Attack of the fleas!

"I made it through the wilderness, you know i made it throuuugh-oo-oo!"

As I lugged myself into my house with the daze of a delirious Robin Williams Jumanji man just landing in the 21st century, that chorus chimed in my head. 

Emphases on the "made it through". And the "wild". 

But Packwood was far from a wilderness this weekend. The farthest it ever gets, actually. I have officially experienced my first bi-annual Packwood twilight zone scenario that is the Flea Market. 

While the tourism of winter sports keeps Packwood on the map when the snow hits, the Memorial Day and Labor Day Flea Markets are Packwoods major claims-to-fame. 

The effect of this on the local crowd is akin to the grizzly disdain smudged across the faces of Ann Arborites during Art Fair as they grimace at the raised prices and mutter incantation-lengthed monologues of profanity at the traffic. But in a town like Packwood, it is also a money-making opportunity for everyone. Literally all hands are on deck, from parking cars and picking up garbage to managing venues. 

I experienced my first Flea Market with an interesting balance of a pseudo-local-nonlocal. Over a week before the festivities, I was already popping leery looks at out-of-towners infringing on normally deserted space, getting in my way of effortlessly zooming from one destination to the next. And I certainly maximized my work opportunities, clocking an exhausting 47 hours between three jobs over the weekend. 

From Friday through Monday, my day started at 8am when I would walk from my house to be the overseer of about 50 vendor spaces at the Library. As an assistant position, the job wasn't all that demanding - once the job of taking vendors' space money was done, I was mostly just a body for someone to turn to if an issue arose - but the weather was not the most pleasant for outdoor lounging. The gig did however afford me the opportunity to meet some amazing people and to get to know Henry a little bit better. Henry is a Packwood Old Timer who was immediately distinguished to me by his fedora, his signature Martini orders and his jolly toothless grin that lit up as he did what he did best; dance the night away at The Spruce. Through talking on the weekend, I learned that his jolly disposition had carried all the way through his professional life. He had been a professional party planner for a company based out of Kent, WA and had been moved to a position they had in North Carolina where he lived miserably under new management for 5 years before getting fired. "After they fired me though, the business went under'' he mused. He talked about his time as a "hippie-looking guy'' for a while, laughing at his journey through Mississippi looking that way. "I was basically asking to get shot". Everyone on the grounds loved Henry. They knew immediately that he doesn't take shit from anyone and he was constantly coming back to the tent with free treats from the vendors. 

At 11am each day, my friend and boss Dean would come to relieve me from the library and I would be on to another 5 and a half hours of work across the street. From my infrequent experience as a Barista at the Butter Butte, I have come to find that the speed in which I learn my shit over there seems to correlate with demand. After not working since February, I think I perform better when simply thrown into the fray. And quite the fray it was. On Saturday and Sunday three of us were constantly on foot and taking orders from noon to almost close. We even stayed open a half hour late those days. Besides coffee and treats, I rang up more merchandise than I ever had at that place. One lady bought five sweatshirts, all at different times, coming up amidst the crowd every few minutes to ask if she could sneak past the ordering line and buy just one more. We had to deal with a lot of people asking for a bathroom and I would watch their hope for sanctuary drop as I told them that we too, only had a port-a-potty available. Most took it in stride but one man in particular began a small argumentative dribble about how much of a problem it was. "Well, its only a problem two days out of the year" Dianne retorted and the man replied with a completely detached perspective of how we need to invest in a new system for these precious two days' sake. "well, its not really worth it for the town to change the septic system for just that." As he continued his perturbed disconnect, I felt a mini boil of my own perturbedness sizzle up. You have no idea what this town needs, sir ass-wipe. Other complications included a physical power line coming down on Saturday that put the whole town's card machines and internet out of use, and the confusion that frequently ensued when we would get large crowds at once, lining up on the wrong side of the "ordering order" since we do it "backwards" at the Butte. Overall though, the coffee shop brought interesting conversations, good tips and a neat surprise: One woman came in wearing one of the long Nepalese jackets with petals and patchwork. I complimented her on it and began to talk about how I have always wanted one but never bought one since they are pricey and everywhere and I always feel that wherever I am, I should invest in something local instead. About twenty minutes after she left, she came back and with a sweet smile, simply handed me a jacket and left. 

