The first four days...

Friday, April 15, 2005

I’m Here!

Bradley and I arrived around 2 pm after a nice ride down from Portland. The sky, patchy with clouds and fog, spit on us a bit, but for the most part it was bright and mild, the sun breaking through over the mountains. We stopped in Roseburg to gas up and have a lunch, and then we pushed on to Riddle, the exit off of 1-5 to get to the cabin.



In Riddle there are lumber mills stacked sickeningly high with timber, what were once majestic trees.




The road in from Riddle is paved for about 30 or 40 miles, but it’s a winding drive through beautiful country. Rivers and creeks and conifer trees abound.


The road climbs pretty steadily up into the mountains, and at the higher elevations we encountered snow, which was a foot deep in small stretches on the shady sides of the passes. Somebody had already blazed tracks through the snow, and with Bradley in front of me in his Toyota 4x4, I made it through easily in my CR-V.



In one 40-foot stretch, it was touch-and-go; I came to a stop, my tires spinning. But I reversed and drove forward, and I was out. It was pretty exhilarating. At the Dutch Henry Road the pavement turns to dirt. The last ten miles to the cabin descend into a deep canyon along this dirt road.


A couple of miles down it, we had a most unfortunate encounter with a couple of good ol’ boys. They were driving around in a huge pick-up fitted with chains. It was this truck which had blazed the tracks through the snow. Bradley got out to investigate, and it turned out that driver was a local guy interested in the castle, which is going up for auction next month. He and his buddy were driving around drinking beer (it was 1:30 in the afternoon). Bradley, thinking it best to just let them know our deal, told them about the residency. They took note of my New York tags. “My son wants to be one of them writers. Doesn’t get it from his old man,” said the driver. The man talked nonstop, and it became clear after about two minutes that all he wanted to do was get in and see our place and have an open invitation to come down there and fish. Bradley did his best to evade, hemming and hawing and explaining that I’ll be down there to write and that I’ll want my solitude, yada yada yada. But the good ol’ boy couldn’t be dissuaded from trying. I was eager to get extracted from this inauspicious meeting, but it went on for nearly a half-hour. We finally said goodbye and dropped down to the gates, where Bradley and I commiserated. I fear I haven’t seen the last of these critters, and it worries me to know that people know I’m in here. Bradley says it may be good that they know I’m here, because they’ll be less likely to come snooping. I don’t know. One measure to increase my peace of mind: we installed two new killer locks on the gates. When we finally pulled up to the cabins, it was about 2:30 and the weather was clear.




We unloaded our stuff, turned on the water to both houses, checked out the garden, tried with no success to get the phone working, and then parted—Bradley to go prepare our salmon dinner, me to set up my house a bit. I cleaned out the moldy fridge and tended to Gus, who twice got loose and romped around the huge yard. At around 7:00, Gus and I drove up to the upper house, flashlight and camera in hand. The salmon dinner was delicious, huge fillets Bradley had caught and cleaned himself on a fishing trip last summer in Puget Sound.


He prepared them with some fresh rosemary from the huge shrub of it in the garden, and we had asparagus and rice to go with it. Gus got to sample some salmon skin, which was, no surprise, much to his liking.



After dinner we toasted our entry with a couple of Cuban cigars, compliments of Sharen, and a cribbage match.


It was nice to play with someone who counts quickly. I won, two games to one. We plan to resume the match tomorrow night. Gussie was all pooped out, as was I, but here I am back at my cabin, and it’s 1:00 am and I’m still up. When I got back here tonight, I put away all my clothes and got my bed all set up. It feels nice to lay here and see my bedroom all done. I’ve got a fire going in the stove, and a propane lamp burning above the bed. Through the skylight directly above my bed, I can’t see any stars, for the clouds have rolled in. It will likely be raining when I awaken. It’s bright and cozy beneath the lamp and the skylight, but now it’s time to sleep.



Monday, April 18, 2005

Seven deer inch through the meadow below the barn. They wear their winter coats. One yearling sports a softer tan. They all appear to be does. I see no horns. Two of them are fat-bellied. There is plenty of food for them now, but they may be pregnant. I’ll have to ask Bradley about that.


It was a chilly 39 degrees when I arose, and the mercury has only crept up a half-degree. But no rain falls, and that’s a blessing. It’s been raining on and off since we arrived. Yesterday we turned on the irrigation water. “No leaky!” — despite the pipe being lifted in one place by a downed tree. While we were up by the spring, we stopped at the pond, and Mr. Bullfrog was up on the bank. He’s a huge guy that Bradley and Lang transplanted here last summer. The pond and ground is full of rough-skinned newts, purported to be one of the most toxic creatures on earth. Their skin is highly poisonous. They can be picked up, but not licked or eaten. I asked Bradley about their natural predators, and he said that there’s one type of garter snake which through natural selection developed immunity to the toxin. Where can I find these snakes? The newts are too numerous and nasty (constantly mating) that I don’t think I’ll swim in the pond. And I’m afraid Gus will chomp down a newt before I can stop him, and that’ll be that. After turning on the irrigation system, we fired up the rototiller, a monster of a machine, and brought it to the garden. We tilled one bed, but it was too muddy, so we quit, covered the motor with a garbage can, and left it there for a dryer time. After lunch, I fired up the generator and vacuumed the place. The floor was a mess and I was tired of stepping on wood splinters. In the afternoon, Bradley came up with all the fly-tying equipment and gave me a lesson in tying the tried-and-true Rogue River fly pattern, one which can’t be found in fly shops because it’s a Boyden invention. He assembled the vice on the kitchen table, spread out all the feathers and threads and colorful chenille, and tied up a beautiful fly on a #6 hook.



