Showers are a challenge when camping, and CGs vary considerably in what they do, or don’t, provide. For me, the point at which I get most desirous of a shower is when my hair is undeniably dirty. Critical bodily needs in regard to cleanliness can be addressed by sponge baths in the van.
This morning at about 7 a.m. I tested out the hair cleaning setup pictured above, and it was PERFECT! Quick and easy, yes nice hot water, minimal waste of water as the handle on the shower head automatically turns off the water when one removes one’s hand for two-handed operations, and the little shelf for holding necessities such as towel and glasses.
At great personal sacrifice of my vanity and dignity, I will even provide a picture of the “after”. No before picture—that’s asking too much 😊.
One of the obstacles to trip blogging is that it takes so much time; time that has to be budgeted for, time during the part of my day when I still have energy and a reasonably functioning brain. There’s a lot of competition for that kind of time at this stage of my life, so blogging often is what drops off my agenda in favor of got-to’s or get-to’s.
But today is a scheduled rest day, so I’m going to try to catch up a bit with blogging. We’ll see how far I get: I’m now nicely ensconced at Joshua Trees National Park, a little slice of protected land sandwiched between a couple of freeways. In terms of catching up: Pinnacles (two nights, with friends), King City (one night), Pismo Beach, (three nights), and getting here (two driving days). If I don’t get all that done today, I’ll fall further behind, because tomorrow is sightseeing in the park. And there’s an unexpected got-to for today—doing something about this:
More about that later. If I get that far😁.
So. Pinnacles.
Pismo Beach
Drive to Joshua Trees NP
Joshua Trees NP
JTNP to Tucson
It’s all about the Saguaro
Well, so much for that
Humph. I started this, let’s see, ten days ago (I think), and you can see how much I haven’t gotten done. When I started, I put in the list of headings just to remind me later of what I wanted to write about. At that point, the list stopped at “The drive Joshua Trees NP”; it has grown ever longer, and will continue to do so today, when “The Desert Museum” will be added. So, what I’ve decided to do is post this, with nothing but the headings, hoping that SOMEDAY I will get SOME of the content under the headings included in future posts.
Obviously the big barrier to catching up is simply that we keep on keeping on, doing something new each day. Another is my ever-diminishing energy. In my old age, the amount of time during which I have sufficient energy to get things done in a given day, especially anything that requires any level of creativity or judgement at all, is very limited. Consequently, I prioritize got-to’s, with get-to’s coming next on the agenda. Posting is a mere want-to, and as such, isn’t getting done. And finally—I failed to budget separately for blogging when planning our itinerary. I have learned the importance of budgeting for showers, laundry, and rest days. It never occurred to me that I needed to budget separately for blogging. Let this be a lesson for future trips.
J and I have been out less than a week (hard to believe; as usual, travel is stretching my sense of time), but it is already clear that things are working for both of us. So far–of course, we could hit a few snags later on, and in fact probably will. It’s too much to expect that everything will go smoothly for the entire six weeks. Not that I would complain, mind you, and in any case I am confident that between the two of us, we will cope.
The most important thing is that her/our preparations are working for J. She was fairly confident that she’d be able to handle checking in and setting up in her room, and then checking out and getting her luggage into her car, by herself, but now it’s a proven concept–she’s done it, entirely on her own, and now KNOWS she can. (B–watch out, she just may head off across the continent and show up in Connecticut next :-)). There have been a few glitches with her reservations, but nothing she hadn’t run into and dealt with when she was traveling with my brother when he was alive. Such glitches don’t make her happy, but she does deal with them successfully.
And in spite of our different diurnal cycles (I’m an early bird, and run out of energy rapidly after lunch, she’s a night owl who prefers to not really get going until past noon), we have managed to enjoy some activities together along the way. She’s doing better at making adjustments than I am, but we have both made some. She’s been going to bed a bit earlier, and getting up earlier, in order to be ready to do stuff somewhat earlier. I’m still getting up early and going to bed early, but have been, somewhat successfully, pushing myself to stay active for more of the afternoon.
When we planned our itinerary, we planned for the first few days to be relatively close to her home, so if things turned out not to work at all, she could make it back home in one day if she had to. Clearly she doesn’t need to head for home, and we’re enjoying our stops, so Onward We Go!
Ok, got three whole comments saying they’d be interested in more about my job as a houseparent (!), so here it is.
The group home was one of four run by a private nonprofit organization, one for boys and three for girls. A maximum of six kids per house, all teenagers. They only took in kids who were wards of the court, either because they had been removed from their parent(s), usually the mother, for neglect or abuse, or for delinquency of the milder sort. I.e., runaways, skipping school, perhaps shoplifting. California has specific laws that define these categories; I think 600 for the first, 601 for the second, and 602 for more serious offenses. We didn’t take in kids under the 602 designation.
What made it a good job for me was the quality of the people there. There was a head houseparent, Wylene, and a social worker, Judy, and they were both excellent. Wylene was very organized and kept us all organized, and she had mastered the art of tough love with the kids. Judy met with each of the kids n a regular basis; it may have been as often as once/week, with extra sessions when one of them was in crisis. Judy was a master at acceptance and warmth and love. It was fascinating to see how the kids needed and benefited from both, and to see how they interacted and worked together.
They also had been very successful at hiring good houseparents. I was probably the weakest of the lot, being as young and inexperienced as I was. I only got to know the other two who worked at my house very well, but there were occasions when all the houses got together for an event of some kind. The only one I remember very well was a week camping up in the mountains somewhere. Talk about Wylene’s organizational skills! And I remember her applying some of her tough love to me, though I don’t remember details. I do remember there was a lot of work involved, and that I acquired a dog. He had been hanging around at the CG as a stray most of the summer, and the kids named him Cochise. My girls wanted to adopt him, but Wylene forbade them. They persuaded me to smuggle him home in the back of my van, which we were using to carry most of the camping gear (tents, sleeping bags, etc.). It wasn’t hard to persuade me, though I was scared Wylene would find out and I’d get fired or some such. In the event, when she saw Cochise at a rest stop, she didn’t yell at all, and was mollified when I told her I was keeping him. She told me later that she figured something was going on, and thought there was something to be gained from the kids thinking they were getting away with something.
I have memories of several of the other girls. I liked them all, and may have even been helpful to some of them. I was still at the stage of development as a teacher where I didn’t know why anyone would do anything just because I told them to, and seeing them obey, often enough but not always, as well as seeing how they responded to Wylene and Judy, aided my development a lot.
When I left that job for another, the girls and I had a goodbye party. I gave each of them an imaginary gift, in writing, an idea I had read about. It turned out to be even better than I had hoped. I think I encouraged the girls to pitch in with their own gifts as well. Again , after 50+ years details are gone, but several of us were in tears by the end.
So, that’s about it. I’ll leave you with a couple of my bigger takeaways from my time there: 1) specific people make a HUGE difference to the success of any job, whether teaching or being a houseparent, and 2) caring matters. Oh, one more: communication is important. Both Wylene and Judy would respond to a phone call 24/7, and the hand-off time between houseparents was critical.
Way back when–I think it was my first job after graduating from college, which would make it around 1970-71–I had a job as a houseparent at a group home for girls in Walnut Creek, CA. It was actually a very good job for me; I learned a lot. Maybe another day I could write about what I remember from that job (and if you’re interested in having me do that, leaving a comment to that effect would up the likelihood of my getting it done), but today I want to write about an episode at Lake Berryessa.
We houseparents worked three days of 24 hour shifts per week. My three days were Thursday-Saturday; Sunday was handoff day, when I caught the next houseparent up on the events of the previous three days and how each girl was doing before heading home. Having the Saturday shift meant I had to find something for us all to do on the weekend pretty much every week. A frequent request from the girls in the summer was to drive out to Lake Berryessa for a swim and picnic.
One of my memories–in fact, the most vivid and lasting memory from these day trips–happened as we were starting back after a day of swimming and picnicking. There was a bridge across some part of the reservoir, and we stopped to visit the portapotty there by the bridge. There was a group of 3-4 kids who were jumping (and I think even diving, though I can’t swear to that after all this time) from the bridge when we arrived. In my memory, the distance from the bridge to the water was 100 feet or so; it was rather impressive so we walked out and watched and chatted with them for a while. It was clear those kids knew what they were doing; they knew how to enter the water safely, and even explained some of their technique. Several of the girls wanted to also jump, but I rather forcefully forbade them from doing so. I never had a LOT of confidence that the girls would do as I told them (I was less than ten years older than they were), but several firm iterations seemed to do the trick. It probably helped that the other kids discouraged them, telling them how long it had taken them to learn to do it safely.
Eventually the other kids had all jumped and left, so we walked back to the car, near the portapotties. I was hanging out chatting with the girls, waiting for everyone to be ready, when two of the girls came up to me and told me that Vicky (her actual name, but I’m pretty sure no one will be able to identify her 53-4 years later) was getting ready to jump off the bridge.
When I walked back out toward Vicky, frankly I was terrified. If she dove, or even jumped, she risked being seriously injured or even killed. When I got near her–I didn’t want to get close enough to grab her, because I was pretty sure she’d jump if I tried–she was already on the outside of the guardrail, insisting she could do it, because the other kids had. I think she was beginning to be a bit scared of what she had bitten off, but still seemed quite determined. It took me quite awhile to talk her down (heh). I don’t exactly recall what I said, but I do remember emphasizing how far down the water was, how if she didn’t enter the water just right, she risked broken bones or worse, and just reiterating “do not do it”. Eventually I persuaded her to come back to the road side of the guardrail, but even then it took another 10-15 minutes to convince her she didn’t really want to do it and to come back to the car so we could go home.
