This Place is Trying to Kill Me!

I swear it is!

Let me tell you about the string of mishaps this past week.  First off, we've had about 10 days of mostly wet weather so the ground is quite soft and mushy. Again.  Mud is my constant companion.  And enemy.  I've decided I dislike mud almost as much as snow... slimy, slippery, oozing over the top of my shoes mud everywhere.  I don't have a single kind word to say about it and after it introduced itself to my bottom (clad in clean pants no less!) a couple of times I refuse to even try to find kind words about it!

It's made the main drive into what I now refer to as Deathtrap #1.  There's a part of it where one side is a steep 4 or 5-foot embankment, the other drops off 10-12 feet to a tributary creek, and the part where your car needs to be is... mud.  It's only that way for a few yards but a few yards is plenty!  My back wheels find absolutely nothing to grip through here so I fishtail wildly.  Usually falling short of making the top, I slide backwards down the hill until  my tires can grab on some stray bits of grass convinced that if that drop off doesn't kill me I will be injured badly enough to wish it had.  By the time I make several tries and fling enough mud to crest that little rise and roll on up to the cabin, my hands are shaking and I've screamed a rather creative string of profanities.

As an alternative, Jason showed me where to turn off by one of the natural gas wells and come up the back way through a pasture.  A couple of days ago, that presented itself as Deathtrap #2.  There's a specific spot where the car is tipped so far to the side that I'm scared I will roll so I've been going around it, just a few feet lower around some young trees. I spun out there and slid backward down the hill.  By the time I got the slide under control, my back wheels were about 6 inches from the edge of the high creek bank.  It took 45 minutes of inching forward and back and desperately trying to convince God this was not a good day for me to die to get the car turned sideways so I could back up enough to find a different angle to get up and around that corner of the fence. I did it!  Mud put up a heck of a battle that day, but I won!!  And when I got to my parking spot next to the cabin, I sat there for a few minutes shaking and saying a prayer of thanksgiving.

I also have to tell you about Gizmo's new habit.  He has taken to grunting when he wants something.  It's a deep, gravely, irritating sort of grunt and then he raises his little eyebrows and stares off into space with a coyly innocent expression while I try to devine what it is he wants.  Outside, food, water, a treat, a R-I-D-E to the P-A-R-K... it all gets the exact same grunt.  He woke me up with the grunt a few nights ago.  I figured out that he was going to barf pretty quickly and struggled to get Jack and Lightning off me so I could jump up and open the door.  The doorknob fell off in my hand.  And Gizmo did not get out in time...  Is there anything more disgusting than cleaning up a giant dog barf in the middle of the night?  Unfortunately, yes.  There's the part about fighting him back from eating it, as if round 2 is going to sit any better in his tummy, while you clean it up.

After a half hour of fidgeting around I did get the knob to slide into place but it's still coming off about every third time I need to open the door.  Mostly that's just a nuisance but it has potential to make a real problem into something even worse.

Like last night.

I was feeling rather pleased with myself for beating mud at its own game 2 days in a row and wanted to sit down and peacefully sip a cup of cocoa before bed... I put a pan with some water on the Coleman burner and proceeded to put the hot chocolate mix in my cup.  I've said before that thing ain't right... but Jason can't find a problem and dismisses my discomfort with using that flaming little burner.  So I grit my teeth and so far have managed to cook a few meals on it. I still say that thing ain't right!  I think it might be possessed and whatever is in there sure as heck doesn't answer to "Genie!"  It flamed out. Again.  This time worse than ever before... It spit up fuel like a fussy baby which caught fire all over the top of the dry sink and nearly lit up my sleeve while I tried to shut it off and smother the flames with a damp towel. The flames jumped to the floor this time so I did a little dance stomping them out. And I managed to burn a dishcloth, too.  Not just a little singe on the edge either... half the dishcloth is a gaping black hole.  And the cabin is filled with the acrid and ever attractive scent of Eau de Ashes.  Or is it Charcoal #5?

I think it's time for a new adventure.  And this next one really must include a hot shower, a real indoor toilet, and a fully functioning kitchen!  I've proved I can survive an off-grid prepper sort of existence.  Maybe not thrive in it, but I can survive.  And that's good enough for  me.

Adventures of the Canine Kind

Lest you think I’m the one having all the fun…  The boys have been having some adventures all their own.

Despite their firm resolution that water is meant for drinking, they’ve been ‘swimming’ in the creek a couple of times.  Shhh… don’t tell them it was a bath.  Swimming sounds so much more adventurous!  Jack is an especially good swimmer.  He can cover the width of the swimming hole in just a couple of strokes.  Lightning stands on the bottom with his back legs and paddles furiously with his front paws – basically going nowhere but splashing an amazing amount of water.  And like nearly everything else in life, Gizmo just plods along at slow and steady pace, unruffled and happy to be with you.

And here’s photographic proof taken this morning that they are here and healthy.  These are the expectant faces trying to convey the message that they like strawberry pop tarts, too, and that they really truly deserve a bite off mine.  The looks were more intense until I grabbed the camera. I guess it just doesn’t rattle the same as that silvery pastry wrapper.

We were here, at the cabin, for a few days at the beginning of the month and then down in the Hagerstown MD area for about 2 weeks.  I came back up this past Wednesday.  Lightning remembered.  And coming down the lane that would unnerve a less intrepid woman, he started his “we are at the dog park” yowling.  The closer to the cabin we got, the louder he got.  And you know it… the other two couldn’t stand being out-yowled so they joined in, each upping the intensity of their carrying on. Pretty soon I didn’t know if I was bouncing and tipping back and forth from their dances or from the road!!  I think it’s safe to say they are happy up here.

