There was a time, early in my RV career, when I thought that being a full time RVer was mainly a matter of learning enough how-to tricks. What a fool I was. But that's getting ahead of the story...

Colorado is hot! Denver is turning into a Phoenix wannabee. I was in Salida, at a lowly 7000 feet, waiting for a package to come in. When it did, I thought about absconding before my first 90 degree day, this summer. But strangely enough, I held back.

Readers of this blog know that Dry Heat is my greatest hate. Escaping it is the very Meaning of Life. And yet, I have done so well at escaping it this summer, that I was disappointed. Dry Heat is to me what Windmills were to Don Quixote or Moby Dick was to Captain Ahab.

I have missed the daily soap opera of suffering Dry Heat, consummated with an afternoon shower. Years ago I downsized the standard fresh water tank in my travel trailer and stored most of the water in the sturdier van. I also downsized the water heater. Now I take a shower by heating a gallon of water on the stove and pouring it into the mini-water reservoir inside the trailer.

Over time a seasonal ritual developed. The course of a summer has become measurable by the changing ratio of hot and cold water. It has become an exact science---a chemical titration.

The climax of summer was when I could take a shower with ambient temperature water--no heated water. Getting into the shower I would squeal like a summer-savage-child running through the lawn sprinkler.  This was the most sacred ritual of the year.

How could my greatest hate, Dry Heat, combine with my second greatest hate, Cold Water, to produce pure Bliss? I leave the explication of this as an exercise to the reader.

And so, as Salida soared towards 90 F, I enacted the Rite of Summer for the first time this summer. Religious sects in ancient times were no fools to adopt baptism as the rite of passage to conversion.

The next morning I was free to go. The world is bored by someone being a hero two days in a row. So we left for Leadville which is almost two miles high.

I can't think of a single photograph that relates to any of this. Maybe Edward Abbey was right about cameras. Gee, I really need to make up my mind on this topic.