My third job of the weekend was Karaoke. Not just one night but two nights in a row. Each time I host, a weary dread sets in right beforehand but it always ends up going fine and brings about some amusing performances. This weekend, the top contenders went to an unsynchronized trio of "Piano Man" and Kell and Melissa's duet of "My humps" which I finally got to witness. Besides the blunders though, the nights were filled with some amazing talent, including a young girl who belted out Elvis like no one's business and another Karaoke host from Tacoma (who brought a refreshing array of new CDs). So, I didn't really have to worry about filling in space. However, my tolerance quota for slovenly unappealing flirtation attempts was met and surpassed. The top contender for that behavior would have to be the man who, in a half-asleep druken stupor, threw in the fact that he worked at Morton Hospital. Bad rep, dude. Bad rep.

Jeanette at her booth

But even as I raked income in non-stop through the weekend, I found time to explore...and spend. I feel pretty good about my purchases, as they came from some pretty amazing folk. Jeanette worked long and hard making decorative lightswitch plates and flax-seed hot/cold packs while sending her daughter through college and going to school herself to get a degree in dental forensics. She was a joy to talk to and remained in great spirits even through mediocre sales.

I was so busy that I forgot my camera until the last day.
not optimal for photos on this rainy morning

Dee and Aaron were big travelers who did all sorts of unique Native leatherwork, jewelry and dreamcatcher designs. They neighbored Mark who carved pensive-looking turtles out of Cedar and let them use his tent shower.

 I thought my buying would end once I buckled for my very own hand-crafted Ghana Djembe, where I also met a new friend and amazing dancer named Ibrahima/Abe (or 'Monkey' as his dancing name goes). But the next day, the bread vendors that Dean had raved about finally arrived and after talking to them, I was digging into my wallet again. Phil and his two sons were in Packwood representing only a fraction of their amazing family endeavors. Starting as a program for mentally disabled individuals, Phil had bought their farm and animals as a therapeutic recreational area. They had since grown to have a bakery, all sorts of birds and livestock, fruits, vegetables and an amazing land that offered them gems and wood of all sorts which Phil made into creative pieces of jewelry and functional art. Over the two days that I talked with him, I kept learning about additional things they did: making soap, boar tooth necklaces, and a current business expansion that would also include making dog food out of scraps. "I wouldn't call myself an environmentalist but..."

http://www.gagebyfarms.com/index.html

"you kinda are" I chimed. "Labels are loaded, sure. But it's all in the action." He laughed. "I know, I guess its just cause my neighbors call themselves environmentalists and I hate them!" But for all intents and purposes, that is what they were. Nearly every byproduct and product of theirs came from their land and their animals and I'd never seen one farm have such multi-faceted angles for using every bit of what their land had to offer. "I'm not organic, but I'm hormone free, all natural, I don't use those chemicals and I don't feed my livestock grain...it's all cheaper...and it's healthier!"

His son 11-year-old son Christopher regaled me on stories of collecting rocks and shark teeth and nearly being pulled under waves as I pursued the stones, finally buying a layered jasper and a glistening agate that reminded me of a bear head. I also ended up getting some bread to freeze, in anticipation that I won't have to stay away from it forever...

Like all events of this nature, there were also booths galore selling Nepalese wear. I employed a great deal of resistance until I came across a tent selling bags for half the price they typically run for. As I made my way to the vendor with two bags, one matching my infamous hat, he quipped to his wife "Oh, I don't think she likes Nepal at all!" I gave a knowing smile and as I was digging out my money, he asked if I'd been to Nepal. I told him about the presentation I recently saw in Morton about hiking in the Himalayas and how I hope to one day get over there. I also began to ask him about the business a bit. "Do you do pretty well in this business even though people are selling this stuff all over the place?"

"yeah, I mean, we buy directly from the people we know over there. I've been to Nepal 25 times."

wow! I came to find out that Rich had attended the UofM's summer program in Northern Michigan and currently worked seasonally in the backroads of Mt. Ranier, taking winters to go travel. "This was sort of an accidental business" said his wife, Laurie. They had come into it only after meeting people in Nepal spoke to their hearts and who needed their help. As I was leaving, Rich gave me their card. "Find us in the fall, or get a hold of me! We'll get together!"

