#yesterday i went for a three mile walk around the lake and hung out in the woods | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stone-man-warrior · 4 years ago

Text

January 4, 2021: 1:03 pm:

The clouds never expect it when it rains, But the sea changes colors, but the sea does not change. And so with the slow, graceful flow of age I went forth with an age old desire to please On the edge of... seventeen.

================================================

From Bing:

“savant

[saˈvän(t), säˈvän(t)]

NOUN

a learned person, especially a distinguished scientist.See also idiot savant.

synonyms: intellectual · scholar · sage · philosopher · thinker · learned person · wise person · Solomon · guru · master · authority · mahatma · maharishi · pandit”

==================================================

The passage from the lyrics of Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks:

There was a time when people whisked around doing as they chose, as they needed, as they wanted to...

...Clouds of social organisms, free, in social order.

Then, when they were not expecting it, the Reign came from Britain, from the Vatican, from Canada... a sea of people, all clouds with a false sense of security, were overwhelmed with invisible offensive attack from unexpected reign.

That sea, ocean, plateau of elevated water, layer of clouds... free people... all changed in color, texture, vibe... the soul of the sea, ocean, layer of elevated clouds all changed in appearance slightly, slowly, but was still an ocean, sea. layer of darker, more ominous clouds in social order. They were all replaced. No one expected it to happen, no one was prepared, there was no guard, only illusion of security.

No one has noticed the absence of the clouds.

==================================================

Make your own assessment of the other part of that passage of lyrics. It seems to go more than one way, only Stevie Nicks knows what way is up.

====================================

(account is hijacked again. The Centurylink terror has made the internet connection appear as if it is not connected to the internet, page won‘t refresh, “We Can’t Find That Web Address, Try Again Later... etc..” but the modem is working and all wire connections are good. terrorist bastards at Kate Brown Salem Witches Command Center terror cell is doing this through Centurylink to try to keep them all from facing a firing squad for treason)

2:20 pm:

I went to the terror doctor today, for a health appointment done by telephone conversation, will sitting in my car, in the parking lot of the terror doctor’s office, beneath a cellular telephone tower, where there are no real doctors.

Almost zero traffic going southbound this morning on the interstate, was unusual. Some notable observations include an ODOT project south of the city of Rogue River where one guy on foot w/orange safety vest was wondering around in the northbound median surrounded by orange cones, and one white pick up truck w/flashing yellow hazard lights was parked seemingly about to merge into southbound traffic from the median southbound. There was no indication of any work being done, and I did not see any markings on that white pick-up truck.

There were numerous instances in the soft shoulder along the 40 mile route I took today where indications of roll-over accident was present in the form of a lot of scattered debris at various places on the soft shoulder areas. There was a conflicting vibe at the North Medford Southbound I-5 exit area where a homeless tent city had been cleared away, but big heaps of trash remained at the places where each homeless tent had been. The conflict is that just a half mile further, at the actual freeway exit ramp, another homeless camp of tents was present as it was last time I went to Medford. That one at the off-ramp is all nice and tidy, many tents, all of them have a lot of stuff, all the stuff is all stacked and arranged neatly at the front of each tent. Maybe 15 tents in a area of about two acres to the right of the southbound off-ramp. So, one camp is present, clean, tidy, while the other was removed hastily with a lot of garbage left behind.

Many indications where the people of Medford seem to be speaking directly to me, with items, stance, position, three dimensional communication as I drove passed them, that boils down to: “We were told to stand right here, between this post, this trash can, these backpacks over here, and that fire hydrant over there” sort of way that many people, each individually were expressing. I cannot be more specific without getting potentially innocent people killed.

It was a phone appointment that I went to in Medford. The health service provider was “Denise”, I had written the name wrong yesterday. Before I left my house I thought of the options, which were to go to the terror doctor office to take a phone appointment in the parking lot since they are not allowing anyone to go into the clinic, or, stay home to take the call for the phone appointment from the terror doctor. The medicine I need is not available with electronic prescription to the pharmacy from a doctor in Oregon, so, a paper hard copy is required. So, if I stay home to take the call, I could go to the office at another time later on. But, it’s a terror doctor, they have been trying to kill me for five years, so, the call could be manipulated in ways that are beyond what I can think of, and they can kill me at home or at the terror doctor, there is no advantage either way. The only thing that will guarantee that I get my medicine, is to be there at the time of the scheduled appointment, be it phone call or otherwise. So, reluctantly, I chose to go, in order to be there at the appointment time so that if the call is manipulated there is a better chance that security type people will see that, if I am there, better than if I am not there at the appointment time.

