traveling light

There is alot to catch up on....the trip, the reunion, eagle vs. waldo lake, salt creek falls, camping, old outlaws, trout-fishing in america, packing vs. flying by the seat of your pants, and missing my son.

One at a time....

The pictures of eagle lake in northern california are deceptive. I'm a sucker for green: trees, grass, leaves, anything but food in the refrigerator that should not be that color, or, as Erma Bombeck said, "There is no known navy blue food." And as interesting as that is, I digress.

Eagle lake is not green. Well, actually, the water is. Approaching the lake from the desolation of the Klamath basin and the sweet town of Aida, the water is a shocking, malachite green. But the thing is, it is sitting in the middle of the desert, surrounded by, you guessed it: desert. Well, as much as I love to exaggerate [lie] I admit that there are pine trees, tall and sparse, doing their narrow best to provide shelter from the desert sun. Its funny to watch Californians thinking they are in the woods. And they are, I suppose. But coming from the deep wilds of oregon, the lush, almost tropical forests, I realize I am spoiled, blessed. We camped in hot red dust up to our ankles and my feet are awful. Awful. I have done all I can short of calling Dr. Sholl's in person and getting an appointment. I could blog about callouses, but that would be disgusting. I just want to go on record about Birkenstock sandals and cracking callouses. They cause the problem. There. 'Nuff said.

So we camped. We did not plan to camp, and I am learning this about my husband. I'm a planner. I need notice. I pack. I have stuff. He tosses three identical pairs of levis, three identical pairs of socks, a few t-shirts, and he's good to go. Me? Oh no. I strategize. And its all about weather and body image. What if its hot/cold/medium and I feel fat? What if it is hot/cold/medium and I feel like showing off my bod? I have to plan for these events, because its all about comfort, physical and psychological. So I need more stuff, and believe me, I have it. So he said, "Don't worry. We'll get a motel." Now, I knew we'd camp. So, I did, at minimum, have the presence of mind to back bedding, a futon (his idea), towels and soap, sandwich stuff, and my french press and coffee. And cherries. I love cherries. At least I had the coffee to bargain with as we begged camp to camp for food. Have good coffee will travel.

On the way down we visited my son, Marky, to those who love him. He has grown up since I left a mere 5 months ago. Left for the first time since they carved him out of my big belly. Well, we did get separated there for a month or so during the dark night of my soul, but that was involuntary, and probably for the best. I remember hitchhiking to find him, to retrieve him from his father, to snatch him from the jaws of the clan. They got him anyway, years later. But it was good to see him, to watch my beautiful, stumbling child learn to walk tall.

Waldo Lake. Now there is a lake. I insist on camping there before the summer is over. It is high in the Cascades and quiet, remote, clean, clear and cool. All the requirements of a perfect vacation spot. Nearby is Salt Creek Falls, a spectacular 86 foot drop to a deep green pool surrounded by concave, moss-covered basalt walls. I'm at a loss for words so I'll just use them all indiscriminately. Waterfalls do that to me. For some its the desert. Not me, boy. Give me your green, give me your wet, give me your narrow, your phobically high places, where leaning over the railing is a near death experience.