Things finally began to wind down on Monday. A sure-tail sign of exhaustion, I locked my keys in my car at the library and Dean had to take me home to get my spare set. Between jobs, I met up with Abe at the spruce for his breakfast and my lunch. At the coffee shop, our bathrooms were finally open once again and after fumbling through on the last of our brain power, Korreanne released us a few minutes before closing, as it had been dead the last half hour. As I walked outside, the transformation was insane. You almost never would have known that thousands of people had been here just a few hours before. For a few months, Packwood would be back to normal.

Goat Creek Falls

Ainsley has been envisioning a regular series of hiking and backpacking field trips for the kids and it is slowly coming to fruition.

While we may not get to full-fledged Into the Wild this year, we had our first of our bi-monthly hikes yesterday, to Goat Creek Falls in the Mt. Helens area.

JC, a surprising candidate, showed up at 9am on Saturday morning and he and I drove out to Riffe Lake towards Morton to meet up with Lou, Ainsley, Chris and three others. The trail began about 4 miles down your typical rough-ride forest road. Although fortunately not as pot-hole-y as usual, we did come across some small felled trees which JC took great pleasure and pride in being able to expel from the road for us.

Although the weather had been unpredictable on the drive, we ended up having decently mild, overcast conditions for the hike. One of the kids that was with us - Jordan - was absolutely engaged with every moment. He was ecstatic to discover that it was the same trail his mom and siblings had once hiked and he could remember every little milestone and marker. As we started out, he highlighted an overlook that would be coming up shortly that was "absolutely incredible". Sure enough, just after the trailhead was a clearing that overlooked Goat Creek. It was a nice view but I could only hope to have the eyes that this kid had. He was enthralled with everything. I enjoyed his vibrance on the hike.

The hike was beautiful. It took us over a couple of fast-flowing streams and small falls that hugged the hills. Some mid morning fog set in and illuminated the silhouettes of the trees. The trail was fairly short, taking us only about 45 minutes to get to the falls. The trail was relatively level until the last little push to reach the overlook. But from there, a sloping muddy trail allowed you to go down to a rock directly in front of the massive spout of water and mist. It was glorious and had I not gotten soaked from standing in the line of fire, I would have stayed for hours.

We paused for a snack and then curved along a path of concave wall underneath and to the other side of the falls. The kids got a brief lesson from Lou and Ainsley on how to find True North and Magnetic North on a Compass and then Marcus took lead and led us the way back.

All in all, a great first outing. Although, perhaps not worth $150. Tacked to the cars back at the trail head were two 75-dollar tickets for parking violations. The charge was a ripoff, as there was one, illegible sign that warned of leaving turnaround space, plenty of turn around space anyhow, and no where that told you where to park. Land and money don't belong together.

May Madness

"The reason I do SMACed around this time of year" Meghann had prefaced at our retreat, "is that I know this is around the time everyone starts to get way burnt out."

Truth.

Ironically, it is also around the time that obligations and festivities pick back up.

Naturally, I decided it was also the perfect time to commit to a drastic diet change, which can be followed along here.

However, before sacrificing my dietary freedom, I made some pretty bomb treats to kick off the month.

With the winter tourism season finally ending, May is sort of a Packwood Pride month, finding other ways to reel people in and say "small towns can have fun too!" With the big May flea market yet to come, the month is kicked off with Mountain Festival Weekend, during which we throw our big Chili Feed fundraiser.

Well...our Chili Feed fundraiser. Big is misleading. After a day in the kitchen smelling of meat and beans, our 8 pots of chili mainly went to providing our teammates with go-to meals for the next month. The disappointing turnout had us wallowing in extra food, extra raffle prizes and no extra money. But, the bomb treats:

"Samoa" bars

Vegan Cornbread Muffins

Crazed by Chili

Too much food!