He’s a good teacher, and I think I’ll be able to do it on my own. We rigged up the house rod and reel, too, mine being too small and the line too old and without backing. Then we geared up and hiked down to the river to fish. The trail is steep, descending into the canyon, and it’s beautiful, big forest. Huge firs, lichens, mosses, madrones, live oaks, and an early assortment of wildflowers.



We picked bay leaves going down, yerba Buena coming up. I’m drying some of the latter for tea. We found a few deer ticks on our pants, much to our dismay. The river was high and colored, and we fished it hard, but not a single strike. Just above the swimming hole, there’s an osprey nest. It was occupied, with young, last year, and appears to be again. The ospreys were flying pretty close to us, and I thought I could see fledglings in the nest (didn’t bring binoculars).




I saw one fish surface and turn not far from my fly, but I don’t think it was going after it. I think it came up for some real food. Bradley said it may be too late for the steelhead, that they may be downriver already. But I’ll keep trying. And I’ll try for a Chinook in the mouth of Kelsey Creek. By the time we walked back up, I was exhausted. It’s a steep trail, about a mile long. I’m out of shape from too many days sitting in a car and lying around hotel rooms. I need to walk more and get in shape.

So much for it not raining. It’s coming down again. 


Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Another wet, misty morning. Bradley leaves today, and I plan to follow him out as far as the road to Merlin and then Grants Pass. I need to take care of a few things. My long distance calling card PIN isn’t working, so I’ve been unable to make LD calls on the radio phone. I was also unable to program autodial into the phone’s mic, so I’m bringing it to Sis-Q Communications to have it reconfigured. While I’m in town, I’m going to retrieve my mail at the P.O. box, do some shopping for food and supplies, get online, let Gus see some dogs and people, and then head back in. I don’t want to have to make the drive back in the dark. It’s a long trip on bad roads with poor signage.

I’m looking forward to a day off! Bradley worked me middling hard, but it was good, muscle-flexing work: clearing one trail of fallen trees; moving firewood; mowing around the perimeter of the garden (I have a lot more mowing to do!); tilling a bed; and “various and sundry” other maintenance jobs and instruction. All in all, he gave me a great orientation to the place, though it’s a lot to remember, and I’m sure I’ll find myself at some point thinking, “Didn’t Bradley show me how to do that?” But a day off. Yes. I’m looking forward to that. But first I have my own chores I want to get done. I need to mow the whole yard. The grass is high and it’s an invitation to ticks. I’ve already found several. Last night I got in bed under the lamp to read, and there was a tiny tick on the comforter! I’ve been searching myself before showering, of course, and searching Gus, too. He’ll need another dose of Frontline next week. I also want to get the garden beds tilled so I can plant. I hope to pick up starters and seeds today. I’d like to get the grass mowed beneath the fruit trees in the garden, too, so I can let Gus romp off-leash there. I’ve been reluctant to let him run around too much. It’s muddy and wet. And the woods are lovely, dark and deep, but full of potential dangers, not the least of which is poison oak. All I need is for Gus to run through some of that, and next time I pet him, I’ll have it all over me. So, it’s a leash for now. I’m not quite sure what Gus thinks of the place. I think he’s waiting for us to pack up in the car and move on to the next place. Nine days of doing that became routine for him. I took him swimming up at the pond yesterday, and that put a smile on his face. He jumped in three or four times, and seemed oblivious to the rough-skinned newts. I can’t wait to show him the river.

It was a bit warmer this morning: 41 on the thermometer when I first got up. My morning routine is to wake, get the fire going again in the wood stove, start water for coffee, let Gus out to do his business, and then have some breakfast. After that, Bradley has come down and we’ve gone off to work the day away. Soon I’ll be constructing my own schedule, and finding more time to write and read and garden and watch birds and photograph wildflowers and mushrooms and critters.

The radio phone has been a nuisance so far. We couldn’t figure out how to dial out for t he first few days. Yesterday we straightened that out, finally getting in touch with the company that provides service. But I can’t make LD calls. And I can’t make a collect call, either. So, I’ve been unable to contact family and friends. I did receive two calls yesterday! Lang called to see how the installation was going and to offer his regrets on being unable to attend. And Neil Curry called all the way from England! He’s planning to come stay a week in late May, a great time to come. The weather will have improved, and the place will be lush by then. The birding, Bradley tells me, will be phenomenal. Neil likes his birds as much as I do. I’m excited to be hosting somebody, though I hope he’s not too put-off by the primitive amenities. I don’t think he will be.

No pictures in this post, sorry to say.

Till next time,

Gary