Jozien

The sign, six feet tall, read

ART

Lot 33

I made a u-turn and with only a glance at the subdivision's* map, drove straight to her door.

Her welcoming smile and invitation to coffee evoked memories of travels in other lands where hospitality toward strangers is still the norm.

Her art had/has an appealing immediacy (see it here) and we spent the next couple of hours discussing all things of importance, including polyamory.

Vulva  (6-12-11)

At dinner we had bison steaks; the bison having been "taken" by her husband from their back forty.

Three weeks later, on my way back from Alaska (to visit Canice), we, she and I, spent several idyllic weeks (August, 2010) atop a bluff overlooking the Takhini River.

 I got water at Mendenhall Landing, the river so clean it didn't need to be boiled.

In November she rode The Bus to Albuquerque. After introducing her to Michelle, we embarked in Trevor, the Ford Aerostar van, on a six-week sojourn into the wilds of New Mexico and Arizona.

Taking the roads less traveled (the only ones), she guided us over the Animas Mountains to Douglas. From there we followed along the border until turning north to resupply in Sierra Vista. In those days the border was rife with para-military. 

And though we were frequently stopped for questioning, we reveled in having it to ourselves.

Westward across Coronado National Forest to Patagonia Lake, we eventually came up for air in Arivaca. (I STILL cannot find the roads we traveled. At one point we went through a corral (two gates) that was 200 yards from the ranch-house. She was an incredible navigator!)

At home she spends much of her time hiking, weather permitting (or not, as the case may be), wearing naught but a holster with bear-spray. Although nothing of a stereotype, I read not long ago of a Dutch woman who, apparently unaware some people are uncomfortable with nudity, was, while strolling poolside, asked to don a bathing suit.

After we parted, Jozien (pronounced Yo-zeen in Dutch tho I used the Spanish: Ho-see-en), expanded on our experience. Over the following six years she explored the myriad rooms and dungeons of Castle Fetlife. As my karate instructor used to say, the highest compliment was when a student surpassed their teacher.  A woman of exemplary courage!

May 2018

* Subdivision is a bit of misnomer.
Not only is it the only concentration of homes between Whitehorse and Haines Junction, but the smallest lot is 20 acres. Of the twenty or so families who live here, many own several lots. It's 50 miles to Whitehorse and 80 to Haines Junction.

Two weeks ago Jozien came home to find a bear digging in the compost. Ignoring her honking, it continued until having unearthed it's prize, a soup bone, it retired to some nearby bushes.

Turning Back from Merritt, British Columbia

In Merritt, British Columbia, I listened to Canice's voice message (see post 4/3 for backstory) about how it'd snowed four inches and because she had to work she wouldn't be able to hang out and it'd be better if I came some other time. Her timing couldn't have been better. Merritt had all the signs of being the southern terminus of Spring and, cold-wuss that I am, it was an easy decision...I made a u-ee & went south.

In Oroville, Washington, I stopped in at the grocery/Department Store for a new ice chest (I'd left mine at Steptoe State Park) and a few food items. Upon emergence I noticed storm clouds o'er the mountains, but my main thought was for water. 

Thinking the gas station across the street might have some, I angled across the highway aiming for their drive. Suddenly I realized I HAD to follow the curve to the right. The curve led to a promontory, and there, spread out below me, was the abomination that is, redeemed by its emptiness, the Osoyoos Veteran's Memorial Park...with full hookups as far as the eye could see.

Get To Know your Neighbors!

At the dump station the sign said not for drinking, but I figured it *had* to be the same system as the hookups and filled up.

It was late and tired from all the driving, I checked the rates and saw they had some cheap primitive sites. The only resident was a lone fifth-wheel ensconced in the center under the one tree. As I began scanning for the primitives, I was confronted with a "One-way" sign. Contrary-r-us, it reminded me of looking down from our 7th floor room in downtown Chicago. It was 1:00 a.m. with absolutely no traffic on the streets. I had to laugh as a biker gang roared up to the light and waited, so law-abidingly, for it to change. I figured if they could do it, so could I....and went the One Way.

The primitives weren't among the spaces along the river where ducks and geese frolicked. But aside from the regimentation of the manicured lawn, the proximity of the spaces to each other, the total lack of privacy, the loud mufflers on the visitors in the adjacent day-use area, the blatting of the jake-brakes from the trucks on the highway and the barking dogs at the nearby homes, it wasn't too bad. I reasoned that a mere hour of driving away there'd be quiet and headed for the exit. 

As luck would have it, I turned the wrong way. Less than a mile up the road at a point overlooking the mountains to the east where I was going I could see it was raining heavily, those dark clouds (prev mentioned) letting loose.

I returned to the park, exchanged the "dump water" for new (Justin Case) from spigot #42 and settled into my allotment (primitives being defined by sans spigot). With a New York strip sizzling on the stove and the hoo-rah of the birds, I reminded myself that if it came to it, I DO have earplugs.

In the morning the 5th-wheel was gone and I had the park to myself. THIS is the way an RV park should be!! And to top if off there was wifi!

Unbeknownst to me, it was happening (see next post).