Waldo

 I made it back to Waldo.  

Monday I took five cats from Gills Landing colony to be fixed and tested at the Salem clinic.  All five, four girls and one boy, tested negative.  I was so relieved.  That is, until they told me Munchy, one of the girls, has a mass under her tongue, foul mouth odor and lice and that she should see my regular vet.  Wtf?

Cancer?  Oral cancer, the classic signs.  But how would I even know?  This is a very wild cat and now what to do and where to come up with that kind of money.  '

I was in a state of horror.   But a Salem friend contacted me and said there is no way to treat a wild cat for oral cancer let alone a beloved pet.  It usually is a fast death sentence.  She took the cat from me.

The other four went to Silverton Cat Rescue barn cat placement on Wednesday morning.  Then, in a state of stress, I knew I had to get away and in a flurry, loaded my car with my minimal camp gear, put the kayak on top, put out extra food, water and litter boxes and headed to Waldo lake.

I was so happy just to leave, get away, no cell service up there.   I got a spot, once in the campground, not my usual spot because there were a lot of people there, for the holiday coming up.  Even more by Friday morning when I left.

When I went to pay, the camp host did not accept my Golden Access lifetime Forest Service passport, which takes a good chunk off the price.  I do not know why.   All forest service campgrounds are supposed to and this has allowed me to afford to camp at forest service campsites.   I'll email the forest service and find out why.  Everyone should be able to afford a bit of recreation, like camping a couple nights a year.

My car was shreeking like crazy by the time I arrived at Waldo. It freaked me out because I had no idea what was going wrong.   It was embarrassing, so it sat there in the campsite the rest of the time I was there.  I had planned to go on up to a Cascades Lake highway lake Thursday, for the day.  But with the car now shreeking, some belt or pulley bearing issue, and my funds for gas low, due to not getting the discount with my Golden Access pass, no way I could do that.

So I stayed put and probably best that way anyhow.

I had hoped it was just a worried belt issue, but a guy a friend knew, came over when I got home and looked at it, and said its the power steering pulley and pump.   He wants to replace it at his place today.   The part is expensive but his labor charge is like half of a mechanic shop, so I hope this works out.   I also arrived home with a flat tire.  He helped put the donut on and I rushed off to Les Schwab and they quickly fixed my flat tire.

Anyhow, I had a fabulous time at Waldo.  I tried to put the car issues from my mind because I couldn't do a thing about them. The site was great, with a trail down to a little beach right out of the campsite.   I pulled my kayak down the trail to the water's edge.  The trail was soft dirt and I knew would do no damage to the bottom of the kayak.  Getting it back up that same trail, with steepness to it, to leave yesterday I knew would be a back breaker.  But Thursday evening, I was down by the lake enjoying the sunset, when along comes this lady, visiting Waldo from Northern CA.  She offered to help carry it up that night.  So we did.  That was sure better than dragging it up with a rope, the way I usually do such things.  I was grateful.

Other than chatting with her, I never said a word or had a word spoken to me in the entire two days there.  

I fed the camp robbers peanuts, kayaked, swam and read a book.  Went to bed early, barely ate anything, and then was on the road by 9:30 Friday morning.  My trip was a little under 48 hours. The screeching of the car on the way home was both embarrassing and nerve wracking, not knowing what was going on or if a bearing going out might suddenly freeze up some vital car function.

But I made it home.  Then the drama escalated with the flat tire and rush to get to Schwab before they closed.   

This morning I was to get to Lebanon by 9:00 to the mechanic.  I sat there six hours in his driveway on a cement stop, conversing with him, when he was too hot to work on the car, or just sitting there pretty much in a brain dead state, exhausted still from the rather quick camp trip and all the work that involves.   He removed the wheel, the two belts and four bolts. It was super hot out, too hot. He couldn't work out in that direct sun and I felt faint from both hunger and heat.  I finally called my neighbor and asked if she could give me a ride home.  She did.

The bottom line is I may not have a car for awhile.  He needs more parts, like a new hydrolic line, I don't know.  You can't really get things on a holiday weekend.   But it could get magically fixed tomorrow or the next day or the next.  I don't know if it will or won't get fixed. 

 I don't like to be without transport.  It makes me feel vulnerable, dependent, but car repair around here at least can be a lengthy endeavor as there are not enough shops for all the cars that break down.  It's so far to get anywhere, even to a grocery store, and no good public transport either.   Begging rides is not my thing.  

Then there's the franticness I feel end of summer, to enjoy any day of sun, get to the lakes, kayak, swim, watch the birds, listen to the water and I can't do any of that without a car.  I'm like a bear frantic to feed and put on the pounds before hibernation, only I'm hungry for sun, warmth, I don't want it to give way to the long gray.  Every moment of warmth needs to be absorbed, enjoyed, stored for the memory of it to be brought back during the long drizzling moldy winter.  I am blessed to have a roof over my head.  I know that, or even to have a broken down car.  Forgive me, but I want a working car, at the ready, for with it I can run, make my getaways, be gone.  Because I want away from here, into the mountains, into the lakes, into the rivers, when its warm.   I don't want to be stuck in a city.   

You would think by now at my age I'd be content with the rainy gray winters that stretch on like narcissistic movies.  You would think I would have got up and walked out on Oregon by now, giving it a lousy review "that was some miserable winter you produced and three months too long" and be done with it for good, never look back, heading out, to parts unknown, somewhere the sun shines more often, maybe two or even three months more is all I could ask.  But I was born here, not right here, but in this state and I don't have any money to move, that's what I say.  I'm permanent Oregon.  Let's see, almost 70 years, bitching and whining all that time about the winters.   Maybe I like it just enough to stay planted til I'm really planted, six feet under.  Or maybe I just like to bitch and whine now and again.