The Joys Of RV Ownership

   A few years back I got it in my head I needed a motor home.
I didn't want to go anywhere with it, I just thought I could rent it out once in awhile and set it up over on a rent-a-spot by the river and give me one more thing to tinker with around here. I spent a year procrastinating and looking on craigslist until finally I had to do something about it. It is never easy to buy something, particularly vehicles from way out here, as you need to get a ride, or a driver.
I don't have a phone, and always wonder if it will still be there when I arrive.
   So finally, during a hot stretch in the middle of August it all came together. I caught a ride out one Sunday to the Big City, 4-5 hours away. It was an older model and had been listed for a few weeks now, there was apparently another buyer in the loop but he's been dragging his feet and hasn't been around for a few days. The motor home looks to be about what I expected and seller and I exchange a signed transfer form for a thick stack of brown and orange Canadian bills. My ride is keen to dump me off but agrees to run me down to an agent to transfer the vehicle and buy a permit to drive it home. It being Sunday and all it wasn't easy, but finally find an insurance agent and I handed him the transfer form.      Not too far into the process his experienced eye picks out a spot where the seller has made a small mistake, crossed it out, and corrected it. "That will never do" he says, explaining that it is an altered document. OK, back we go to the seller to fill out a new form, then turn around and head back to the insurance agent, whom it turns out closes at 5 and the place is now locked up. A little more frantic looking around and we discover another agent still open in a mall, but just barely. I thought these old heaps were supposed to be cheap to insure, I just needed to get it home this one time and I looked sceptically at the insurance girls offers of theft, fire and earthquake insurance. Unlikely anyone will carjack me on the logging road home, and I've never had a vehicle catch fire yet, as long as none of these idiots piles into me before I get out of town I'm laughing. So off I went with my new licence plates and basic insurance. I finally got back to the sellers house and turned my ride loose, the vehicle hardly coming to a stop to dump me out for the final time, and giving me some kind of hand gesture in the mirror as she drove off.
  I used the pliers I brought along to install the new plates and fired it up and wheeled out, stopping at the first gas station I saw. I was standing there putting gas into it for the longest time, and I got down to look underneath to see if it was pouring out under there or something. I can hear the leaf springs tick as it settles down with the weight of the huge fuel tanks filling, and I began to get alarmed if my debit card would cover it. Finally, with full fuel tanks, I drove over to the propane filling area and the attendant brought that hose over and began filling the huge tanks slung underneath. This filling went on for some time too, squatting the rig down on its springs even more. After putting one hell of a hole in my debit card I got on my way in the early evening traffic, working my way towards the freeway heading north. I stopped later on in Sqaumish for a bottle of water, and it was a lovely evening driving the Sea To Sky Highway with my arm out the window thinking about all the fun I was going to have with my new old motor home.
   Somewhere down the road, I got a slight whiff of smoke. "Stupid campers " I thought to myself, there was a fire ban on and it was seriously dry, how dare anyone have a fire going now, with the extreme fire hazard. The sun was going down and there wasn't much traffic at that time on a Sunday, and I was enjoying motoring along listening to tunes beyond the resort town of Whistler.