So that’s the memory. Over the years, I drove out to Lake Berryessa a few times and tried to locate that bridge, but never found it. I even began to wonder if it still existed.
But it does.
That picture was taken from near my site at Putah Canyon CG. I was very pleased to finally locate that bridge! As you can see, my memory had exaggerated the height of the bridge above the water; it looks closer to 50 feet than 100. No doubt this was a result of how much Vicky had scared me and how relieved I was when she finally relented.
Since I, like many bloggers, seem to have nearly stopped posting, the answer is, rather a lot. It’s been over a year since my last, trivial, attempt at re-starting my blogging brain, and much has happened in my personal life (we won’t even consider the larger world for now, thank you very much), most of it related to this old-age stage of life I am now in. In a nutshell, I had my gall bladder out last January (which turned out to be a good thing), my brother died in April (it was definitely time for him to go; in fact, his wife thinks he chose to die rather than continue his daily struggle, which if true would haver given him the satisfaction of being in control), we had a very nice memorial for him at their church in June, two of my siblings and a couple of nephews and I buried some of his ashes in the Idaho Primitive Area per his request in September, and one of my best friends died in December. A major takeaway from all this is, if there are things I really want to do, it’s time to Do It Now.
So what’s new now, and is giving my the motivation to (once again) jump start this blog into life, is my sister-in-law J and I are heading out next week on a trip around the southwest. A Tandem Southwest Swing, if you will. Tandem because I will travel in my camper van while she drives her car and stays in hotels. Since I live in Oregon and she in California, I am now on the road. Left home last Friday, under gray but not rainy skies.
One of the things I discovered that first night out (besides what it was I forgot this time–I always forget something, no matter how systematic I am about packing and loading) is that my camping chops had gotten rusty. Little things that are part of the routine, like where all the things are that are used for brushing teeth, were no longer automatic, so I had to stop and think. One more reminder, as if I needed one, that my brain, as well as body, is aging.
Thence to sunny California. It was a beautiful drive down. Mt.Shasta was out in all her glory. Stopped early for lunch to have this view while I ate.
From the rest area at Weed.
And to prove I was there and the above isn’t a stock photo:
The views kept on appearing as I drove further south. to the extent that I had to keep reminding myself to no get distracted and keep my eyes on the road. I tried to capture some of them while still driving carefully; this is the best one I got.
It’s a little tricky to distinguish the mountain from the clouds, but it’s there.
I was curious about how full the Shasta reservoir was, so took the time to stop at Lakehead and take Scamp out for a quick walk. It’s full–way fuller than during the drought years–but there’s still plenty of room for spring rains and snowmelt.
I took other photos, but this one is the best because it has Scamp in it. Critters always make a scene more picturesque, don’t you think?
Stopped for two nights at one of my favorite CGs, outside Red Bluff, to get a nice day of rest in between. Here’s Scamp and myself being scofflaws.
Scofflaws because she’s not supposed to be off leash.
I always try to get a good picture of the mountains one sees from there, and always fail to get the perfect one, but here’s the best one I got this time around.
I always wish I could figure out which mountain is which–one of them is supposed to be Mt. Shasta, maybe one of the above, but I’m never sure about that, or which it is if so–but I always fail.
Sunrise the morning we left:
On Monday, I decided to try something new, so drove to Putah Canyon CG at Lake Berryessa, which is actually a reservoir, one of several that keep California alive. It turned out to be a really good decision. It’s a large CG, and would be kinda awful if full, but was nearly deserted. Each of us campers had an entire section to ourselves. After driving around getting oriented, I picked what I am sure is the best spot in the entire CG–even if the CG had been full, my spot would have been quite private, as you can see.
A few more pictures of the lake and views from my spot.
The view from my lounging spot in the van.
My wine glass 🙂
As I texted to friends, I get a kick out of that glass, as well as whatever wine I put into it. And then realized that could be read a couple of different ways. Both of which are true :-).
Part of what made this such a perfect spot was that I could let the critters all out to roam freely.
Which pleased us all.
Scamp, of course, wanted me to come out and play.
And eventually I succumbed. She thought I should throw a ball (or stick–she’s not fussy) into the lake for her to fetch, but I wasn’t about to climb down next to the water and it was further than I thought to get something all the way out into the water from up at our site. I think this was my most successful throw, using the flinger.
Notice how she dropped the ball at the top of the trail and it gravitated back down. A few throws later, she did the same thing:
And we lost it. I couldn’t find it and gave up quickly. Scamp kept on looking for quite awhile.
Sunrise the next morning.
We had a nicely relaxed morning getting out. Here’s Phantom birdwatching.
And some of the birds he was watching. I tried to use my Merlin app to ID them, but was not confident that any of the matches they offered were the ones I was seeing. They may have been, but I couldn’t tell.
Shadow accompanying Scamp and me on a short walk.
And Scamp sunbathing.
Finally got all loaded up and headed out to see friends in San Rafael. Scamp was quite sure we should have stayed, and if there hadn’t been rain in the forecast I might have, but she finally agreed to come. Once I got her on leash . . . .
Stopped in Napa for lunch.
It was a good salad. Scamp got a few bites of the salmon.
Having had beer, although only a half, I opted for a short walk by the river to be ready to drive. It paid off in some art installations. I felt quite the tourist.
A house of cards.
An octopus.
A carp after a frog. We don’t know who won 🙂
I’m not sure what she is supposed to be, but I liked her.
Am now typing at the dining room table of this guy and his wife.
Obviously, that was taken a few years ago–in the neighborhood of 45 years ago. He doesn’t look like that any more, although he’s still just as cool.
Why is the picture sitting on the floor, you ask? Here’s the story.
His father got the original blown up into a poster, and gave the poster to his (the father’s) sister. It got put into her attic for many many years, and was rescued therefrom about eight years ago by the subject of the photo. His wife loves it, and wanted to hang it in pride of place over their couch in their new house, but he has resisted. Apparently he considers that it would be too “in your face” there, so it has languished there on the floor ever since they moved in. HOWEVER, there is hope for it. Once the contents of this . . .
find new homes, so the cabinet can be moved, the picture will go there. Where one will not see it unless one looks for it.
SO, now I’m all caught up. Hopefully I can eep up with blogging the trip, though I must try to be less exhaustive. I will try, in the interest of actually getting things posted. We’ll see how I do as we go along.
I’ve decided to (perhaps) revive the blog by doing some shorts, sorta like what I might do on FB but less ephemeral and without the attendant annoyances. And since I have many pet peeves, all of which are petty, I thought I’d start with one of them
This one is really a combination of two: women’s clothing sizing and buying clothing, or shoes, on the internet. You can see why they might go together.
I do realize that creating clothing for the full range of the population is inevitably going to leave some people out. Of which I have often been one, except for shoes, where my problem is that my feet are average so my size sells out rapidly. And there has actually been progress in addressing different sized people over my lifetime. I’ve been buying my own clothes since I was fourteen, 61 years now. When I started, I ALWAYS had to modify whatever I bought, and then they invented petite sizes and for a long time they worked for me. But of course my body has changed, and I wouldn’t be astounded to learn the sizing conventions have also changed, because petite sizes no longer work for me. Anyway, here I want to home in on an issue that has stayed with me throughout.
Specifically, I have shoulders. And biceps. And boobs. None of them huge, but big enough that in combination, I have often had difficulty finding blouses, shirts, or coats that fit, or fit the way I want them to. The width of my shoulders in particular is often a problem. And the current one that has inspired this post.
If I lived in an urban, or even semi-urban place, I could shop in actual stores and hope to find something in a day or two. But living in SW Oregon, that possibility is unavailable. So instead, I make my best guess based on whatever information I can fond online, order something, wait a minimum of a week-ten days for delivery, try it on, figure out what’s wrong with it, return it, and go back online. Have done two rounds of this so far. At this rate, by the time I get close to finding a winter coat, it will be summer. Oh wait, in another month, no one will be selling them anymore.
I’ve been shopping for a new winter coat. Haven’t had a new one for fifty years, so I feel entitled to one now. I want to be able to wear layers underneath, and to be able to move my arms in all the ways without having the coat strain across my chest or back and without feeling uncomfortable. Women’s sizes don’t work because apparently the powers that be have decided (once again—this phases in and out) that women’s clothes should cling to their bodies, so to accommodate my preferences for my upper body, the rest of the coat is too long (sleeves, overall length) and way too big around my hips. In the past, I have bought men’s sizes with reasonable success (men having broader shoulders), though sleeves are always too long. But men’s coats are always basically jackets, hip-length at most, and I would like something that goes to mid-thigh so I can sit on a wet seat and keep my butt dry. So that isn’t working either.
Note for non-family who don’t know us: our father married twice, first to my mom, then again after their divorce. Two kids with Mom, me and my brother, and four from his second marriage, two boys and two girls. So I have a slew of half-relatives—siblings, nieces and nephews, and grand nieces and nephews. I’ve lost track of the latter—many of them I haven’t met.
The reason for the gathering was a reception for one of the nephews and his new wife. They got married in CA, where most of her relatives live, and his parents hosted the reception for them for his relatives here in Ellensburg yesterday. (As I have been telling everyone, most of my relatives on that side of my family seem to fear they will melt, or be attacked by ravening vampires, or something, as soon as they cross the border into CA. I mentioned this to my awning rescuer, hastening to add that I had worked in CA and retired from there, so am very grateful to CA. He then told me he had recently retired from San Francisco to move to WA, and was a hippie Deadhead. Hence his tie-dyed T-shirt, which I had been subliminally admiring.) Four of Dad’s kids—me and three of my half-sibs—were here.
