Where The Peaks Have No Name

My new fitness regime took a quantum leap yesterday. It was breezy and cool, the dogs didn't need to go for a run, having had a good workout the day before, so I decided it was time to do a little mountain climbing. The mountains I had in mind are conveniently located next to the house.. The Little Florida Mountains, also known as the North Florida Mountains. My initial target was the nearest peak to the house.. the same one I took last Winter. This time, however, I didn't plan on the bushwhacking route I took then. I could see there was a little bit gentler incline to take. What I found was even better: trails! Since I was starting from inside the boundaries of the Rockhound State Park, there were lots of trails.. maybe not all the way to the peak, but most of the way.

So I was making good time when I decided it was time to go more vertical. Problem was, I intially wanted to go vertical into a dead end. The back-track cost me almost 20 minutes, and a painful slip and fall into a dead prickly pear cactus patch. These are not things you want stuck in you.

As it turned out, I still made it to the peak in 75 minutes from the time I left the house. That's it down there:

On another day, I would have negotiated a descent, and plunked myself down in front of the Pro Bowl with a beer. This day I still felt fresh and saw a higher peak that wouldn't take long to get to. I set off.

But not at the pace I had set on the first pitch. I had no intention of exhausting myself when I still had a long downhill to negotiate. I had thought, from the house, that the peak I was going to was the highest on in the Little Floridas, and when I got to the top, and saw all the rock cairns other hikers had erected, I was sure. That was, until I looked to the west and saw that the next hill over was noticeably higher. I had some more uphill walking to do, and set off immediately. It was close.

When I saw the yucca stalk protruding from a rock cairn, and a Bud bottle stuck on the top, I knew I'd made it. I could go no higher in the Little Floridas. When I found the jar with the register (above), I was sure. I looked down at the state park campground far below, set up the camera to take some self portraints, got out of the wind and took a nap!

The day had gone better than I ever could have imagined. It was time to head home. I chose to hike down to the jeep trail that intersects the top of the range and headed toward home. My only mistake was choosing a descent route that was way too scarily steep and loose. No more falls, but it was very time consuming. I arrived home about 5 hours after departure, and according to my GPS, had negotiated 4 miles and 1450 feet of elevation change, give or take. I took a long, hot bath in Epsom salts, and I'm ready to do it again!

Having gone as high as possible in the Little Floridas, I guess it's time to start planning the next 2000 feet. The "Big" Floridas.

Margaret Shoots Me. On Site.

After seeing myself in a picture, I decided it was time to work a little more exercise into my days. Yesterday, I headed out to the canyon in the Little Florida Mountains behind the house. When Margaret got home from work I radioed her to grab the camera and shoot me. Can you see me? (you'll have to click the image to at least the next bigger size).

It wasn't even a mile and a half round trip, but as you can see, it's not an easy walk. I plan on exploring the rest of the cliff faces over the next few weeks of cool weather. Once the snakes come out I don't go there.

Fanny.

We've been pretty lucky with our hounds, with Randir living to be as old as Methuselah before we lost him last year, and Buffy's cruciate, and all of Rally's attempts to drive us into poverty, but they weren't life-threatening.

Above is one of a series of X-Rays done by Dr Jim Koschmann at Crossroads Animal Hospital in El Paso. Yesterday we received the results from the bone biopsy done at the same time, and it is as we expected. Osteosarcoma. Bone cancer.

We have limited options, one of which is amputation, as the cancer hasn't metastasized, and her lungs appear clear. But amputation would include removing part of the pelvis along with the limb, and there isn't a lot of references for it being done. Dr. Koschmann has never done it, and even the revered Jim Radcliffe hasn't done it, and could only find one reference for it.

Fanny's going on 11 years old. She's been one of our most consistent jackrabbit chasers and catchers. She's being kept comfortable and pain free with Prednisone and Tramadol. We'll stay with that routine, until we have to do something else.

Missing the Money Shot

I've gotten to where I don't bother taking the camera out to the desert when we go hunting.  It's heavy, gets covered in a fine, fine dust that seems like it can't be doing the camera any good in the long run.  And if I'm going to tote something weighty, I'd rather it be the binoculars so I can better watch the action when it goes over the horizon.

So it was yesterday, as I packed Sandia and Fanny in the car for a rare afternoon hunt with Dutch. A brisk East wind was blowing, keeping the temperature in the mid 50's, so we weren't worried about heat.  We were at a field we hadn't visited in several weeks, and is always good for a couple of chases, if not exactly bountiful.

We'd walked south about a mile and a half, and then cut west a bit, then back north an equal distance without even a sniff of a hare.  We decided to turn to the west for a while, and that's precisely when the hare jumped right in front of Sandia.  He got the jump on everybody, and had a good run up, which eventually turned the hare... hard, to the right, almost right into the mouth of Dutch' s Phyllis (winner of the Desert Hare Classic) who was closing fast.  I saw her head go down in the high cover, but she came up empty.  Sandia avoided the collision, and stayed right behind the jack through several more turns.

Eventually the hare made a straightaway break, with Sandia still on its tail.  In fact, that was one of the more impressive parts of this chase, that despite the extremely high cover in this particular field, Sandia never let the prey get more than a couple of feet ahead of him, always keeping him in site.  When they broke into an open patch I could see Sandia lunging, ever so close to the hares rear, but not quite making contact.  Those would have been some pretty impressive photos had I, you know, had my camera with me... 

But that's not the "money shot" referred to in the title.  Ninety seconds after the race began, Sandia, with some help from Phyllis finally snapped up the jack.  A very brief "discussion" ensued as to who "owned" the jackrabbit, and for a while Sandia carried it back in tandem with Dutch's soon-to-be impressive puppy "Cinnamon", but she finally let go and Sandia proudly brought "dinner" back to me.  That was the money shot, as these events are rare.

