Where am I?

N: 34.40540 W: 119.69432

How did I end up here?

          I hung around Ewok Village until around noon before departing my dear friend and heading down the hillside to the local store called Berry’s where I ordered an egg salad sandwich with sprouts and cream cheese for the road ahead.

          I called my Mom and checked in telling her I was heading off to Yosemite to see some more beautiful country.  She panicked and said people were being killed in the National Park and to stay away. 

          Unsure of what she was talking about I called my Ewok friend and asked him to search the web while I chowed down on the delicious sandwich.  He informed me that there was a deer mouse feces epidemic from people who stayed in the cabins and that there had been two reported deaths. 

          I finished my sandwich with a hearty thank you to my friend atop the hill and the wonderful woman who makes a fine, tasty sandwich at Berry’s, called another old sailing buddy in Santa Barbara and confirmed a hang out place until my next leg of my journey, before I called my Mom back and gave her the new plans.

          I drove south on Highway 101 across the Golden Gate Bridge, through a mild early mid-day commute through downtown San Francisco and onward to San Jose, San Louis Obispo and Santa Maria until I arrived just shortly after sunset in Santa Barbara.

          I was genuinely surprised when I saw my buddy and his partner were expecting a baby in a couple of weeks.  I am happy for the both of them as they have been together since I first met them in 2004.  They have a houseboat that he is still constructing on the inside and she is still working part time until their baby girl is born.

          We talked for a couple of hours but unfortunately the expecting mother, who has a cold needed to end the evening so I wandered off to my van parked in the parking lot and quickly fell asleep after such a long eight and a half hour drive, one of the longest stretches of roads I have yet to travel in a single day.

          I awoke to the person who pulled up next to me, struggling to fit between the vehicles as they bounced my van around shoving their way past.  I woke upset which quickly turned to laughter as realized the person must have been quite large to shake my van that hard.

          I made tea and opened up my sliding door to look out upon sunny skies and palm trees.  The contrast from the Ewok Village to the view I was looking out upon was so stark in opposites I was unsure if I was dreaming or if it was real. 

          Giant Redwoods and evergreen smells turned to ocean breezes and swaying palms; hippy clad mountaineers changing into manicured designer clothed runners and bicyclist; frozen dinner filled refrigerators traded over for fine expensive dinning houses along the old wooden wharf, while boats of every description come and go from the marina with most in pursuit of money.

          I watch the people who have distinguished differences in lifestyles all trying to pretend the other sector doesn’t exist.  From the fishermen on their commercial rigs to the water taxi driver and the various landscaping and maintenance crews that pepper the grounds of the Santa Barbara Marina, to the rich and elite who walk the piers oblivious as to how the whole of the marina works nor survives the day to day onslaught of tourist and people like themselves who only visit for a few hours.

          This place is filled with a ton of wildlife, which always surprises me when it is so close to any city yet, they cohabitate with the sandal cladding humans that have encroached upon their territory.  Unlike the northwest, here there are pelicans and they are entering into the mating season which causes the male species to turn different colors which include a reddened beak and speckled feathers. 

          The cormorants here are so used to the fishermen along the wharf pier that they allow themselves to be petted in exchanged for a morsel of the fish guts while brown seagulls swoop overhead jealous of their upper food chain friend.  There are great blue herons that squawk as they fly overhead while their smaller counterparts called ‘night herons’ twitter and make a funny ‘gawk’ kind of noise.

          In the water are many star fish to be seen clinging to the large rocks that form the barrier walls of the marina while small mackerel, sardines, and anchovy swim around in schools hoping to not be eaten by the various sea lions and seals that wander into the close area, their smorgasbord awaiting them.

 

          Last night while the fish were jumping hard, my friend took out his fishing pole and began instantly catching the fish, only to release them back into the salty water.  Hearing that I had never fished, he handed me the pole and within moments I had caught my very first fish, followed by two more.  The one mackerel I caught was big enough to keep and then he proceeded to get an even bigger fish a little later, both to be our dinners, or so I thought.