Once in awhile, I would get a whiff of smoke and I would think, "What the hell, that smelled just like the last campfire". It got a little more noticeable, and I'm looking around up and down the valley, looking for smoke. Finally, some semblance of common sense took over, I glanced in my rear view mirror, to see a plume of smoke behind me.
   "Oh bastard", I think I said, backing off on the gas to pull over on the narrow shoulder. I came to a stop and jumped out to see there is most definitely a problem back there. There is big smoke, I hear crackling and a section of the metal siding paint is all burnt and bubbled off from underneath, and too hot to touch. Well I get down on my hands and knees to look and see the cause. At some point before I bought it, it had been backed into something, bending the exhaust tailpipe upwards enough that it blew the hot exhaust on the inside of the panel construction, and catching the interior plywood on fire inside the wall.  I bent the offending tailpipe back in place with my foot then ran back and dug in the cab for the pliers and the remainder of my bottle of water then returned, taking hold on the lower edge of the siding and yanking it loose enough to look under and make a futile attempt at splashing my water bottle in there.  I stood up and looked around. The highway right of way was narrow, and the thick forest on either side looked like matchsticks, ready to explode with a single spark. It was a sure thing. I would forever be known as the a-hole that burned the entire Whistler recreation area down during the fire ban in the summer of 2010. I recalled a wide pull off area further on down the road, not exactly sure how far down the road it was, just down the road some. I leaped back into the cab, jammed it in drive and put my foot to the floor. The motor home spun gravel and charged off down the road in passing gear, trailing a Blue Angels like smoke contrail. Things began to happen quickly from then on, there is smoke building up from the top down inside and I was out of my seat leaning over cranking the passenger window down, trying to steer, keep my other foot on the gas and swerving all over the road as you can imagine. I got back in the drivers seat and checked the mirrors. There are hazy headlights back there, holding well back, obscured in the smoke, and watching the performance from the lumbering motor home ahead, going hell for leather, swerving and spewing smoke and flame. In no time, the fire has come inside, the heavy smoke begins to glow orange from the rear cabinet area, I opened the drivers door to help rid the smoke, holding it open against the wind with my foot. I was hoping that parking lot would turn up pretty quick. It was getting to the point I was going to have to park this rig as it was getting difficult to operate when ahead I see the wide turn off area near a new development. I began to calmly gather up any items I was taking with me, like my wallet, my ball cap, empty water bottle, unplugging my mp3 player stuff and preparing for a bailout.
   That parking area couldn't have come too soon, I'd had enough by then and just managed to position it in the center and put it in park before stepping out coughing.
"Oh bastard" I think I said a few more times.
   I walked over to the road to flag a car down. Pretty soon a small car arrives on the scene, slowing down at the spectacle of a smoking RV, glowing from within.
The young woman  stops and winds her window down.
"Hi" I said, "...do you have one of those phone things, we need to call 1-1-9".
She says she does and flips it out, "Who would you like?" she asks.
"Lets start with the fire department." I suggested.
   Soon there is all kinds of traffic showing up, pulling over, parking and getting out to look from the relative safety from the other side of the road, taking on a carnival atmosphere as it gets dark. A tailgate party breaks out, people are opening trunks and coolers and getting drinks to enjoy the show with.

