About a Year Ago...

It was on my way north to attend the kite festival at Long Beach, Washington that I decided to stop in at Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park.

I took the road through the parking lot, followed it out the back and down to the Smith River. There I chanced upon a 4wd road to a rocky bar. It was rough going and far enough from the road it felt safe to camp.

Not long after dark, while talking to Double El, I heard what sounded like a kitten mew. Figuring it must be a bird, I kept on with the conversation. But after the third time I investigated and saw the eyes, reflected in the light from my headlamp, of, sure enough, a kitten!

At Cochise Stronghold, Arizona

I eventually coaxed her to me and fed her some crab meat which she gobbled down as if she hadn't eaten in days. She stayed with me that night and over the next few days I realized I'd been adopted.

Having found me on the Smith River, I named her Smith.

On my sleeping bag.

She traveled with me for about nine months until one day, outside Cedar City, Utah, she'd had enough and vanished in the night. (link is to blogpost with details)

As much as I miss her, I know she's bound to be happier where she is. She liked it cold and I like it hot. But we had some good times together.

Smith, the Cat, Jumps Ship

In Cedar City, Utah I spent a couple of hours enjoying the BFA exhibit at the Art Museum. Then another hour attending a performance of Red, a play about Rothko. Then a stop at Safeway to restock the larder. Thus, it was way past dark when we pulled into a large turnout at the beginning of highway 14, a two-lane road that leads to some of Utah's most spectacular scenery.

Smith, inside all day, had had enough, but I was reluctant to let her out. The highway was barely 200 feet away and there were other folks using the rest area. Finally, at 2:00 a.m. after pleading with her all evening, I strapped her into her walking jacket tightening it as much as I could, clipped it to the roof rack and lay down, finally, to sleep.

In the morning it lay at the end of the 15-foot lead, empty. She hadn't eaten since her after-dinner snack at 8:00 p.m. so I figured she'd be hungry by noon.

The spot was next to Coal Creek, a good-sized river, and had all the things she loved: steep, rock-laden banks to clamber upon and lots of boulders with hidey-holes to explore. Half a mile downstream were nice-looking homes, each with goodly amounts of land around them.

On the other side of the highway was a spectacular canyon, no doubt FULL of mice, voles, reboks and all other manner of prey.

Emulating Bobtail, Great Hunter of Cochise Stronghold

(we watched it on the laptop)

She'd reached that age where children are fed up with their parents. She enjoyed being outside so much she wanted it full time...like me. Sitting in a car, waiting, was no longer acceptable.

It's been a relief. I still worry about what became of her, but know she's resourceful. She'd survived in the Redwoods for god knows how long before I found her. I'm confident she found a place where she can get her meals and be outside all the time too.

But I still get a hollow feeling in my stomach when I think about her. But next time a kitten shows up it'll be straight to the shelter; I learned my lesson. And yet, I miss her.

Jumping Jacks

As an anxiety-eater whose dysfunction is exacerbated by barking dogs, blatting Harleys, car alarms, sirens, the cumulative hum of refrigerators and the banging of the neighbors' pots & pans, my beam tends to broaden whenever we find ourselves in "the city".

The Lurpac, Smith (scroll to bottom), eats as she always does but doesn't get enough exercise to maintain the legendary litheness that strikes terror into the hearts of watering Reeboks across the land. Thus, we've taken to visualizing (it's the first step) how to combat the effects of our visits to urbanity.

Herewith are depictions by Double El .

Cornea transplant consult rescheduled for April 5th. We hope to head west the day after.

Circling

Double El had chemo a few years ago. Her oncologist pronounced her Free & Clear the other day and suggested she get her port removed. (A port is an implant that enables drugs, the chemo and others, to be injected and blood to be drawn without individual "stabs." It makes it painless too.) You can see the lump from it just below her clavicle but it's never caused any discomfort. The removal is one of those "rites of passage" I want to be there for so I'll return (to ABQ) on the 7th. In the meantime, Smith & I are working hard at finding a serendipitous route that's maybe a bit warmer.

We're in Wilcox, Arizona on Interstate 10 thinking of dropping down to Cochise Stronghold in the Dragoon Mountains. Then maybe over to Tombstone and up to Benson to Beat-feet it back. OR...we could go down to Douglas and then head up toward Rodeo. I haven't been to Tombstone but the prospect of Benson and the long haul back on the freeway doesn't appeal. So, this is where that stuff about whim (I've written about) comes in. The goddess'll provide....she hasn't failed us yet


Smith's lookin' pretty sleek these days, dontchyuh tink?

