I love Ashland Oregon. I lived there a long time and still need to visit occasionally to spend time with old friends like Bob the Cat and get my Ashland fix. Where else can you count on seeing more than one
PETA bumpersticker in a day or ever? Kindness and compassion are everday occurances in Ashland, not exceptions. But the good news is ...we're back in Nevada!
It's a long time gone counting the two months we just spent in the Yucatan. Add the ten days we spent in rainy Oregon during Christmas and by Friday all we wanted was to be home by the end of the year. We are both so sick of the gray, the cold and the wet. Hurricanes and tropical storms chased us prematurely out of the Caribbean and an almost constant rain chased us out of the Rogue Valley. Usually it takes us less than six hours to get back. This time it took nearly eleven. To begin with, I-5 was closed just south of Ashland. Mud slide but not a trip ender. We decided to take Hwy. 66 instead. It goes east over the mountains to Klamath Falls and Lakeview, then south to Nevada. A bit longer but no big deal. At the end of the valley, just before the road begins its ascent, there is a small creek that feeds Immigrant Lake. It had risen into the trees but we crossed with no problem and began climbing up out of the valley. Cars were coming down the hill so we felt like geniuses. Briefly.
What we didn't count on was the strain very wet snow puts on trees. When we got to the Green Springs Inn at the summit we learned that the road ahead was closed. Trees, over-burdened by heavy snow, had fallen over the road, plus two vehicles had spun out of control and were also blocking the highway. With no snow plow or road crew in sight we turned around and headed back down. Our plan now was to get back across the creek and over to Hwy 140 as it goes in the same general direction.
Hwy 66 is a narrow band etched into very steep terrain. For the most part, there are no guard rails, no pull outs and turn-arounds are miles apart and the drop from the side of the road is chillingly steep. On our way down, cars were coming up. A good sign. The creek was still crossable. However, when we got to the bottom we were greeted by another surprise. Immigrant Creek had flooded the road carrying a snarl of logs and brush along in its muddy torrent. Someone told us that the road up top was now clear so … up we went … again. Our other option was to sit in the jeep and watch water gush down the hill on our right and rise up onto the road on our left.
A lot of cars were parked at the Inn but we were in no mood to wait. The jeep is the right vehicle for a situation like that but we'd burned a lot of time going nowhere and at some point we were going to run out of daylight. The trees had been cut away only enough to make a narrow passage and the open road wasn't much better.
Of the few vehicles out, most were cars and they were fishtailing in slow motion or stuck on small inclines without chains. It was a mess. It's one thing speeding along at 70 mph with a belly full of Christmas cheer, the music and heat cranked up. It's another when you are suddenly forced out of that bubble. One guy was in the snow, no coat, no gloves, drenched, freezing, putting on chains
after he got stuck. Bad idea. On this road, tow trucks and snow plows are not standing by and it's not Christmas. It's winter.
But no matter how well prepared you are there is always the unforeseeable. We got to Lakeview at twilight, by that point debating whether or not to stop for the night. Mr. Lee's argument was that we were now below the snow line and on a straight, desert highway. What could possibly go wrong? Sounded good. Once we had driven an hour into dark nowhere we found out. The headlights stopped working. He managed to coax them on, over and over, and I sat with the giant flashlight to ward off cars, just in case. Finally a big rig turned onto the road and we stayed behind that, using it as a shield until we got near Susanville.
Susanville is an armpit on a good day but I wanted to stop there for the night anyway and drive home in daylight but the possibility of being trapped over New Year's waiting for a garage and parts made Mr. Lee crazy. He wanted a coin toss but, by that time, the lights had worked for over an hour so I agreed to keep going. I wasn't in the mood to let a fucking coin decide anything. We got home by midnight. Delicata was snuggled into her hot hut. The lights, heat, water and internet worked. I call that good.
It's not New Orleans and it's not as bad as '97, but Carson City has declared a disaster and there is flooding from Reno to Gardnerville. In hindsight, I see that the whole way home the door was closing behind us but now,
finally, the rain has let up so this morning, this first day of 2006, here's a toast to narrow misses, happy endings and a great new year. Remember to eat your black-eyed peas for good luck!
I don't know if you've been following it, but a couple of years ago Congress approved the sale of wild horses to slaughter houses. There was a huge outcry so they passed an appropriations bill designed to stop the practice but as soon as people looked away the USDA approved a petition submitted by the three foreign-owned horse slaughter plants in the United States to resume slaughter. Now the Society for Animal Protective Legislation, Humane Society of the United States, the Fund for Animals, the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals the American Humane Association plus other groups and individuals have banned together to sue the USDA. I hope you will consider participating in this effort. It has the best chance to succeed if we act together.
American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act: a permanent ban is still needed, and that's still only a start if we are to become a compassionate and ethical society.