Enough text. Most of the rest will be pictures, in three sections: before the main event, during the main event, and after it—i.e., this morning.
Before—the setup
Some people started very early. Bill began somewhere around 4 a.m. needless to say, this picture was taken a few hours later, after I was up and had tea and so on.
He used two small dutch ovens and two big ones, to make his famous beans, meat on the side. He also managed to fit in bacon and eggs for our breakfast somewhere in there.
Misty, keeping Bill company. Sort of.
The awning for the deck, about which there had been MUCH discussion, got put up.
Toddler was cared for. Here’s one of my grand-nieces and her new aunt by marriage.
(Angie: I took this picture because it reminded me of you and your climbing tendencies when you were a toddler. And before. You are clearly related to this one 😊)
Tables got set up.
That’s Bill’s wife taking a picture of me while I got one of her.
Helping with tables and chairs was my main contribution to the day, and even that was pretty minimal. But at least I did something.
Dance floor got set up . Of course, music was integral to this process.
That’s the uncle of the toddler, brother of the groom. He and the baby have a special thing going on.
Measuring and discussion ensued.
Floor got laid out.
All done! Note the lights. They added something to the ambiance, but only minimally, since the sun didn’t set until nine o’clock, and I don’t think much if any dancing was done after dark. Of course, I can’t be sure, because I had long since retired out of sight to my van.
The deck was prepped for a place to lay out the feast to come.
People began switching into their party duds. Things were pretty casual, but the work duds just wouldn’t do.
Here’s my sister with her (so far) only grandchild.
Yes, we did have a practically perfect day for it.
Here’s the baby’s father with her. He changed later, before the main event.
During: the main event
More relatives showed up. Here’s my other brother Mike (lots of Mikes in the family) and his wife, with Bill’s wife over on the right. I don’t see them very often, so it was especially nice visiting with them.
Sharon offered to get a picture of me with them, using my phone.
She did one where you can see my face, but I like this one better, partly because Debbie was laughing at me and Scamp.
Here’s the whole crew. Both brothers, their wives, and the guy on the right is (one of) the son(s) of Bill and Sharon (i.e., one of my nephews). Of all their kids, I knew him the least; we spent a lot of time talking before and during the event. He was delightful. If he enjoyed me half as much as I enjoyed him, I did well holding up my end of the conversation.
Here’s Bill, still cooking. Or as he prefers, being a stove. Stoves don’t have to think, they just do.
The groom (David), looking handsome in his vest, and his mom (Sue) over on the left.
Sue again, close up. No one can confirm that she sat down at any point during the entire day. I predict she will not like this picture, but I do.
Groom’s brothers, playing something or other on the front lawn, with a friend whom I do not know. Chris on the left, Mike on the right, for those who want to know. As I said, lots of Mikes in our family.
These two also hate their picture—they were facing into the sun—but honestly, I like it. they apparently sat with my other brother and his wife at the wedding in CA, and found him charming (which is not a word often applied to him, but he does have his moments), and Jo both charming and interesting. The family here seemed to have been very happy that E&J made it, possibly because so few of David’s family made the trek down for the wedding. Jo gets the credit for getting them there, so thanks, Jo, from everyone here.
Ok, I think the important (to me) players have all been introduced, so here are just some pictures.
Oops, I forgot Jerry, father of the groom, dancing with his wife.
Here they are both dancing with their grandchild.
Here’s the band that played after supper.
And a brief clip of their music. I still think “is you is or is you ain’t my baby” is a weird choice for a wedding celebration, let alone for the first selection, but there it is.
I tried, but the music was way too loud for me, so shortly afterwards, I retired to my van.
The morning after
I think this may be my favorite of the pictures I got of Bill. He was up at some ungodly hour (but usual for him—he has a weird sleep pattern) and started cleaning up his dutch ovens and grill.
Took him HOURS, and when he was finally finished he admitted he was tired.
Today was lots of cooking, eating, relaxation, and tearing things down to get them ready to be returned whence they came.
Ending with a shot taken through the back window of the van of nephews playing with knives.
Safely, I hasten to add.
Oops, I just showed them this picture, and apparently this is them checking out the handle of the axe David just broke. The playing with knives came later. That wood thingy is the back of the target they throw these things at.
No travel post is quite complete without a few critter pics. So here are some, mostly of cats.
Walk yesterday morning. There are two cats under there. Find the tails.
They followed me and Scamp down to the settin’ spot by the creek. Phantom:
I think I caught him just as he was chewing on some grass.
He liked it so much he stayed down there when Shadow, Scamp, and I returned to the van. Then he went down there on his own again today. Both times, I got concerned enough after several hours to go calling for him, and he emerged and let me grab him. He wasn’t thrilled about going, but I fed him when we got there to take his mind off it.
Here he is, responding to my calls this afternoon.
The creek., which is running high and strong.
And finally, Scamp.
Whew. Made it. Soon we’re off to church (they even let heathen like me in these days), where I will have the pleasure of hear both Sue and Jerry play.
So I didn’t think I’d have anything to post about for a few days, but then this happened.
I was up there because the worm gear (or whatever you call it) that deploys and retracts the awning chose yesterday morning to give up the ghost. It rained where we were, beginning when I got to the CG and continuing most of the night. I had deployed the awning all the way out for shelter from the rain, and because I could—there was no wind at all. Got up yesterday morning, got a good start on the day, let the cats out for a bit, got them back in, started breaking camp, and got to the point that retracting the awning was the next thing to do—and bam. No way. Climbed up top to see if I could figure out what to do.
This isn’t the first time the awning has gone wonky when I tried to retract it. It goes beyond annoying to incipient panic, because I cannot move the van with the awning out. I think once I did move it about fifty feet that way, going well under five mph, but that was enough to convince me it was never going to be possible to drive for help with the awning out.
Here’s the culprit.
You can’t actually see the dysfunctional part. It’s inside the roundish bit over on the left.
Because it was that gear thingy, the awning couldn’t be retracted manually either. In fact, there’s nothing wrong with the motor part at all. I avoided full-on freaking out because I decided that if push came to shove, I’d cut the awning off and just have to get a new one later. But I definitely was not enthusiastic about that solution.
I started trying to remove the motor to continue my exploration, but didn’t have a socket or wrench small enough. At about that time, the camp host drove past, so I asked him if maybe he’d have something small enough. He went and got his tools, and after finding the size needed (8mm—I think I need to add one to my toolbox in the van), stayed to help.
It turned to be a two-person job. We ended up removing the entire assembly down to a square thingy that is what has to turn the spindle that rolls up the awning. I got the three bolts that needed the 8mm wrench, and then he climbed up and got the rest off.
No pictures for the rest of it, because it took both of us to roll up the awning. He had channellock pliers that gave a good grip on the spindle end, but I wasn’t strong enough to turn it. The arms that support the awning what it’s deployed have a LOT of tension in them. Eventually we figured out he could turn the spindle while I pushed up on the arms, and bit by bit we got it done. My arms, legs, and back were all complaining by then.
I found some extra bungee cords, he put them on to keep the awning from springing loose while driving down the road . . .
Et voila’, mobile again.
I was exhausted but sustained by adrenaline at that point. The drive, however, was beautiful.
By the time I got the above, I was past the best part. Until I got to my lunch stop, by which time I was calmed down from the morning’s crisis. Here’s Shadow appreciating the lunchtime view.
That’s Mt. Rainier. This is a better shot. See if you can pick out the mountain snows from the clouds.
This will help.
Made it to Ellensburg, collected hugs, and got set up. As unsociable as I am, I have been thoroughly enjoying all the socializing. From supper last night.
Which pretty much describes how I’m feeling about this trip following upon the last. My sense is the entire world is trying to get to some degree of normalcy after the height of covid—note I didn’t say post-covid, because I doubt we’ll ever get completely post-covid, at least not in my lifetime. But being off on another trip definitely helps me feel better.
And this post will be shorter, dammit. Whatever I get done tonight is going up, even if I cut a lot out.
I got to the first CG nice and early, and took Scamp over to the lake for a walk. It was beautiful (for me)
and for her, I had taken along her favorite fetch from water toy. So here are lots of videos. Hey, it’s my blog, and you can skip as many as you please 😊. And being selective takes time.
Mostly I don’t remember which videos go with which walk, but this last one was definitely from the next morning, because I had deliberately chosen not to take the toy along so she wouldn’t get all wet before we hit the road. However, she foiled that plan by finding a stick 😏.
Got a few things done that require being in more citified environs (upgrades on a couple of hi tech devices), and then spent that night at Champoeg. Here’s the star of the post, Scamp, again.
And my attempt at a video with that stick.
Not to completely neglect the cats, here’s Phantom. With Scamp 😄.
And a sweet photo of Shadow. He was resting next to me, and just reached out his paw and put it on my arm. He left it there for well over five minutes.
The next day—yesterday—I stopped for lunch at my niece’s. Here she and her partner are trying to vacuum up some hover flies.
Mostly unsuccessfully, sadly.
I then came up to this spot for a two-night stay., which is where I am now.
I had reserved the site sight unseen (heh), but it has turned out to be practically perfect in every way, particularly for the cats. They’ve had all the outdoor time they asked for. Here’s Phantom.
He’s done the cat-confronting-something thing a few times today. I have no idea what, but I think I’ll keep both cats in the rest of the night.
Here are a couple of shots of plants imitating animals seen on walks with Scamp. At least, that’s what they look like to me. This one may have had some human help.
This one, however, must have gotten there entirely naturally.
I hope you can see what I’m talking about. It looks like a stag with multiple antlers, at the top of the photo.