So I get there, check in with the secret special door knock you have to do to get the people to come out of the office to check in for a phone call to happen. Then, I took a walk around, the phone rang, the number is from the terror doctor, I answered, there was no one there on the call. The call ended before I picked up the call. The caller did not leave a message. So, I call back the number, then, I realize I am standing fifty feet away from the place I was returning the call to while listening to endless menu options that the place uses when you call them. It’s hit or miss to call there, maybe someone answers, maybe not. So I hung up that call and walked to the door, to explain that there was no one on the call when the phone rang. The person who opened the office door told me that the appointment was not for another fifteen minutes, just to wait for the call. “The call already happened, the person who called, hung up, the call ended” I said. So, again it was “Just wait by your phone, Denise will call you at your appointment time” from the terror doctor front door monitor.

The call came in at the appointment time as I was told it would.

After the appointment call, I went back to the door, from my car, in the parking lot, to get the prescription. That is when a man driving a black Ford F-150 new looking crew cab truck pulled up to the parking spot nearest the front door, he got out, and was dressed the same as I was dressed. That is when I knew he was the replacement that was supposed to make the hit at the front door. I watched carefully as he did a song a dance dog & pony show at the front door, he brought a brown paper bag with him, it had the name Erica written on it. I was thinking either there is a human head in the large brown bag, or, it’s an enormous stool sample. I suspect it was a symbolic stool sample, something that says “Holy Shit” real quick at the terror doctor, to say something went wrong somewhere, like that gal that was ran through with her own sword the other day in my bathroom, I suspect that one was a Walgreen‘s terror soldier, and Walgreen’s and the Pain Center are very closely associated, so, I think he went there to the terror doctor to be my replacement, but also was prepared to do the “Holy Shit” notification in event that he saw me there, which he did, hence: “Holy Shit, what is he doing here, and where is our Walgreen‘s swords-person at?” is the secret coded message when a Brown Paper Bag is hand carried to the terror doctor by the assassin who failed the hit.

Other stuff happened too, but I don’t want to be typing all day about this when there are no people who are willing to speak with me about any of what I report here.

One other notable thing at the parking was a large commercial jet made a sharp turn while on ascent, it was too sharp, too low, unusual to see that coming out of Medford International Airport, and at the same instant, a loud locomotive train whistle sounded from nearby, but there are no train tracks anywhere around there. That commercial jet had taken off in a southerly direction, is not normal, they usually take off to the north, and land also while traveling north.

A man bolted out of the Crater Lake Surgery Center next door wearing sky blue (hideous blue) shirt, ran to the block wall at the back of the parking lot, and jumped over the wall, and ran towards the Little Caesars Pizza that is over in that direction, where a UPS Big Brown delivery truck was parked. (Reminder that at Medford International I once saw a commercial jet crash and do cartwheels down the runway with big... giant size fireball, I also saw that same airplane trying to avoid collision with someone using the same kind of flying contraption used by someone who is called “Jet Man”, there are YouTube video’s available to see the very small jet aircraft I am talking about and once saw “Playing Chicken” with full size commercial airliners at Medford International, more details are somewhere on this Tumblr account. There were no news reports of the fiery crash at the airport, per usual. Also, same day as that airplane crash, at least I think so, other explosion happened somewhere near Biddle & McAndrews. I saw a very large part of a building come flying out of the sky and land on McAndrews, and tumble through intersection, some cars were struck by flying explosion debris prior to the airplane crash by ten minutes or so. That building was a octagon shape, as if a very large hot tub crash landed)

I counted nine United Parcel Service Freight (UPS; Big Brown) 40 foot long trailers on the way home and passed them by, one triple, and three doubles, big rig UPS Freight all going north, all within one mile of each other on the interstate.