The rest of Mountain Festival seemed to be a success. On Thursday, the little ones from the school took a "field trip" into town. Mary and I chaperoned a group from station to station. We started at the museum, where the kids got hooked on pressing the keys of the old-fashioned type writer and learned about foods of the native Salish people. A native couple told a few stories - the tale of the black and white wolf and the tale of 'little dove' who took one foot off the path she was told to stay on and paid dearly - to teach lessons of following your best self. The kids also got to venture over to the postoffice where they were taken in the back to see how mail is sorted and weighed for postage before being let loose with the many stamps used to mark packages. Each kid felt as though they'd won the lottery as the left with their collection and a mail-order stamp for $1,000.00

"Which wolf are you gonna listen to, kids?"

The adults got a good laugh when one of the kids exclaimed "Look! I'm spoiled!"

Working hard at the post office 

The firehall brought over a truck and ambulance and the sherif gave a tour of one of four huge relief trailers they own for disaster emergencies like floods. Valued over a million dollars, the force had gotten all the equipment through grants and drug seizures. The day ended with popsicles and fire hoses.

We were also asked to clean the open gym up for Sunday's activities and took the opportunity to clean under the bleachers for the first time all year (and maybe more):

On Saturday, the museum hosted a slew of activities from archery to flint napping to crafts. I stuck around for a short time, helping Desiree make painted rocks, seed tape and tipis with the kids that came through but the day was resplendent with spontaneous plan-changes. First, I was pulled away to meet with a local friend named Dean about a job for the flea market. Then about an hour into crafts, I got a text from a family asking about babysitting the next day, when I was originally planning on going to their kid's production of Rapunzel at the Roxy. So I decided to book it over to the theater that day instead.

The play was great. It was far less painful than my previous experience which included drawn out hours due to pauses and stutters and stumbling lines; this one wasn't even an hour long! And the kids were great. Elie, our resident thespian played Which Izwhich and rocked an impressive cackle and stunning outfit. Instead of fragmented jokes, they nailed the puns and timing right on.

Back in Packwood, the evening continued at the Senior center with their big Bingo Kick-off and taco dinner. Peggy had implored our help but we found once we got there, that we might as well be flies on the wall. Mary and Desiree got booted out of the kitchen because of their strict interpretation of the food worker's license and once I got there, all there really was to do was put plastic wrap over leftovers. I left after about an hour to go get ready for a Karaoke night....

A special one, at that! Because Tony made an impulsive decision to come visit again! By the end of the night, he was one of the regular singers, having put in at least half a dozen songs. The line up was full the whole time so I didn't really have to bother singing. And our life of Karaoke, Karl, had finally returned with his friend Ron and they were slowly warming up to me (as I think they'd found me sort of shy and off-putting in the past). Plus we were treated to a lovely serenade:

With me having to work on Sunday, I couldn't entertain Tony but Justin was kind enough to take him up to the last day of the Pass for him to cash in a free lift ticket he'd gotten on his first visit. In the meantime, Mary and I were stuck in the cold and wet trying to convince runners that they wanted water in this weather as they wrapped up their 5 or 10k fun run. Mostly, Mary just yelled "keep it up a lot" while I hid under the trunk of my car.

And then the cleansing began. After two days of fasting, I was a miserable blob, trying to function. Fortunately, on my next visit to my Acupuncturist, I was given an actual plan and began to revive my energy just in time for a couple of field trips.

Tuesday's excursion was one of the best thus far, partly because we didn't have to travel 3 hours just to walk around a museum for 1. NorthWest Trek is a little hidden gem just on the other side of Morton. The small wildlife park houses a plethora of roaming NW natives, many of which I think are rescues. I had a great group of kids that seemed thrilled with learning, not just ogling. There was an immediate consensus to visit the big cats first, where we learned that Cougars can leap over 60 feet downward and lynxes, despite their size, don some massive paws. The brown bears were a highlight, putting on quite a show for us. When we arrived, one was making strange, distorted movements with its jaw. It finally got up and wandered back to where another was lying peacefully behind a log and began to taunt it. They both got up and carried out an elaborate dance of some combination between play, fighting and flirting, almost locking their jaws together at one point.


And then at midday, we all gathered at the Tram Station for a riding tour where we saw Big horned sheep, moose, Caribou, Elk, Mountain goats and black-tailed deer. Many of the moose and deer were just beginning their seasonal antlers, which we learned grow at a rate of 1 1/2 inches per day! 

Come along on the tour!

Not exactly the environment I thought I would see my first moose in, but that works.