It’s been a good day. I had originally scheduled a full day in camp so I could shower—always a major undertaking while on the road—but it has also included a semi-strenuous couple of walks with Scamp (not all that long, but quite a bit of uphill), AND I cooked supper. Which is very rare.
And now I have a blog post done (pats herself on the back.)
This a a definite candidate for the TLDR post of the year, but I’m posting it anyway because 1) I finally got it done, so why not, and 2) I want it up for my future self to come back to for the memories.
Part 1: The trip that wasn’t
I set out a couple of weeks ago (edited to clarify—early April 2022) for a trip to the SW that I figured would take about a month. Since it was the longest trip I had planned in years, I was both excited and a bit nervous about it. What would I forget? (I always forget something, usually something relatively minor that can be picked up in a store along the way.) How would I deal with the weather? (Both hot and cold weather were in the forecast along the route.)
I set out with a well-loaded van, freshly serviced, feeling pretty good. Which lasted maybe six miles, when the “something’s wrong with the oil” light came on. Which freaked me out, since it had been serviced just the previous week.
Cutting out some of the details, I remained freaked out all the way up to Roseburg. Turned out the old guy who had done the actual work had overfilled the oil. The couple who own the garage kept telling me it was ok for it to be a bit over, but I remained unconvinced, and having that oil light on kept me anxious and freaked. I couldn’t face seeing it constantly on for the next couple thousand miles, so I got an oil change in Roseburg. Not cheap, but my local garage will reimburse me, so problem resolved.
By this time, it’s three o’clock, and I haven’t had lunch. The campground I had planned to stay in that night was less than an hour and a half down I-5. I debated with myself about what to do—get lunch in Roseburg? Go to a closer (but much less nice) CG? My adrenaline level was slowly easing at this point, so I finally decided to get out some crackers to snack on and press on to my goal.
By the time I got to the CG, picked my spot, registered, had some lunch, and did some setup, I was beginning to feel normal. We were in for some weather, but Scamp and I got in a walk,
And I got things all set up for the cats. I hadn’t yet remembered anything I had forgotten, so was beginning to feel that good on-my-way feeling one gets at the beginning of a trip.
By morning, the weather had arrived. I broke camp in the rain, which went about as usual for breaking camp in the rain. Got back on the freeway—eventually. First had to wait for this to finish getting cleared out of the way.
I still can’t figure out how that guy managed to get himself off the ramp—it’s not like one can get up to speed in that spot.
The plan was to get over the Cascades on Route 140. Snow was in the forecast, but not that many miles of it, and I had my chains with me, so over and up I went. The rain became mixed with snow, and eventually just plain snow. Nothing sticking to the road yet.
The snow was getting heavier, and falling snow is pretty, so I dared to take this.
Barely dared. I got the camera out and managed to hit video, and hold it up while I peered under it so I could steer. Left-handed. For all of six seconds. On a straight stretch. Things got more intense further on, but I figured I’d used up my dumb luck for the day, and neither wanted to pull over into snow and stop to take more video or pictures, nor risk the whole do-it-while-moving thing again.
There was a stretch of several miles where the snow was sticking to the road, but at no point along that stretch was there a place I could pull over safely to put on the chains, so I just white-knuckled it and kept driving. Caught up to a car that did have chains on, and was consequently driving quite slowly; I was happy to follow it from a safe distance.
Eventually I got down out of the snow and to Klamath Lake, where I pulled into a rest area type spot for lunch.
The tide of adrenaline was starting to recede, and by the time I fueled up in Klamath Falls and drove down to Lava Beds National Monument I was starting to feel pretty good.
Right up until I pulled into the Visitor’s Center and began looking for my wallet.
Which was gone. Nowhere to be found.
Panic of course ensued.
I called the CG to see if anyone had turned in the wallet. Nope. Called the bank and canceled my card and, when prompted, my checking account. The next morning, I drove back up to Klamath Falls and got the process of getting a replacement driver’s license started. Debated getting a slew of cash from my bank and continuing the trip using just cash, but good sense and prudence prevailed, and I headed back to the CG I had left just the day before. Under very different conditions; this was my view when I stopped for lunch.
And this was the view at the CG we had been at that first night.
There was still no sign of the wallet back at the CG, though I checked again with both park ranger and camp host. I concluded I must have left it at the registration kiosk where I filled out my registration form, and paid by check, which is why I had the wallet with me.
In the end, I just went back home to deal with cards and bank and await my driver’s license, arriving home just three days after I left on The Trip That Wasn’t.
The trip that was
Once my new credit card and replacement license, SS card, and Medicare card arrived, and a few more details were taken care of with the bank, I felt ready and able to get out again. Mostly able. The seriousness of the near-disaster of losing the wallet, for which I could only hold myself responsible, left me questioning, for the first time in my adult life, if I’m safe to travel alone. The potential for major financial consequences, in combination with how rapidly my daily energy depletes to the detriment of both physical and mental coping, had me worried . The energy depletion was likely why I made the error of leaving the wallet in the first place. I toyed with the idea of trying for the SW again, but didn’t feel there was adequate time to do that. But I wanted to get out further and for more time than the short, 2-4 night trips I’ve mostly taken the past few years.
So I planned a ten day-two week trip, east to the desert. Since my time at Lava Beds had been cut short, I decided to go there and be a proper tourist instead of the freaked out camper of a few weeks before. Also planned for very short drives, to adjust for that energy depletion issue.
The beginning
Prep for the trip was relatively easy, because I hadn’t unloaded all that much from before. So a week ago yesterday (typing this on May 1) I loaded up and headed for Whistler’s Bend, just above Roseburg. It’s mildly risky to head out on a Saturday for a popular CG, but I hoped it was early enough to not be full. And it was fine. Maybe 75-80% full, even though there seemed to be a disc golf tournament going on. Got a good site, and was set up in time to take Scamp out for a couple of walks. Had to keep her on leash most of the time, though did let her off when we got down to the river.
Where she was really sure I should throw her some sticks. So eventually I did, taking care to keep them in the shallows so there was no danger of her getting literally carried away.
From there, it was up and over the Cascades, past the Crater Lake turnoff. My feelings were a mixed bag. It felt good to be on the road, and the mountains were beautiful. Until we got to the fire zone. This happened last summer.
Makes me sad, even though I know fire is part of the ecosystem out here. It’s just been SO widespread the past several years, and it will take decades to centuries to recover. If it ever does, given the reality of climate change.
It WAS good to see the snow still lingering up there. This is the turnoff for a very nice CG I’ve stayed at a couple of times. The Forest Service has taken to only opening most of their CGs from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day. Back in the day, they opened them up according to the weather that year, and I’ve grumbled many times at having CGs closed for no good reason (IMO). Not this year. Totally justified to have this closed 😊.
Here you see snow, dead trees, and some trees that survived the fire. Hopefully the snow, and the additional snow and rain we’ve gotten since I took that picture, will mean a better fire season this year.
We camped that night in a place we’ve been a couple of times before, that I thought was Lower Buck Creek, but learned this trip is Upper Buck Creek. I’ve loved it every time, but this time was special because we were the only ones there.
We stayed two nights there. It was very restorative to my soul. Nothing to do, mind you, besides eat and sleep and walk—and just be there. I love my western Oregon home, with all its beauty, but the eastern Cascades have a piney woods forest that’s more reminiscent of my childhood home. Here, lots of Ponderosa pines. The smell is unique and wonderful, but sadly I can’t share that with y’all. But I love being among the trees while still having a clear view in every direction. So here’s a bunch of pictures.
The sky kept grabbing my attention, as in the above.
One of my goals for this trip was to be able to let the cats out, and have Scamp out unleashed and on her own. Here’s Shadow.
Here’s Scamp demonstrating her pointing ability. She’s pointing at the stick over to the left of the picture. Her purpose is persuading me to get the stick and throw it for her. If I ignore her, she’ll look at me, and then very pointedly back to the stick, until either I do as she wants or she figures out I’m not gonna..
Here are a couple of short videos, the points of which are explained in the videos themselves.
From Buck Creek, I headed back to Lava Beds. On the way out, my attention was once again caught by the sky, and the vista out across the sagebrush here.
Here, it was the critters that caught my attention. I’m pretty sure those are pronghorn antelopes there. There was no way to pull over to take pictures, but there was so little traffic (as in, none while I was stopped) that I was able to get these.
Those are the Cascades in the background.
I was thrilled to see the antelope. It use to be relatively commonplace, fifty years ago or so, to spot a group of them when we were out driving around, but it’s been a long time since I spotted as many as I did on this trip.
Lava Beds
Lava Beds is both like, and different from, other lava flows scattered around the West: Craters of the Moon in Idaho, driving over the Old McKenzie Highway (Hwy 242, skirting north of the Sisters) in Oregon, the Lassen Volcanic Wilderness in California. Here are some pictures from the drive in to the Visitor’s Center and CG. A running theme for this trip was the beauty of the skyscapes, which were often more of a motivation for taking a given picture than the landscape.
As you can see from that last picture, this area also suffered from the fires last summer. One of the things that was interesting to me is that the sparseness of the trees due to the chronically arid climate served to mitigate the impact of the fire here. Every now and then you’d see a living, green tree that had survived precisely because it was isolated from the nearby burned, dead trees.
For many (most?) people who visit Lava Beds, the main feature of interest is the caves. I’m neither strongly drawn to nor strongly averse to caves, and I fully intended to explore at least one and possibly more while there. My first attempt was Skull Cave. Here’s the entry; you can see the path in on the right.
A bit further in.
