Seth-n-Jode's Adventures

River Serenity…minus Joe

Jody plans. I pack the bags. A practice we’ve followed for nearly 30 years. This summer, Jody planned a packrafting trip down the Gunny Gorge where it exits the Black Canyon. She persuades several compatriots to join us and in the flurry of pre-trip planning emails, I take responsibility for several key group items: a quality first aid kit, a robust water filter, and coffee service. Batting over 500 in baseball would be terrific, but when packing for a backcountry trip anything less than 100% isn’t great. We’ve long become addicted to a nice cup of java every morning.  Unfortunately, I didn’t bat 1000 packing for this trip.

The first thing after hobbling out of the truck is to massage out the cramps from the bumpy 4WD road. We stand alone and isolated on the mountain ridge looking down into the sheer canyon with a huge pile of gear piled beside us:  Boats, paddles, PFDs, waterproof river clothing, camping gear, tents, sleeping bags, food… and ostensibly coffee service. The trail drops precipitously down into ominous darkness with the river far below.  Sorting things for the hike down to the river, Jody frantically starts throwing things this way and that. She stammers, “Where is the coffee?”

A river trip without coffee is like: a concert without music; a restaurant without food; a bar without alcohol. If anyone else is as addicted to caffeine as we, this is a serious problem. The Gunnison River is in a desolate part of the country without any nearby Starbucks. There could be rioting. Harm could come to my person. I frantically dig through my first aid kit looking for tranquilizer darts.

We survive this trip without caffeine but, after word spreads about this egregious oversight, nobody seems willing to join us on another backcountry trip.  One friend couldn’t join us because of an unavoidable commitment to grease his garage door chain.  Another couldn’t join because she absolutely needed to clear the leaves from her gutters.  Even I can read between the lines.

In my defense, I was overwhelmed by the novel storage options presented by our new packrafts. We can now bring along down pillows, folding chairs, dining table…concert piano. With the plethora of cool new items to pack, I skipped over an old one. An oldy, but a goody. You need not remind me that our normally sunny disposition depends upon a cup of Joe each morning.

Aquarius Trail Travails

This year has been the rare gem where I wasn’t admitted to a hospital. A rather big achievement in my rather small brain! I personally didn’t experience the shiver of a cold stethoscope. Nevertheless, I needed to visit the ER several times to attend to Jody. Now she has had to learn the complicated elbow twist maneuver required to hold the backless gown together in order to keep her bare backside covered. Now she can develop increasingly remarkable stories about how she earned the gruesome scar on her forearm where a sizeable slab of flesh was reattached after a bike crash.

Our first ER visit was for the doctor to sew her flesh back together. Our second ER visit was to save the arm. It’s only been three days since the original injury and contrary to “doctor’s orders” we’re now riding the Aquarius Trail across parts unknown of Utah on a hut-to-hut trip. Jody’s forearm has swelled to a size Popeye would envy and her fingers look like polish sausages. Mike and Betty are retired doctors riding the trail with us. They take a closer look at the inflamed appendage and deliver a simple statement. Get antibiotics right now or wave goodbye to the arm. Pun intended.

I appreciate that they make the proclamation in stark black and white terms. We had just listened to a nightmare story of a Denver ER in which Covid infected patients literally line the hallways. This accounting makes us extraordinarily reticent to visit any hospital facility. However, with dry throats, we race to the ER in Panguitch, Utah whereupon we enter the Twilight Zone. The hospital parking lot is empty. The emergency room completely serene. Nobody is anywhere in sight. To announce ourselves, we literally reach across the receptionist desk to “ding” the bell. From somewhere down the hallway, we hear someone yell, “A customer, a customer!” Responding like a seasoned Indy 500 pit crew, three nurses and a doctor materialize from nowhere. In five minutes, Jody bares ass for an antibiotic injection. In ten minutes, we’re ready to get back on the road.

That’s when the pesky issue of “doctor’s orders” comes up again. The ER doc, seasoned and grizzled from a lifetime of handling trauma patients, flatly tells Jody that her ride is over. Upon hearing this news, Jody just glares at him. Blue eyes sparking. Saying absolutely nothing. The quiet grows heavy. The clock ticks. The attending nurse sidles furtively out of the room. After an excruciatingly long stare down, the doctor drops his view to the floor and mumbles, “Of course, that is only a suggestion.”  Jody jumps up to give him a hug using a seasoned elbow twist maneuver like a pro. On the way out, using her good arm, she unlocks her bike from the reception desk.

Bears Ears – Desolation?

We’ve all heard stories about a careless driver blithely following the “Google Maps Voice” onto an impassible road only to later be rescued by emergency personnel. The local newspaper mocks the humiliated motorist to their sardonic readership memorializing the event. Accordingly, when our Google in the sky tells us to turn off the highway onto a worn dirt road to enter the new Bears Ears National Monument, we stop and look around nervously.  No road signs. No structures. No signs of human civilization. Nothing except a cow carcass mummifying in a dry arroyo.

Thus begins four days of exploration.  Undisturbed desert extends in every direction. Comb Ridge extends across our western horizon. Bears Ears buttes rise to our north.  The rugged landscape is peppered with sandstone, cactus, dried grass, and lots of tarantulas. We discover trails leading to ancient ruins and reflect on pictographs from another time. Cottonwood leaves rain down in a parade of gold ticker tape with each breath of wind.  Small pools, evidence of recent rains, reflect the afternoon sunshine.

