips, and vacations, and memories.
                 Faithfully...Chirssie