          Pregnant women near their due date are allowed their way in ALL matters and what mattered to her was Chinese food.  We ordered delivery service (I laugh at that, Chinese food delivered to a marina…) and within a half an hour the hot and tasty food arrived, only to be snubbed by the sick Mom-to-be as she no longer felt like Chinese food.

          My friend and I consumed our two-thirds worth of food and put the leftovers in the refrigerator in case there happened to be changed minds in the middle of the night. 

          We talked until about ten and I once again found my way to my van and instantly fell asleep and did not wake up to any rude person shoving my van.  After sitting for a spell with Herbette, I decided I should get out the map and see where my next leg of my journey will take me.

          I think it is interesting that all of the people and places I said I would go to on this journey, way back in March and April, I had originally thought I would stop in Santa Barbara and visit with my friends, but then later dismissed the idea because I wanted a less populated way to journey south.  It seems the ‘flow’ is making sure I do see these wonderful people before going further south so, I have decided I will try and find a childhood friend who lives along the way to ‘slab city’ or otherwise known as Ocotillo State Recreational Vehicle Park near the Salton Sea.  Another one of the ‘original’ stops on my journey to Arizona, dismissed in July, but now reinstated this September.

       I am staying through tonight here in Santa Barbara and should be heading out in the mid-morning tomorrow.  Or not….

          Until I continue ‘Traveling Thru The Tonda Zone!’

          ~Peace~

         

 

Still Here...

Ewok Village Update

Forestville, CA

          I decided I would stay another day in the Ewok Village continuing my visit with my friend and mentor. We wandered away from his cabin and went out to Armstrong Redwood Forest where they have some of the biggest trees to hug and admire.

          Cruising through the park on that warm day I noticed a small road and asked where it lead to.  Neither of us had ever been up that road and my friend was up for the adventure of driving the three mile long and winding one lane road up into the air at a 12% grade, so up we went.

          Upon getting to the top, despite Matilda getting all hot about it, we found this incredible view where we spent about an hour in the beauty and the heat before wandering off to the Russian River Pub where we both filled up on some wonderful food and really nice people.

          We finished our day with a stop at Barry’s store for a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper before climbing up the Ewok Mountain and settling down for an evening of more talking.

          Today I leave here and head east towards Yosemite…which according to Google Earth is a four hour drive and two hundred miles away.  Just might have to stop somewhere along the way and take more pictures.

…until next time we meet ‘Traveling Thru The Tonda Zone!’

~Peace~

 

Where's the Mountain?

 

N: 38 28.41053  W:122. 5341757

Where’s the Mountain?

I left the Motel 6 and drove around the town of Medford accomplishing many chores on my list of ‘things to do’ and finally headed south down I-5 listening to music and singing off key as I drove up and down and up again the Siskiyou Mountains until to my surprise and dismay I finally saw Mount Shasta.  Well, almost, as it was buried in heavy smoke from the fires.

          I turned on the AM part of the radio and found the mentioned signpost radio station and heard that recommended air quality was below six thousand feet and they were advising campers to not go to Mount Shasta or to use oxygen when climbing to the summit.

          I asked my subconscious if I should still go and I received no answer as I continued to drive by the buried mountain and my mind soon raced as to where could I go camping now. 

          I passed Lake Shasta where there is a ton of camping, also due to the heavy smoke, and continued southward to Redding where I finally pulled off and filled up my gas tank and looked at the map.  From where I was, a place called Whiskeytown Lake was  only twenty miles out and it had campgrounds surrounding it, so I headed west on Highway 299 towards the lake.

          The lake was large and the first campground I pulled into only had walk in tent camping on one side of the road and a parking lot for RV’s on the other side of the road. I pulled out of there and continued around the lake. 

          The next two campgrounds were full and the third campground was again a ‘pack it in’ type site so I drove back onto Highway 299 and continued heading west.  I ended up stuck in construction traffic and before I knew it Matilda started acted up in the intense heat and the stop and go traffic until at one point I thought she would just die on the side of the road but, finally we arrived at the top of the long hill (3000 feet) and traffic broke up and Matilda cooled her engine as we descended down to the Trinity River recreation area.