Fire soon engulfed the vehicle. Lines from the huge fuel tanks burnt off and spilled their contents underneath, feeding the inferno. "WHOOMF!"
The large spare tire underneath exploded with a big 'POW', shaking debris loose, and blowing chunks of burning rubber afar.
"Whoohooo!" went the crowd.
The full propane tanks began to vent off, sounding like a jet engine before doing a huge 'WHOOMF'!
"Whoohooo!" howls the crowd, truly enjoying the show.
Pretty soon word got around that I was the owner of the evenings entertainment and took on a certain level of celebrity.
"How long have you owned it?" one fella asked.
"Including standing here watching it burn, going on 4 hours." I said.
For a grand finale, the air conditioning unit on the roof finally exploded in an impressive flash of green, blue and orange.
"Whoohoo!" went everyone clapping.
   The whole thing had pretty much crumpled into its self and the crowd began to dissipate when I hear the sirens coming, they arrive and start to water down the steaming heap. Everyone is gone now, just the firemen mopping up and me standing there by myself across the road in the flash of their emergency lights.
One of the guys comes over and says, "Is that yours?, the boss wants to talk with you", so I crossed over to see the man.
"Good thing this pullout was here." he said first off.
He too thought it rather amusing I had just bought it, and I told him the whole story of getting it this far to let it go.
"Ha, you did good!" he said, slapping me hard on the back with a wet glove.
I told him I wanted to get on my way, and what came next.
"Well, the authorities will want to contact you, there will be a bill for a flat deck to haul the charred chassis away, to clean up the site, storage,...etc."
"Probably no more than a thousand dollars or so."
I hope he wasn't trying to make me feel better.
Me and my big ideas. I took one last look at the charred heap, I thought of that stack of money that you could hardly bend in half I paid for it, and went over to the road and put my thumb out, catching a ride north with the next vehicle.
   So I had a camp out away from home, getting a room late in Pemberton and paying in excess of a hundred bucks for a few hours of fitful sleep. The moment I awoke I jumped up and ran out the lobby to the road in front, hoping to catch a ride with one of the loggers that slept in or something, other than that, there would not be much traffic heading out to my neck of the woods until later in the day.
I'm not much one for standing there, waiting for a ride, I need to keep walking, because I know I never have much luck hitchhiking and end up walking most of the way anyways. I got several short rides that got me past Mt. Currie and out to the gravel road along the lake towards home. So I'm striding along with my shirt over my shoulder, theres no traffic and it gets warmer as the sun comes up over the mountain and I was sorry I left my cap back in the room. The few vehicles I have seen have been headed into town. Only one old car went by in my direction, although I have to admit I may have been a little sweaty and stressed out looking by then so I can't really blame them. They took one look, then roared by like I was sporting horns and a forked tail, so now I was covered in sweat, and dust.
I get all the way to the 17km marker alongside the lake. There has been no dinner nor breakfast, my butt is dragging a little and the temperature feels like it is a 100 degrees.
   Finally, I hear something coming, and I was glad it wasn't a bear this time.
Looking back I see a vehicle, so I pulled my shirt back on over my head, inside out of course, and getting half of it tucked in before the vehicle arrived. It gets closer and I'm glad to see it is the new air-conditioned import SUV the public health nurses use to go out to visit the remote first nations settlements.
Well, this is good luck for a change, I can relax in back soaking up the cool air, charming them along the way with witty anecdotes of life out here.  I might get lucky and they will offer to share their lunch bag and thermos with the well known Mr. Trethewey of the hot spring property.
They slow down and stop, tentatively, curious about some character out in the middle of no-where, with his shirt on inside out, smelling of smoke and looking like he's had a rough night. That, or just escaped from somewhere.
  The nurses have a discussion between themselves behind the tinted glass before lowering the passenger window a crack.
"We don't pick up hitchhikers." a pair of lips inform me through the slit.
Well thanks for stopping to tell me.
I stood there trying to suck up what cool air was seeping from the window and explained my whole ordeal, pleading my case to the younger of the pair, going through the whole pitiful story and giving her my best old puppy dog eyes.
"Maybe we can make an exception this time!" she suggests to the more mature of the two, who eyes me suspiciously from behind the wheel.
Just then, a loud vehicle roars into sight down the road, broad sliding around the corner and raising a rooster tail of dust and accelerates toward us.
Suspicious cranky puss at the wheel glances in her rear view and states dryly, "Well, if they don't take you, I guess we will have to".
The car charges up the road towards us spewing rocks and a huge dust cloud.
"They not stopping ladies, I'll just squeeze in the back there", I said, tugging on the locked door handle with enough force to rock the vehicle and occupants.
At the last moment the cars tires lock and it skids up next to us, the dust cloud continued past us down the road for a ways on its own.
"Hey Rob!" the driver yells. It turns out it is Darryl Peters, past chief of the small remote Douglas native band at the head of Harrison Lake. That was all the encouragement the nurses needed to give me a quick wave and bugger off.
Darryl and his teenage son Darryl have been off to the city buying a vehicle too. "Always wanted a Cadillac." he states, sitting back in the faded velour.
"Talked 'em down to $500", he boasts, adding that it was a 'hazzard' car.
I thought he was talking about his driving.
"No" he says, "...like Dukes of Hazzard, you need to climb in through the window!", indicating a problem with the door handle.
So I clambered in through the passenger window and we charged off down the lake road, the 3 of us giggling like schoolkids when we passed the nurses on a corner and left them in the dust. Within the hour we arrived at the hot spring and stopped at the end of my driveway. I tumbled out the window, bade my friends good day, and stumbled up to the lodge to greet my cats and head directly for the refrigerator. Exactly 24 hours had transpired since I left on my little sojourn to buy an RV. Next time, if ever there is one, I'm going to buy full insurance.
Better yet, I think I will just stay home.

