After a comfy night, Lily and I got up and I had coffee, two cold boiled eggs, and cold bacon. I still didn’t feel like setting things up, so I put my camp chair outside and began to read “Run” by Ann Patchett. I spent most of the morning just reading.
Getting up out of the camp chair was difficult. It was too low and, as I pushed down on the arms to help myself up, I worried that the chair would break. Not a comforting thought. Usually the cabin has a kitchen type chair in it, but not this time. And the floor was covered with pine needles. So, I got in the van and Lily and I went down to the office.
Ah, I remember when I could walk down to the office, which is only about a quarter mile away. I also used to walk to the Dinkey Creek Store, about a mile away, I think. I used to wander all over the campground and up the road. Now I can’t even walk the hundred or so yards to the bathroom. Good thing I brought my potty chair with me.
Anyway, I asked for a chair and a broom and a rake, which they brought me. Then Lily and I drove down to the creek to look around. People had built stone sculptures on the rocks in the middle of the creek. I wanted to come back with my camera, but things got a little, how shall I say? “Messy” from then on.
After surgery back near the turn of the century, I developed what is called “explosive bowel syndrome.” I will let your imagination figure out the details.
I could feel it coming on, and there was a bathroom nearby, which turned out to be an outhouse. There was no toilet paper in the first one so I went to the next one. There was toilet paper there, but there was also unmentionable leavings on the toilet seat. So I took some toilet paper and just barely made it back to the first one.
(Aren’t you so happy that I’m sharing all this with you?)
All was well – Until… I tried to get up off the pot. It was too low and there was nothing for me to pull myself up with. I spent the next 20 or 30 minutes trying to get up. My knees and back were not in the best of condition after I finally made it.
What the hell was I doing up there in the mountains all by myself when I can’t even get up off the toilet?
Poor Lily, by the way, couldn’t figure out what was going on. Poor baby.
My problems continued throughout the afternoon (thank god for the potty chair) and I decided it was best if I just went home the next day. I could barely get up off the camp chair and my kness and back hurt.
But I’m glad I went. I got to say goodbye to the mountains and my beloved cabin #39, even if I didn’t get to stay the whole week. And I read two books.
I’m glad to be home. I will be heading off for my next adventure soon – off to the wilds of Ireland, hobbling down the hidden boreens, communing with the fairies and elves and leprechauns.
I will, of course, keep everyone posted.