          I saw a sign for camping at a place called ‘Old Steel Bridge’ as I pulled off the highway and onto the residential street that rounded back and forth through homes on a one lane road that I followed for about three miles before I finally came across the campground nestled alongside the river.

          As I pulled in, there was one other vehicle parked in a spot and the man waved at me as I drove past, while I was looking at all of the empty sites trying to find the flattest, most secluded one there.  I tried two sites out for flatness when Matilda said enough in campsite 9 refusing to restart until she had cooled down from her exhaustively hot trip up and down the mountains of highway 299.

          No sooner had I pulled in when the man came over and introduced himself to me as John and then upon looking at my crystal around my neck he said I would love what he had as he left for his truck, returning to show me a double ended clear crystal with three flakes of gold inside of it. 

          Over the next twenty-four hours the sixty-two year old John spent many hours talking to me about every subject matter that involved his being a ‘cutter’ which is someone who fells trees as he showed me different types of woods and ways to cut them for the highest quality price. As he drank he also talked about dark things of his past that continued to haunt him in his old age.

          He admitted he was a beer-a-holic and that it took many beers to stop the shaking daily. We ended up making two short journeys where I was driving John in his truck to the store to buy more beer and for him to show me some of the better camping in the area that was free.

          He took me to another section of the Trinity River where the state had started to dig up part of the river bank because they have found gold there.  As he drank he told me his efforts in stopping the state and what he had done and showed me his work as I stared down at a fell Ponderosa pine across the main dirt road to the river.

          We went back to the campground and somewhere in the late evening John drank too much and became belligerent towards me and I went off to my van, locking all of my doors and loading up my gun that slept with me on that odd night.

          It was a good reminder to not be so friendly to ‘all’ people as I do not know the mindset of those who wander outside of my world.  John was a good example of how to keep to myself and to limit the amount of contact one has with strangers.  Although nothing bad happened other than nasty words spoken, it could have gone so many other ways, badly, that he was a lesson I needed to learn quickly if I am going to be traveling and interacting with strangers.

          Needless to say the next morning I wanted to leave early but I had a couple of chores first.  My left rear tire had gone slightly flat over the last couple of days so I spent twenty minutes filling the tire from an air compressor one of my friends insisted I take with me…(thank you Matt!) and then I loaded up my things and I left John and the ‘old steel bridge’ campsite behind as I headed west.

          I drove the one hundred miles into the city of Eureka and found the Les Schwab I knew would be there and pulled in for them to repair my leaky tire.  I called my Mom and then I called my friend in Forestville informing him I was in need of a hug and good company. 

          A nail was the culprit in my low tire and like the wonderful business that they are, Les Schwab fixed it for free.  I had them change one wiper blade and paid them before I drove off with a smile on face of how glad I was I drove around on their tires and the awesome service that comes with each purchase.

          Along my southbound journey on Highway 101 I did stop at a place that John had recommended I shop at and that was Chapman’s Rock and Mineral Shop and Museum.  The place was fantastic as the museum held huge crystal clusters and an amazing collection of unique and rare gems from around the world.  I spent over an hour just perusing the museum before I even went into the main part of the store where I ended up purchasing a moldavite stone ring that fit upon my left middle finger and vibrated with high energy.  It is in the shape of Bigfoot’s foot and seeing as I had just left the ‘land of Bigfoot’ (the forest along highway 299) I decided it was worth the forty I paid for it and onward to Forestville I drove.

          For the first time since I have been coming to my friend’s house in Forestville, I did not get lost as I traveled up the steep hillside to what I affectionately call ‘Ewok Village’ and pulled into the small space set for me, the hug given when I arrived inside twice as big as the parking spot.

          I have been here for the last three days resting and recouping from the all the odd moments that had brought me to my friend who is my mentor in the metaphysical world.  We have been talking spiritually ever since my arrival and all of it has been very grounding and encouraging for me to continue on my journey. 