You can’t really tell from the picture, but along about here it was getting hard for me to see. I had flashlights with me, but the daylight coming in from the entrance was just enough to prevent the flashlights (I tried all of them) from illuminating the path well, while not bright enough to illuminate the path itself. Here’s a picture looking back toward the daylight. It doesn’t do justice to the effect— the light at the entry was brighter to my eyes, and the cave darker, than the camera captured.
The path is narrow, steepish, and rough. Having read the “Cave Safely” literature handed out at the Visitor’s Center, I was becoming acutely aware that tackling this on my own maybe wasn’t the most sensible thing ever. Sometimes I enjoy challenging myself with slightly risky activities, but I wasn’t enjoying this. So I decided to give up and see if I could find a place to walk Scamp off leash. Legitimately.
Which I did.
We headed up a gravel road conspicuously labeled “Not Maintained for Public Use”. However, it didn’t say Keep Out, so curiosity demanded it be explored. It turned out that a mile or two up the road, we left the protected area and were on unregulated land. Very attractive land.
I pulled over and Scamp and I got out for a walk/run (I walk, she runs), in the course of which we passed this:
This looked even better for secluded walking, so I cut short the walk along the main road, went back to the van, and explored this offshoot. Which turned out to be another excellent decision. I parked the van and headed out with Scamp. Vistas:
I think that’s Mt. Shasta in the background.
And flowers. Some of them plentiful, for such arid country, as you can see from the above. I took a few closeups.
The yellow ones were familiar to me, having spent years in various arid western environments, but the white ones were new to me. Feel free to enlighten me as to what they are if you know. Not that I know what the yellow ones are called, either.
It felt so good to be up there that I decided to stay for lunch, having noticed a good spot for it on our walk. Once parked, I left the door open for critters for awhile. The cats thoroughly approved:
I kicked back for awhile, enjoying my view.
And then I remembered why I hardly ever leave the doors open—flies. So I closed the door, swatted the fly, and made lunch.
After a leisurely lunch, followed by tea and a brief nap (more of a light doze, really), I decided to explore further down the main road. When the road started up a rise, I got nervous about being able to turn the van around, so decided to stop and explore on foot. Scamp had no opinion either way: she’s alway up for a walk wherever we may be. Turned the van around first so I would be ready to head out when we got back.
Here we’re part way up. If I had known the side road I was standing on was there, I’d have driven the van this far and turned around there.
Here are some more from the walk up. They really don’t do the vistas justice; photos never quite do.
As I turned around ready to go back, I saw this.
With all the burned areas surrounding me, I was concerned enough that when I got back to the Visitor’s Center I went in to show a park ranger. He reassured me that they see this often at that time of year—apparently farmers in the valley west of there burn their fields to get ready for planting.
Here you can see how far up we’d come. Way down there is a white dot that is the van. Honest. Though you won’t be able to see it unless you enlarge the picture.
Here’s the same view, zoomed in a bit. The van doesn’t pop out at one, but you can at least find it :-).
Here’s the sign seen on the way back that proves that Scamp and I were legal on our walks, that we’d been off the Monument lands.
The next morning, I woke up to this.
Which surprised and delighted me. The forecast had been for possible rain and snow; during the night I had woken to the sound of rain on the roof and smiled happily to myself. It only lasted maybe 15 minutes or so though, so I consoled myself that anything was better nothing. It didn’t occur to me that the reason for the silence might be that it had turned to snow.
It was still snowing when I got out to get the cats in and take our first walk.
Scamp wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
I worried about slick footing, and decided to try my hiking boots. Which turned out not to be any better than my other boots or shoes for walking on slick slushy pavement. But we made it up to the toilets and back without mishap.
The snow didn’t last long, which made it somewhat easier to break camp.
Here are some more shots, taken on our last walk around the CG.
I thought about attempting a different cave before leaving, but this view left me feeling it was ok to wimp out again.
So we headed out toward the next goal, Alturas, the principle attraction of which was a CG with a shower. The view, and near-absence of any other traffic, continued to entrance me. I kept an eye out for a place to stop for a good walk with Scamp, and ended up here.
I let Scamp off the leash, this time against the rules, but with virtually no one else around I decided it was ok. And Scamp was definitely in favor of it.
Because it was a travel day, I cut the walk short, but was glad we got it in.
The drive over to highway 139 was just gorgeous, again mostly because of the skyscapes, and having the road completely to myself, I finally stopped to try to capture some of it.
Again nothing did it justice. The following is the best I could do. I think it was supposed to be a panorama shot, but ended up being a VERY short video, that is pointless as a video but if you pause it IMMEDIATELY after clicking on it, you may get some of the panorama effect.
Town interlude
In any case, we made it to Alturas in good time, and settled in to the CG on the edge of town, which turned out to be nicer than I had anticipated. Sullys RV park if anyone is interested. I had a meal in a little spot in town, and got my shower the next morning. Eventually. I was not the only female camper who was there specifically for the shower 😊. But water was hot and plentiful, which was the main thing.
The camp host did a good job of alerting me to Alturas’s attractions, and I was planning a very short drive that day, so after breaking camp I headed just a few miles out of town to the Modoc National Wildlife Refuge, which also serves as a good dog walking place. On leash for sure here, as the wildlife in question is birds, which were nesting I believe, so I definitely didn’t want Scamp disturbing them. Some videos, which are narrated within so am not adding text.
From Alturas I headed up for a night in Lakeview Oregon, mostly to make the next day’s drive out to Sheldon Wildlife Refuge shorter. Since it was such a short hop, I took the time to check out a CG at the Goose Lake State Recreation Area, which is virtually on the border between Oregon and California. The CG wasn’t yet open, but was due to open that Sunday, so I was curious to see if it might be a worthwhile stop on the way back from Sheldon, which was the easternmost point I had planned for this trip.
While the CG was closed, the Day Use Area was open. It was close to lunchtime, and the area was nearly deserted, so I did lunch there and then set out with Scamp to do a little exploring. Enough to convince me it would be worth the twenty minute drive down from Lakeview to stay there on my return trip, partly because of the opportunities for walking Scamp.
We stayed that night at a private CG in Lakeview. It was a utility stop—get groceries, get deisel, sleep, get up, break camp, and drive to Sheldon. The long-term drought the entire West has suffered the last several years was more evident in Sheldon that any of the other places I saw on this trip (if you don’t count all the burned areas we drove through). There were some signs of early spring, but areas of wetland that were still viable the first time I was there five years ago or so had completely dried up. They were starting to dry up back then, and it’s only gotten worse since then. I think the US Fish and Wildlife Service is maintaining some remaining ponds and wetlands in the area using wells, but don’t quote me on that. The ponds with surrounding wetlands were there, but I don’t know where the water was coming from.
I was glad I drove out there, and enjoyed the time there, but it was very windy and correspondingly cold. That wind chill factor thing is real. But the skyscapes were gorgeous, the cats did get some outdoor freedom, and Scamp was all for taking long walks regardless of the conditions. Sadly, she had to settle for medium long walks.
That’s less than half the gorgeous shots I got, but perhaps more than enough for you. But it’s too hard to choose which ones to leave out.
Here’s the happiest camper among us at that venue.
I’m always surprised when I see sagebrush in bloom. Every time. And then I think “Of course it blooms! It has to reproduce somehow, dummy!” And then I remember how many times I’ve been through that sequence before.
Several short rains blew through while we were there, contributing to those gorgeous skyscapes, but driving me and the cats into the van. The cats, of course, took every opportunity to oust me from my spot, but I did reclaim it when I wanted it.
I had gotten there early enough that by the next morning I felt I’d had enough, and the lure of Goose Lake was calling to me, so the next morning I decided to head back.
The sky continued to enthrall me on the drive back, enhanced on the rises by glimpses of snow on the mountains in the distance. So when I saw an opportunity, I pulled over for a picture.
Since it was Sunday, and scheduled to be the first day for the CG to be open, I had some concern as to whether it would really be open, but it was. The camp hosts were busy cleaning small branches from sites and returning tables to their places when I arrived, but a couple of other rigs had already picked their spots and were set up, although the hosts told me the gate had only been open an hour. I took my time picking my spot—drove around the loop a couple of times, then pulled into one that looked good and got out to walk the loop with Scamp, and dithered between a couple of other spots, taking careful note of the view options they offered. Finally settled into this one, carefully positioning the van to optimize the view, and registered.
In order to get that view, I pulled forward into the site, angling the van to maximize my viewing pleasure. However, some time in the past thirty years or so, all CGs decided people should back into sites instead of going into them forward, and place the registration slip on the dashboard on the driver’s side to make it convenient for camp hosts to check them. I’d had a lovely conversation with the hosts upon entering the CG, and didn’t want to make things awkward for them, so I decided to tape the registration slip in the back window where they could easily see it. I knew I had some tape somewhere in the van, and began a thorough search for it when a more cursory search didn’t turn it up.
And found this.
That was the wallet the loss of which caused me to abort my trip to the southwest. Which is now no longer lost.
My primary emotion was relief. Some chagrin at not having found it back when I first misplaced it, thereby avoiding all the ensuing hassle of replacing license, cards, checking account, etc. but mostly relief. I no longer have to worry about having my identity stolen or wait for the other shoe to drop if someone tried to use my card or cash a check on the old account. It felt almost euphoric.
Turned out the wallet was in my bag of masks and sanitizer that I have carried since early covid days. I had picked it up to empty things out to see if the tape might be in the bottom of the bag, and found the wallet. It took my old brain several seconds to process what I was seeing.