Then on Friday, we were back on the bus bound for Portland. This was an all-girls trip to attend the 22nd Annual Women and Trade Career Fair. Although we couldn't sample all of the 27 workshops for various professions, the girls still got fed a good heaping dose of opportunity. We began in the exhibit room where dozens of Oregon and Washington trade businesses were set up. The main hook was free goodies and I could tell that some of the presenters had probably been coming for years and had long since learned that many of the girls just want to collect their pencils and candy and water bottles and go. I watched them slip in small tokens of advice like "make good choices!" as the girls stuffed their bags and wandered off, perhaps not even knowing the name of the group that just gifted them. But like all events for this age group, you're going to have many that aren't ready to think too deeply. Still,  those that wanted to ask questions could get a good conversation and just having so many trades represented was planting the idea of possibility. There were sheet metal workers, road sprinkler fitters (never would have thought this was one job), plumbers, floor covering installers, sherifs, forewomen, Department of fish and wildlife, clean energy, colleges and programs designed to offer working apprenticeships. I even collected a few mental notes for myself.

While I was lingering at the Fish and Wildlife table, a girl came over and began to gush: "This is what I want to do! Forest Service!" The woman behind the table offered a kind distinction - that they were more about working with the animals and fish - and the girl cut her off again: "Oh! Yeah! No, that's what I want! I don't care about the trees! I want to work with Animals!"  The woman put in a good word for the trees before launching into her introduction. "Well, you need a bachelors ---"

"Wait? Which one is that? Like, 2 years, 4 years or 6?"

The woman tried to keep up and all I caught was the overexcited teen constantly interrupting "Animals, Animals, Animals! Wolves, Cyotes, bears! I don't care, I'm not afraid of any of em!"

There is a fine line between disinterest and ignorant obsession. But its a start.

The girls were able to do two workshops; the first on how to wire a light and the second on how to plug a mainland pipe. I sort of zoned out for the first one (although I did catch the first bit about all their benefits and lack of debt so maybe I should have listened more closely) but the second was to exciting to miss. The girls got all geared up and four at a time, stood at the ready for the staff to unleash a massive blast of water leakage. Squinting through the drench, they ran in towards the pipes and grabbed wrenches and locked the seals back into place. Mary even took a dive and tried it out.

I spoke to a few of the girls afterwards and it sounded like the booths and workshops had planted some inspiration here and there. In a place like Lewis County, that can be in short supply.

SMACed (Otherwise known as AmeriParty)

Phew! April has come and gone! The month ended with an annual AmeriCorps "Training" (a glorified title for a retreat; we really just hang out and eat) called SMACed (something something something education - obviously, I was well educated on that.

From Friday morning through Monday morning, the eleven of us shared a cabin in the Puget Sound at the sanctimoniously secluded Camp Indianola. Our supervisor made her second home growing up in with her aunt here in the tiny town of the same name, just 20 minutes way back out of the winding road into this hidden gem. The camp had gardens and trails and water and a rope swing and tether ball and neat things on the water such as spouting clams and crabs and anemone (all 'red tide' though, so neat and poisonous!)

We each took turn cooking meals so there was a smorgasbord throughout the weekend. On the first night, we were all amused by Chris's latest feat of food-dom: eating 3 small-mixing-bowl-sized bowls of spaghetti. There were S'mores, I experimented with a new quinoa burger recipe, Ainsley made some bomb pizza and Jordan gave us cookies for breakfast. And there was Birthday Cake (a vegan-friendly recipe that was a hit for all, so a must-mark)

For me, a lot of the weekend was difficult as I moved through another digestive backlash but the environment and the walks were a blessing. I took an hour or two one morning to get lost on the loop trail of old growth and a few of us later followed the shoreline from in town back to camp.

We did a "service project" for the camp staff and, while I couldn't be of much help, I made important documentation of Mary's Macho Moment:

We had some devilishly good fun committing crimes against humanity:

And, I was brought over to the infectious clan of the Frozen fans:

Oh, and we did some work. Planned out some rad trips and activities for the rest of the year and concluded that we have maybe like, two days with absolutely nothing going on between now and the end of service.

AmeriPowerRangers, Go!

