Can You Help Me?

Could You Help Me?

Portland, Oregon N: 45.292088  W:122.325864

          Knowing I need more supplies and the road ahead did not hold them, I decided to drive back into town and find the last Fred Meyer I had passed fifty miles back.  The drive was pleasant and quick as I found myself pulling into the parking lot in the shade.

          The first thing I noticed were the people feeding the recycle machines for plastic bottles and aluminum cans.  Many people had huge carts full and I felt proud I had remembered to not throw away my Mike’s six packs after I finished it, the bottles in a special trash bag rolling around in the back of my van.

          I went inside and proceeded to spend over $125 on misc. and groceries, striking up a conversation with the check-out clerk.  “Excuse me, could you help me?” I began innocently enough, “I need to find a thrift store, is there one nearby?”

          The clerk held a finger to her cheek and rolled her eyes, “I think the nearest one is all the way in Portland.” She sighed as if it was a long ways away.

          “Oh, where am I?” I asked taking out my cash and handing it to her. 

“This is Clackamas.” She handed me my change.

“Oh.” I said, the name meaning nothing to me.

          I asked further, “Alright, I need to mail a letter, is there a mailbox somewhere near here?”

          A woman behind me interrupted the clerk as she stammered about being unsure of that question, by replying, “There is a blue mail box out in front of the store.” She smiled and nodded at me as I thanked her for her information.

          I left the store and went out to my van where I loaded the two small bags of groceries and then the additional misc. into the back.   I grabbed my letter to be mailed and headed for the front of the store where I was rewarded with the flying eagle on the side of the blue metal container and happily deposited my letter.

          Turning to accomplish the last of my list to do things at Fred Meyer was to find a water dispensing machine and fill up my six gallon jug.  I saw two young people sitting on the curb and asked them, “Could you help me?” I began.

          Both looked at each other and sighed heavily, “I think they might have one at the Fred Meyer in Portland, if you want to drive that far.”

          I shook my head and started back to my van when I passed the Glacier Water Dispenser.  Smiling I continued to shake my head as it seemed not many people in Clackamas knew where things really were, or was it just me?

          I proceeded to fill my water jug for a mere $2.05 and happily climbed back into the seat of my van, feeling ready to hit the road once again.  I took out my map to get my bearings and started laughing until tears filled my eyes.  Clackamas was one exit away from Portland and three exits from my half-sisters place.

          Now, who didn’t know where she was.

          I called my sister and was told I was expected sometime during the month as my older brother had told her about me going to Arizona, and she invited me over.  Driving the five miles to her place, her husband greeted me with a hug and a smile at my longwinded story of how I ended up at their place.

          I spent the next two nights at their place, feeling the comforts of my Father’s side of the family.  I was happy to see both of my half-sisters and two of my favorite nieces and one nephew.  It was nice remembering that I too, am a Thibodeau, not just in name but in family as well. 

          I left on Tuesday afternoon driving south on 205 until I-5 then headed south to Salem before cutting east on Highway 22.  I came to Detroit and turned north on Highway 46 until I came to Breitenbush Hot Springs where I checked in for my three day stay, complete with three vegetarian meals a day and all the hot spring soaking I could stand.

          I set up my camp in           space 4 as requested and in the process of setting up my 10X10, I broke it.  Me, a weakling, broke a steel professional canopy by snapping not one, but three of the plastic connectors.  Jury-rigging it together for the night I shook my head at my impatience with inanimate objects and how it has cost me dearly in the past, as it was now.  The professional pop-up was $220 just last December when I bought it for my proposed vending business.  They are supposed to be damn near indestructible, yeah…right.

          I enjoyed a wonderful dinner of broccoli spanakopita, quinoa, roasted veggies and a salad bar that was very tasty.  I was pleased with such a meal after what seemed a long road from my sisters to the woods.

          After dinner I went down to the ‘spiral’ pools where there are four pools starting at tepid and working around to very hot, with a cold rinse as a fifth option.  I spent most of my time in the tepid one as the ninety degree day had yet too truly cool down and I just wanted to feel the warm water upon my naked skin.  I went to bed satisfied.

          The following morning presented me with another small dilemma, my propane tank and its emptiness.  In Portland as I had left my sister’s place I pulled into a propane station and the attendant could not get the propane into the tank.  Thinking his equipment had malfunctioned I was directed across the street where a second person was unable to put any propane into the tank.  It was not due to the wrong nozzle nor the tank itself not working but the gas just sat stuck at the hose, with nothing going into the tank.

          I put the fridge on battery and drove the 80 miles to Breitenbush where I turned off the battery and left the fridge alone, hoping to keep it somewhat cool throughout the night.

          So, the first morning of being in a wonderful wooded retreat, I needed to take my van back down the road 10 miles and hope they could put propane into the tank or I would need to buy a cooler and ice to preserve the food I had purchased.

          The journey to the store was quick and the woman behind the counter said she could help me fill my tank but when I said it was a VW she became hesitant as she had never filled a tank on one of those. 

          The young gas attendant though, spoke up and said he could do it and he followed me out to the van where he hooked up the nozzle and had the same problem the other two attendants had.  Everything was hooked up properly but no gas would go in.  I explained to him my earlier dilemma and with some perseverance he was able to figure out the trick to putting propane into my small three gallon tank.  The release valve needs to be opened all of the way to the end of the screw, then the valve opens up for the gas to get into it.

          I gave the kid a five dollar bill for his five minutes of work and investigative work, t I then went inside to pay for my whopping 1.9 gallons of propane that went in the tank.  I left with a huge smile on my face and an A and W cream soda in my cup holder.

          Once I parked my van back at Breitenbush, I did not leave again until Friday, spending my days soaking, eating, sleeping, soaking and eating some more.  The food was different but tasty and the company I would talk with, interesting.  The pools in the ‘spiral’ group were fun but my favorite became the ones along the meadow where you overlooked the wonderful treed hillside and I enjoyed the rock embedded pool instead of the cement created pools of the spiral.

          I was able to view the Milky Way, the big and little dippers and a gazillion other stars and planets.  I had wrinkled fingers and wet hair most of the time I was there, enjoying the heck out of being in warm, unsulfured water and not a care in the world, other than of course, what the heck I was doing, but then again, I try not to think about that too hard.

          The whole time I was at the resort I was reminded of the movie “Dirty Dancing” because everywhere I looked it loomed at me this retro place with its Adirondack wooden chairs and the volley ball net sitting unattended in between the construction work and the natural setting of the place, all of it had me thinking about the movie and the various aspect of running a resort like Breitenbush. 

          From the various staff members and kitchen help and their quarters where they lived and how close of a situation they must deal with each other and then the various people who come and go throughout their work week.

          On Thursday, after three o’clock, the resort went to ‘all women’ as a special group called “The Women of the Woods” gathered to meet during different times of the year at the hot springs.  They are mostly lesbians but not all who were there were, as a few mother-daughter groups showed up also.

          It was surprising how on Tuesday and Wednesday the group of people at the resort were vacationers or returning guests.  The conversation was basically how beautiful the grounds were and how to better oneself through natural practices, such as yoga, vegetarian meals, and a positive outlook on life.

After the ‘women’ started arriving and the men were excommunicated to leave, the conversation became subjective to male bashing and a hard pushing to have a matriarchic society rule the world.

I did get to have a few very nice conversations with women who were more into enjoying the natural setting and the warm waters.  I found their conversations more to my liking and was sorry to be leaving by Friday after the lunch was served, but my time to move on was getting near.

I drove away with a smile on my face as I had so very much enjoyed my time at the resort and if I have a little more money and a little more time, I most assured will return.

~peace~