Hank and I pulled into the Prickly Paw Ranch (Crandall's) without losing a single panel. There is a God. I don't know what that load weighed, but it felt like 4000 lbs. lifting off my shoulders. I stepped out of the pickup and would have kissed the ground if I weren't too sore to kneel down.
There wasn't a sole within 20 acres. Most of the residence had gone home for the summer. A haunting wind blew across the still desert swirling dust at my feet. The sound came straight out of a ghost town scene from an old western. I made it home.
I took my flat bed over to my new property to unhook. It was a day early of closing but I figured nobody would care (or know). I would be running back into town and didn't want to unhook more than once. The cup a noodles left me somewhere out of Vegas and the Coyote Den was calling.
Cindy had left my new-to-me RV set up like a fancy hotel room. I didn't bring much with me in the way of setting up a place to live for the next few weeks; some clothes – a toothbrush, a pot and a tea mug. Cindy either knows me better than I realized or the RV fairy was looking out for me. Most everything I would need to get by magically appeared. After living in an 8 foot short wall for two winters – the RV feels like the Hilton.
I set things up as best I could for Hank and I and drove down to the Coyote. I mistook the big pink CLOSED sign as meaning it was closed now. I did not have it in me to drive another 25 miles to Wickenburg. I swung into the Family Dollar store and stocked up on enough food to get me by until I could do some real shopping. I was more than relieved when the Dollar Store clerk assured me the Coyote was not closed down for the summer.
I made the bed up with the freshly washed sheets Cindy left and cracked the windows by my head. A cool cross breeze lulled me to sleep within minutes. I was out like a light.
4-26-2021: I was awake by 5:00 AM with the same giddy grin I'd fallen asleep with. Fred and Cindy, the contractors working on my mare motel, arrived by 6:15 AM. We scoped out the property for the best place to place it. We settled on a 6 stall – single sided straight run oriented North and South. Fred babbled off all sorts of technical construction jargon that went directly over my head. Sorry...if it doesn't come with a microchip and a mouse...I'm clueless. I deferred to their expertise. All I care is my horses are safe – comfortable and there's enough room I can park Miss Kitty and hay under cover when it rains.
I still had to unload the arena panels. I fired up Dave's tractor and attached my pallet forks to the front. I had no plan on how I was going to go about getting those things off. I figured I'd loosen one side and sixty four – 10 foot panels would fly off there like they were shot out of a canon. Here goes nothing.
Cindy stopped what she was doing and ran over to help. There is a God. We got the first five down and placed along the fence before Fred came over: "Let's fill those forks up – it won't take as many trips." I'm use to Miss Kitty...she can only handle six panels at a time without teetering over on her bosom. Dave's tractor is a bit beefier than Miss Kitty and easily handles 10 or more panels. I've named Dave's tractor Quint after Burt Reynold's character on Gunsmoke.
By mid-morning, the panels were unloaded and construction started on the mare motel. Shortly after, I received a text from the Arizona Legends Realty. The property had officially closed and deeded in my name. I was now the owner. I didn't mention that I'd already broke ground a bit early. Something about asking forgiveness later.
With everything lined out – I made a food run into the Coyote. I placed a massive to-go order that would last several days. I was ecstatic to find the same little gal waitressing. I still couldn't stop grinning as I blabbed on and on about how I lived here now and was looking forward to becoming an Arizonian and hanging out with my peeps. I'd really missed the Coyote. She nodded politely as she pretended to listen to my senseless prattle. I kind of wanted to give her a hug...not really, but if I were the hugy type – I would have done it. I re-read the big pink CLOSED sign: We will be CLOSED May 1st – May 4th. I'd best head in to Wickenburg for some shopping or I was going to be awful hungry come May 5th.
I spent the next few days settling in, running errands and helping Fred and Cindy where I could. Sort of. Mostly I just got in the way and dropped stuff on Fred's foot. Dang...that pipe is heavy! Watching them work together is like watching a finely tuned machine. They seem to anticipate the others next move...efficient and seamless.
4-29-2021: Most of the acreages in this area come with a water right to a shared well. My water comes from the shared well sitting on Crandall's property – along with five other shares. Dave showed me approximately where to hook in to pull my water line before I left earlier this winter. Approximate is anywhere from one to forty feet. That's a lot of digging if you don't hit it the first time.
I borrowed Fred's divining rods in hopes of narrowing it down. The rods hit in the same spot coming and going and from several angles. The spot seemed to line up with the water line going to the neighbors as well as the angle of the well...sort of. You can make anything look right in your head if you want to justify something bad enough. "Well...it sort of looks like they dug a trench through those bushes over there."
I marked out a 10 foot swath and started digging. You have to dig by hand so you don't break the pipe should you be digging in the right spot. I needn't have bothered. I dug three feet down and ten feet wide...no water line. So much for my divining skills. I have a hard time giving up...but I did not want to start another ten foot trench and miss it again. I had enough digging for one day. I headed over to see if Fred needed anything dropped on his toes.
Cindy had an appointment out of town. Fred had enlisted the help of a man named Kimball. I think Cindy said he was somewhere around 80 years old. His age only matters to bring home a point later in today's story. Basically – I got shown up by an 80 year old, chain smoking man on a tractor.
Each day I learn something new about this construction business. The word of the day was "purlins." Kimball put the purlins in the air using the tractor. From ladders – I'd help flip them upright and hold them in place while Fred welded.