April 9-11: Tunnels, Tastes and Returns

Up before everyone else, I used the time to sweep away all evidence of the mud and crud tent situation and sat down at the living room table with some tea and one of the many letters that had been trailing along in my bag with me waiting for a moment that I could offer some attention. Just as I'd gotten halfway down the page, Ed meandered into the kitchen in a stumbling half-daze. "Oh! "Someone is up!" He seemed taken aback by this and fumbled uselessly with some cabinets before wandering back out into the living room. I had a much less awkward experience when his partner wandered in shortly after and warmly offered up some coffee. I declined, but welcomed the opportunity for conversation. Both of them were semi-retired and the day before, had described lives of a sort of luxury, bathing in hot tubs and wandering down to the courtyard to see who was playing tennis. But she did not let the free time become empty space. There was a painting flier pinned to the refrigerator and we got to talking about artistic pursuits; she had taken many art classes in her time and now that she no longer held a full time management position in education, she was ready to experiment again. I smiled and encouraged her excitement; I love to see adults pursue art passionately outside of a profession. If anything, it gives me hope that my life will once again open up a space where that inspiration can evolve into fruitful pursuits for me as well.

Once Alice was up, packing and planning quickly began. Today would be our longest day of driving yet. Our aim was to get from Berkely to the the Lava Beds National Monument just south of the Oregon border. Having been anxious to pack, I looked over the atlas while Alice caught up packing her belongings. We gave our hugs goodbye, thanked them again profusely and were on our way, after Alice grabbed some breakfast in town at a cafe that had been recommended by Ed.















We had two detours. The first was the Muir House. although it turned out that our timing wouldn't allow a tour, I still wanted to see where he lived. The hilltop homestead was far more elegant that I'd have imagined him to live but this was the last place he resided. After all those years of galavanting about, he probably wanted some comfort. The scene was somewhat sullied by the construction workers doing some sort of remodeling in the front yard and we didn't stay long. The next detour was to find a place where I could get rid of the giant box of bottles I'd been lugging around the entire trip. The perk of the "CA-CASH REFUND" was not as bountiful as I'd remembered and the re-embursement probably paid for my drive to find the store. Lessons learned.

And then the drive. We played some music. Listened to a podcast interview with Eve Ensler. I tried to introduce Alice to Rubberneckers but mostly I think she was worried I would crash into something while playing. On our last long stretch - Hwy 299 - we made one last grocery stop. We continued to drive. We mused at the miles of orange construction and wood mess on the sides of the road. We found this dude:

As one who sees faces in rocks often, I doubly appreciated this

And just as the visitors' center was closing, we finally got to the Lava Beds! The man on the phone helpfully guided us to our campground where we had all the spots in the world to choose from; the off season was pretty fab in this regard. Once we were set up, I went over to talk to our sole campmates who had waved to us from recliners under the shade of their large camper when we'd driven past. The woman Nancy immediately beamed as I approached. She had apparently derived some positive assumptions about me off the back of my car, sharing that she had a daughter I would probably get along with. Her and her husband Leland had been on the way south and decided it was too hot and bothersome. So they stopped here. Oh, the things you can do when you're retired. They had arrived just the day before but already had some great advice for us on where to go with our limited time in the morning. There was a loop drive just past the visitors center that offered cave explorations of all shapes and sizes, with a standards one-cave-darkness-fits-all. All the caves in the Lava Beds are Self-guided so we had no 'schedule'. All we had to do was stop by the visitors center for our Q&A to make sure we weren't carrying the threatening "White Nose" Syndrome that was obliterating bat populations around the nation. And get our heavy-duty flashlights. When picking and choosing, Nancy noted "Lava tubes are cool and all, but once you've seen one, you've seen 'em all." In other words, don't feel like you have to go into every one. They did recommend the Golden Dome saying "that one is intense. I walked away from Leland for a minute to go look at something on the other side of the wall and got completely disoriented. For a minute, we weren't sure we knew our way out. I've never felt like that in my life." Alice had joined us by this point and gave a shaken look while I anticipated going there. The two talked a little more about how they met - Nancy was from Santa Cruz and Leland from good ol' N'orleans, accent and all - and about their daughter who played amazing music (they had a sample turned up in their trailer). I couldn't stop looking at Nancy's eyes. They were the most vibrant, piercing eyes I'd ever seen. Just as I was about to comment, she interjected the conversation and said to me "You have beautiful eyes!" It made it easier to say that I was going to tell her the exact same thing.






