73 totally in the very cold water—it’s meltwater from the San Juan snows—heave myself out, and dry in the sun. Back to camp for lunch—parmesan cheese, the last of the bread, raisins, onion, noodles with beef soup. Sort out my painting gear and do camp chores, drink tea, and gird my loins at 4.00 to retrace this morning’s route. Very hot and humid as I stagger back up the ridge. Back to work at 4.30 on RH middle ground—this painting looks very fussy—I wonder if it is my new glasses—everything is so much in focus! Work until 7.15, pack, and back down to camp. Carry my MP3 player, salsa, chips, and a cup down to the beach. I had hung a bag with gin, tonic, lime, and beer in the water to cool off. Fish it out—covered in mud and weeds, but it smells OK. Take another dip, dry off and sit and relax with a cool drink until 8.30. Back to camp. Make supper—beef teriyaki and noodles. Make a rum, lime, and hot water; write my diary by the light of my headlamp. Bed at 10.00. I don’t feel ecstatic doing this—I’m mentally ticking off the days until I can stop. But I do feel quite content—as if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, so that is a cause of satisfaction. TUESDAY, JUNE 14 Ended my working day at 7:00 rather despondent. The big difficult cliff/rock hill, which awkwardly dominated the left-hand side—after working on it all day, made very little sense at all. I am at that awful stage where I don’t know what this painting is about other than the river winding through the desert—the whole thing is a very complex mess with no sense of distance or how one thing fits with another. A bit of radical shadow work might pull it round in terms of picture making, but at the moment I can’t see it. I will do the river valley tomorrow and see if that helps—it is what the painting is supposed to be about after all! WEDNESDAY JUNE 15 At lunch I was lying facedown in the shade. One of the fat, shiny lizards that share the shade of the cottonwood tree with me ran up my leg, perched on my backside for a moment, then when I twitched, ran up my back and sprang off my shoulder. It then executed a series of bow-legged press-ups with a beady eye constantly in my direction as if to check my response to its game of jungle gym. CABEZON PEAK TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27 Found a BLM dirt road along the edge of an escarpment overlooking the peak. Although I never felt less like anything in my life, I set up my 3ft drawing board and was about to start work when three rifle shots rang out. I didn’t hear the first bullet, but the second was closer, and I could hear the third parting the air as it whizzed by. Not knowing what else to do, and assuming that no reasonable person would want to shoot an artist—the most harmless of beings—I carried on drawing. El Oratorio de San Diego y La Sagrada Familia, New Mexico. SPIDER ROCK TUESDAY, OCTOBER 4 Finally the rain abated, and I lunched at my painting site and got back to work. I realised that I had started the two magnificent rock stacks of Spider Rock too far down, so, losing all the morning’s work, I turned over the paper and started again. Got a fair bit drawn by 5.00, when it started to rain in earnest, so quickly retreated. WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 5 Phoned the pub in Tywardreath and bid for a bacon pie at the harvest festival auction. Heard Steve shout, “Quiet everybody—it’s a telephone bid from Tony in Arizona!” Huge hoots of laughter. After fierce bidding, got the pie for £16, though Ann had to pay for it, and I know it will be eaten by the time I get home. Felt terribly homesick when I switched off the phone.