It was all good until the fourth purling or so. At first I thought it was my blood sugar taking a dive...but as time went on and it got worse – it felt different than low blood sugar. I felt nauseous and light headed. I was ok once I was on the ground – but as soon as I got up on the ladder it would hit. I had to put my head down to keep from passing out. Low blood sugar wouldn't improve by getting off the ladder. I wobbled over to Kimball on the tractor and said I needed to sit down for a bit. Telling an 80 year old who'd been out in the sun hours longer than you that you needed to take a break is a bit humbling.
I sat down and leaned against the side-by-side to see if it would pass. It did not. I did not want to keel over in front of these people. I managed to get up and make my way back to the RV...stopping several times to put my head down to keep from falling over. Good hell.
More than likely I wasn't acclimated to the heat yet. That and I pretty much hate ladders. I'm not affraid of heights – but I don't like being on the top rung of a ladder. Whatever it was – it passed after an hour or so. I was able to head back out and finish the day...albeit slow and steady.
4-30-2021: Cindy and Fred helped me stake out an area for an arena. I settled on placing it between the two major washes on the property. It's far enough from the RV not to be effected by the dust and there won't be as much brush to clear. My hope is too leave as much of the natural vegetation as possible. Unless it's cholla...that nasty shit is going down.
Today is also the day I learned the value of a light weight long sleeve shirt and the siesta! The long sleeve shirt is to prevent folks speaking to me in languages I don't understand. I've always tanned easy...more so in the Arizona sun.
I made a run to Goodwill in Wickenburg to purchased the shirts since the Aguila Tuesday flea-market is shutdown for the summer. Pretty sad about that – but Goodwill is almost as much fun...almost. I walked away with three shirts, 9 DVD movies and a Clive Cussler book.
Fred and Cindy were winding down when I got back. It was the hottest day since I got to Aguila. I took advantage of the down time to watch a movie and take a nap, apparently. The nap wasn't exactly planned but now I understand why some cultures practice siesta. The are smart. It's too damn hot. You wake up at 4:00AM to beat the heat...sleep during the hot hours of the day and stay up late enjoying the cooler evenings. Smart.
The downside to falling asleep in the middle of the day is waking up groggy as hell. Fearing I'd slept the day away...I leapt off the couch in preparation to stumble outside and do something productive with the hour or so left of daylight.
Still half groggy – I swing open the door and stop dead in my tracks. A man stood with his back to me in the vicinity of the breaker box. I blinked thinking I was seeing something. I was groggy...after all. The man milled around by the breaker box before walking over toward Cindy's she-shed. He wore blue jeans – a long sleeve, untucked white shirt and a large brimmed cowboy hat of sorts. He hadn't seem me yet. I stepped back inside, slipped my pistol in my pocket and grabbed my phone...ready to dial 911. They'd probably want to know when somebody's been shot, right?
I could not fathom what this person was doing or where he came from. Other than Fred and Cindy – I hadn't seen a soul...the place had been a ghost town since I arrived. There was no vehicle …he was on foot. Fred and Cindy were gone. By then, he spotted me. He took a few steps toward me before turning away and ambling about.
I couldn't just shut the door and hope he went away. I'd have to find out what he was doing and what his intentions were. If he just disappeared I'd be freaked out the rest of my stay wondering if he was out there lurking about.
I've heard that if you are faced with a situation like this – you should take the aggressive approach...make eye contact and confront the potential threat. I had no intentions of getting close enough to this potential threat to determine his eye color. I kept one hand on my pistol and my phone in the other and bound off the steps: "Can I help you with something?" He asked if I was living here...I didn't answer. I asked again if he needed something. He started walking toward me. When he reached the gate, I asked him not to come any farther. His expression was puzzled.
He asked me a few more questions I didn't answer...but with each question it began to dawn on me he knew Dave and Cindy. I asked him his name: "Clyde." I almost shot the neighbor! Turns out, Clyde was as bewildered about my presence on the place as I was him. We'd met before...but not close enough to pick the other out of a crowd. Nervous prater flowed until our heart rates slowed and rational conversation took over.
Turns out – the whole ordeal was a blessing in disguise. At least for me. Clyde owns a trencher he said I could use once I found my water line. "Man, I'm sure glad I didn't shoot before I asked your name." He said he was, too.
5-1-2021: Had the day off from construction since Fred was away at a roping. I dug on the 10' trench a bit more before determining it was futile. I needed and plan B and text Dave as much. He came up with several valid suggestions. I text back that my suggestion fell more in the lines of planting this shovel between the ears of whoever put this damn thing in and making them dig it up.
Dave gave up the name of the person who put the line in: Ike. I sent him a text and prayed he'd remember. After several messages back and forth – I had at least a semi-educated guess. "Three to five feet over from the breaker box...or maybe the transformer...straight back...or maybe at an angle. Probably straight back at the start and then angles off." Piece of cake. Can't wait to start digging again. Maybe I'll hire somebody.
Ike was beyond helpful. He seemed to sense my frustration and gave the contact info for a crew that would help locate and dig up the water line. I called the contact and made arrangements. He would send his crew out Monday morning to take a look.
5-2-2021: Monday was a whole 24 hours away. Patience does not come natural to me. Neither does quitting. I grabbed a shovel for one more shot at it. I studied the area using bits and pieces of Ike's recollection. I picked a 5 foot swath to start digging. I figured I had that much left in me. I'd dig down 4-6 inches with the shovel and then use the tractor to clean out the dirt...then back to the shovel for another 4-six inches.
Twenty inches down and to the south most edge of the trench, my shovel hit pay-dirt. I couldn't have been more happy if that gleaming white section of PVC pipe was solid gold. Bonanza!!
And the adventure grows
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