Fathers Day Trip 2013

I traveled to the Okanagan Valley on the weekend for a luncheon with a very special young lady. An accomplished community theater stage actor, published author, and all around sweetheart.

I've done the round trip over 150 times, 6 hours each way and it gets to be old hat. This is an interesting section of road hanging on that rotten mountainside south of Lillooett. Always rock raining down and no where you would want to stop.

The road between Lillooett and Lytton is thick with deer you need to watch out for, and several bands of bighorn sheep whom like this, pay little attention to vehicles.

Up on top of the Duffy Lake road there is a transition from the interior to coast topography.

It is always nice to do that left onto the gravel at the bottom of the hill and head down Lillooett Lake for home.

The Month In Review

    My regular reader out there may have noticed I have been off the air for quite a spell. Well that is going to happen now and again when I get busy or lazy.
I had to dig back in my camera to see what the hell I have been up to.

The inside tub needed to come out for repairs I remember.

I hauled it back down to the lodge here for several days of sanding and fiberglass work.

There was some high water back awhile. It was just normal didn't close the roads or anything.

It floats driftwood up on my lower lawn every year, then it recedes and I have to go down and get rid of it.

I got down there with my Honda quad and a trailer and loaded it up then transported it over to the big firepit for future use.

The May long weekend came along and the first thing I did beforehand was go down and winch some stumps out to block off a trail out the back of the hot spring campsite. People were starting to beat a trail out the back end.

I went to town to play for Melanie's annual birthday bash held with Mount Currie for a back drop. D'ale Lachance, Sam Field and I played until 2 am. when the local RCMP arrived and pulled the plug on the fun.

The hummingbirds have returned of course.

They go through several of these each day, and every few days I have to boil up sugar and water.

I have an active little mind and sometimes go onto other things.

Last week I got in my truck and started off for town. I got to this point here alongside the lake about 35 minutes from home, when all of a sudden I remembered that I had been boiling sugar on the stove. I slammed on the brakes and skidded around and stormed back. I skidded into the yard and got out and could hear the smoke alarm going off, then opened the front door to a solid wall of grey smoke. I opened all the doors and found my way to the stove.

Oh my...what a friggin mess.

It is almost a full time job around here right now keeping the vegetation beat down.

I've been sanding down the cabin in sections over the past year, and working on the front section for the last while. Today I pulled the trim around the doors and windows and refinished them. I'll strip the door in the next day or so and re-install all the trim and start brushing on the log finish.

Cat day afternoon.

Craig

    It was back a month or so on a morning round of the campsite, a long time regular there asked me if I had seen the homeless guy. He told me he had seen him the night before, a scruffy type with some blankets and no light, and just mumbled when he said something to him as they passed in the dark.

Another couple camped out mentioned him too when I asked.

That was interesting, but not the first time someone has tried to hide out in the fringe areas, and I set off to see, checking all the likely places. I followed the river bank up towards home, it being the most likely. My hunch paid off and I picked up fresh tracks and just happened to spot some skimpy blankets stashed in the hollow of a tree. I checked the whole area, but all I could find was the two dirty blankets. I wondered what to do with them, and decided to leave them there as bait. Whoever stashed them, to stay dry and hidden like they did, was coming back for them.

   Later on in the evening I headed down the river bank trail and went into sneaky mode as I approached the spot where the blankets were stashed, and I was surprised to see them gone. The clandestine movements, and the fact they used no fire added to the mystery.  After a quick hunt around I happened upon the blankets once more, and not far away I spotted a ragged, bearded figure, kneeling down and encouraging the makings of a small fire.

I studied  him for a bit, and pondered my next move. He didn't look like a desperado, just a scruffy kid with nothing trying to get a source of heat going.

 "Hello!" I called, and came out from my cover.

He stood up quick like a man busted, then sat down nervously on a nearby stump, trembling and avoiding my gaze. 

"Are you the Ranger around here?" he asked.

"Yes" I chuckled, "I'd be the Ranger, where did you say you where from?".

He told me with some degree of difficulty he originated from northern Ontario, and his name was Craig. His outfit consisted of a garbage bag with a few items of clothing stuffed in it and his blankets, there was no food or gear at all.

"You travel pretty light for this early in the Spring." I said.

He stuttered and stumbled but assured me, "...it was not so bad".

   He spoke quietly, his thoughts random, but he told me he had been headed to Lillooett, and someone had brought him out and dumped him off here late at night, assuring him he could probably get a job with the loggers working out here some where. Good grief.

"I can't have someone just hanging around, you know that" I told him.

He nodded his head, but I told him to enjoy his fire and hitch out in the morning.

The young man had problems alright, I'm not sure what an expert would call it, and maybe there was some medication he should be taking, but I just wanted to get him on his way. Over the years, if I took in every stray dog and lost soul that came along I would be up to my eyeballs in them.

   Early the following morning I'm sitting at my computer here catching up on world events where I can see up the driveway and I see him coming in the yard in his strange, pigeon toed arm swinging walk he had.

I met him out on the deck and asked him how the hitchhiking was going.

He told me he was heading out now and wanted to thank me for letting him stay the night, 

"Mostly I get told to leave" he added.

"Well don't forget to write!" I said, eager to get back to my world events.

There was an awkward pause as Craig gathered his thoughts.