What I now think happened is that when I got back to the van from registering at the CG after that stressful first day out described above, I must have opened the door and put the wallet in the first black bag I saw. The wallet is black, the covid supply bag is black and my backpack where the wallet belongs is black. I had looked into the covid supply bag when hunting for the wallet, more than once, but had not dug down into it, and the black wallet just blended into the black bag. It’s either that, or the wallet went through a black hole and hid in another dimension, and returned when it decided it had put me through enough and I’d learned my lesson.
Part of the relief was because losing the wallet had made me feel less safe about traveling on my own. I’ve traveled alone ever since I got my first car in my twenties, and never worried about it, but I am getting older, and have much less stamina, which contributed to my fog the day I misplaced the wallet, and that had me worried, as I said above. Having found that I did not in fact leave the wallet where someone could take it encourages me. Even in the midst of the brain fog and physical exhaustion, I did not in fact entirely lose the wallet. That plus this successful trip—my longest solo trip since 2019–has me feeling once again that it’s safe for me to travel on my own.
So, back to the travelogue.
Even apart from finding the wallet, the stay at Goose Lake was just what I needed. Walks with Scamp,
letting the cats out (though they mostly came right back in again), beautiful views,
and lots of lazing around.
The day between my two nights there was cold and stormy,
which gave me a good excuse for that lazing about.
Some mule deer showed up the next morning.
And kept me entertained for awhile.
Part of my view was a field of cattle. On the stormy morning, I saw the below, the rancher feeding them—it was dramatic enough I tried to get some video, but you can’t hear me much over the wind taking over the phone’s microphone, which was a shame because much of the drama was the lowing of the cattle. The second one is a bit better. But the videos also show the scenery to good effect.
Birds are touted as a major draw for Goose Lake. I saw a few, though not a lot. This was the best I caught of geese flying over, though I saw and heard them consistently while there. One must post something of geese while at a place called Goose Lake, right?
Leastways, I thought they were geese. They could have been ducks 😁.
The second morning, I got this after our morning walk. The point is the sound, so turn up the sound on your device to hear it.
There was a British couple who live in Cyprus who apparently come over to the U.S. in general and Goose Lake in particular for the birds every year (nice for some, as the British say). Having gotten the video above, I played it for the woman, who was walking around the CG with large camera in hand. She had not yet seen sandhill cranes, so I pointed to where I thought they were. She let me know later that she had gotten a picture of them—I felt absurdly gratified by that.
I headed back to Buck Creek for a homeward stop. There are some CGs by what used to be at least wetlands if not lakes, but they’ve dried up from the drought, so I didn’t even consider stopping there once I saw the conditions. Buck Creek was even more beautiful than it was on our way out. Enhanced by the fact that once again we had it all to ourselves.
I thought about spending another day there, but there was another storm due in over the Cascades that I would have been driving through if I stayed another night, so I resisted the pull of Buck Creek and loaded up to leave. Just as I was almost ready to pull out, a couple of other campers pulled in with large rigs and began figuring out where to situate themselves. I took it as endorsement of having made the right decision. It was a long (for me, these days—these things are relative, you know) drive home, but I made it ok, and that storm did move in the next day, so I was happy to be in my house, with my shower.
Well. It has taken me FOREVER to get this done (I’ve been home almost a month now), but I’m FINALLY finished. As are you, and well done and I’m amazed if you actually read this whole thing. But it’s been so long since I’ve posted, and have done so many trips that I’ve intended to post but didn’t get done, that I persisted, and here we are. Just in time—I leave two days from now on my next trip. Which I may or may not post—no promises either way 😊.
About three weeks ago—October 17, to be precise—I fell and sprained (I assumed) my left wrist. The next day, Monday, I noticed not all was well with Phantom. He wasn’t eating, which for him is a great big ginormous red flag. I got him into the vet on an emergency basis, and she found that his bladder was very full but she couldn’t get any pee from him by squeezing. She figured he had a blocked urethra (which apparently is a thing with male cats—who knew), so she anesthetized him in order to catheterize him, but found a tiny crystal right at the tip of the urethra she was able to pluck off. She kept him for a few hours to see if he was then able to pee. All appeared well, so I took him home that night.
But by the next morning, it was clear that in fact not all was well, so back he went. This time she catheterized him and kept him overnight, removing the catheter Wednesday to see how he would do. I took him home Thursday, but again by the next day it was clear he wasn’t peeing, so back he went, to be catheterized over the weekend, hoping and expecting that he’d be ok Monday. But he wasn’t. I think that was the day she spelled out options for me, which amounted to: 1) put him down (since not being able to pee is ultimately fatal); 2) try another round of catheterization; or 3) take him to either Eugene or Medford for a very expensive surgery (a reconstruction of the urethra so it’s shorter and wider so pee can get through even if it contains crystals).
Phantom is a very nice, sweet cat—arguably the nicest and most social being in my household, including me—and I was absolutely not ready to have him put down. This whole thing had come as a bolt from the blue, and my brain doesn’t cope as well with crises as it once did, so I opted for a third go-round of catheterization, but decided I should prepare for the worst. By the end of the day, I had decided that even though it seems an obscene amount of money to spend on a cat, I would do the surgery if it came to that (see above about sweet cat, plus he’s only 7.5 years old and I do have the money in the bank. I would probably have made a different decision if he were 12.)
The plan was the vet would keep him catheterized until Wednesday, remove it Wednesday evening, and we’d see if he peed overnight. Both the vet and I were assuming that if he didn’t, surgery was immediately indicated. Turned out the pet hospital in Eugene wouldn’t be able to do it until the following Tuesday, but the one in Medford is a 24/7 emergency care hospital, so I got him set up with a chart there and awaited developments. I was seriously hoping not to have to make the drive to Medford and back (about three hours each way) because steering is a two-handed operation unless you have one of those knobs on your steering wheel and my wrist, while getting better, was still quite painful when asked to do much of anything.
Thursday morning the vet greeted me with “You don’t have to go yo Medford”. I happily brought him home (Shadow, who was weirded out by Phantom’s absence, had by this time settled nicely into being the only cat and was not at all happy to have him back.) Phantom clearly had his appetite back, and we enjoyed some lap time that morning.
However, by that afternoon I was beginning to be worried. Phantom was peeing, but in tiny amounts at a time. I called the vet’s office, but the vet who had been taking care of him was off that afternoon, and the other vet didn’t call me back (although I asked for her to do so.) It was two the next day—Friday—before I got a call-back, from the first vet, and she had me bring him in. The news was not good—his bladder was full and tight. She called up to Medford and was told that if I could get him there by 6:00 that evening, they could do the surgery (which now that I know more, confuses me). Since it was then three o’clock, and I learned for the first time that our vets’ office no longer can keep animals in over the weekend because of lack of personnel (the vet had done it the previous weekend out of the goodness of her heart, but she was going out of town the coming weekend), and I had it firmly fixed in my mind that not peeing is life-threatening, and I’m not at my best by late afternoon these days, and don’t drive in the dark anymore, and it’s a three hour drive and I wouldn’t even be able to leave for another hour at least—I freaked. I saw no solution, no way out.
Eventually the vet removed his urine with a syringe and I brought him home, still trying to decide if I could maybe do the drive up to Medford that night so he could at least be catheterized and not die over the weekend. However, it was raining, the road up to I-5 is a curvy mountain road, and Phantom was peeing small amounts, so I decided the sensible thing to do was wait and go first thing Saturday morning. By morning, I was more relaxed and clear-headed, and Phantom was still peeing in small amounts, so I took the time to make sure I had what I needed in the van for a couple of days if necessary, arranged with neighbors to take care of Shadow, and headed for Medford.
Altogether, Saturday was a long day, for me and for Phantom. We arrived at the SOVSC about 2:00–and began a long series of waits. Wait for his turn to come up to go in (they are on Covid procedures, so animals go in but people don’t—business is conducted in the parking lot.) Wait for him to be seen by a vet (that was a particularly long wait.) Wait for the vet to call and talk to me. Wait for him to have some diagnostic tests. Wait for the results of the tests. Wait for them to come take my money. Wait for Phantom to be checked out, and for them to bring him out. By this time it was 9:00 PM, my bedtime, and I was more than ready to be done for the night. Fortunately, they had no problem with me sleeping in their parking lot. I learned from chatting with some other people who were waiting that SOVSC is short-staffed because of Covid—some people quit because of working conditions or because they got sick, and others refused to get vaccinated once that was possible and were let go. I tried to be patient and understanding, but waiting is HARD for me, and I kept wanting more information about what was going on than I was getting. I was sure grateful for the van, which made the waiting at least more comfortable.
It was a showery afternoon, so I saw several rainbows. Finally took a picture.
What I gained in return for all that waiting, besides rainbows, was information. Information about the SOVSC process: contrary to my impression from what I had been told by my vet’s office, one cannot just show up and have one’s animal taken care of. One needs a referral from one’s vet (unless the animal is clearly an emergency case). Fortunately, I had pushed to have that happen before I left on Friday. Nor, however, will they just take one’s own vet’s recommendation for what should be done—they insist on making their own evaluation. For which one pays. I was initially annoyed by this, but in the end was glad for it.
Part of that evaluation was diagnostic tests. They offered me a urinalysis, blood tests to make sure he was healthy enough for surgery if that proved necessary, and x-rays to see if there were any stones/crystals in his bladder explaining his inability to pee. I opted for all three (they were scrupulous about informing me of costs ahead of time and getting my say-so before going ahead at any stage.) Results: a bladder infection for which an antibiotic shot he got the previous week was not effective, blood levels ok (with indications of stress—duh), and no visible detritus in the bladder. All this being so, together with the fact that Phantom was continuing to pee small quantities at a time, and his bladder was not distended and tight, the vet said they wouldn’t do the surgery, even if we hung around until Tuesday, the first possible time to get it done in any case. Apparently they usually only do it after three episodes of blockage requiring catheterization. I said, but he’s had three episodes of catheterization. But apparently not—the entire ordeal so far only counted as one episode. If he has another such episode in, say, three months, and then another in another, say, six months—then they’d do it. This was not only news to me, but it turns out it was news to my vet also she was surprised they didn’t do it, because she too assumed three distinct catheterizations were three episodes.
