Seeing the World

If you’ve never done the Alcatraz tour you should.  It’s excellent, notwithstanding the price.  Or the fact it’s a long way from home for most people.

The big downsize is the flies.  Not only have the little buggers taken over the island they’ve also taken over the boats that take you there.

As I hobbled onto the boat, trying to control my walking stick which has become a near permanant feature, we headed to the window.  To be mobbed by flies.  We went to the centre aisle of seats.  Six or seven on each of us at any one time.

I successfully killed two or three but breeding patterns for the little swines seemed to outdo my culling skills.

In the end, there was relief to arrive on Alcatraz and get away from them.  We got off the boat and we were most helpfully guided towards transport up the hill.  A nice perk of the cancer clinging painfully to my pelvis.

Then, as we ascended the zig zag of road into the heart of the former penitentiary the horror as more flies arrived to land on us.  Tickle us.  Irritate the hell out of us.

They did seem to let go as we grabbed our headphones and commenced the pre recorded tour inside.  I made mental connections with concentration camps, pondered the pros and cons of punishment v rehabilitation and convinced myself again that the death penalty isn’t a very good idea.  But neither is an extreme form of incarceration.

It was a great afternoon after a morning of negotiating the city’s public transport, seeing a street of nice houses where the road zig zags in a more picturesque way than on Alcatraz and generally exhausting myself while having a good time.

The Spirit of Dirty Dancing

The day started with a series of aches and pains, breakfast and petrol.  We then headed towards Yosemiite.

For the second time in my life I’ve allocated far too little time to Yosemite.  It’s a magnificent wilderness of valleys, waterfalls and steep rock faces which leave visitors in complete awe.

But, much as last time, albeit on a different route, we hurtled through in a few short hours.  Switching driver as my pelvic difficulty became less bearable.  Fortunately things eased in the afternoon as we pulled into our Bass Lake accommodation.

If ever a location had been chosen for filming Dirty Dancing this should have been it.  But for this stay a short pool visit, hot tub time and an earlyish night following a meal overlooking the lake worked for me.

Our lodge includes a living room, kitchen and balcony.  And despite pleasant views my focus is currently on pain relief.  An hour ago I was struggling.  Now most of my pain is absent.  But on the previous two nights within an hour of dropping off I’ve been in severe pain.  Earlier on today I’ve been in severe pain.  Do I take preemptive doses of my various medications or wait until pain hits?  Tramadol made me tired today.  I’d love it to make me sleep tonight, but my available does us limited.

The telly’s on,  I’m drifting into and out of sleep as I ponder medication and write my blog.  I’m favouring throwing the pills down my throat.  Better do it soon or I’ll nod off and reawaken in extreme pain!

Living it up in Independence California

Independence CA isn’t a big place. There are three hotels, a courthouse, two petrol stations and an interesting looking French Bistro.

Saturday night in downtown Independence isn’t quite as lively as Leeds city centre.

I managed the short walk to the Froggie place to discover it closed for the next four days. Not good. A quick turn round and a car passed us on the four lane carriageway. We spotted a lit up Deli opposite and, before another car came into sight, crossed over. To discover the Deli was shut. Something passing itself off as a mini market next door. An exotic meal of topping up this morning’s granola remains with milk. The only milk left is nesquick double choc. $1.99. My tea might not be quite as nutritional as planned.

Rachel resorts to the Pringles we’d picked up on the cheap in Walmart a few days earlier. Again, a huge drop from the unavailable bistro menu!

I’m beginning to think two extra hours on the road to avoid this place might have been a good idea!

It Gets Me At Night

It comes out to play early evening. Yes, it’s been around all day, but in a constrained way.

An occasional pins and needles attack. A dead leg with a sciatic twitch in knee and ankle. Rarely anything more.

But at night it hurts. It bites hard into my buttock. Squeezing the nerve. Hurting. Spreading quickly through the leg.

This is probably the tumour that caused me major pain last year. The tumour that I felt go away when the Afatinib medicine started. It’s given occasional minor grief since but had pretty much gone away.

Now it sits there night after night. Squeezing more. Genuine sharp pain. Naproxen. Paracetamol. Tramadol. I’ll usually hang fire on the amytriptoline. For now. Presumably it’s still growing.

Hopefully the blood tests for whatever the next genetic mutation is were positive. If not, I get back to Blighty to face a bone biopsy. If that doesn’t show the mutation then chemotherapy comes next.

I preferred it when the afatinib worked.

Mixing Up the Accommodation

The weather chaos at Grand Canyon Airport cleared quickly. Our planned longer flight had risks though and remained in doubt. So we changed to a more direct flight to the west that avoided the remnants of the earlier storm. $100 refund. Hopefully!

I struggled into the helicopter, feeling more excited about the mode of transport than the route. A female pilot. I assume her four stripes means she’s more qualified than me to fly this thing.

A sweeping motion just feet off the ground was followed by hovering just behind the row of helicopters. Then acceleration, still feet from the ground, before finding open space and rising above the main runway of the airport and heading towards the Canyon.

Trees below. Lots of them. Then hovering at the edge of the massive drop that is The Grand Canyon.

I don’t have the words to describe the marvel of this huge hole carved out of the ground that has provided me with perhaps my favourite two moments in life. If you exclude being present at the birth of my son or watching Matt Smith score a 94th minute equaliser against Everton in the FA Cup fifth round, 2013.

