I washed up on the shores of the Faerie Realm, finding myself at the end of a long journey at Mount Pisgah park.  I had made sure my food supply was topped up, and plunged into the rural area surrounding Eugene.  Once I parked my car in a rather empty field, I wandered the roadway of the event grounds.  Everything was busy in set up, the few people around bustling in last minute tasks.  I walked along the tree shaded road, re-familiarizing myself with the place.  It was during one of these wanders that Jeremy and Lyra found me.

Imagine it, if you will.  I was rumpled from the previous night in the car, and withdrawn into myself after hours driving, letting my thoughts spiral within.  They smiled and hugged me, soundly and with clear affection.  I smiled in return, and felt myself face outwards.  Like a flower opening after the night, I was refreshed by my time in solitary contemplation.  And just like that day blooming flower, too much time spend curled up would cause eventual wilting.

Jeremy and Lyra took me back to their place in Eugene, and made enough dinner for the small horde that was spending this one last night so close to the grounds.  Even though I was an unexpected addition, even tho I had nothing communal to offer to the table, they made space, and set me to chopping the veggies for the delicious barbeque.  I had a wonderfully relaxing evening, reconnecting with far friends.

In the morning, I woke rather early (for me) at seven thirty, and went out to the grounds with Koe.  We were scheduled to volunteer on this day, along with Jeff and Ingrid.  I had no idea what I was in for.

Faerieworlds might be best thought of as the mall of the human fae.  Sure, there is music, though it ends at midnight.  Sure there is camping, but it costs extra.  The main draw of Faerieworlds is the vendors.  They have roughly 200 vendors, selling all sorts of things.  From custom leather armor to raw food, there was an abundance of handmade stuff.  Clothing is usually quite popular, all with a hippie twist.

I spent the day helping these vendors to their assigned spots, helping them set up.  It was during a rather busy time that my backpack was run over soundly by a large truck.  Sadly, my camera was in that bag, and no longer works at all.  So, it might be some time before my posts  have pictures again.

As the sun drew close to the treetops again, I retired from the field with the other volunteers.  Mythmaker had come in during this time, and I was greatly looking forward to meeting up with Hjeron and Christina again.  There may even be some mead to be drunk!

As soon as I sink into the warm water, a lassitude suffuses me.  The trees tower far over my head, the water caresses the rocks under my skin.  Green moss and fern reaches all around me, blunting the last traces of daylight into a surreal gloaming.  The water cascades down the worked rock wall behind me, small warm droplets pattering my hair and face like tiny pixie kisses.  I close my eyes and welcome the warmth as it seeps into my body.

This day has ended in a gentle shush, the daylight fading from the sky over us at Cougar Hot Springs, just east of Eugene.  The parking area is several miles off the main highway, mostly paved.  The Park fee is five dollars per person.  Once parked, it is a calming stroll through the towering trees to reach the springs.  The water issues from a small cave, just roomy enough to admit one person, slithering in through the warm mud.  Once the water flows out of the cave, it gathers in an upper pool, deep enough to sit in.  Then it falls down a rock wall some cunning mason has fitted together without mortal, and collects in another pool.  Four pools in all are made this way, and the second one is most comfortable for long soaks.  So, none of them are too hot to enjoy.

There is a wooden roof on supports sheltering some stone benches.  Shelves set in the mountainside provide a place to rest your clothing, for this delightful place is officially clothing optional.  Lewd behaviour is specifically denounced as well.  Wooden railings guard the rock steps down to the pools, worn smooth under the hand by countless bathers.

The park officially closes at sundown, and the parking lot is supposed to be cleared.  We arrive just as the sun lowered itself over the forested mountains cupping this eden, so technically too late.  A quick glance around the group?  Hot springs are better at night, anyways.  Hopefully the worst we can expect will be a scolding, if a park ranger chooses to investigate on this night.

The pools are warm and inviting, the night blessedly still.  We bathe and lounge in peace and joy.  Eventually, the small tealights come out, flame held to wicks eagerly kindling.  The candles flicker and reach out to gild the edges of our features.  The steam rising from the hot pools swirls up against this glow, suffusing the pool with a gentle feeling of mysticism.

I bask on the rocks along the bottom of the pool, my skin awash with the lapping of others movements.  I peer with heavy lids through the dancing candlelight and steam, watching the soft movements of my friends, my Tribe.

In the last forty hours, I have been busy.  I have driven 1200 km, give or take a few miles, sightseen two waterfalls, only one of which I remembered to photograph.  I crossed a border, fortunately with relative ease and speed.  I have climbed a stone fort, and alarmed matrons by standing atop the walls.  I have gone to not one, but four different coffee shops in the space of an hour to find the elusive combination of both plug in and wifi.  I have zigged back and forth across Portland, a city of which I am not familiar, with only my woefully out of date nav to assist me.  I have wandered, enthralled, in a bookstore that takes up a whole block, being divided into eight or nine rooms crammed with old and new books.  I have taken myself out to dinner, and a movie.  I even got a little reading in.

If that seems busy, you would be right.  I dare say it is a bit too busy, for I have only slept two hours in the last forty, both catnaps taken sprawled across the front seats of my civic, legs pressed against the door.  Tonight, I have taken the luxury of stretching more or less out.  I had to move all the stuff from the back of the civic into the front seats, but there is now room for me in the back.