Sequoia National Forest

Up in the forest we trundled about. The large stump on the upper right was nearly as wide as the car. 

There were several small groves, but we never found any approaching the size of those in the northern section. Still, Smith was duly impressed. 

The road into Wishon campground continues out the back and, we were told, goes quite a ways. We only went about half a mile.

Temperatures are mild with warm days dipping into freezing only at the higher elevations.


When the rains came we went into Porterville. While there It cleared up so we went back. It was a few miles past Camp Nelson we found the forest road (top photo) to a nice campspot on the side of the hill. Just large enough for us to turn around, It seems we're destined to continue finding opportunities to be grateful for Phoebe (1996 Geo Tracker 4WD).

Smiths - Through the Ages

It was on the Smith River in the Jedediah Redwoods that Smith signed on. 






I'd recently read Patti Smith's 
latest literary effort M Train 
and was fantasizing about us 
traveling together and how I'd call her Smith. 

Then Ms. Cook got ahold of the idea. 

Thus, we have: 



GREAT SMITHS THROUGHOUT HISTORY...

                      Smith Brothers cough drops

Jedediah Smith - Outdoorsman nonpareil












Bessie Smith (April 15, 1894 – September 26, 1937) Nicknamed Empress of the Blues, she was the most popular female blues singer of the 1920s and 1930s.

                      Dr. Smith - Lost in Space

                                               

                                                    Patti - Singer, songwriter

 Maggie Smith - Actress

Celebrated British actress Maggie Smith starred opposite Sir Laurence Olivier in 'Othello' and won her first Oscar for 'The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.' She has since earned acclaim for her roles in the 'Harry Potter' films and 'Downton Abbey.'



The Smiths
The Smiths were an English rock band formed in Manchester in 1982. The band consisted of vocalist Morrissey, guitarist Johnny Marr, bassist Andy Rourke and drummer Mike Joyce. Critics have called them the most important alternative rock band to emerge from the British independent music scene of the 1980s.

                                                                       Smithsonian...Museum of Natural History

    Blacksmith

Smith...the Cat

in her splendid walking jacket from 

Hyendry comfurt pet products.

I Can't Go on; I'll Go On

72 hours is my limit. Beyond that and reality gets twisted; things turn ugly. Tomorrow we'll have been here, in ABQ, a week. 

I recently read about a book: When Breathe Becomes Air in which the author cites a line from Samuel Beckett's The Unnamable; it's the title of this post. I first read Waiting for Godot at age 16...on acid. As it did then, it inspires guffaws, even when things seem too much. When Joe Pesce and Tricklock Theater performed it back in '82 (?) I laughed so hard I fell off my chair. I tho't it odd that the rest of the audience wasn't laughing.

I have several copies of Waiting For Godot, the library has the book about breathing. I have yet to read The Unnamable.There're 47 holds on 29 copies on the breath book and as of a few minutes ago there are 4,508 reviews on Amazon. I was impressed by how well-written the one-star reviews, comprising 1%, are. And after reading a few I decided not to enter the "hold" queue.

The trips, the driving ones, have themes. The last one was titled Existential Dilemma. It characterized the year. My (calling) card and the blog featured a picture of me, shirtless, tits nearly dragging the ground (teats give milk; tits don't.), struggling to open a beer at 9:00 in the morning. I don't usually "drink" that early, but this was a special occasion and I was attempting to rise to it.

Death has been in the forefront for many of us these recent years. Sometimes I wonder how you...anyone, can go on. 



Serendipitously, I ran across this...

A Hopi Prophecy  (This could be a good time!)



...and went back and found this: 
http://squishytulips.blogspot.com/2015/12/meditative-joyful-magnanimous.html


Both convey that joie de vivre. I include 'em here for future reference. Unlike some folks who write for their readers, this is my way of keeping track of where I was when and what happened. But perhaps the above links'll resonate with you too.



Thanks to RPM Automotive, Phoebe, my '96 Geo Tracker, now runs like a Swiss watch. And thanks to Koenig's Metalmorphosis she'll soon have a new chapeau (roof rack). Estimated date of departure is 10/13. In the meantime Smith is plotting tricks.

I have, for many years, made attempts at the accordion. Here's one from the oughts...you know -- ought one, ought two, ought seven.

The video was crafted by none other than Ms. Michelle D. Cook, cat-wrangler extraordinaire. I'm playing an expensive -- $40.00 -- toy that died an untimely death when it was put in storage. Heat melted the bees wax that held the reeds in place.

