The First Annual Mother-Daughter Fiasco

As my mother embarks into her 70s and I complete my 40s, spending time together rises in priority. We have always had a close relationship, full of unconditional love, open ended dialogue, and laughable mishaps. My mother plunges through life's difficulties with her "grin and bear it" attitude when I tend to cry, and I share with her my emotional intelligence when she forgets self care. We have such radically different temperaments--instead of being her mini me, I am her complement.

Mom raises her hat on the trail.

I am so happy that we carved out time to ditch our respective households and meet up in the desert for a midweek camping trip. It was more like a retreat, really, with some of our typically ridiculous scrapes and recoveries.

Our little getaway in the Culp Valley Campground, Anza-Borrego State Park.

Of course, our adventure began with miscommunication about our meeting point. Our hard heads got stuck on opposite ends of San Felipe Road, with me tapping my foot up at its junction with Hwy 79, while she patiently parked down at the 78. Luckily her flip phone received my call, and we joined up for the drive down Montezuma Highway to the poorly marked primitive campground.

Mom relaxes under the shade monster.

Our arrival was uneventful, considering that I was also towing her empty horsetrailer back after @mattlovell rebuilt its wind-sheared door for her. I navigated the narrow, twisty dirt road to the western side of the campground without incident, trailer rookie as I was.

Mom exclaimed at the quantity of gear Matt and I have assembled, when in actuality, it is a pretty streamlined system with our kitchen inside one rolling bin, and our bedroom in another.

Together, we struggled to pop up the shade structure. It is neither the namebrand "EZ Up", nor could it be described that way, but we managed to wrestle the lock buttons into place and extend the sticky leg bars to standing position. Whew. As I fetched the stakes and hammer....

WOOSH! Our shade structure transformed into a pterodactyl, and wafted skyward, then landed upside down on top of yucca bushes and a spiny acacia tree.

I put my head in my hands, the curse of shade ruination heavy in my conscience.

Mom cheerfully called me out of my collapse, and we managed to rally the shade monster back onto its feet. One accordion eave bent and snapped, the tarp perforated and lightly tattered, yet the structure remained functional to sustain life in the high UV clime.

Mom and I hugged and high-fived, and I cracked open a bottle of chardonnay.

Sausages and pasta on the ol' white gas stove.

Matt had only just taught me how to pump up the trusty cookstove handed down by my cousins in Montana. So I felt proud to show off to my mother how awesome this twin burner could sizzle up a glamping dinner.

I counted out my 30 pumps, turned the turncock up to light, down to burn, waited for the generator to warm, and the gas ring to transform into the bluest eye.

A pathetic orange flame barely melted the butter.

What was I doing wrong???

I continued to apply persistance to the problem, forcing more pumps even though the resistance felt strangely high from the get go.

Why don't I do something really groundbreaking?!

I read the directions printed on the open lid. "Turn pump handle to the left to open. Pump. Turn pump handle to the right to close. Light."

Oh. Yeah.

In the morning, mom tried her hand at it, and cooked up some bacon and potatoes breakfast skillet. Mmmm!

Dawn woke us in our little tent, its rosy light streaking the huge sky above Imperial Valley.

Full of optimism, we decided to switch the hitches so that her rig would be ready to drive home the next day. I wanted to take her on a little motor tour of the sights and features of beautiful Anza-Borrego.

Of course, I tried to back the trailer into position before putting my tailgate up. Crunch! The plastic top squashed into the metal of the trailer hitch unit. Husband, I've been a bad driver. (Luckily, Matt already wanted to replace that part with a more bicycle-friendly one. Disaster downgraded to opportunity!)

Tailgate repositioned, I trundled back out the way we entered, assuming it would be as effortless to exit onto the wide staging area as it was to get to our site the day before. But the boulders had a different plan for me.

One that was round on the entrance had a protrusion on the exiting direction, and I managed to gouge a big gaping wound out of the sidewall of one of her trailer tires.

I watched the tire gasp and deflate as we switched the hitches to her truck. I wanted the earth to swallow me up so I would not have to face the responsibility of my driver's error.

Fortunately, my mother's plucky attitude had me pulling out Matt's toolkit and compressor to see what we could do to limp the trailer to a repair shop.

At that moment, a father-son anti-fiasco contingent dawned on our scene. They quickly found the Jiffy Ramp lift, spare tire, and lug wrench tucked inside the trailer tack compartment, and changed the tire for us in 10 minutes!

We returned to our camp, breathed heavy sighs and determined to just remain in Culp Valley rather than venturing into more potential chaos motor touring.

We ate some lunch, and walked down the little trail to Pena Springs.

The trailhead next to our campsite.

View to the west, towards Los Coyotes Indian Reservation.

Cottonwood trees and Mulefat shrubs mark the spot where Pena Springs bubble up out of the dry canyon. Suddenly, the ground is thick with green grass and covered with blooms (water plantain?)

I could hear running water, so we pushed through the overgrown trail.

There is a spigot piping spring water right out of the ground!

A place for Bighorn Sheep and many other creatures of the desert to get a critical drink of water!

We stretched out on the grass in the cool shade and dozed off. Birds filled the air.

View east, towards the desert basin and the town of Borrego Springs.

Precipitation was extremely low this year, so we missed out on a carpet of flowers. Hardy herbs like Yerba Santa still flourishes, however.

Sometimes you have to scrutinize the ground to find beauty underfoot.

We were slightly ahead of the cactus color show, too. Only bulging buds on the tips taunted us.

We finished the evening by taking down the shade monster so we wouldn't have to struggle with it under the searing sun the next day.

Our night in the tent was blissfully silent compared to the flapping awning from the night before...with one exception.

Before we settled in, we heard a BAAAAHHHHH distress call from out of the darkness. Did a Bighorn succumb to a Mountain Lion? It was too dark to tell, but I reassured my mother that at least the predator would be too full to stalk US!

In the morning, we quickly tore down our campsite, and made a pact.

The Mother-Daughter Fiasco will now be our treasured annual retreat!

Thank you so much for joining me on my early mother's day camping trip. It means a lot to me that you came along. May all your fiascoes prove to be hidden exercises in heartwarming!

Love,Cat
@creationofcare

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