          Last night he gifted me with a labradorite stone skull and wand and I was ever so touched as both are very beautiful, powerful and expensive.  I will treasure them as they are very good for people who are moving from one level to the next level of consciousness and spiritual growth, both of which is part of my goal in this journey I am taking.

          In the morning I will be heading east once again as I have decided that since I have missed Mount Shasta I will be going to Yosemite National Park and hang out there for a while.  I have never been there and by the map indicator; I will have many hot springs and beautiful camping available to me with the added bonus that Labor Day will be over and most people will back at work or school, freeing up many of those campsites I am hoping to visit.

          Lessons learned on this leg of my journey are lessons to be ingrained into my daily routine…I need not be so trusting or as friendly until I truly know a soul and that to rely on my intuition as to my final destination and the path upon which I take to get there.  

          I thank my friend who has harbored me in his home and sanctuary for the last few days and I take his advice under my wing as I fly off towards my next adventure while ‘Traveling Thru The Tonda Zone!’

~Peace~

         

 

Crater Lake and the Oregon Caves

Crater Lake and the Oregon Caves

N: 42.211351 W: 122.522870 Elevation: 1324

 

0330 August 29, 2012

I am currently at the Motel 6 in Medford, Oregon and I am up far too early for my own good but the woman upstairs with her dog woke me up about half an hour ago and I felt the need to write.

I left Mt. Thielsen and Diamond Lake before 0630 and drove to Crater Lake a few miles away.  The morning was just coming to life as I drove up the 7500 foot elevated Mt. Mazama to visit the lake.  The drive up was beautiful and the view once to the top was spectacular, despite the haze from the forest fires that are plaguing the Oregon and California mountains.

I drove three quarters around the lake until I came to the camp ground at Mazama and remembered when I was here in 2005 after my Burning Man festival and had been ever thankful for a good shower and a place to wash my clothes. I stopped at the store and I bought a pin for my bag that shows a picture of Crater Lake and a great cup of coffee before headed on down the road on my journey back west.

Following the main road I found myself pulling into the Rogue River Interpretive Trail and grabbing my camera as I walked the quarter mile trail that showed the river in various stages of flow, including cutting through rock and tumbling out of the other side in a waterfall of white splash.  I took many pictures and even a little video with the camera and then continued on my way south to Medford where I topped off the tank and headed off towards Grants Pass before turning west on Highway 199 to Cave Junction.

I followed Highway 46 past Grayback River campground and continued up the road that twisted and turned so many times I thought I was repeating the same curves over and over again, perpetually intertwined in a maze of pavement until I came across another campground and I pulled into the park only to find it complete deserted and most of the campsites were the ‘walk-in’ types.  I didn’t like the emptiness and left the park and continued up to the Oregon Caves National Park where I received information about the cost and the times of the tours through the caves.

I drove back down twelve of the twenty miles of the twisting road and checked into campsite number 10 at Grayback River Park where for $10 a night I signed up for two and proceeded to also buy wood that gave me the best camp fires I had yet to have.

I set up my camp and planned my trip to the caves for the following day which started early for me as I drove back up the twelve miles of twisting roads to the four thousand foot elevation of the caves, glad to just make the ten o’clock tour.

Every tour needs a volunteer to bring up the end of the line of people in the tour and verify everyone gets through certain parts of the cave and our ‘rear’ man was Tom who was directly behind me the whole time we walked the ninety minute tour.  Talking with him I learned that Tom was from Indiana and had been living in Bangor, WA for the last five years doing submarine work for the Navy and was now starting his first day as National Park Ranger for the Oregon Caves Park.  He was excited that later in the day the Rangers were heading into parts of the cave that the tour groups don’t go (due to the technical aspect of climbing around in the many caves) to see the other areas of the mammoth cave. After the tour I thanked him for covering my ass, seeing as how it was such a big job, and wished him luck on his new adventure.

After the tour of the caves I drove back down the twelve miles of that twisty road and found my campsite beckoning me to sit down and enjoy the view of the huge Douglas fir trees that surrounded me and to listen to the river as it flowed nearby.