We become present. We think more slowly. We meander.  After an indeterminate period, we reach an unmarked junction of two indistinct dirt roads.  “Smartphone” maps are worthless here in the badlands. We embrace “old school” by dusting off the old decrepit Utah Gazetteer map stored under the rear seat. We wonder where we are and continue further inside. Knowing that we might be “lost” or as Jody likes to say, “temporarily not found,” everything is perfect. We’re in a lifted 4WD truck with good tires. The gas tank is full and a spare tire, jumper cables, and tow straps are in place. We have enough food and water for several days. A propane fire pit keeps us warm each night as the Milky Way emerges. We snuggle deep into our sleeping bags, nesting like a kat on a lap. We have found heaven on earth. 

Where are my glasses?

Of all the annoyances of being over 50 years old, the need for reading glasses may be the worst.  Jody & I have a dozen pairs of reading glasses scattered throughout the house…strewn across pockets of jackets…in our glovebox. You get the picture. I can rarely find a pair when I need them yet refuse to use an eyeglass chain to keep a pair of reading glasses handy. The probability of unintentionally transporting morning toast crumbles throughout the entire day is simply appalling.  Only “really old” people use a cord for their reading glasses!

On a recent camping trip, we were invited to play cards and unsurprisingly Jody & I need reading glasses to read our cards. We look around but can only find one pair – so we pass them back and forth. Tiresome but effective.  As the game proceeds, we notice our somewhat younger campmate, Gretchen, squinting at her own cards. We suggest she try the reading glasses, but she rolls her eyes theatrically and proclaims that reading glasses are only for “old people.”  After further badgering, she nonetheless agrees to peek through our reading glasses. She bolts upright, upsetting the table and scattering the cards.  She sings out “Holy Sh$t, I can read!”   

From that point forward, we develop a three-way pass of the reading glasses. Apparently, one need not necessarily be 50+ to benefit from a little help. A few days later, she asks us in confidence what magnification she should buy… tacitly acknowledging that she is “officially middle aged”.

Later this summer, I visit my 80+ year old mom and notice how handy it is for her to find the reading glasses hanging from a gold chain about her neck. It’s so dang…convenient.  I reluctantly decide to buy an eyeglass chain, crumbles be damned!    

Nemo Nemesis

We have a major problem.  Thankfully not an asteroid on a heading to destroy the earth.  Rather, it’s that TTTK loves the movie, Nemo. He slinks back and forth across the coffee table and tries to “catch” the little fishes with his paw as they swim across the screen. Tail swishing. Making little “caw, caw, caw” noises.  Black pupils the size of saucers.  After a half hour of intense prowling, he nests himself squarely on my lap for a snooze.

The problem is that we “watch” Nemo weekly to accommodate TTTK’s habit. Friends think we are bat kat crazy and they would be right. My New Year’s resolution is to put the kibosh on this behavior. We’ve now watched Nemo over 100 times. After briefly fawning over TTTK’s cute antics at the start of the movie, once again, we fall asleep.

I awake hours later with a cricked neck, spittle dribbling. Nemo’s dad Marlin is looking at me from the screen asking “Are you still awake? Please turn off the movie.  I’d like to go to sleep.”  I rub the cobwebs from my eyes. Marlin bumps his nose against the TV screen and repeats his request more urgently. The movie has long since scrolled through the credits. We are even past the announcement that no animals were harmed in the making of Nemo…which I’m now apparently failing to honor. I turn off the movie. It’s way past time to go to bed.

Thomas has sauntered upstairs sometime much earlier. When I reach the bed, he is now soundly asleep on my (his) pillow. As I get under the blanket, he nonchalantly yawns and stretches. He looks at me dreamily and transmits his kitty thoughts “That film is so awesome. Let’s do it again next week.”

Granny gets her Uber On

Jody’s mom, Donna, routinely calls Jody when she needs tech support with anything electronic. She recently requested Jody help her install the Uber app on her smartphone for an upcoming trip. These tech support sessions can get quite testy. How do you explain to a tech neophyte how to open a browser…where to find an app…how to download it. The Baby Boom generation simply didn’t grow up with technology and has a hard time adapting. They most certainly walked miles uphill to school every day (both ways), but that didn’t prepare them for computer technology.

After several hours coaching her via phone, Jody finalizes Donna’s installation of the Uber app. They end the call with celebratory shouts!  The next day unfolds with Donna again calling Jody to ask why random people keep texting her expecting an Uber ride. Baby Boomer meets Uber. Aaargh!

Life in Durango

One unexpected development is that Thomas has become a Tik-Tok sensation. Jody’s coworker Naveen and his lovely family visited this summer and during their visit his teenage daughters posted a “super-cute” video of TTTK in the kitchen sink drinking from his hamster feeder.  We’re told he’s trending on WeChat and a non-fungible token of him is trading in the Metaverse on Bitcoin.  We have no idea what any of that means. Millennials meet Gen Z!

Jody continues as a Vice President of Strategic Initiatives with a mortgage company, Mr. Cooper. She hasn’t been on a plane in 2 years and loves interacting with colleagues operating from their home offices across the entire world.

I enjoy my role on Durango’s Parks & Recreation Advisory Board and am involved in various community initiatives but didn’t win a seat on City Council.  I invest my spare time taking care of Jody and…strategizing on my New Year’s resolution.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Jody and Seth Furtney & Thomas the Tom Kat (who loves Nemo!)

11 Molas Drive, Durango, CO 81301

Jody Cell Phone: 970-385-5567 / Seth Cell Phone: 970-385-5547 

Email:  jodyfurtney@hotmail.com / sethfurtney@hotmail.com