8000 Feet and Still Sweating

Medicine Bow again. She's become our tried and true friend, the one who puts up with my whims and my complete lack of preplanning and still hands over the best spots when we show up. A friendly neighbor who never disappoints. We found a beautiful one this time, tucked with just enough shade to fool you into thinking you're covered. You're not.

It's the kind of place I pictured when I imagined this whole life. Wide open, quiet, the Dawn parked at a good angle. And it's about to get better, because family is joining us later this week. But right now, at 8,000 feet, in a spot I'd call almost perfect, I have caved. I cranked up the generator and I am running the AC.

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A New Kind of Rodeo

Cheyenne Frontier Days is in full swing right now, and I love what that stretch does to the whole state. Everybody's out, everything's buzzing, and there's a version of me that still wants to be down in the middle of it. But this time the forest won. Trade the crowds and the noise for a quiet spot at 8,000 feet, no lines, no traffic, just the two of us and the dogs.

I had it in my head that elevation meant relief. Get high enough, get some distance from the valley heat, and you're fine. Turns out that's only half true. Thin air heats up fast in direct sun and cools just as fast the second that sun drops behind a ridge, which means the swing between noon and nine o'clock is brutal in both directions. I have layered up and stripped down more times in one day here than I can count.

So here I am, at 8,000 feet, running the generator so I can run the AC, something I never appreciated as a luxury until now. Turns out I needed it here more than I ever did back home. Still, I'd take this over a crowd any day.

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Keeping the Doggos Cool Comes First

Whatever else is going on with the heat, the dogs are the priority. Full stop. Dogs don't regulate heat the way we do. They can't sweat it out through their skin. They rely on panting and the pads of their feet, and once the air around them is hot too, that system stops keeping up fast.

Heatstroke in dogs is serious and it moves quicker than people expect. The signs to watch for: heavy panting that doesn't let up, thick drooling, wobbliness or disorientation, gums that turn bright red or pale, vomiting, and in the worst cases, collapse. If you see any of that, get your dog into shade or an air-conditioned space immediately, offer cool (not ice cold) water, and get to a vet as soon as you can. It is not a wait-and-see situation.

Ours have been doing fine, but only because we're not leaving that to chance. Water bowls refilled constantly, no midday hikes, and everybody parked in whatever shade we can find until the sun moves.

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The Shade Situation, Ongoing

I rigged up a makeshift shade setup for us and the dogs, and it's helping, but I already know it's not enough for what's coming. Once family gets here later this week, we're going to need an actual spot for everyone to cool off, not just a tarp catching the worst of it for two people and two dogs. So that's the project for the next few days: build something sturdier before we have more bodies who need it.

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The System That's Actually Working

If you've been reading along here for a while, you know about the saga I've had with my solar system. It has been a challenge, more trial and error than I'd like to admit. But I'm here to report that I think I've finally wrangled this one. I wired the two Renogy blankets in series-parallel a while back, and out here, it has genuinely worked like a charm. Everything else stays charged without me thinking about it, no more anxious checking of the battery percentage every hour.

Here's what I learned this trip, the hard way: the generator won't even run the AC if the house batteries aren't fully charged. The converter needs more watts than it can pull otherwise. So the batteries have to be topped off first, every time, or the AC just isn't happening no matter how much I want it to be. Another mark in the rooftop solar column.

So yes, I have made up my mind about rooftop solar. It's happening. Lying in bed this morning, having to talk myself into getting up just to drag the panels out and set them in the sun, was all the convincing I needed. I spent a long time telling myself the blankets were good enough, that I'd made my choice and should stick with it. Turns out you're allowed to change your mind. It's never too late to start over, even on something as small as how you get your power. What I really want, eventually, is a 12V AC unit, something the solar could actually run without the generator involved at all. I will need to win the lottery first, but a girl can dream.

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The Strange Part Isn't the Heat

Here's the part I didn't expect to be writing about. Not working feels weird. I don't have a routine right now, and I'm still figuring out what to do with that. I catch myself looking for the next task, the next thing to check off, and there isn't one. Just heat, shade, dogs, and a solar system doing its job without me.

I keep reaching for a structure that isn't there anymore. Old habit, I guess, from a life where every hour had a job to do. Out here, the day just unfolds instead, and some part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, like relaxing is a task I'm forgetting to finish. It's uncomfortable in a way I didn't brace myself for.

I don't have a tidy conclusion for that part yet. I'm just noticing it, the way I'm noticing everything else out here right now.

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The dogs are cool. The AC is running. The solar setup is so close to doing what I always wanted it to do, and family's just a few days out. I still don't know what to do with all this open time, and I'm not rushing to figure it out. Okay, that's not entirely true. I have a mountain of things to get done before school starts in the fall. But out here, at least for today, that list can wait. This spot has been good to us, heat and all, and I want it ready before the rest of the crew rolls in.

Keep Moving.

Rachel