Once I got home, I finally read up on the surgery, which I hadn’t done before because I was too stressed to think about it. Having done so, I understand their reluctance to undertake it unless it’s unambiguously called for. Not only is the surgery itself painful for the critter, the post-operative care is difficult for both critter and owner. If I had had what I thought I wanted when I headed up on Saturday, it would have not only been very expensive, but Phantom and I would be in the midst of this difficult process even now—unless he’d died on the operating table, which does happen.
Anyway, back to Friday night. The vet didn’t see any need to catheterize him since he had peed during the time they had him. They would have kept him in overnight, but I didn’t see the point of that—I knew he’d be more comfortable out in the van, which is his home away from home and in which he’s very comfortable. She carefully offered me three medicines—an antibiotic, prazosin to lower his blood pressure and hopefully help the urethra to relax, and a pain killer. Again I went for all three, though I should have turned down the pain killer, because I won’t be using it. Knock wood. I think it was another hour, maybe more, before I finally got him back, and then had to give him meds because he had threatened to bite when they tried it. He was NOT a happy cat, and let me know that in no uncertain (for him) terms. He ate, and peed a couple small ones in the litter box, I got his pills into him (I have a device to make this possible without getting bitten), and then let him stay inside the van overnight because I didn’t have the heart to put him back in the crate and put him out for the night. Which meant I didn’t sleep as well as I otherwise would have, but I did get some sleep thanks to my gabapentin and ibuprofen PM.
The vet had emphasized that if he got blocked (as evidenced by no pee for 6-8 hours), it would be life-threatening and he would need to be catheterized. I had thought I’d stay in the area one more night, so that if that happened it would be possible for him to be catheterized, since once back home it would not be possible until Monday. But Sunday morning, it was obvious he was still not truly blocked—while each pee was small, he had peed several times during the night. I dithered while breaking camp and getting ready to drive, and finally decided to drive back to the Rogue River rest area/CG for breakfast, where I could have a nice walk with Scamp, and decide then whether to stay or head home. In the end, much as I like that CG, I just wanted to be home, so drove home, getting here about 2:00. Wiped out. I knew coming home was a bit of a risk, but Phantom had peed again while Scamp and I were walking, so I felt it was more likely to be ok than not, and so it has proved. So far.
The drives themselves, both up and back, were quite nice, though I wasn’t in the best shape to appreciate them, due to stress on the way up and being tired on the say back. But fall colors were on display, with enough blue sky between rain bouts to add to the beauty. I took this while on the walk with Scamp—the best views were while I was driving, but somehow it didn’t seem quite the thing to do to try to take pictures then what with only one fully functional arm and all, so this will have to stand in for it the rest.
I’ve been back for a week now. Monday morning, I decided maybe I should go see my doctor about the wrist. It wasn’t healing as fast as I thought it should, and the drive had definitely done it no good, so I thought just maybe I should make sure nothing was broken. Got in to see him Wednesday; he sent me for x-rays, which revealed that there is indeed a break. I have no idea what kind of break or exactly where, but have an appointment with the orthopedist up at our little hospital tomorrow, so should know more after that. Took Phantom in to the local vet on Thursday to find out if the bladder infection was gone, and to show her what he’s doing in the way of peeing (I use clumping litter, so I can save the clumps). The urinalysis revealed he’s still infected, so he’s still on an antibiotic (yet a different one), and also prazosin and gabapentin. I don’t know whether he or I hate getting those into him more. So far, he seems to be getting out a good amount of urine cumulatively, though only a small amount at any one time. Shadow seems mostly resigned to having him back, and I’m letting Phantom outside for the first time since all this started. So—So far, so good.
I’ve driven past Mt. Humbug on highway 101 many times, and often had the vague thought that I should stop and explore it someday. I eventually realized that I would never do it as long as I was on my way somewhere else, that it would have to be a destination in its own right. A couple of weeks ago, when there was a weather window (a couple of days with no rain), I decided the time had come. There’s a campground on one side of the highway, and a trail up the mountain on the other. I loaded up for one night out and drove down after lunch (it’s just over an hour from my house.)
At the end of January, I took a trip up the coast to Fort Stevens (near Astoria, for any out-of-staters who see this. Astoria being where ET was filmed, for any old out-of-staters 🙂 ). As usual, I came back with every intention of blogging it, but didn’t for the first few days, and then it (as usual) didn’t feel timely, and then it felt too late–well, you get the picture.
BUT I recently got fiber-optic wifi at the house, and am using that as the excuse/reason for doing it now, to see if it speeds things up noticeably. (Later–it did. Yay!)
The timing of the trip was predicated on the weather. The point was to time my arrival at Fort Stevens for the day before a predicted sunny day, so I could have the entire sunny day up there. And it worked! A minor miracle when it comes to predictions about weather even a few days out along the coast, at least three seasons of the year.
One can, should one wish, make the drive from my house all the way to Fort Stevens in one day, but my days of doing long, or even longish, drives are over, so I planned to stay at South Beach SP, just south (duh) of Newport. As expected, it was rainy and windy when we arrived, but I was prepared for that. It was my first time there, and it turned out to be a very good place for this time of year. There were quite a few people in the CG–more than I anticipated– but it was nowhere near full. I don’t think I’d like it full, but then I don’t like most CGs when they are really full.
After picking and claiming my spot, Scamp and I headed over to the beach. Interestingly, there are signs along the way indicating where the beach was in years past. Turns out, the river jetty causes the beach to grow. Once I read the sign that explained that, I could see the signs of the dunes near the current beach growing.
It was windy, and I was using my umbrella, but the rain gave me a bit of a break, and we made it all the way out.
The next morning, we got a pretty sunrise, after a very windy and rainy night.
The forecast for that day wasn’t looking good, so I decided to delay getting to Fort Stevens by one more day. I was curious about Cape Lookout, so decided to at least drive out there and stay if I liked it. Which I did, a lot.
It started snowing on the drive up and out to the Cape. Very pretty. I tried, but this is the best I managed at capturing it.
The snow was rain down at the CG, but the next morning it had lingered on the hills.
You can’t really hear me well on that, but I was talking about the wind, which was intense. More on that later.
I’m getting things out of order here, but so what. I saw a lovely moon in the evening when I was putting the cats to bed for the night. . .
. . . and again in the morning when doing Scamp’s morning pee walk.
Neither picture shows what I saw, because my phone refuses to focus on a full moon so you get the smeary look instead. Which is also pretty, so it will do.
As mentioned above, the wind on our morning walk was impressive, which made for lovely surf.
Those were taken, I think, at two different stretches along the beach. You can see why I didn’t even contemplate a beach walk that morning.
Since it was raining some too, I tried to deploy my umbrella as best I could. On the way out, I gave up after awhile and put up with getting a bit wet, but on the way back, facing into the cold wind and rain, I decided to use it again. Even using both arms holding it up and angled correctly, my arms got tired from holding it up against the wind. At that point, I think Scamp was having more fun than I was :-).
The campground is protected by rocks and a short dune, as you can see here. It wouldn’t last long without that.
Here is some impressive evidence that storms have been known to be much more powerful than the one I experienced.
I took that the afternoon we arrived. Clearly, some storm had tossed that rather large log up and over the dune and onto the fence. Probably the storm surge was aided by a high tide, but still. It looked like the damage had been there awhile, so probably not this winter.
Heading out, I took the scenic route skirting Tillamook Bay. I’d forgotten, if I had ever realized, just how beautiful the bay is. It was one of those occasions when I had to make myself quit stopping to take pictures.
I think I took the first and the last because of the snow. As I commented on FB, fresh snow makes everything look prettier, even clearcut mountainsides.
Found an absolutely beautiful place for the lunch stop, north of Neahkannie. Watching the waves from above was mesmerizing.
I had to tear myself away, but eventually managed to do so.
It was intermittently cloudy and rainy and then just cloudy when I finally got up to Fort Stevens. Which wasn’t all that “eventually”–I had plenty of time to drive around getting oriented–it’s a huge campground– pick my spot, drive around doing some initial exploring so the map would make sense to me, get set up with plenty of time for a walk with Scamp for some more orientation, and then settle in for wine and our usual evening camping routine.
The next day was cloudy and a bit blustery in the morning, but ended up sunny and perfect. The first objective was a long off-leash walk with Scamp. I drove out to the jetty, checking out wach potential trail along the way. There’s now a short observation tower at the jetty, from which you see this view.
I could have stood there for another half hour just watching, but Scamp wanted to walk! Walk now! No, run! Let’s go! This is perfect! Sadly, there was not a good trail at that point, so I spent ten minutes tricking her back into the van, complicated by the damn DEF light coming on. Diesel exhaust fluid to you gas vehicle drivers. Once that light appears, I can only start the engine 20 times before replacing the fluid, or else the Mercedes engineers in their omnipotent and infinite wisdom will lock it off and it has to be towed to he nearest Mercedes servicing place to be dealt with. Freaks me out every time I see that light.
Anyway, I picked our trail and headed off for about a 45 minute walk with Scamp. There was no walkable beach–the tide was too high–so we ended up skirting some dunes. This was my attempt to capture the scene–not particularly successful, but the best I could do.