Each has made some escape attempts, though.  I keep trying to tell them that we are only pretend country and this is real country up here and they just don’t have the knowledge and skills to survive like country dogs.  They look at me like I’m saying some awful purty-toned “blah blah blah… blah blah blah blah.” And then they haul butt to explore.  Every weed and tree and fence post is new and the scents are simply intoxicating to their canine sensibilities and must be sniffed out.  And marked as their own. They don’t grasp that I’d be really sad if they became some black bear’s midnight snack!

And I know they wouldn’t have the sense to back down and run the other way if they saw a bear...

Or leave the snakes alone…

Or stay off the highway if they happened to wander that far…

Or away from another house where they could be shot as an unwanted stray...

Or out of trash cans and away from assorted dead rodents…

See what I mean by pretend country?  We may have been in a semi-rural looking area in Georgia, but we lived like we were in the city.  My guys are basically dumbed-down, pampered, house dogs.

Last night was Gizmo’s shot at being the evil bad dawg… He ran off.  That boy hauled himself down to the creek, over the bridge and up the other lane on our turnoff to chase chickens.  There’s a house painted a striking shade of sky blue not far up that little road.  And there are hundreds of chickens and guineas wandering around there.  (I may be exaggerating again, but there are a lot!) I’m going to guess that the birds have turned mostly wild because of the number free ranging along the road and each hen is herding a good sized brood of chicks.  I wouldn’t expect the number or all those hatchlings in a domestic flock, especially at this time of year.  I wanted to knock him right into next month for that stunt.  I didn’t.  But I sure wanted to in those moments I was dragging him back to the car away from “Squawkfest 2016.”

Correction

I don’t traverse a submersible bridge.  It’s really called a low-water crossing or sometimes an Irish bridge.  A submersible bridge, which is really a thing, is something else entirely.  Who knew?  Well, I’m sure somewhere someone who knows a bit about architecture, engineering or bridge building would know but I didn’t. Until now.

So… let’s talk about this way to cross the creek that I actually do have.

Picture this:  A couple of pieces of big culvert pipe are laid in the creek so that the water flows through them on its way downstream.  Then slabs of cement are fitted to them on the one side and smoothed flat on the other and placed on top.  When the water is low, all of it is able to move through the pipes and on its merry way.  If there’s an abundance of water, say because the pipes have become blocked with leaves and debris or there’s a big rain storm, the water will back up.  And when it’s deeper than the bridge is high, the design will let water start to flow over the top.

Here’s the low-water crossing I use.  Yes, it’s taken some damage from logs that have escaped from an operation somewhere upstream crashing into it.  (And now there's a guy who's pulling them out above here and processing them for sale.  I guess there are quite a few run away logs?)  Hypothetically, it could be repaired.  But because there are safety concerns with this type of crossing, the County (who’s in charge of zoning and permits and things like that) says it needs to be replaced with a structural bridge in a different location.  I understand their reasoning.  People worldwide die on this kind of crossing every year because their vehicle is swept away or they get out of it when it stalls because of water getting into the engine and are sucked under in the current or bashed into other debris. It’s a horrible and painful way to die!

At the same time, a new bridge is a huge expense and headache for my friend to take on.  And this is far from the only low-water crossing in the County.  In just my few days exploring I’ve seen several and even a few places with nothing at all – they drive right through their creek to get from the road to their house.  Maybe these low-water crossings are a relic of the past, but they seem to do their job pretty well.  And just like people, just because it’s old doesn’t mean it has no value.  I would hope there’s some balancing point where safety and pragmatism meet but I guess we’ll have to wait to see how this gets resolved.

Here’s more examples of this type of ‘bridge’ from around the world.

I believe this is in Australia.
Photo from: http://www.strangeracer.com/content/item/157882.html

And here's an example from Montgomery County, NC.
Photo from: http://www.learnnc.org/lp/multimedia/8330

And to illustrate just how dangerous these types of bridges can be... here's one
from Arnoldsburg, WV showing a 2011 rescue effort.
Photo from: http://www.hurherald.com/cgi-bin/db_scripts/articles?Action=user_
view&db=hurheral_articles&id=43991

Venomous Snakes of WV That Swim… Really Well

Don’t even try to act surprised!  You knew I’d Google it to find out what kind of snake I saw.

First, let’s make a distinction between poisonous and venomous.  I made that mistake at first and asked my friend about poisonous snakes…  Poisonous means you get sick or die if you eat them.  Venomous means they inject venom when they bite you and you might get sick or die from the reaction to it.   I have zero intention of eating a snake.  Maybe someday I’ll be that kind of brave.  But that day is not today!  So poisonous is a moot point.  I’m worried about getting bit, or one of the dog’s getting bit, and needing medical care to survive.  Venomous snakes are my concern.

Photo from Encyclopedia Britannica Kids. 

According to this brochure from the state agency that manages wildlife, there are only two kinds of venomous snakes found in all of West Virginia:  Northern Copperheads and Timber Rattlesnakes.

And...gulp!

They can both swim.

Swim quite well, in fact.

Photo from Encyclopedia Britannica Kids.

Of course, there are 20 or so perfectly harmless varieties of snakes around these parts, too.  And lots of them can swim.  I guess that's supposed to give me a sense of help or comfort...

Yeah.  Not so much!

After comparing lots of pictures to my memory of what this one looked like, it was either a Copperhead or some sort of water snake.  While WVDNR says the Copperheads are shy and pretty non-aggressive and will only bite if threatened, I'm going to just go with a water snake.  That makes it a little easier to be brave!