I sat down and had my first pity-party, feeling sad that I was tired and done with camping, mosquitoes and always being dirty, for that is one thing I truly have been is dirty.  My feet and my hands are the worse but my hair is getting abused badly also.

I also felt sorry for myself that I had no real home with electricity or running water, that all of my friends were in their homes wondering where I was, and that I was truly alone and on my own, and it hit me hard.

I actually shed about two whole tears when I reminded myself that it was I who put myself in the situation that I was in and looking around at all the beauty of Mother Nature I was reminded that I was not alone, by any means.  I had the trees to shade me from the warm sun, the river to wash and cleanse my feet and hands, that the forest creatures and birds were my constant entertainment and that I was very fortunate to be able to experience and live like this.

It was either live like this or be in the same situation I left three months ago, where my life was based around working for a corporation that didn’t care I was losing my soul each time the elevator closed its doors on my life.    

As I said, my pity-party did not last very long and I moved on to clean up my van, rode my bike around, played in the river until my feet were clean and then cooked up a bad for me meal of mac and cheese with hotdogs and then had one hell of great fire before staring up at the most amazing stars until my eyelids felt heavy and I wandered off into my van and slept peacefully until daylight.

I awoke to a sunny day and proceeded to make the most wonderful mixed bean and rice with tomatoes and ate it for breakfast, cleaned up camp including tearing apart the 10x10 and stuffing it into the cargo carrier upstairs.  I did dishes and decided that I would be going by Medford on my way south to California and somewhere along the lines I would find a cheap motel and clean up.

I left the little camp I had made at Grayback River and headed back east towards I-5 to Medford.  From the freeway I saw the $45 a night room and pulled off the exit and checked in.

Doing laundry, taking a swim, and then a shower where tops on my list of priorities followed by some serious internet sessions, yet my fantasy was off kilter from the reality of it all.

The laundry/vending room was clean enough but the washer did a lousy job on spinning the clothes so they were soaking wet when I pulled them from the $1.25 machine and shoved them into the dryer that I knew would not dry them for another $1.25 but, as suspected, it did cost me an additional buck and a quarter to get them really dry.

While the clothes were in the dryer I decided to try out the pool that to my major disappointment was so cold that I only lasted about five minutes before my teeth were chattering so bad I moved myself to a lounge chair to dry off in the hot eighty degree weather. While I dried I watched a boy of about ten unable to swim in the pool because it was too cold, so he chose to jump in then hurry out again, only to quickly jump in and come back out again, his teeth chattering the whole time.

I then went back to my room where Herbette was sleeping and took my shower, the hot water feeling good after the cold swim I had taken.  The pressure was good and the shower head big enough make me feel like I was taking a great shower.

I had initial problems with the internet connection that the Motel 6 web page people have and apparently, unlike Washington, the internet here cost me $2.99 for the twenty-four hours I am here, where-as when I stayed in Everett with Mom last month, the internet was free with the room.

If I had not just stayed at Motel 6 I would not know the difference between a well-managed hotels versus this one I am in.  In Everett the pool was a proper temperature, the laundry room machines did a proper job of working, the internet was complimentary as well as a continental breakfast.  The room was clean and included a microwave, small refrigerator, a coffee pot and coffee makings plus a hairdryer on the wall, the television set was larger than nineteen inches.

This motel has no coffee pot, continental breakfast, microwave or refrigerator, nor is the pool warm and their laundry machines need repair plus they are charging me for internet.  I guess I thought that all chain establishments were pretty much the same where ever you travel, but I have been proven wrong.

After I wake up again, for I will go back to bed now that the woman upstairs is done yelling at her dog to quit barking, I have a few chores across the street at the grocery store and then I will be heading out for California.

There are wildfires in the mountains and parts are being evacuated so I am unsure how much of Mount Shasta I will be able to see, not only in visual but as I was going to try and head up 8000 feet to Panther Meadow where it is highly recommended I go and visit.  When I write next I will let you know.

          Until the next time we Travel Thru The Tonda Zone….