"Do you have any hobbies?" he asks, out of the blue.

"Hobbies?" I said, the question taking me by surprise.

"You know, like stamps, or horseback riding."

I had to laugh and told him the only hobby I had was tracking down people hiding out on the property.

He told me the hot spring property was one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen and thanked me for making nice stuff.

I told him he had picked a great day to travel, and to have a nice trip.

There was an uncomfortable silence as I waited for the question I knew was coming... "Do you need a helper?" he asks, "I'd volunteer".

"Oh no, no no, no thank you, but thanks anyways" I said shaking my head.

Another uncomfortable silence followed while Craig looked down and shuffled his feet in the sand.

"I think I hear a car coming" I said.

"Well, been nice to meet you Robert" he says, "I should get on my way, thanks again".

I bade him good luck in life, and future journeys, which I'm sure will be difficult.

He spun around and headed out the driveway in his awkward toe out arm swinging gait he had and I hesitated at the door watching him go.

That was too easy, I thought to myself.

He reached his garbage bag of belongings where he had left it up the driveway and then turned around and waved. Against my better judgement I felt my arm wave back, before catching myself, and returning it to my side. He turned and continued up the driveway almost reaching the main road. That was close.

Got to be a hell of a life I thought, confused, hungry, and a long ways from home.

"Hey!" I heard myself call.

He kept walking.

"HEY!!" I hollered again, I'm not sure why.

He heard that time and started back.

"Oh for crissakes, what the hell did I do that for?" I asked myself.

Next thing I know I've offered him several days work sanding on the cabin and assure him I will pay fairly. I said I would provide housing and grub as well and gave him a small one man tent I had around.

"Don't worry" I said, "I'm going to take it out of your pay".

   Craig showed up early the next day to start sanding. I told him he was going to get dirty(er) but that I would wash his clothes for him when he was done.

"Can you wash my blankets?" he asks.

I get him all fixed up with the grinder and spare discs, mask and goggles and turned him loose on the weathered log wall of the Lodge.

"Don't touch the trim!" I warned him.

I stood there supervising while he worked for a bit, and  was just getting ready to wander off when he stops and looks at me, 

"You got any socks?".

"Socks?"

"I walked in a puddle" he says, and shows me his bare feet in his soggy runners.

"Hold on" I said, and went inside and looked for a close matching pair from my holey sock drawer.

   So I got two days sanding out of Craig before I figured he had enough of a stake to carry on with his journey. In the course of which I had double washed everything he had, including his blankets, which I delivered nicely folded to his campsite and put them neatly in a couple fresh garbage bags, or matching luggage as I told him.

   In the morning I walked down to the hot spring to make sure he was getting on his way. He found me there draining a tub and again commented what a wonderful place it was. 

I bade him good luck on his life's journey, "Once you hit the pavement, catch a ride over the Duffy to Lillooett!" I said.

"Whats that way?" he asked, motioning the opposite direction, down valley. "What about a job logging?"

"I don't think they are hiring right now, and anyways Craig, you would probably need a union card".

"Anything else?".

"Some first nation folks live down valley and you will only alarm them and they will probably chase you out of the territory" I said, being straight with him.

I told him his best bet was to head out and see Lillooett.

Despite his challenges he appeared quite intelligent, and had done some reading.

His conversation darted from the Six Days War, to entertainers being elected to office to his own views on life. 

"I don't always make the best decisions...I don't, don't know why I do that".

"I want to do something with my life" he told me, "Because in the end, that's all you have".

   I heard a vehicle coming into the hot spring day use area where we stood chatting. It was Eddie, a native chap I know from Mount Currie whom comes out fishing fairly often. I knew this time of day he would be headed down valley .

"He's going the wrong direction Craig, too bad" I said. 

Eddie stopped and got out and came over and we had a few laughs and I asked him if he lost any fish today, as I always do.

"Can I get a ride?" asks Craig interrupting the fun.

"I think you probably want to go the other way man" I said.

"I'm taking the first ride" he states, making another questionable life's decision.

I shrugged and Eddie says, "Sure, I can make room", and away they went.

   A week later I ran into Eddie again and asked him where he had dropped off Craig.

"The road to Sloquet, that's where he wanted".

