Wild November is the twenty-fifth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here. If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

After a short stay in Aztec, I point my motor home towards Grants, New Mexico. With major road construction going on, the road is gravel for about fifteen miles. Wouldn’t you know it, a flying rock chips my brand new windshield! This time, it is a small chip that should be repairable. Upon check-in at the Bar S RV Park, I ask if there is a chip repair place in town that will come to me. The woman at the desk hands me the local yellow pages and I make note of a business that offers mobile chip repair.

The next morning, I call and set an appointment. Feeling good about handling that issue, I set off to resupply groceries and explore the town. This is one of the many towns situated on historic Route 66. But, unlike other towns I’ve visited on Route 66, this one seems very run down and depressed. It’s clear to me that this place is not making the most of its history. The sad vibe makes me anxious to move on, but I try to make the best of the few days I am here.

The next day, Luna and I go for a long walk and then settle in to make some lunch and wait for the windshield repairman. My appointment is at 1:00pm. When no one shows up by 2:00, I make a call to find out when he will be there. My call goes to voicemail. I call again at 3:00 and again get voicemail. No answer the rest of the afternoon.

The next morning I call and ask what happened. He says he had an emergency and will be here at 3:00 this afternoon. Once again, the scheduled time comes and goes and no one shows up. Once again, my attempts to reach him go unanswered. Now, it’s getting to be urgent because I want to have the repair done before I travel further and risk the crack spreading.

I try another place, which offers chip repair, but not mobile service. I ask if they would be willing to come to the RV park and do the repair. After much hesitancy and my agreement to pay a ninety-dollar extra fee, they will do it. I’m beginning to wonder if the local businesses disdain for customers might be one of the reasons this town is in economic decline.

A few days later, I’m happy to be on the road again and excited to arrive at Birdwatcher’s RV Park in San Antonio, NM, adjacent to Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. The location is perfect! Just two miles down the road from the refuge entrance. I called in advance and was told they only rent sites nightly, no weekly or monthly rates. Their busy season will begin in a few weeks when the cranes start to arrive, so I decide I will stay a few nights and look around the area for someplace with a monthly rate.

When I go in the office to pay, I’m told they don’t accept credit cards. Since I rarely carry more than twenty or thirty dollars in cash, I have to go to Socorro, about fifteen miles north. It would have been nice to be informed of this little detail when I called. Nonetheless, I’m thrilled to be here and can’t wait to explore this place I’ve heard so much about.

The next morning, I’m up before sunrise and off to the refuge. My first stop is a pond just outside the entrance. It’s a beautiful setting, full of ducks and shorebirds and even a couple of sandhill cranes in the distance. I’ve been told there is a pair of white-tailed kites on the refuge, which is unusual for this location. As I drive around the auto route, I see my first Javelinas! They run by so fast I cannot get a photo, but it’s thrilling to see an animal I’ve never seen before.

Then, at a viewing deck, I see something perched in a snag. It takes off and flies toward me. It’s one of the white-tailed kites and it flies right over my head! Moments later, the other one flies after it. Already it’s a great day and it’s not even eight o’clock yet. I’m looking forward to a wild November at this wildlife refuge.

By the time I get around both loops, the visitor center is open, so I stop in to ask some questions. I find out that the cranes won’t be arriving in large numbers for at least another two weeks. Also that Elephant Butte, about sixty miles to the south, is probably my best bet for monthly RV accommodations. The volunteer there alerts me to the presence of the white-tailed kites and I excitedly share my sighting.

After a few days exploring and getting to know the refuge and surrounding area, I land at Elephant Butte Resort for a month. Included with my site is access to their indoor pool, hot tub and exercise center. This is a first for me. Never have I stayed at an RV park with such posh amenities. I have my doubts that I will make much use of them, since I’m mostly here for the birds. Then, one morning I wake up with a sore back and realize I have a hot tub available. A long soak in hot water turns out to be a nice perk.

This is the place I happen to be during the 2016 presidential election. It’s stormy outside and I’m nestled in bed watching election returns on my small bedroom television. As the evening progresses, and the returns come in, it’s not looking at all like I expected. Around nine o’clock my phone rings and it’s my son asking if I’m watching. We express concern over how things are going, but hope it might turn around. By the time he calls me again at midnight, it is all but over and we are both in tears.

When I wake up the next morning, I feel like I’m awakening from a nightmare. A quick look at my phone tells me it is real. It’s hard to describe my emotions. Shocked, saddened, angry, appalled, astonished—none of these words accurately describe the visceral reaction I’m having. It’s turning out to be a wild November, but not in the way I had hoped.

There have been many times when the candidate I voted for lost an election. It’s always disappointing, but never devastating. Feeling despair and disgust over an election is something unfamiliar to me. What is it about this man that so repulses me? Why do I feel sick to my stomach when I watch him and hear him speak? And then it hits me. A lifetime of experience has taught me to avoid men with his traits. The arrogance, the vanity, the sexism, the flaunting of wealth, the attitude that he can do whatever he wants and nobody can stop him. I’ve learned to recognize men like this and even before the Access Hollywood tapes, I knew his type. I have encountered this man over and over throughout my life.

He’s the creepy old “family friend” with a comb-over who slipped his tongue into my mouth when I was only thirteen. It happened during one of those super uncomfortable “kiss Uncle Gene goodbye” episodes my parents used to force us into as kids. (Note: please don’t ever do this to your kids)

He is the co-worker who loudly and crudely commented about my body when I worked in an all-male office. He’s the other co-workers who laughed at those comments.

He’s the wealthy businessman who wined and dined me for a month before “proposing marriage.” His conditions were that I keep myself attractive and fit and be at his beck and call for sex. I would maintain an immaculate house appropriate for entertaining his business associates and remain monogamous and loyal to him. He would travel the world on business and have sex with whomever he pleased.

He’s the boss who told me he was considering laying me off, but would let me keep my job in exchange for sexual favors.

He is all the men I’ve ever met who made me feel like a piece of meat with no worth beyond satisfying their sexual desires. And he’s all the men I’ve ever met who get indignant when I don’t consider their lewd behavior a compliment.

This is just a sampling of a lifetime of experiences that taught me to avoid men like him at all costs. To hand him the ultimate position of power feels both terrifying and nauseating. I was always taught to respect the Office of the President, even when I don’t agree with the person who holds it. I have to admit I’m having a really hard time with that at the moment.

But, the voters have spoken, and in this country we accept the results of an election even when we don’t like the outcome. I am aware that my personal feelings are mine to deal with. Realizing that not everyone has had the same experiences, I try to focus on the policy positions I disagree with and what I can do about those.

I disagree with the plan to rescind the National Monument designation of Bear’s Ears. This matter doesn’t seem very important to most people, but means a lot to me. Having been there and seen the place with my own eyes not long ago, I wholeheartedly support the designation.

I disagree with the idea of building a wall the entire length of the southern border. It’s not because I condone unconstrained immigration. It’s just that in the age of spy satellites and surveillance drones, a wall seems like an expensive, medieval and environmentally destructive plan. Wildlife should be able to migrate freely, regardless of the rules we impose on people.

Actually, there are so many things I disagree with, it would be impossible to focus on all of them. I have always believed that if each person were to put some effort into working on the thing that means most to them, each issue would receive the attention it deserves and the world would be a better place. To this end, I have decided that nature, wildlife and the environment is where I will concentrate my activist energies.

In all my travels, I have always made a point to visit any National Wildlife Refuge I have been near. Most times, there is an enthusiastic volunteer in the visitor center to answer my questions and help me make the most of my visit. Suddenly, it dawns on me–I could be that volunteer.