This was probably Sandia's finest overall course of his young life, the first where he really looked like some of the best Galgos I've seen coursing in the southwest.  The best moves of the jackrabbit didn't shake him. He kept it in sight despite difficult conditions, and he refused to give up until the job was done.

But his day wasn't over.  After a fifteen minute rest, and some goats milk and water, he was back out front as we started our final sweep back towards the vehicles, and boom!  Fanny jumped this one, and for a nearly nine year old staghound, did herself proud in the run up until Sandia and Phyllis took over.  This rabbit had a different plan than it's "brother", and ran in a- fast - straight line to the southeast.  Sandia was, again, right on it as the rabbit's sinister tactic became apparent.  It was trying to get to a heavy concentration of creosote bush.. nasty stuff you don't want your dogs running into, and pretty much guaranteeing the jackrabbits survival to run another day.

The dogs straggled back looking like survivors of a WWII beach assault.  Dutch's Ashley had a big hole in her foreleg, while Sandia had a long, ugly tear on his rear foot and, discovered later, a couple more holes in his armpit and chest.  Not deep, just tears, but ugly.  By the time we got home, he'd stiffened up significantly.  This morning, he's moving around much better, but we may take him to the vet, because he won't let us touch him.

The drawback to the vet idea is that they'll probably want to suture the wounds, which means he'd most definitely miss a big Galgo outing planned for next week.  Galgos are coming down from the north of the state, including his mother and siblings,  and others are coming from out East somewhere.  So for now, I've got him on antibiotics and letting him keep the wounds clean on his own.

Meanwhile, we've purchased a bigass crockpot, and there'll be jackrabbit in the dog food tomorrow!

So that was yesterday.  One jackrabbit got caught.  One got even.  Rubber match anyone? 

Mr. Happy Tooth No More.

I brush every day; use one of those Oral B spinning, vibrating brushes. Floss nearly as often, and use an anti plaque pre- rinse, and a Listerine clone after. I don't drink sugared soft drinks, and I avoid fruit juices. I visit my dentist every... uh. Hmm. Yeah, I visit a dentist every
20 years or so....?

Okay, so I have a scheduling problem. It's associated with a recurring financial problem.. I can't afford to go t0 the dentist. No big, I thought, having only one emergency since my last root canal, sometime in the early Nineties.

Well... last month, while parked in Texas, watching TV and eating popcorn, I noticed.. my tongue noticed.. a big hole in the middle of a molar that wasn't there before the second handful of popcorn. This was a cause for concern. But not enough for emergency concern. There was some pain, but not the kind you associate with exposed angry nerve endings... more just uncomfortable. I figured I could just chew on the left side until we got to our Wintering spot in New Mexico. Which just happens to be 30 miles north of La Paloma, Mexico. Home to several English-speaking dentists, optometrists, pharmacists, etc.

I made the appointment with Dr. Oscar Daniel Perez at American Dental Care, located just a block and a half from the border, behind the famous Pink Store, (where we would have an excellent lunch afterwards, and use our free Margaritas coupons).

Border crossing from New Mexico into Paloma is, we'll say, informal. Park the car at the Duty Free shop in the US, and just walk on in to Mexico. (Returning would take only slightly longer).

For reasons I still don't quite understand, Margaret requires a dose of antibiotics prior to dental work, so we went first to one of the many pharmacies on the main drag. It may be of some interest to dog owners, that we picked up a 50-count package of Cephalexin, 500mg, for all of $4 and change, US. Just about any drug that's not a narcotic is available over the counter at great prices. The prices in Mexico would continue to amaze us, after our visit to the dentist.

When we arrived at the office, there were only a handful of people in the waiting room; all Yanquis like us, and either full time RVers like us, or dwellers of the borderlands region. It's easy to see what Dr. Perez's target demographic is.

Margaret was just getting her teeth cleaned. I was getting my teeth cleaned and, I thought, getting my filling repaired. That's when everything started to go south... figuratively speaking.

Dr. Perez looked at the tooth and what remained of the filling, and found evidence of decay around the gum line. He advised that it would be better to get a crown, than repair the filling, because I would just be paying for work on the same tooth twice. That made sense to me.

Then Dr. Perez's partner (and wife), Dr. Karla Marmolejo, commenced to cleaning my teeth. She promptly hit a nerve in the wrong side of my mouth, swabbed on some topical pain killer and went to work again, then stopped. She had a long conversation with Oscar in Spanish and he then took over.

This is where the real bad news starts. He told me there was a line of brown material over most of the gum line, top and bottom. He thought at first it was tarter, except it wouldn't come off. It's tooth decay. He's not sure why it's so prevalent, hazarding a guess about minerals in water, but whatever the reason, it's there. It will need extensive filling.

The good news is... or part of the good news is, it's not an emergency situation, (except for the original crown thing). I can get it done in stages, and since we'll be living here it won't cause a scheduling issue. I'm getting the crown done in two weeks, before we pull out of Deming for the last big road trip with the Express. The rest will be done over the next year, after we've moved into the Mountain House.

He wrote out an estimate. That's the second part of the good news. To see what all this would cost in the US, click on the amounts:

Bridge. 4 teeth... $600

Extractions. 2 $50 each

Porcelain Crown. 1 $150

Fillings. 12 (yeah, TWELVE) $50 each

So there you have a brief report on my very first visit to Mexico. I'll be saving a lot of money, and tequila is unbelievably cheap at the Duty Free.

And speaking of Duty Free.. this one came as quite a shock to someone who's used to the Duty Free shops on the way to Canada. Here, you park your car in the lot, go into Duty Free, buy your $12 Cabo Wabo, walk into Mexico, cross the street, walk back into the US, get in your car and go home. Get drunk.

We're going to like living here.