   I had not mentioned Sloquet hot spring to him myself but probably he had heard of them from the campers. I often wondered what happened to him, half expecting to go out one morning a find him on my doorstep. A few weeks later I spoke with someone from down valley and he came up in the conversation, it appears Craig had hiked into Sloquet and hung out for a bit subsisting on hand outs from hot spring users and alarming the remote populace before someone finally reported him to the authorities, and as I told him would happen, he was removed from the territory.

  
  

Bridge To Bubbled Waters

 The original walkways across the small creek at T'sek hot spring, in my memory anyways, from what I understand were put in by the Army Engineers from Camp Chilliwack. They were constructed of poles  which someone later covered with asphalt shingles.

 By 1996 it was time to replace them. In September, according to my journal, I prefabbed the first of the replacements at home a week before, staining it then taking it down and pulling out the old one, then assembling the replacement in one long day.
These two before and after pictures were taken the same day.

It served for two years before being nearly destroyed by a falling tree in June 1998.
The story of this event that was nearly the end of me was the subject of one of my first blog/stories published here in Nov. 2011, Trees Behaving Badly.

I pulled the broken deck, squared and leveled the base once more, and saw milled new decking all over and rebuilt it to its former glory.

After 14 hard years of near daily use,  coast mountain weather, and about 80 thousand pairs of running shoes, sandals, flip flops, gumboots and snow boots, and numerous people on their hands and knees I'm sure, it was time for a refit.
   To the surprise of many, I actually do work on occasion. But only when I have to, and I like to keep the duration short. Well, first thing....I need to take my nice clean little saw mill out from its warm dry storage area, after I move all the junk I've got stored on top of it out there. Then I'll have to go out and level it up some place and drag a heavy log over and with no little amount of effort roll and heave said log up on mill, accompanied by a lot of loud words no doubt, a job that would made be easier if my tractor were not of the incapacitated variety. I'll have to repeat the process several times, after which I get to clean up the big sawdust pile and heap of bark slab mess, take the mill apart, clean it and put it away, then re-pile everything back on top of it.
It is that point, I'm ready to start my intended afternoon project.
To hell with that. There was a time when it was important to mill my own wood, but I've got over it. These days I prefer to shop locally and support the local economy, and save a whole lot of wear and tear on myself. I'll just take a run downtown and pick up my order like people do out there in the city.
My friend Cedric down valley at the tiny community of Skatin has himself set up with a little mill and a machine for moving the wood, so I conveniently headed downtown with my little trailer rattling along behind.

I took the Skatin off ramp, being Sunday there wasn't much traffic.

In fact I didn't see anyone, even Cedric. I found my order and hand piled it on my poor old converted motorcycle trailer, half flattening the tires. These where the longest cuts, he would have the decking ready for me a week later.

Next time I smartly waited until I knew he was home for sure and we had some fun with his little machine.
I talked him out of all the long bark slabs from the job and he piled that on top of the load of heavy decking, I'll buck that up and sell it to the campers later in the year when it dries.

I off loaded the works back at home. Then re-loaded one almost complete bridge. I picked a week day when I knew there wasn't going to anyone around, backing it skillfully beyond the barriers and down close.

The old 22 foot walkway has served us well all these years.
I had hearing protection on and I fired up my chainsaw, letting it idle while it warmed up. I figured what the hell, I had to take one last picture. I put the Husky down and took the camera from my belt.
And there it is, for everyone whom has had a T'sek experience in the last 15 years. They have all left across that walkway, wearing the cedar decking thin, and have all carried their particular memory of the hot spring with them via this route. I have probably been over it 5000 times myself.
I walked out one last time and looked around, then pushed hard on the hand rail with my boot until it broke loose from the rotten log, then made a pass with the chainsaw the length in both directions and it fell into itself. I brought the winch line from the quad down, then dragged the better part of it out to the day use area in two trips. I went back and fired all the loose broken up old boards out of the way and got to work.
   I certainly know when to pick my days to work down there. It was more of a job than I expected of course to join all the beams together to equal the span across the hot spring outflow creek. I only saw a handful of people the whole time, and poor Andrew showed up just when the heavy lifting came up.
I nailed down the rough cut decking with galvanized nails and cleaned up the area and raked out any evidence of my being there then hurried home to salvage what was left of my nap time.

The far little 22 foot bridge, the bouncy one, is going to be replaced, and be recycled into something else.
I will sure miss bouncing on it every time I cross.
I'll get to it at a later date, or not. I'll have to check my schedule.

Princess ChYk, Monster Slayer.