I also passed by a Haggan Daas Ice Cream Delivery truck on the way to Medford while going south, is notable for the giant size graphic on the side of the truck, a big Single Scoop of chocolate ice cream, still in the scooper, was present... I suppose it could have been Rocky Road Ice Cream, single scoop on the side of the Hagen Daas ice cream deliver wagon, Southbound, I-5 nearby Valley of the Rogue State Park exit.

There was much Three Dee terror Comm on the ride home. One Special Operative Oregon Department of Transportation white pick-up truck with ODOT logo on the door, w/very special and unique one of a kind aluminum diamond plate truck shell/cover, “not available in stores”, custom made looking cover. Means “ODOT Special Assignment”, is bad news for me. Danger, high alert.

=================

4:00 pm:

Other observation for people who may be keeping score of events, is a correction to previously stated, misinterpreted, terror bullshit at Monroe’s and Chartrand’s last week. I explained recently about new arrival terror soldiers occupying the Monroe Offensive Surveillance Travel Trailer. One day last week I said there was a dark colored car, SUV... “Part shoe box, part mini van“ parked at the trailer, then, next day, it was a copper colored GMC or Toyota truck, I think is a Canyon model GMC. So today I see what is going on with that mixup as the “Part Shoe Box, Part Mini Van“ black vehicle is parked at 376 Jackpine as of this writing, at the house in the far back part of that property at “Chartrand’s Royal Canadian Mounted Police/Oregon State Police” terror cell. The “Black Shoe Box Van” was there at the Monroe Offensive Trailer, then they did a switcheroo on that, took it from the Monroe Trailer, to Chartrand’s, and put that other copper colored stolen GMC or Toyota brand new looking truck at the Monroe trailer, that one is usually in the Monroe driveway, it never goes anywhere.

Also today on the way to the terror doctor, there were at least 7 newer looking Ford Mustangs, at least three of those were convertibles. The Mustangs are special somehow around here, I think they are roled out to say something about Power, because of “Horse Power” is the standard measure for power of a motor.

==============

4:19 pm:

Other very complex terror communication derived of many parts displayed in many places, in many ways says a simple idea, so, just the result of the read about that is:

“Terror comes in ‘singles’, in ‘Ones’, as “individual units” and other ways of saying “Single Unit”, so, I noticed that there were some Amazon Prime Big Rig trailers on the road today, those only use one long trailer, Amazon does not use double or triple trailers that I have seen so far. What is remarkable about that is that the company is said to be so many billions of dollars worth of company, yet they cannot afford to use a matching truck tractor cab for towing the Amazon Prime trailers around. All of the Amazon Trailers are pulled with some other color, random, not uniform big rig towing tractor truck & trailer.

==============

4:28 pm:

Repeat terror happened to me today, I wrote about it before, so, today’s rendition of repeatable terror scenario to make me crash my car, as follows:

I am going north on Biddle Road. I get to McAndrews. A very big red trash truck is turning right from McAndrews to Biddle. The Big Red Trash Truck says “This truck is powered by CNG Fuel” with giant graphics. That truck stopped real fast as if it hit something while turning the corner in front of me a few car lengths ahead. The truck continued to make it’s turn, while I was doing the math: “lets see... C n G... hmmmm.... Holy See Gnosis Trash Big Red parting of the Red See trash Service... what company is that?... I can‘t see that far ... this mini van is in the way....“

So that happened as I approach Food For Less on Biddle, and across the street from there is Black Rock Coffee drive through kiosk in the same parking lot as a Exhaust & Muffler shop, I forget the name of the muffler shop.

I pass by the Big Red Trash Truck, it says “Rogue Disposal Service” on the door.

That is when the car in front of me slams the brakes on, stops, because the car in front of that one slammed the brakes on and stopped, in the far right lane of Biddle Road, in front of Black Rock Coffee Kiosk Drive Through, then, that car, turns left, across four lanes of traffic, into the Black Rock Kiosk Drive Through Coffee.

Four lanes of traffic were crossed... and Biddle Road was crowded.

I avoided “Bad Day at Black Rock” by only a few inches when everything just stopped in front of me in the far right lane.

