Walkabout: Pumpjack: Part 4

Two bottles of Starbucks vanilla Frappuccino is not how I’d choose to start my day but it did the job. I mellowed and all was well. Placated, I cooked a second breakfast (I had the inclination to actually eat this one). I sat in the sunlight watching the pelicans drift about and idly pondered why the hell these particular pelicans were weird ass outliers that aren’t on the ocean like any decent pelican ought to be. Are they Curmudgeons of the bird world?

Then, because I’m on vacation and was already strung out from the road, I deferred my plans. Rather than heading into the lake to “play”, I went back to my Taj Mahal Tent and took a nap.

Awesome! Can there be anything more pleasant and decadent than a mid-day nap?

I’m not sure how long I was snoozing but I was awoken by a hellish sound. It was a helicopter’s rotor wash mixed with the low frequency growl of a Caterpillar engine that was out of oil and the random chattering of Yoko Ono being attacked by badgers… all this was just a chorus to the main song; which was my tent flapping and shuddering like plastic tarp tied at one end to a brick and tossed out of the Concorde. Yep, it was exactly like that!

Awake but groggy it took a second to suss out the situation. The morning had been dead calm but it had given way to the roaring angry brutal merciless wind that makes high plains home to the strong and graveyard to the weak. Shit!

I knew this area was “windy”. I’ve hung out in the region before and even traversed in several times on wind sensitive motorcycles. I know what it can do and was prepared for “normal” winds. This event was just unreasonably windy. An unholy maelstrom that makes you think of Toto and get ready to land in Oz.

Blinking, I stepped out of my vibrating tent and was nearly blown off my feet. Thank goodness I habitually keep my camping gear well stowed. If I hadn’t, my shit would’ve been blown clear to Mexico. Every other camper in the Park had vamoosed. I was utterly alone. From horizon to horizon, there was nothing but windblown dust, tumbleweed, a few weirdo pelicans, and me.

I should get another weather radio. (I had one but it broke. I also suppose I could’ve tuned my HAM to NOAA but I was lazy. Whoops.)

My precious new tent was bending under the onslaught and I feared it would give way. My backpacking tent is low slung and aerodynamic. It’s a bitch to setup but will hold steady in a hurricane. Not so for my new tall, squarish, tent. In my desire for “Overlanding” had I gone too soft? Would it be under warranty if I shredded it in a single use? (More on my tent in a Curmudgeonly gear review in the future.) The killer wind deformed the tent like a child with Play Doh; transforming it into various shaky unequal polyhedrons, none of which looked sustainable. What were its design specs? It would bend ominously and then spring back to its normal shape. I’d breathe a sigh of relief but then the next gust would bend it harder. Jesus on a pogo stick, I had to take action!

I checked my stakes. They were holding. I untied a few guylines from the lee side and doubled up on the windward side. I grabbed all the heavy shit from my truck and made a toolbox and generator topped wall on the windward side. If I weren’t at a Park, I’d have moved my truck to the windward side too. I figured that would get me in trouble in a park though.

Having done all I could do, I retired to my soft inviting cot.

It was no use. Lying there wondering just how many foot pounds it would take to tear my tent to bits was not relaxing. After some swearing and a few sips of… LEMONADE… I finally, grudgingly, broke camp.

I’d planned to spend all day here and maybe even stay a few days. But the wind won.

I packed up everything in record time. Only when everything was inside the truck (or chained down in the bed) could I relax. The wind was far less visceral when viewed through a windshield.

I drove to a nearby boat ramp. Was I really going to wuss out on fun just because of a little wind? I don’t easily admit defeat. I stepped into the maelstrom and paced about, glaring at the waves. Then I spied a big painted sign. It said “Don’t Fuck With The Wind Curmudgeon”. OK, so maybe I’m paraphrasing, but the sign was there specifically to warn people like me against doing exactly what I was considering. Well played sign!

Back in the truck, I set out for Pumpjack and immediately got lost. The signage to get to the campsite was excellent. There were no signs to leave. Very Hotel California. Eventually I gave up looking for signs and navigated off compass bearings. I knew there were no canyons between me and the town so I’d find it sooner or later.

In town I was a mess. I just couldn’t focus. A weird morning and interrupted nap meant I had the IQ of a cement block. I found a Walmart, wandered aimlessly, put stuff in my cart, tossed stuff out, put more stuff in, and then…

A goddamn 8’ walking furry rabbit?!?

It was Easter. I was dimly aware of that. What I’m not aware of is that people now take their children to get their picture taken with a dude in a giant creepy 8’ tall rabbit costume. Not cool man!

Fleeing the freaky rabbit (I refuse to call anything that encapsulates a grown man a “bunny”) I cleared out pronto. I still had the option of my original planned destination; it was available and unexplored and far enough away it might be in a different weather system. It was a good long drive but the wind sucked and it was starting to rain so driving seemed more fun than camping anyway.

Sipping shitty coffee from an Arbys I made my way toward the boring Interstate upon which would take me half the day or more to get to my landing point… then, as I’d been doing all week, I went off script. It’s the plains, I had a full tank of fuel, and there are sufficient roads. I had rough idea where nearby canyons and mountain ridges lie. None would block my general path. I’m not averse to small blacktop or dirt. Why not explore?

Leaving the Interstate for semis and soccer moms I set out on a random road that went roughly the right compass bearing…

[This is where I have to leave you for a while. I had my bitshovel (and laptop) on my trip but didn’t take notes every day. If everything was “edited” I could text dump right now and post it, but the rest is still in my pointy head. I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait a while for the next installation. Happy extremely belated Easter y’all.]