Wild Woman of the West

I find it a good time to write about past loves before the next one shows up. For me that time is now.

I’m single again for the 21st time. As I reflect back on all the women I have loved and left behind I’ve noticed this. I am a blank canvas that women paint themselves against. If they seek a Bad Boy, a Protector, a Warrior or a wounded human they see that in me. None yet have wanted all the parts of me. 

In my own search for a life partner I know this. When we first meet our brains and bodies are filled with dopamine and endorphins. These neurotransmitters and hormones lead us into a deep blissful state. We see these potential partners as almost godlike, we lift them upon our altar of love. We think they are the One. 

Later, and always, we begin to glimpse the clay feet of the gods. At the same time the dopamine and endorphin pumps begin to slow down, then the gods come crashing down.

Since I came out of the Desert and started dating I haven’t had problems meeting women. I just sit back and let Animal put out single male energy –  remain calm and confident and cool – and they show up.

A man once asked me, “Michael out of all the women you’ve known how many did you choose”? I was shocked and startled to realize the answer, none! Why didn’t I notice this myself. Maybe the time has come for me to choose.

It’s been too easy to just say next. I’ve always gotten away with dating women 15 to 20 years younger than I and all of them were fit. A chick at a hot spring once said to me, “Michael somebody get’s to bang the cheerleaders just be glad it’s you”. That works for a while but I don’t think Love ages well. I fall off their altars as I grow older. So be careful boys, sometimes there is a hidden price to pay for dating the hot chicks.

I still grieve and mourn the loss of the women I’ve lifted on my altar. I loved them all.

January 20th, 2016 -Terlingua Texas

She, the Wild Woman of the West, wandered up to me as I sat in the shade of the porch drinking a Lone Star. “Hey Michael wanna take a walk with me?” she whispered in my ear. I’d had my eye on this one for awhile. I wasn’t expecting what was about to happen. The Romantic and Animal within me were fully alert – anticipating the possibility of Her.

I had known this woman for more than five years and had witnessed the wild side of her, she is legendary and lives large. It also helps that she is incredibly beautiful, hard bodied and younger than most of the women I’ve dated.

We walked into the desert surrounded by creosote bushes and the ruins of past lives, stone falling down. She stopped and took both my hands in her’s facing me, “Michael  I should introduce myself to you, I am your stalker.” She went on to describe, in detail, almost every one of our past chance encounters. Parties, campfires, experiences in the presence of each other but never together. She pounced on me I thought almost out loud – I was drawn to her – She was Brave and Bold. I wanted her more. Her eyes, pink lipstick and dress drew me to Her. I knew she was comfortable in her woman-ness.

On our first date we stopped in a gun store where she purchased a .357 caliber revolver. We drove out to her place to shoot her new gun and the .9mm Glock I was carrying. We blasted some holes into an abandoned refrigerator and I never once thought of dead dogs. I gave her a few shooting tips which she accepted in a smooth way. Pitfalls of my past were easily avoided with this woman. She is really funny and fun to be around.

A few dates later: “Hey Michael – Wanna come over and watch Trailer Park Boys with me (long husky whispered pause) Naked?” 

A few more dates later I would move in with her in an old tin roof one room cabin nestled on the slope of Sombrero Peak. She, her two dogs and I lived and worked on her remote RV park for the following months. I had a blast with this woman and learned much. She was and is the hardest working woman I have ever known. 

One day I offered my help to organize her tool shed which she eagerly accepted which was so different from my past relationships. I worked hard for a few days and organized, painted and inventoried the shed. She was impressed and couldn’t have been more thoughtful and generous in showing her appreciation, in her many womanly ways. I wasn’t done. One morning as she slept I spray painted the shed door with a wildly colorful mural. I hadn’t created any “Art” for years but I felt this weird new feeling.

I felt Inspired.

After 20 minutes this is what I had done to her door.

I heard her up in the house and brought her out in front of the shed without allowing her to look. Only then did tell her I’d spray painted her door – she couldn’t wait to see it. I knew before I turned her around that she would love it, she did and let me know how much. I painted another one of her doors and other things which I gave to friends. I’ve told more than one the story of how I was inspired by this woman – Free to be what I am. I am thankful for the gift of her appreciation – something new to me.

After that I made a corner table for her while she was away taking care of her grandmother, who she loved dearly. On the surface of the table I painted our initials inside a heart. 

When I gifted it to her I handed her a little jar of paint. She asked, “What’s this for”? I answered “To paint over my initials when I’m gone silly”. She giggled and accepted the table and the paint with affection.

Even though the Thinker, Realist, and Rationalist that lives in my head knew this relationship would crash and burn the Romantic that lives there too, and rarely pays rent, could only see the beauty of this Woman and she had plenty. 

As my feelings grew I knew I would have to speak to her about a difficult subject, her drinking. She wasn’t an alcoholic but in my opinion she drank way too many boxes of wine. I knew that if I should bring it up I would be throwing a grenade into this relationship, a form of self sabotage.

That day finally came after a road trip to get more wine and steaks. When we got back I started a campfire, we were alone and miles from the nearest human being. The West Texas night was just shifting from electric blue to purple light. A slightly warm breeze embraced us and our neighbor, a roadrunner I had named Grandfather, came by to check on us.

I knew there would be no better time to bring up the subject than now. I did the best I could but a fiery argument followed filled with hurtful words. We had found our Ending. 