Here’s Scamp, posing for me. I was amazed–usually she (and every other dog I’ve ever had) runs up to me as soon as I point a camera her way. She started to this time, but I said “wait”–and she did!
After the walk, and to assuage my DEF anxiety so I could enjoy the rest of the day, I headed over to Warrenton to a NAPA store to buy four gallons of the stuff. It took almost all of it to fill the reservoir. The DEF light, however, was still lit when I started the van, which made me nervous–by this time it was down to maybe 12 remaining starts before the van would lock up, so I contemplated driving to a place that could take care of it, and got the name of a place from the NAPA guys. But fortunately I remembered that it sometimes takes two or even more re-starts before the system kicks in and does what it’s supposed to do, and the light went out on the second try.
Time for lunch. I debated briefly whether to cross the river and explore Cape Disappointment, which I am also curious about; every time I’ve thought to camp there, it’s been full, so it would have been a good time to check it out. And I love crossing the Astoria bridge. But decided to head back to Fort Stevens instead, eat parked at Coffenbury Lake, and then walk the trail that encircles the lake. Which turned out to be an excellent decision.
By the time I got there, the fog had entirely cleared, there were just enough clouds to enhance the view, and the rest of the afternoon was simply gorgeous.
Here’s Scamp, with the lake in the background, at the beginning of our walk. It’s about two miles, if I remember correctly, and more of a walk than a hike–there’s a bit of a hill on one side, but then virtually flat the rest of the way around.
More pictures from the walk. I was tempted to take a lot more, but figured they’d all look pretty much the same, so restrained myself until we got to the far end of the lake. If you look re-a-a-lly carefully, you might be able to spot my van in this one. It’s a tiny white dot next to the bushes at the other end of the lake.
This is what it was like on the other side of the trail at the same point where I took the above picture. There’s more trail that went on down the right side of this, and I was curious and briefly tempted, but decided to be sensible and not over-tire myself.
My self-imposed restraint on taking pictures failed me at this point–this was taken just a few feet from the previous two. But who could resist? Just look at the clouds reflected in the lake.
A close-up of moss and ferns growing on a tree. One such of many.
A couple from the way back.
And back where we started, with Scamp on leash this time on accounta there were a few people around.
That walk was definitely worth the whole trip all by itself.
Before going back to set up camp again, I drove out to the wreck of the Peter Iredale, which now has a road named for it, and a parking lot, and has become a Destination. You can see what’s left of the wreck sticking out from the sand here.
The first time I ever camped there, way way back when, when none of the CG was paved, I remember walking down the beach and “discovering” the wreck for myself. I don’t remember where I had accessed the beach, but definitely not right at that point, and the wreck was much more impressive. It probably stood twenty feet over my head. There may have been one or two more wrecks still visible back then–they’re there in my memory, but since that would have been fifty or so years ago, that memory just may not be accurate :-). Somewhere I probably have pictures of the Peter Iredale taken then; they’d be rather faded now, I would imagine. The current bit is a disappointment every time I see it now.
The next morning, the fog was back, and with rain predicted for later in the day, I did not prolong the trip. Scamp and I took a short walk out by . . . something. I forget what it’s called. Clearly some remnant from military days.
The fog lent the scene a beauty all its own.
Heading back south, I stopped at our lunch spot from the way up. While still beautiful, it wasn’t quite as mesmerizing with the ocean calmer.
It was too early for lunch there, but I can’t complain about my lunch scene (though I did have to hunt a bit for just the right spot.) Tillamook Bay again.
Sure enough, by the time we were back at our happily still (or once again) available camp site at Newport, rain was pouring down, with wind out by the beach. I was curious about the jetty walk, so we made our way up a path through the trees,and found a nice view of the bridge out there. It was a bit of a challenge to get a picture, what with wind and rain and dog on a leash, but I managed. (Jane B., you may remember that bridge. You would have seen it from the other side, when we stopped at the aquarium in Newport on our wayback to Portland to put you and the kids on a plane for home.)
I’ll leave you with a selection of critter shots. No matter how repetitive, I can never resist taking more on each trip.
Not the best title ever, and really not even all that accurate, but the phrase has been running through my mind, so I’ll stick with it.
A couple of days ago there was a confluence of a windy, stormy night followed by a beautiful morning, with a very high tide around 11:30 AM, so I headed over to Cape Arago. I’ve seen higher splooshes, but the ocean was churning, so here you are–more videos than you really need 🙂
After walking the trail to get those, I headed over to Simpson Beach, where so often we have a bunch of seals and sea lions hanging out. As I expected, no beach and hence no seals or sea lions. or those of you who have been there in the summer, you can see how high the tide was.
By this time, I was getting hungry, so began looking for a spot with a view for lunch. There were a lot of people out there–people come down all the way from Roseburg on days like this, for the same reason I was there–so the first several places I checked were all occupied. I ended up out by the jetty at Bastendorf, which is where the Coos river meets the sea, and it ended up being unexpectedly excellent. The tide was still high, and the waves coming up the channel provided some good action. I didn’t manage to catch the best stuff–I almost never do, partly because I get tired of trying and just want to watch–but still, not bad. And Scamp got some off-leash time, which we hadn’t been able to do out at Cape Arago because of how many people were there.
I was curious to see how my river was doing, so stopped by the park to check it out when I got back home. It was ju-u-ust shy of flooding.
I was going to stay home the next day, but with another very high tide in the forecast, I went out again, this time to Bandon where the Coquille river meets the sea. Scamp refused to come–she had heard me going in and out of the van, and she doesn’t like van rides, though she does like the destinations we end up at. I gave her two chances, then headed out without her. Went out to the jetty on the lighthouse side of the river. Sometimes we get some pretty good action there, but it seemed pretty tame after what I’d seen the day before. But it was mesmerizing nonetheless, so I watched for quite awhile.
And took a selfie.
There was a lot of driftwood piled up along there. Here’s some caught in the act of joining it.
By this time I was hungry, so headed into Bandon to see if I could get lunch there. It was the middle of the week, so there were no lines and I got takeout–fish tacos at Tony’s Crab Shack. I went there because it’s almost open-air. Not the best ever–I keep thinking I’ll get something good there; it hasn’t happened yet, but maybe someday. But remind me not to try the fish tacos again.
I thought about heading back to the jetty at Bastendorf to see if things were calmer there, but was feeling mildly guilty being out without Scamp, so headed home.
A pretentious title for my actual experiences, but the alliteration works. Though I will add that if you are particularly squeamish, you might want to skip this post. You have been warned. (I should probably add that I, the critters, and the van are all fine.)
It rained here most of the afternoon, so when it seemed to clear around three, I dragged myself out of the recliner to take Scamp for her afternoon walk. When we go down to the usual, I parked and hopped out of the car to try to capture this:
Exactly one year ago today I was having a peak experience. Today I am not. But I am also not complaining.
I may not be up a mountain by a beautiful little lake, but I am in my comfortable house in a beautiful setting, strategically placed just enough inland to avoid the worst of the coastal fog and rain, and yet close enough to the coast to benefit from the natural air conditioning. [Which is apparently going to fail us in the coming week, but still–it will be the first time this summer the temperature has climbed higher than the eighties. (27-32 degrees celsius for everyone outside the US).]
I’m one of the Americans still practicing shelter at home, social distancing, and masking, but it has all impacted my life much less than most. My county has so far had a low incidence of covid, and in spite of the high proportion of conservatives and rabid trumpists*, compliance with masking has gradually increased, as far as I can tell (which is a good thing–fall and winter are coming.) I trim my own hair, but that’s not new–I have done for fifteen years or more. I canceled my planned cross-country trip–that’s probably the biggest adjustment I’ve had to make, but I have still taken some nice jaunts nearby. Like others, I miss in-person socializing and hugs, but I’m normally a bit of a hermit, so again it’s not that big a change for me. Day to day hardly any change, in fact, it’s just the length of time I’m going without socializing that’s the biggest difference. *Actually this is more of an assumption than any intrusion into my life. I know the majority of voters in this county vote Republican, and I do see trump signs around, but not a lot–did see a pickup flying a couple of trump 2020 flags a week or two ago, but it’s the only one I’ve seen–and I rarely get into political discussions around here, so . . . .
My shingles and PHN have affected my quality of life more than covid (knock wood and hope to God I never get it), BUT the PHN is gradually, ever so slowly, receding so I have hope I won’t be one of those who never get over it. And I got the first shingles vaccination shot this week, so hopefully this is not an experience I will have to repeat. My energy level is almost back to my pre-shingles level, and Scamp keeps me walking. Here’s some video from a short (about an hour) walk on the beach we did yesterday.
An finally, install hardware and get curtains, and put it all up here.
BECAUSE that miniblind, which I think cost all of $20 or so, was worth what I paid for it and not a penny more. It has lasted less than a year, about half the slats at the bottom are broken, and it no longer will go up. It’s cordless; cordless miniblinds are apparently all you can get these days. It’s not worth replacing with another that lasts less than a year, so I’m finally getting around to doing this project, which has been in the vague “someday, maybe, probably” category ever since I found the whatchamacallit in the basement. Someday has arrived.
Regarding my health, progress has happened, but it’s slow. The PHN is somewhat better, but not gone, and recently seems to have plateaued. I’m able to forego the lidocaine patches, but the scalp pain is lingering irritatingly. Literally irritating–it feels like a sunburn much of the time. But no longer like the worst sunburn you’ve ever had–now down to a run of the mill bad sunburn. I’ve tried weaning myself off the gabapentin several times in the past six weeks, but to no avail. It’s going to run out next week, so I’m going to ask my doctor for another couple of months based on how slow my progress is.
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