It was in Port Orford, Oregon the other day that I was inspired --- you know who you are -- to once again search for an instrument. Smith and I drove to Jemez Springs to look at one seen on Craigslist. The Fall colors are just getting going and the afternoon light gave truth to the phrase Land of Enchantment. If you're touring on highway 4 you might enjoy the side trip on 485 to The Tunnels. The accordion was too big.

Bring It On!!

The stroll to Falls Creek Falls took us the better part of 2 1/2 hours. It's just under a mile and Smith walked most of the time. Her pace is similar to mine, stopping every couple of hundred feet to take in the view, sniff the flower and see what might be in this hole.

She was on her palanquin (see banner image at top of blog) when the family with the lab came by. Ignoring the dog, she surprised us all when the boy, ageish 7, reached up to pet her and she let out a take-no-prisoners hiss. Embarrassed, I explained she was young and inexperienced, but her prosody prompted the grandfather to ask if she was some kind of wild cat.

At camp I tried a game Sophie, who died in 2010, used to enjoy. Clomping heavily, in a crouch, with arms extended and fingers wriggling, I moved slowly toward her saying, "Closer...and closer. I'm gonna getchya." As with the child, she went on the offensive. With full Zucchini Tail and arched back, she advanced on stiff-legged tipee-toe -- leaving no question that I should be saying my prayers. Then she heard my hooting chuckle (see video).

Smith's Hysterectomy

The fog's been heavy the last couple of mornings making it slow going. We're usually up by 7:00, but it's about a half-hour drive into town. So, what with needing to be at the vet's at 7:30 a.m. we decided to take a room.

Smith, upset at being indoors, promptly pooped on the sheets. She's used her litter box several times so I know she knows how. I had similar feelings, but my vestigial decorum won out.



Tubularity

You DO realize it's almost suppertime, don't you?

Cat Enthusiasts

We made it a few miles north of Florence, Oregon before giving up. Traffic on 101 was bumper-to-bumper and it was getting hard to find a place to camp. The trees were closing in and we hadn't seen sunshine in at least 12 hours. We made a U-turn and immediately felt better. 

We stopped at Saunders Lake County Park for a stroll where Mike & Bridget, cat enthusiasts nonpareil, gave the schmoozwad a thorough working over. 

She's scheduled for surgery (spaying) next Monday at S/Nipped, a low-cost clinic in Coos Bay. In the meantime, we're having a roof-rack installed to handle the additional luggage. As you're undoubtedly aware, cats think traveling lite means only one set of silver and linens and having to make do without a fax or copier. 



Sticking her tongue out at the photographer.

This seat's taken.

Smith...the Cat

4WD got me onto a rocky beach of the Smith River where my phone conversation with Michelle kept being interrupted by a cat mewing. I figured it was some kind of bird and tried to ignore it. But it kept on. Finally I decided to investigate.

She was a couple of hundred feet away. In the fading light I coaxed her closer with an offering of canned tuna. Her ribs stood out and she ate ravenously, so fast in fact, that she threw up the first round. She was able to keep the next one down and chased it with some water. 

Thinking her too skittish to come inside, I let her stay out. But she was there in the morning, under the car. She made the move into the car easily enough and we went to see about shots, etc.   

At the veterinarian's in Crescent City the receptionist said she and her co-workers were sharing the raising of three kittens they'd found abandoned. She said people in that part of the world are irresponsible. Land is cheap too, I heard.

She's put me through the ringer: 

I bought a harness and let it lie around for a day to give her time to sniff at it. We seemed pretty settled in this morning after having breakfast (I had coffee) so I put it on while I washed up and sewed suspender buttons on my new pants. During a break we took a "walk" of about 150 feet on the leash; 300 roundtrip. Then I took the lead off and she crawled under the car with the harness on.

"Friggin' harness. I'll show you."

An hour later the buttons were done and the car packed. I started saying "Where's that cat?" which worked the day before. I started the car and called a few more times. No cat. 

I looked under the car: no cat. I thought how maybe she'd gotten hung up on a shrub or something and turned off the car to listen. Whistling and calling -- now thinking "Oh well, that's how it feels when things don't work out. I'll get over it." -- I kept calling. Time became interminable. A long ten minutes later she emerged from the forest -- it's dense with ferns and brush -- sans harness. I'll get another but will "accustom" her to it when she's inside. Live and learn. 

It's great to be in love! IF she sticks around.