A Walk in the Woods, and, you guessed it, more rain

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Rain and very windy all night long.  Still, the temperature stays above 50. 

Have I mentioned there are only two radio stations we can hear from the island, one being country?  My Ipod cable is safely packed away, until October 7, so there’s no option besides the radio, and a couple of CD’s that are about worn out. 

Have I mentioned we live in one room, like a hotel room basically?  Sure, it can be fun to live in a hotel, but not when it rains nearly constantly, and there is no movie theatre!  I do have the Internet for entertainment, at least, but can't use my phone, so have to go into town to do even that!  Going out to eat, something we enjoy, is challenging:  seems only very expensive restaurants stay open beyond six o’clock, too.  Oh, and it rains a lot, though not always hard, in case I haven't mentioned that fact.  Yes, this 'hotel room' living has lost it luster. 

I take Kathy to work, minus dogs, and go for a much-needed drive.  Today, for some reason, I’ve come to my senses, and I’ve started wearing my deluxe rain jacket, instead of a sweatshirt, when I go out.  It’s not so much that it rains hard, but it’s always warm, so the sweatshirt is too hot.  I’ve also got my hiking boots, which are much more water resistant than my other shoes.  Headed north, no particular destination in mind, reveling in not having the dogs along, and just driving.  I get out of range of the NPR station, so turn off the radio.  No deer, no bear, no birds, just forest and light rain.  I see a US Forest Service road, and a sign for a trailhead.  I continue down the highway until I find a safe place to u-turn, and head back to the trailhead. 

It’s two miles up a gravel road to the 20-mile Trail trailhead, so called because it’s at the 20 mile mark north of town.  I park at the trailhead and take off hiking.  The trailhead kiosk says this is a 1.5 mile trail that ends at beaver ponds on the Harris River, with an elevation gain of just 100 feet, and takes about 40 minutes.  Looks like a nice easy walk in the woods, just what I need.  It seems to have stopped raining, too.  I take off, enjoying the forest, not planning to make it the whole distance, but see where I end up.  I hear jays calling, some other bird, and cross lots of new bridges.  The trail is deserted and quiet.   I only go up about half way, to the 34^th location, as counted by the tin signs, located along many of the creek crossings and all of the new bridges.  I’m still anxious about leaving the dogs inside for so long, and still have errands to run before I get home, so I find a good place to turn around, and do so.

I see three alder trunks close together, and my mind instantly jumps to my favorite sculpture in the Musee d’Orsay in Paris, The Three Graces, or  Les Trois Graces, by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux.  A check on Wikipedia shows there are many sculptures and paintings of the three women, but this is the only one I remember having seen.  How interesting, that these beautiful natural alder trunks would evoke that far away, in distance and time and circumstance, memory.   

I turn in my application for dispatcher with the Craig Police Department, and my volunteer application with the US Forest Service.  Jobs and opportunities are very slim around here, got to get something going. 

The storm knocked out or satellite TV last night, and it’s still out.  Thankfully it comes back.  Oh, this reminds me, Craig has a wonderful little library, which we are taking full advantage of, in use of their wi-fi, computers and printer, and fiction books.  J

Monday, September 19, 2011

This is an important day in the history of the Wescotts:  Henry made it to the top of Cowles Mountain for the first time, riding on the front of his Dad!  Jared told me Henry had a great time, waving to everyone, calling “Go” for every dog he saw (that’s what he calls dogs), and enjoying the ride.  Wow, this is so cool!  He follows in the steps of his grandmother, grandfather, grand uncle, grand aunt, mother, father, cousins, and his great grandmother Mary Wescott, who first climbed the mountain in 1948.  Great grandmother climbed it with her freshman class at San Diego State College, to follow a tradition and re-paint the giant S that used to grace it's southern slope, and is why it was called S Mountain for years.

Not much else today, besides high winds and driving rain.