With a little sunlight left, Alice and I wandered around the desert camp boundaries. I remained near the top while Alice went off into a world of her childhood in New Mexico. She seemed absolutely enthralled and I could tell how much it spoke to her by the look she returned with.

At camp, we made something to eat, cracked a cider and played some rummy before bed. A clear, cool night; I was glad to be back outside.

We had heard the visitor's center opened at 8 and we wanted to be the first in and out on the caves since we would have to be leaving by noon to meet Tucker and Kira in Eugene for dinner. It had been a dry night so the tent didn't need airing this time, which made packing go a lot more smoothly. I heated some water for tea and we were out with minutes to spare.

Or a half hour. They actually didn't open until 8:30 so we meandered around the parking lot, reading the small info-snippits outside. Beyond the beautiful landscape and complex geological makeup, the area had a tortured  and equally complex past. During WWII, Tule Lake in the North end of the park was home to the Tule Lake Relocation Center, a segregated holding camp for Japanese citizens. In 1943 when the US issued an unjust questionaire to supposedly determine the 'loyalty' of Japanese captives, Tule Lake ranked one of the highest quantity of disloyal occupants and was raised to a maximum security center and jail, with over 18,000 occupants. Before a detainment center, the camp had been used for the extolled Civilian Conservation Corps as one of their many 1930's 'New Deal' work sites. But even further back, the history was laden with bloodshed of none other than the Native peoples. Long before Americans, it was the Modoc peoples built their spiritual center around this land, naming Tule Lake the central disc. In the 1840's when settlers sell out homesteads on the land in this area, conflict of course arose with the Modoc and through a series of misguided attacks, finally led to a signing of a convoluted treaty in 1864 which moved the Modoc People out of the Tule Lake area onto The Upper Klamath river. However, the Klamath had their own tribes there and intertribal disharmony soon took place with the US abandoning their half of the bargain to provide for the Modoc, so the Modoc attempted to move back to their land. Under the guidance of their chief known as 'Captain Jack', the Modoc built a stronghold within the fissures of the caves in the upper Lava Beds Area near Tule Lake. For 5 months, a band of 43 Modocs successfully held off American forces until in 1873, a brutal war broke out that took many lives on both sides. There was a brief period of peace as Captain Jack attempted a peaceful resolution but to no avail, the war ended in more killing and the eventual trial and execution of Captain Jack. This little known battle was one of the most costly native wars and the only war where a General was killed.

The Visitor's center now open, I pursued more of the history and the craftwork of the Modoc and we watched a  tourist-friendly video of the Lava Beds and played with interactive displays exhibiting the versatility of the land. It was actually quite versatile. To the north of the park lay dry grasslands while the south was home to brush land and pine forest, allowing more rain and snow which would trickle down to the lava beds. Many of the plants by the caves also evolved to maximize this opportunity under the circumstances of water scarcity and had developed tiny, waxy leaves that would retain the runoff. Finally, we got our flashlights and our bat clearance and headed to the caves.

Mushpot was our first stop. A Recommended introductory cave at the beginning of the loop, the 524-foot floor-lit path gave us a run down of the geology around us. 30 million years ago, when the ocean ran beneath the continent to create a fault line split, a rush of lava poured out and flowed on this slanted terrain. The reason this did not become an eruption like your average volcano was because gas bubbles were able to escape rather than build up pressure. As the lava on the surface cooled, the pull of the downward slope and the insulation provided by the sealed surface enabled lava to continue to flow underneath. Once it drained, the caves were what remained. The area that these cave covered may not be as noticeably massive as your resident St. Helens, but by breadth and volume, is in the top ranking at 150 m long and 7,800 feet high.