   Monsters still exist out here in the valley of the Lodge.
Everyone has their own idea of a monster, and I have mine.
They routinely pass by on occasion, under cover of darkness usually, but as a rule give my immediate area a wide birth. In all the years I've been here, I've managed for the most part to coexist with every one the area's various monsters. My scent left behind on my normal every day wanderings over the years and body language have have earned me a territory and a position up near the top in the local hierarchy of critters that use the area. That is, until recently.
   I don't worry about monsters myself so much anymore since I grew up, it is unlikely there are any around out here that would be willing take me on. There have been a few two legged ones down at the campsite over the years whom have thought different, but that's going to have to be a different post.
It is my cats that cause the concern, being a few more notches down the natural food chain than myself.
   In the past few months a particular monster decided to help me with the cat infestation problem he figured I had around here. I may be part cat myself and always picked up on their reaction when letting my babies out. Monsters have a right to make a living too, but they need to stick to their normal prey envelope.
Cats and campers are off the list, and in that order. I would consider a selective cull of campers some weekends, but only if I had a say in the selection process.
   Due to its nature, a monster will let you see it only if it chooses too.
You can go looking for a monster in earnest and never find him,  I know that for a fact.
When at all possible I try to avoid them, but I've looked for a few in my lifetime.
Some monsters were imagined, I hope, like the bastards that lived in my closet when I was a kid.
Some were very real, that I had to deal with out of necessity in remote locations.
One so called 'monster' I spent a part of my life searching for fell somewhere between myth and reality, and in the end, I decided to just wait for one to find me. But that's going to have to be another story too.
There was a monster of more pressing nature.
    The most dangerous to those closest to me are in the same feline form, only many times larger, able to take down prey many times its size. Capable of anything mine are, only quicker, and deadlier. It survives by cunning, and predator stealth.
This particular specimen began to case the yard several months ago from the cover of the wild beyond the yard lights. He began to grow bold, hanging silently around during the day as well. There were a few sightings on the road out behind here by people heading to the hot spring. Those poor Asian folks in the Mitsubishi van were so excited I'm not sure if they will ever be back.
It seemed this demon had decided to challenge the two leg that lives in the log pile next to the creek, letting himself be seen with his new bold, indifferent attitude.
   I had my old motor home rented out for the Easter weekend and wandered out back of the shop to look inside before I took it down to the campsite. As they often do, the cats follow me.  ChYk appeared on my heels and climbed up on the dash inside while I puttered with something at the door. Soon I look up and see she is still up on the dashboard and staring intently at something out the window.
"Whatta ya got there ChYk, a bird, or a chipmunk?" I asked her, which usually would have got a response.
In fact, it surprised my cat inner self that if that were the case, she would have jumped down and gone by me to have a better look from outside. I pressed my tongue against my teeth and made a clicking sound to get her attention. She ignored me.
I curiously took a few backwards steps towards the front of the motor home to see a bird, or hear a squirrel going up a tree. My broken down old tractor was broke down right there and I stopped and listened. Surprisingly, it was dead quiet, strangely so. I looked up at ChYk, whom I could see through the windshield. I did a few little things and noises to get her attention.
She ignored me, and the hair fluffed up on my inner tail.
  Right then, from my left, the other one, the chicken of everything orange cat ChUk, walks calmly out from under the motor home. He meanders casually towards me with out a care in the world, which struck me as odd considering the way ChYk was acting. I looked up at ChYk once more, through the windscreen I can see her tail is fluffed up about three times its normal size, and I went on heightened awareness.
Right then this great friggin' monster explodes from under the tractor and makes several bounds towards ChUk. I reacted on an instant and still the monster was already going by a few paces away.
I lunged and yelled and I saw ChUk react and scoot back underneath the motor home.
Monster landed right where he just was but hesitated going under. I came right in with a boot and it took off like it was going to press the attack on ChUk from the other side of the motor home, it stopped there and spun and stared at me. That may have been the first time it was aware of me at all. I still had a pretty good head of steam going and I let out this huge loud roar of "GO AWAY!!" Monster jumps in the air and scrambles effortlessly to the edge of the clearing, stopping once more to see if I press the attack. Probably not very often in the wild he has been challenged, not like this anyways. After a few minutes of hollering myself hoarse and getting all scratched up thrashing around in the bush trying to get another indication of where he may have gone I decided I had probably scared him enough.