Within 30 minutes I had loaded up my two cardboard boxes of clothing and my DR650 Suzuki motorcycle, inside my van, and I was heading down the dirt road sending up a cloud of dust and cranking JJ Grey’s song The River, which she said reminded her of me.

Where did my soul go?
Where did my spirit hide?
Why won’t they rescue me.
From the pain of the mind.

In the end I knew I was asking too much. I was just a guy. Just a guy that was falling in love with the Wild Woman of the West. This one was all my fault. I had no right messing in her business and she was more than capable of taking care of herself – always had been. The Thinker had pulled the pin on the grenade and blew this relationship up before the Romantic fell deeper in love. It was out of kindness to save him from future pain. Such battles often play out in my Mind.

I started living in the van down by the river again as free as I’d ever been. During the day I would sometimes ride my motorcycle hundreds of miles to the most awe inspiring mountain Cathedrals of Nature. I cracked myself open in the wild places.

Sometimes I’d visit the naked hot springs in Big Bend park, the spring bubbles to the surface with mud pots right on the edge of the Rio Grande river. Naked and alone I was becoming more wild which I embraced and treasured. The Animal that lives within was free to roam. Sometimes I’d hang out in the shade of a hundred year old porch and drink Lonestar beers all day long laughing with my friends and enjoying organic music. Who ever had a guitar and a will to play often joined in. I was raising hell with the Cowboys and the Hippies and the tourist chicks. The days lazed by. I released the hold any calendar every held over me. 

Me then party bound. Don’t ask what’s in the tupperware. Don’t you love it when you show up at a party and the first question is, “How much you weigh”.

One day I drove through Big Bend on my way to a favored place, Langford Hot Spring. Life shot skyward from the desert floor in the branches of the Ocotillio cactus. Their leaves were thick and ranged in color from dark to lime green and crimson. The blossom, red faced and searching, swaying gently on a breath of wind. I was amazed by the vibrant colors of this miniature forest.

I was a big dog off the leash – I was a refugee from reality and the King of Ratland.

 

 

 

 

The big yearly event known as the Fiesta Protesta or Voices from Both Sides was taking place. Every year we gather on both sides of the river. The Americans on one side and the Mexicans on the other. Each side takes turns playing live music by gifted musicians. Then we gather in the Rio Grande river about 100 feet wide and waist deep with muddy clay banks. Kids slide down mud ramps as dogs and people played in the river. On this day there was no border. I was intoxicated by the friendship and love I found in this place and with these people. We were building bridges not walls. I wondered if anything like this was happening on any other borders on the planet.

There was a deeper and more truly beautiful thing that happens during the confusion of the dogs, the kids, the beer and the music. Real families divided by this border and lacking the official paperwork to cross can and do so on this one day. Large family reunions happen as grandmothers are helped across to hold their newly born grandchildren for the first time. 

Some of us cross illegally into Mexico under the watchful eye of the Border Patrol on the hill or the Federales on the Mexico side. I bought 10 pounds of honey and the best brisket sandwich I’ve ever had and started wading back to the American side when…

 

I was standing in the middle of the river in the middle of this protest waist deep in muddy water. There and then I was struck with another lightening bolt to the Mind. I suddenly knew it was time to leave, whatever I had been up to in this Texas border town had run it’s course. The time for going was upon me.

 

This sudden insight found me as a complete thought, having never engaged the gears of my mind. I glimpsed a reality without ever thinking about it. I consider them my nudges of the Universe and I give in to them. I think the Universe loves and smiles down upon me and is always trying to find new ways to speak to me. To leave clues in my path that is up to me to decipher.

In the voice of the Raven circling above me, to cast it’s shadow upon my face, I hear the whispered words.

I had my van loaded and said some quick goodbyes and was northbound before the sun had fully set. I remember my pants were still wet.

I never drive more than 300 miles in a day. I don’t have to and if you can’t find something cool to do in 300 miles look harder. I never drive at night because I don’t have to. I would drive throughout this night and into the next day covering 741 miles without having the slightest idea where I was going. I thought maybe the Pacific Northwest because I’d never been there.

Suddenly I noticed I was close to the Orient Land Trust or better known as Colorado’s best naked hot spring. As my past relationship, with a woman from Santa Fe New Mexico, wound it’s way to an end I’d spent many weekends camped at the spring having ridden my BMW motorcycle there. It was and is one of my Touchstone places.

I headed to familiar turf thinking I would spend a couple of days collecting my thoughts and coming up with some sort of a plan. I was greeted at the desk by Rosie who was about to change my life with a single question.

She recognized me from my many previous visits. “How you been Michael” she asked?

“Living the Dream Rosie, Living the Dream” I replied.

We hugged and laughed and caught up for a while. Rosie then asked “Where are you headed Michael” and I answered that I didn’t have a fucking clue.

She then uttered these words that sent my life in a new direction. 

“Would you consider being a volunteer here at Orient Land Trust? We don’t pay nothing but you get free camping and electricity”.

“Sign me up Rosie” and with those words my new adventure began. I would become the Astronomy Host, the Camp Host and my favorite gig of all being the trail guide up to our very own bat cave. Two miles up the trail and a 900 foot elevation gain to the cave. I would hike with groups of guests to witness great out flights of Mexican free tailed bats.

My life filled with beautiful naked women, fast motorcycles and skinny trails had begun.

But I’ll save those stories for the next chapter.

The Road Home

© 2020, Michael Fulcher. All rights reserved.