Two Bits

Civilization 101

When everything works, it’s great. I live in a perfect cocoon, insulated from all of life’s little irritants – floods, for example. Under ordinary circumstances, I turn on the tap, and voila! Out it comes! I flush the toilet, and whoosh! No mess, no problem! That is, until the water main breaks…

 

5:45 – The alarm goes off, and I stagger to the bathroom. The toilet won’t flush. I check and see that there is hardly any water in the tank. There is water in the kitchen, but there isn’t much pressure. I’ll have to stop at the office on the way to work and ask what’s up. I find that it’s a bit of a challenge to brush my teeth without water, but it’s an even greater challenge to take a dry shower. Fortunately, I’m not too dirty.  

 

It’s 6:45 a.m., and the buzzer in my condo goes off. It can’t be anyone I know, but I answer it, and ask who is there. A man’s voice, blurred by static, says something I don’t catch, and I’ll be darned if I’ll let someone I don’t know into the building. We’ve had some break-ins in the storage units in the basements. A bit later, the buzzer goes off again. I can hear the buzzers for other units in the background. Can’t figure out what’s going on, but I don’t want to open the door. I live in a very safe area, but I’m not expecting anyone, and I don’t know who it could be. A couple of minutes later, there is a knock on my door. It’s ‘J’ in 101. ‘J’ Paul Revere says that there is a water main break and the basement garage is flooding. He is galloping from door to door, spreading the alarm. He says that if I have a car down there that I had better get it out.

 

I have more than a car down there. I have an enclosed storage unit filled with my worldly possessions. I’m still in my pjs, but I grab my keys, slip into my sandals, and rush down to the garage. Sure enough, there are about 18” of dirty water sloshing around the concrete pillars, miscellaneous household items, and cars. Fortunately, I’m wearing my plastic ‘go to the office’ shoes and my pajamas are above my knees. I wade to my car, which is the next to the last in the garage. (’How high’s the water, mama?’ Johnny Cash knows that it’s ‘two feet high and risin’.) I drive my trusty Subaru to safety and hope that the flood will have receded by the time I get home from work. I need to evaluate the damage. 

 

But wait! There’s more! It’s raining like crazy, and now I’ve got water coming in from above, too. I put a towel down to sop up the rain that’s seeping in over my sliding glass balcony door and go to work. The fact that a friend from out of state is coming in this afternoon doesn’t do a whole lot to improve my disposition. Most of the time Americans can ignore it, but really, nothing has changed since the beginning of time. Even today, the forces of nature are stronger than the strongest barriers we puny humans can erect against them.

 

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She’ll Be Comin’ Down the Mountain, She’ll Be Comin’ Down the Mountain, She’ll Be Comin’ Down the Mountain When She Comes. To paraphrase the old folksong, I was comin’ down the mountain, alright, but I sure as heck weren’t  drivin’ no six white horses, I was drivin’ a blue 2007 Subaru Impreza, and I was about to get locked in the Heil Valley Open Space parking lot. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

The plan was to meet my friend at the rec center after work and go for a hike. The days are still warm, but fall is definitely just around the corner – the days are shorter, the nights cooler, and there’s that melancholy feeling that comes with the end of summer. ..

There were a lot of cars in the Open Space parking lot – mostly mountain bikers from the looks of them.  Some were still disgorging bikes and bikers. My friend got out his pack, I buckled up my fanny pack, and off we went. We’d gotten some serious rain a couple of days ago, so even though there were quite a few cyclists, they weren’t kicking up much dust. There were still a few wild currents on the bushes that line the trail. L. was not terribly impressed with them, but of course, I grazed my way up the mountain as we discussed wild fruit that we have known and loved.  L. was really getting excited about this topic, because he forgot to take his bagel and yogurt out of the truck back at the rec center.

At the 2 ½ mile mark, the Wapiti Trail meets the Ponderosa Loop Trail. I asked my friend if he wanted to turn back. I said that we would be hiking about 5 miles in that case, versus around 7 ½ if we decided to go on. He said that he thought that he would like to go further. We hiked another mile or so, and he asked if we could take a water break, so we chose a couple of comfy-looking rocks and sat for a while enjoying the scenery and the mosquitoes. 

As we hiked higher, L. remarked that the sun was sinking lower, and indeed, the long, dusty rays slanted across pine meadows in a way that left no doubt that night was falling. By the time we had gone roughly half way, it was clear to both of us that night was quickly coming on. I pointed out the obvious and mentioned that it was getting dark, and we were going to have to hustle. I think my exact words were, ‘It’s getting dark. We’re going to have to hustle”. “I can’t go too fast. I have a bad ankle”, came the response from behind me out of the gloom.

Rule # 1: Open space is open from sunrise to sunset, unattended vehicles left after dark will be ticketed or towed.

 

While I was aware of Rule # 1 in theory, there is a difference between theory and practice. Specifically, since I had never been at Heil Valley near sunset, I hadn’t given it much thought, even though I had noticed the gate. So we had several options: A) We could be eaten by bears; B) We could be eaten by mountain lions; C) We could break an arm or leg as we stumbled around in the dark; or D) We might have to walk back to town. (Or C and D. The other combinations were pretty unlikely.) Another couple jogged past us. The crickets got louder and louder. The stars came out, and the night was beautiful. It was very dark. We heard the couple ahead of us shouting that they saw two bear. When we were in the trees, we could barely see the edges of the trail. The rocks were indistinct black smudges. By the time we made the trailhead, we could hardly see at all. The Big Bear glittered in the sky. There is a narrow divide between wonderful and dangerous in the mountains, and we had crossed it. It happened so fast. But we were lucky - as we drove away, a huge, orange harvest moon rose over the plains.

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