          ~peace~

 

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

Mt. Thielsen

Diamond Lake, Oregon

N: 43.16670  / W: 122.16760

Mt. Thielsen Lookout Campground space A-11

          I left the hot springs resort outside of Detroit Lake and did not feel like driving for miles on end to find a camping space for the night so after talking to my Mom at the gas station where I had successfully filled my propane tank, I drove East on Highway 22 until I passed the lake and saw a sign to four different campgrounds.

          I turned off the road and drove along for a few miles, passing three different campgrounds; all of them full so I turned around and went back down by the lake where I had passed up the first campground on assumption it would be full. 

          As we all know what assume means, I found three different choices of camp spots in the Santiam Flats campground and took number 12, right between the women’s night out group and the twenty-something family group with small children, because I am amazingly adventurous. (Or something like that…)

          I set up my rug and chair, cleaned up Herbette’s cage and ate dinner of canned chili over flour tortillas. While eating, a peregrine falcon dove over the lake looking for food and it was beautiful. I went to bed before the crying children settled down, all with the promise to leave very early the next day.

          I did get out of that noisy spot next to the highway and continued eastbound where I cross over the mountain ranges engulfed in smoke from the fires north of where I was.  As I looked south I could not even see the three Sisters that stand ten thousand feet in the air.

          I made up my mind at that point I would not be taking the Cascade Lakes drive that promised nothing but beauty in my mind and now presented itself with hazy views that were not worth stopping for.  I continued into Bend, Oregon where I proceeded to take care of numerous tasks that needed to be accomplished.

          I passed a major mall where I was able to find a Pet Smart store and buy the much needed veggie and fruit mix I need for Herbette as well as a stop across the parking lot at the Home Depot where I finally bought a curtain rod that I have been searching for, for over a month, as well as gorilla tape and magnets for the screens I want to hang over each of the door front door windows.

          Unfortunately, they did not have a solution to my canopy clips that broke and I was hoping to replace with metal ones.  I am still in a dilemma about that whole situation as to what should I do with this heavy frame and all the canvas to go with it.  If I dump it, I dump an investment of over three hundred dollars and yet hauling around an extra 80 pounds of unneeded equipment does come out in the gas tank somewhere.  I still will work on this problem.

          I was able to find a Goodwill thanks to a friendly woman at the Albertsons store who directed me impeccable to the parking lot of the Goodwill where I turned in a feather pillow and some clothes that became too big, and purchased a new pair of capris and a fleece pair of pants for the early morning cold that has continued to follow me.

          I filled up with gas, called my Mom and told her I was heading to Diamond Lake and drove Highway 97 south until I arrived at Highway 138 where I turned west towards Crater Lake.

          Climbing up to five thousand feet elevation and then leveling out, the smoke from the north was ever prominent and I decided then that after tonight I will be heading due southwest into Medford where I will again do a couple of errands and then head west towards Cave Junction and the Oregon Caves.  I can only hope the smoke is not lingering on that side of the state, as it is like constantly having a camp fire going, twenty-four/seven.

          Once I arrived at the camp ground I decided to not even bother putting up any décor or take out my chair once I was here, knowing I will be leaving early in the morning, I could not see the hassle worth it and the mosquitoes are horrible here as I was instantly eaten five times, one of them on my forearm that swelled to the size of a small egg and is still hot and inflamed.  It makes me nervous to get bitten so badly with the West Nile Virus flowing through the state.  I put on deet and turned on the “Off” repellent machine I truly believe in and tried to avoid additional bites.  I believe I was successful but will not truly know until further inspection in the daylight.

          I did put Herbette in her cage onto the back of my bike and we rode around the park and I was able to take a picture or two of the odd shaped Mount Thielsen.  It reminded me of a Dr. Seuss mountain the funny way it sticks up into the air.

I hid in my van from the bugs and cooked a fantastic meal of Brussels sprouts, pea pods, mushrooms, and green onions over Chinese noodles with a touch of sesame oil and seeds sprinkled on top.  It was a wonderful meal.

          Well, the end of another day’s journey on the road, Herbette, Matilda and I, as we continue south. 

Until my next writings…

~peace~

 

 

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~