As comfortable as my footies are, I am sure glad to take them off, finally.  I can hear the trucks whooshing by on the highway, and there are a few idling in this rest stop.  I am sure this will not deter me from a very sound sleep.  Finally.

Update:

By leaving the passenger seat forward, and making sure the stuff behind it is level with the back hatch area, I can just stretch out diagonally in the civic.  There is an awkward bump where the rear seats fold, but it can be done.  And I slept very well indeed.

After a cursory questioning by the border guard, I drove into the gathering darkness of Idaho.  I had several bits of paper to support my candidancy to be allowed into the States, but they were unneeded.  (I had a paper declaring my intent to return to a job in Alberta, a paper proving my ownership of a house, and my vehicle insurance, of course.  Also useful is a bank statement showing at least $50 for every day you intend to be in the States.  You’re welcome.  Pass it on.)

The clouds stuck on the mountains continued into Idaho, undeterred by the demarkations of territory.  Once I was in Idaho, the clouds thickened, darkened, even as the last light dimmed from the sky.  Soon enough, rain began to come down in earnest.  My wipers were hard put to keep the windshield clear, even at moderate speeds.  The road twisted and curved through what was probably delightful country.  I kept my eyes on the lights in front of me, and journeyed onwards.

Once more, the gas gauge edged towards empty, even as the miles slipped by my tires.  I pulled into a gas station advertising 24 hour service.  Keeping to the truck routes not only gives me tail lights to follow, but these lovely pools of commerce.  I hopped out and refilled my tank, and my teacup.  The rain came down a little more gently here.  All along the roads, I had seen the rivers dashing along their courses, powerful and muddy with this downpour.

I stepped out of the store, my teacup warm in my hands.  The rain came down a little harder now, so I stood under the overhang and watched it a bit.  With this many kilometers to go, I find a few minutes here and there hardly matter to the arrival time, and matter a great deal to the sanity.  The rain started to increase in tempo, beating out the time on the hood of my car parked scant feet away.  Fearing to wait too much longer, I stepped out into the downpour.

Just then, the sky was lit with blinding white light.  I had the impression of a flash spearing down from the heavens, straight and direct as a god’s anger.  No sooner had I widened my eyes in instinctive terror, than the very air about me shook and the rain itself danced.  Small wonder I leaped in place, every muscle tensed for futile flight.

When the anger above passed me by unharmed, I scurried to the car, and collapsed inside.  The rain drummed down above me, loud on the metal skin of the car.  I took a deep breath, and started the car, getting the defrost going.  I might as well drive as sit here like a rabbit.  Besides, someone once told me that a moving car was safe, due to a negative ion shield… ( I do not actually purport this to be truthful, by the way.)

The fog slowly cleared from the windshield, and I followed tail lights into the rainy darkness.

Miles to go before I sleep…

Standing on the bank of the river, the moon gleamed off the rushing water.  The water is higher than usual, in the throes of spring run-off.  So much water flows by, the rocks below barely make a wave.  The rapids that would normally be her have been straightened, like a bedsheet pulled tight to smooth the wrinkles.

Four of us stand on the river bank, our shadows thrown by the moon to the turbulent surface of the water.  There are two telephone poles lying on the bank, clearly resting here temporarily.  I can hear the beat of the music nearby.  This night after the official festival, some staff and vendors remain.  Music is being spun, and tribe folk dance under the last remaining wind and rain shelter.  Black lights glow on fantastic painted plants, and twisting shapes adorn canvas.  Despite all the light and sound just a short walk away, we four remain on the river bank for some time.  The river holds our eyes for a commendable amount of time, but it is the telephone poles that arrest our attention.  We devise a game of balance, attempting to rock the pole out from under the other person’s feet.

The things that amuse us.

In no way do I slight the festival.  This weekend was Inshala, down near Fort Macmurray. (Ft. McLeod)  The festival is in it’s fourth year, and growing nicely.  Still a young festival, the vendors have not really flocked here yet.  There were several nice stalls with lovely locally crafted items.  As for food, you better bring your own, as there is very little to buy.  The same goes for water.  The pump on the camp site was not certified potable, and as the river is in flood, the water was even more suspect.  There was no other water supplied, and the two consumables vendors did not sell large amounts of water.  Fortunately, town was a short hop away.  This event was also a leave no trace, pack it out event.  This policy seemed to be quite well respected, and the festival grounds looked great by the end of the event.

There were two stages, both covered from crown to foot.  Rain slid neatly off the tops, while the low sides deflected the wind.  And wind in plenty there was.  Especially as the damp nights wore on.  The music went fairly late, past when I went to bed.  There was quiet time in the mornings, right until late afternoon it seemed.

One of the most notable things was the family atmosphere here.  Kids were encouraged and traveled in small herds all over the festival.  Workshops took place, and there were smiles to be found all around.

All in all, a nice little festival, and great to start to the season.  Bring your woolies, as the wind is brisk, and the possibility of rain this early in the season is high.

The nights of staying up late to serve tea to the late night parties, then getting up early to cater to the mid morning crowd have gotten to me.  I look forward to grabbing a good night of sleep before heading off to Faerieworlds tomorrow.