Happy New Year! …and enjoy the blue moon if you can see it tonight. We are blanketed cozily with high clouds, that are ever lowering and thickening, and by tonight it is supposed to snow. But we saw it last night, and it was huge and beautiful, rising smoothly just beyond Indian Profile rock and ascending into the sky that began light, before turning a deep cerrelean blue, to then darken into a night pricked with diamonds.
The cold snap that left us without power from the pelton wheel finally ended, and alas, we are still here, not basking in the golden sunlight of a breezy Hawaian evening. But even so, things are looking up considerably. The temperatures have been much more seasonable, rising well above freezing during the days, and hitting five or ten at night. The river has thawed considerably, and stopped making the pained squealing and groaning sounds that seemed more tortured animal than frozen water. Although the smaller creek running beside the cabin remains frozen solid across, and all attempts to re-start the Pelton wheel have failed. (Isaac spent an entire morning chopping the foot-thick ice off of the intake trough in the creek, attempting to get water flowing again to the power house: to no avail). But all in all, the warmer temps have been good, and now we are just hoping for a little snow to push some wildlife down from the higher elevations.
The Wednesday mail plane before Christmas, actually arrived on Thursday because they couldn’t fit in all their stops. But when it arrived, it brought a full sack of letters and cards and packages from friends and family, a true Santa’s sack from the sky.
Christmas came and went in a fun flurry of decorating the cabin, hauling in the top of a Doug Fir and twining it with lights, baking, making ice luminaries and wreaths, Skyping family at home, and cooking venison roast over a bonfire. The day was capped off with a lovely hike upriver, looking for tracks on the skim of snow left behind by a minor weather sneeze. We found mountain lion tracks and otter slides, saw a full curl bighorn sheep ram, and admired the aquamarine color of the river flowing over ice formations. But when we returned home, we found one of the mules (Bat, as in Dingbat) laying uncomfortably on her side, looking restless and sick. We suspected colic, and hoping for a mild bout, began walking her for half hour spells, and then letting her rest. By nightfall she was not looking much better, still laying down the instant you let her off the lead, and not interested in water, even freshly warmed. A sick mule is a scarier prospect when the vet is a plane ride away, and its Christmas day… But by 10:30 pm, we went down to check on her one last time, and she was standing, looking much happier. She drank nearly a full bucket of warm water, and seemed perkier. We went to bed relieved, and by morning she was one hundred percent. Phewwww…
So I am ready to move to Hawaii. Actually, to be less demanding, any tropical island would do. The next blog will be written from a breezy hammock, swinging gently beneath whispering palm trees, with a warming sun kissing my limbs, and perhaps a rum punch sitting within reach.
It’s been sub-zero here lately. Sub-zero, or really anywhere remotely close to zero, are not the kinds of temperatures in which I want to spend much time. Yes, we’re still at Taylor Ranch, and yes I should be thankful for that. I am thankful for that. But honestly, I’d rather not be here at all. Actually, to be truly honest, Isaac is not even here right now. And I am absolutely not blaming him for that. We agreed it was a good idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure I wanted to do this.
Isaac took a job (a “real” filming job) for a couple weeks. He is in Africa. He will return in a week. I’m pretty sure it is hot where he is now. In case you sense a little envy in my words, there is. In fact, there is a lot of envy. Although when he left I distinctly remember feeling sorry for him that he had to sit on a plane for so long just to get there. Now I think I’d sit on a plane for three days if that’s what it took.
Before you go feeling too sorry for me (although a little wouldn’t hurt), I have to say that I got a bit of a break as well. I went to Delaware for Thanksgiving to visit my family. And to steal some words from a friend in McCall, when I asked how his trip home for thanksgiving had been, “it was wonderful, isn’t it always?”. And so I came back refreshed, ready to go back into the wilderness with new eyes, invigorated spirit, and endless enthusiasm. The doubt started to creep in when my plane landed in Boise in a snowstorm, and I walked to our car parked at a friends house a mile away, and by the time I got there my cheeks felt as if they were made of blow glass, and if anyone had gently flicked them they would burst into a million pieces and fall tinkling to the ground at my feet. And that was Boise. Boise is supposed to be in a “banana belt” of sorts. My ass.
By the time I had driven to McCall that night, floundered my way to the yurt in the dark, unlocked the door with a screwdriver, and was attempting to start a fire, I was thinking about frostbite. The temperature was -3, and would drop to -15 before the night was over. It took me a half hour to start a fire (we had left the woodbox empty, and kindling had to be chopped, the butane lighter wouldn’t even try to light, and I struggled with regular wooden matches). Then I realized the propane lanterns we use in the yurt also wouldn’t light, I guess because the propane was too cold? Never before experienced that, but it sure seemed that way as they wouldn’t light for 2 hours until the yurt had come up to a more reasonable temperature. But why am I complaining about the yurt? I would give my left leg to be in the yurt right now. Once it comes up to temperature it is downright cozy.
But after a day layover in town, I jumped on the mail plane and headed back out to Taylor Ranch, dragging my feet a little knowing what was in store, and wishing with all my mind that weather would come in and we wouldn’t be able to fly. But the weather was sunny (don’t get the wrong impression, that just meant it was light out, because there wasn’t an ounce of warmth to be had from the giant fiery planet). And the good part of my conscience knew I had to get out there to help the caretaker who was there in my absence. This was her first time caretaking Taylor Ranch in winter, and that can be a daunting task for anyone. Not that I had much know-how to bring her, but it’s just nicer with two people. Two people to kick the generator when it won’t start (which seems to be every time you go to start it), two people to sob and cry when everything is freezing up around you, nothing is working as it should, and Jim’s voice over the Skype waves just isn’t convincing enough, two people to invoke the powers of the god-of-all-generators to please let the damn thing start so we can have just a little power, just enough to call Jim and say “help!”, two people to heat water to pour into trash bags to sit under the generator engine until it is warm enough to try again.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is that it has been a trying few days. All the water systems are now shut off. We are using the generator (when it will start) morning and night to charge the main batteries, and then are very frugal with using anything that requires power. We are getting water from Pioneer Creek which runs by the ranch, but is now running under a good 15 inches of solid ice, and requires safety glasses and an ax every time you need to fill a bucket. We see the sun for only a few hours every day, between noon and three, and the rest of the time we are in hoar-frosted relative darkness, in the shadows of the canyon walls. Don’t you want to come visit??
Just this morning I made the grand mistake of using the toilet in the cabin where I am sleeping. This is normal practice, I thought. We simply flush by pouring a bucket of fresh drawn creek water down the gullet. But noooooooo. Not today. This morning when I poured the flush bucket, instead of disappearing nicely down the hatch, the contents rose over the top of the toilet bowl and spilled all over the bathroom floor, to turn almost instantaneously to ice. The thing was frozen solid, an important fact which I had not noticed before making use of it. I proceeded to spend the rest of the day attempting to un-freeze the toilet, by many different methods. The one that finally worked was to bring up a small radiator and place it right next to the toilet for hours (all after struggling for more hours to get the generator running to first fill the batteries so I would have enough power to run the radiator…. Ya see what I mean? Let me tell you, it was a truly fun experience.
I think I’d better cut myself off for the day. No more writing until I have a better attitude. Because this truly is a special place. (And you can take that any way you want to)