There was no deepswooping action from the copter, more nervous stuttering in the turbulence, but the colours of the canyon captivate the mind even more from height. The sheer size amazes. The beauty, surely, unquestioned.

It only lasted half an hour. But as OMG moments go, it’s a winner. Box ticked off on the list. Awesome. Screw the price, everybody should do this!

When the Hire Car Keys Get Locked in the Boot

It’s just over two and a half hours to drive from Page to Grand Canyon Airport. This is for the big one. A helicopter flight over the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen.

Our planned departure time allowed for an extra hour on the road. Rachel took some bits down to the car. I tapped the route into my phone. All was going to plan.

Then Rachel appeared. Distraught. “I’ve locked the keys in the boot” she semi-wailed. My mind went into a bizarre spin. We’ll miss the non-refundable helicopter flights. What’s the emergency Avis number as I’ve left it in the car? How do I ring an American number from my phone? We can call out the local version of the AA via Avis, hire a new car for the day and return later to collect our stuff.

These “solutions” ran through my head in about six seconds. Rachel stood there waiting for an angry outburst that never came.

We headed downstairs, Rachel returned in panic to the car. I stood in reception getting my plan in order. Find Avis number. Get a man out to sort our car out and leave key with reception. Hire a new car and bolt it to Grand Canyon, and back, and then onto Williams to end the day.

That’s a lot of hours on the road.

My thoughts turned to getting the reception staff to help with dialling strange USA numbers. Maybe a lift to nearby car hire. Still frozen, ideas slowly coming out in a sensible order. Then Rachel returns with a look of beautiful relief and a set of car keys. “The front door remained open!”. Saved. I didn’t think to ask how she opened the boot. She just had and we got on the road.

Making good time to Grand Canyon the car clock suddenly jumped forward an hour. And so did Rachel’s phone. The time difference between Utah and Arizona seems to have affected us even though we’ve not even been in Utah! WTF!

I work out that we’ll arrive six minutes after our flight departs. Little chance of making that time up but I put my foot down anyway. Several hundred dollars gone by misjudging time zones!

We cover the miles but only recover five minutes. Still going to be late. Then, as we turn west towards the Canyon a light show starts. Lightning. Thunder. Darkest of dark clouds. It’s spectacular. And scary. And might delay our flight! This could be great news!

As we got closer and closer to the Canyon, and the weather deteriorated further my mind was bouncing this one hour time difference around. One moment convinced we would be late. The next moment juggling the hour the other way convincing myself we’d be fine.

In the end, mind mushed, I think I’d decided we were good on time. Utah can do one. We parked up and went to check in for our flight. Excitingly we discovered “Mountain Time” does indeed exist at Grand Canyon and matched the time we thought it was. Then the punchline.

“I’m afraid the weather means you probably won’t be flying today”.

Screw car keys and time zones. The weather has done for us. Gutted.

Permanent Pins & Needles to Greet Monument Valley

The drive down through Monument Valley reveals some iconic natural beauty. Album covers, movies and more have shared it. And while this is somewhere I’ve seen before I’m chuffed to have shared it with somebody new.

Returning to this part of the world is something I wanted to do more than anything new. It’s inspired me in the past. Been a key part of progressing from sun bed to adventure. And ultimately it gives me joy to be here. There’s no better reason.

Last time I was here it was close to sunset. This time it was lunch. If anything the light in the middle of the day enhances the location.

Granted, it’s not really a valley. It doesn’t really justify long periods of time. But as drive pasts go it’s right up there with the best.

The last couple of days I’ve had slightly improved movement. Not enough to take on the big walks I’d envisaged when I booked the flights a month back. But I’ve also found it harder to sit down or lie down.

Whether it’s all in the mind or not I don’t know. My right buttock has struggled for over a year now, but knowing there’s a growing tumour there doesn’t help me rest my butt cheek with confidence. It niggles. It’s uncomfortable. And every now and again I let out an involuntary squeal as a sharp pain hits.

I also have perennial pins and needles in my right ankle and foot. The hamstring is tight. I can stand up more easily than I’ve been able to over my months of travel but my word that leg is wobbly.

Interestingly I’ve suffered the pins and needles in the past. Two or three times in the last five years my leg has gone to sleep when I’ve been sat on the loo, in a similar way to how it now behaves daily.

I’ve no way of knowing if that was a sign of my cancer. I suspect not. It would still be stage four anyway. Nothing would have changed.

1. Searching For Thelma and Louise Point

If you’re ever in this corner of Utah, I strongly recommend Canyonlands.  There are no bouncy castles, ice cream vans or man made attractions.  Just ancient natural beauty that has left a magnificent scarred landscape at the confluence of the Green River and the Colorado.

It has probably been the template for alien planets in many a Star Trek movie.  It looks like nothing on earth and then genuinely rocks my world.

Then you research off reading and discover a landmark.  Not named by the Navajo tribes.  Nor the early settlers heading west.  But a spot taking its name from where Thelma and Louise drove, presumably, to their end.

Our Chevy isn’t upto the 4×4 trail that took people to the spot.  Maybe we saw it, maybe we didn’t.

Regardless, my second visit to Canyonlands has added to the love.  It’s superb.

More National Parks – A Little Less Pain