As we moved on through other caves, I began to appreciate the uniqueness of this collection of hidden tunnels. I had been in many caves and seen your standard mammoth formations with impressive names and stalactites and stalagmites and "bacon" and "popcorn" and most recently had added the one-of-a-kind "box work" of Wind Caves to the tapestry of patterns. But I had never been in such "tunnel-y" tunnels. And the patterns that the cooling lava had created were also unlike anything I'd seen: Ropey, as the fast-moving lave began to slow and imprint itself to the cooled walls; Cauliflower, as it became more sluggish; and finally clinker, as it rolled along with the last of its momentum like pebbles being kicked along by a kid. There were even unique pockets into other tunnels above where the lining had collapsed and connected two passageways. Golden Dome had to be the most memorable. Appropriately named, I had never seen 'Fool's Gold' in its natural environment, let alone this much. It webbed the ceiling like some elaborate 18th century ceiling painting. But what stood out above all, was being able to go at it alone.

 One of my biggest fears would probably have to be of small, tight spaces. I think about it in caves sometimes and get the inner shakes but I continue to challenge myself to go to these places. Having the opportunity to take myself into even smaller, tighter spaces that toured cave walks wouldn't take you but to go only as far as I want was a treat. I was on my hands and knees and belly, turned off the lights, cautiously challenged my directions...I didn't get too crazy but I was thrilled.

We went into about 4 caves before we had to head out. At the North end of the park, we stopped at Captain Jack's stronghold where the battle took place and 'Hospital Rock' which looked out over the remains of Tule Lake. This livelihood of the Modocs had been almost completely drained between 1908-9030 when the Applegate Brothers who's first settled here began to sell lotteries for the land. It was a sad sight. But also a great view of a gorgeous mountain.

                               

Bound for Eugene, my car (potential name: margana?) hit 100,000 miles just outside of the park. Hooray...for...being older...keep it up!!! I hate to think about her ever not working.

Alice and I had invited Tucker and Kira to meet us for dinner at The Pizza Research Institute which came highly recommended by Nora (she'd attended college in Eugene) but Kira not done with work when we rolled into town so we went to bide our time at her other recommendation The Cornbread Cafe, and all vegan hub. If I weren't hooked on the long-overdue prospect of a good pizza, I would have buckled. I did take a taste of Alice's Jalepeno Cornbread muffin which just solidified that I would need to make another visit here one day.

We sipped coffee and played rummy and read bird facts on the backs of cards before restless feet got the better of us. We drove nearby the restaurant and walked around the neighborhood. Every place smelled divine. I hadn't been too impressed all the times I'd passed through downtown Eugene but I should have known: It's always in the hidden neighborhoods. Funky murals, patisseries, bakeries, vegan ice cream shoppes, cart restaurants, patio ethnic cuisine, the brewery homestead of Ninkasi...and Pizza. Seeing what there is to see, I at least wanted to get seats and start drooling over the food we would actually get to sample. I also ordered what instantly shot to the top of my cider list: 2 Towns Cider. A couple of guys next to us began rattling off their pizza topping suggestions. When Tucker and Kira arrived, we were filled with things to catch up on and talk about but we quickly reigned the focus back in on food first.

Nom. double nom. Nom forever. I would if I could. I got Chèvre, Artichoke, Mushrooms and Curry Roasted Cauliflower and Alice got a fancy marinated tofu on hers. And before I left, the waitress was able to get me a taste of their in-house cinnamon bourbon mixed with the cider, a cocktail I had noticed only after ordering and probably for the better. Delicious. We treated our friends and headed back to the house where Kira stayed up to chat for a bit but Tucker had totally needed to zonk out.

The last day of the journey. Portland was on the way home and groceries were needed so a brief stop would be happening regardless. I had been in communication with a friend I hadn't talked to recently who I'd hoped to see. But it didn't seem to be working out. Then, before I'd gone to bed at Tucker and Kira's, I'd received a message from my friend Tony asking how I was and I remembered: "Hey! He was getting transferred to Portland last time we talked!" And so the next day after groceries, Alice and I met Tony at Salt and Straw for another must-have road trip treat. I raved about them back in November when my mom and I first discovered them and their ice cream has yet to be beat, not that I eat it much. The visit was short, but sweet (to the tastebuds and the heart).

By evening, I was back in Packwood. A week felt like ages. But like clockwork, Mary and Corey pulled in from their out-of-town adventure just as I was unpacking and we ended the night with ciders and a bonfire in the yard,, sharing our tales.

A wonderful end to a wonderful break.