The sun crept thru the scattered clouds, hit the trees and left the road dappled before me.  The trees stood tall by the road edge, in the slim margin between pitted gravel road and lake bank.  The mountain flank reared up above me, to the left.  The road cut across its toes, eking out a bare necessity to allow the trucks to thinder past.  Then the mountain reclaimed her base, and plunged ever steeper into the lake.  It was rocky, big jagged black boulders, little ones that had broken off, equally  toothy.  The drop off under the water mirrored the steep hill above, leaving little that could be considered proper wading depth.  As far as I knew, the bottom of this lake had never really been plumbed.  Plenty deep, as the locals would say, nodding sagely.

Except the locals had by and large vanished, or at least taken to hiding every year.  And the big lumber trucks didn’t pass this way much any more.  I can recall as a child, being woken up by the trucks passing the cabin every hour or less.  To my country softened ears, the whooshing roar was startling in the extreme.

Now, this gravel road winding along the base of the mountains, once so vital to the lumber trail, this road is quiet, and possible to walk along.  At this early hour, the lake beside me is calm and quiet.  The previous day, being a sunny Sunday, it was torn with pleasure boats, cut to a seething surface by boat wakes.  The craft had darted all over its surface on the only sunny day in a week.

I had watched from the shore.

Today, I strolled along the shore.  Monday morning, not even that early.  The lake was still, not a single craft on the surface propelled along.  The boats sat at anchor, bobbing in the water.  The occasional bird flitted out from the trees, to skim the surface of the water before swooping back up in acrobatics to make the land bound envy.

The dogs trotted out before me, ranging back and forth on the road, seeking the elusive scents on the breeze.  A squirrel chittered angrily, and both dogs dashed in to the trees.  I paced along the worn gravel road, the rocks all long flung off.  A rotted tree jutted out of the water nearby, pointing at the mountain top.  An eagle or hawk of a great size soared out above my head.  The jingle of the dogs collar heralded their return, and they trotted past me, scouting the way.

I took a deep breath of muggy air, and smiled.  Just another lousy day in paradise.

Small birds flitted about the wire feeder strapped to the tree.  I watched the red breasted nuthatch peck at the seedcake within, others below the feeder, searching the ground.  The diffuse sunlight brightened the scene only a little.  Clouds blanketed the flank of the mountain, softening the edges of the day.  The exposed wood beams framed the window, framing the day in turn.  I reposed within a two room cabin, crouched on the hillside.  The wood stove rested cold this morning, the embers from last night having given their heat some hours before.  The iron oxide slate floor gave no heat back, leaving the wooden floor on the other half of the room to warm the space.  I reclined on a cushy chair, keeping my feet off the floor, and tucked under a caribou hide.

Dan and I had driven a few hours west of Calgary to Golden the night before, and we were now guesting at Graham’s cabin.  Last night, Babz had taken us out on the town.  I had held the picture of Golden as a quaint little town set in the mountains.  Apparently it is chock full of river rafting guides, and they know how to party!  We traipsed from bar to bar, ending up at a house at one point.  There was a great deal of drinking, and a few tables got flipped over.  At one point, I looked up just in time to see a ghostbuster throw himself into a shrub, disappearing into the neighbor’s yard.  Perhaps unsurprisingly, the rcmp showed up shortly after this, clearing out the party.  As the designated driver, I found myself on the fringes of the party, and was able to stroll off discreetly.  Our little group all escaped unscathed, and on to the next bar.

Finally, the night drew to a close, shortly after we had tossed all our quarters off the bar, in an attempt to hit a small glass.  Now quarterless, we piled into the truck.  I stood next to the driver’s door, as all within got settled, and sorted out seatbelts.  I could see the bright lights of a truck behind us, just sitting on the street.  A discreet glance revealed the outline of lights on the roof.  Rather unsurprising the rcmp’s had found us here, the majority of the group.  Searching for seatbelts for everyone was well underway, and I was loath to move from the spot without all being buckled in.  I figured there was no way we were just driving off.  These cops were just waiting for us.

Fortunately, we had chosen a dd at the beginning of the night.  And that was me.  Sigh.  I was not looking forward to having a nice chat with grumpy cops.  Nor performing a field sobriety test.  I slipped my heels off, my feet aching from traipsing all over town.  If I had been drinking, maybe I wouldn’t feel my feet, I reflected wryly.

Just as I was getting settled in the truck, familiarizing myself with the controls, a flurry of movement on the corner caught my eye.  Some of the more rowdy members of the group had made their way there, after being shooed out of the bar.  it looked like they had decided to continue their antics out here.

The cop truck moved off our tail, and stalked the wayward partiers.  We didn’t stick around to question our good fortune, but took the chance to drive off.  A short jaunt thru the dark woods, down a paved, then graveled road, and we were safely back at the cabin.

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.