The wind whipped up on the Mesa as the excavator started digging the pit for the blackwater leachfield. Wind and dust blew from the west into eyes and ears and noses. The bottle wall grew higher and we found ourselves hanging over parapets and slip sliding down the steep slope with bottles and mortar in hand in fits of giggles.

Exhausted and crusted in cement and dust we couldn’t wait to get showered and on the road again for happy hour pizza, this time with nearly the whole gang of interns. Over dinner the conversation turned to best injury and of course Bris pulled out all the stops including teo broken arms at the same time and a massive gash on the head from friendly grappling. For me Sam won though with his skiing injury inflicted by a wayward grandma that left his spleen on show. Yum yum eat up!

Then with high spirits we drove to the hot springs, with headtorches on high we trekked the fifteen minutes into the gorge over rocks and boulders. Two people and a dog were already there and were unimpressed to share the small pool with seventeen odd extras. The water was perfect and the rocks soft with long silky moss. We chatted and watched out for shooting stars in oh so much sky, each star slowly twinkling out as the clouds rolled over. We didn’t know it then, but snow was waiting for the new day.