Just like a monster, he has vanished. Bastard.
    I was already pretty puffed out from yelling and my fight with the vine maples but I ran back to the shop for something suitable for monster chasing, returning in minutes to find an even emptier forest. I looked, and looked, and sneaked around and checked every monster hang out spot I knew of. Vanished.
I went back to console a stuttering ChUk, fluffed up several times his normal size.
"Nice to see you again ChUk" I said to him, picking him up and holding him close.
This had got a little personal. I had to get this guy, or he was going to get all my cats. I feared it would be like trying to hunt down a ghost. I spent an hour every day in pursuit of it, to no avail of course.
He would strike or be seen when you least expected it, and if he is that bold when I'm standing right there, what will happen next time when I'm not.
   A week went by. I caught sight of him one afternoon between here and the campsite, I was on the old trail on my quad and I noticed him crouched there as I blasted by and skidding to a near stop burning a donut and came roaring right back at him and skidding up as he disappeared on one bound. He was on this side of the road, between there and the river. I hunted everywhere for it. Vanished once more.
   By chance that afternoon I had burned some grass on the field out front, and had come inside to relax while I started warming up an early dinner. I came from the kitchen area to the desk and computer, where I sit now, checking my mail when I hear a faint scream for help from outside.
I jumped up immediately and hit the door to the front deck, down on the lawn I see the monster has ChYk in his clutches near the base of a tree, she had obviously headed up it and had been hauled back down and was now fighting for her life on the grass. "Daddy!" she cried.
I took off like a rocket across the deck, watching my feet as I ran down the steps so not to trip and I hit the ground running like I've only run a few times before in my life.
I did not yell this time, maybe I was afraid it would get up and run off to the woods with her. I hit the lawn and swung right around the willow tree. I'm conscious of ChYk howling and fighting, but my entire being is focused on the tawny form that has her in his claws, not hesitating to jump right in there, with my bare hands if necessary. I rounded the tree and leaped in the air, and as I was flying silently in slow motion through the air, I was thinking my own weight will not be enough with such a formidable monster, when I land,  I will have to stomp on it as hard as I can. I came down hard with both feet on its ribs and stomped with all my weight, flattening it out and knocking the wind out of it. I was off balance when I landed and  slipped off its ribs and my feet went out from under me,  I fell  backwards, landing on top of the monster with another thump and grabbed on as ChYk wriggled free. I saw a grey form shoot from the scene and that was a good sign she could leave so quickly. When I ran out here I hadn't really had a good plan once I got here, other than to retrieve my cat, that done, I was trying to scramble off the damn thing backwards without leaving my privates too exposed when monster, getting his breath back, decided he had enough too, standing up and bucking me off on my back. It stood there as if to say "WTF?", and gave me a loud hiss as I scrambled to get back on my feet, kicking at it, hissing back, and baring my teeth like some deranged wildman. I was pissed. To his credit, and great restraint, he made no attempt to rip me to friggin ribbons.
It wasn't quite sure what the hell to think about me, but no one wants to fight a crazy man. Monster and I squared off in the orchard. It finally occurred to me, I had a firearm in the shop.
"Sit, stay," I said, pointing my finger at it, "Don't go away".
He showed little fear, walking with me towards the shop.
I came out the door set for action. Again, in what was only seconds, it has vanished.
I checked all around the shop, and thought he must have hit the bush. I stood in one spot, where I could cover the most bases and stood perfectly still. I was thinking I was wasting my time and he had split for the hills to come and strike another day. It was then, I saw a slight movement under the shop, in a place that I always considered a safe spot for my cats, that no monster could fit under. I knelt down and tried to adjust my eyes to the darkness. I clicked my tongue in my cheek to get it to look at me and drew a bead between the eyes. He didn't feel a thing, but I gave him another to make sure. I was going to have to go under there to haul it out so I gave it another just to make damn sure it didn't come to as I was tugging on it.
I hauled it up into the back of my pickup with a thump, and took it away.
It broke my heart to have to destroy such a beautiful creature, but life is like that sometimes. "I told you to go away", I said to it later.
    I got a terrified ChYk out from under the house an hour later, a little chewed up and poked all full of holes. She got a fever from the infection and it didn't look good there for awhile and thought she might have a broken leg, but after a $600 trip to the vet in Whistler for stitches and some expensive pills,  two weeks later, she is just about back to normal.

 Princess ChYk, she fought the monster, and lived to tell about it.