“Bad Day at Black Rock” is a old movie that is famous as a source for terror command shell language to come from. The story line, characters, and background art.... more, is all used by the terror army to advance commands and marching orders as is Wizard of Oz, Back to the Future, and Star Wars to name a few.

===========================

5:10 pm:

Dog & Pony show terror murder hit scenario playing out now at Monroe’s:

I step out for a walk, as I do, the Google terror representative from Bad Guy Auto begins to light a yard waste fire that was prepared there this morning and left there by the Monroe pond, ready to light when I went out just now, and that is what happened. So, I don‘t want to walk by having seen the exact same Dog & Pony Show before, they know I will take an alternate route to get my mail, which I did, went through the woods, where I encountered another Monroe in a Toyota Prius, yet a different Prius than the previous two that were over there this past year. That Monroe is all in my mailbox, lingers there in the Prius, sees me waiting near the road, then moves forward and turns around, waves at me as he drives away with my mail. Then, I walk on the road to my driveway, and two of “The People Who Show Up” are there to huddle around the yard waste fire, they don‘t think I am going to walk by there because they shoot at me so often from there, so that’s when I know there is another Monroe somewhere in the creek sneaking into my house. I did walk by though, and everyone is acting as if we are all old friends waving at me and wanting to make chit-chat. There is a fake Deb Monroe there pretending to be all friendly as I pass by, starts to talk about something that happened at midnight on the day before Christmas, which really means she is going to try to steal my prescriptions I got today at the terror doctor, and is the reason that “The People Who Show Up” showed up with that Bad Guy Auto terror Google representative. The fake Deb said hello. I told her I was going to revoke her SAG Card for being a Ham, then I came home. They have back-up waiting at Chartrand’s inside a running car with foot on the brake, and some gunshots were fired at Manning’s at 598 MedDems terror cell. Those things were done to make sure I don‘t hurt Bad Google Guy, Fake Deb, or those others who were hovering around just in the shadows, out of view. The gunshots and the running car w/foot on brake says: “Don’t even try anything, you are outnumbered” at minimum.

I think the man in the Prius is the same man that was driving that black Ford F-150 Crew cab and was dressed like me earlier today, and brought a big brown grocery bag to “Erica” at the terror doctor.

======================

7:10 pm:

Local Update:

Observations at the Bell terror cell at 445 in absence of any perceived activity there for a number of days is a difference in the animal behavior there. The local deer population has again seemingly been reduced all around the area, while the Bell’s where there at 445, the deer used gather in groups around the southwest corner of the garage there. To my understanding, a previous terror occupant installed some nitrous gas release, or exhaust tubes into the ground there. My perception of how that was done is in association to an outdoor restroom that is at the 445 address, where I was told that the septic system for that house, and that outdoor restroom had been modified so that nitrous and other airborne gasses could be pumped into the closet flange where the toilet for the outdoor restroom is at, then, the gas is released into the air in the yard, through the leach-lines of the septic system, where those extra tubes where attached in the ground nearby the front corner of that garage where the deer used to like to gather at 445 Bell’s terror cell. The deer are no longer gathering at the corner of the garage at Bell’s, now, they are gathering on the front driveway above where there is a culvert that runs beneath the driveway at Bell’s. That culvert is a tubular one, about 16 inch diameter, and is a place where terror soldiers are known to hide inside of that culvert under the front driveway at 445 Bell’s terror cell. So, I have been seeing the deer stand there at that culvert daily now in absence of the Bell’s there at the residence. The animals like the nitrous gas, they tend to follow the invisible clouds of it. Sparacino’s can gather and bring with them dozens of wild turkeys by exposing them to the nitrous, the turkeys go where ever the nitrous goes, and the Sparacino’s use the noise made by all of those turkeys as a cover for their advance on an attack. I suppose that idea also works for deer also. I see terror soldiers walking among deer from time to time, while holding on to the deer as they walk along, crouched and disguised. That culvert at Bell’s 445 is something is something that I need to be mindful of whenever I take a walk to the mailbox even when there is creek water running in the culvert. A possum introduced into the culvert will make sure that there is no one hiding in it.

There is a larger concrete culvert under my driveway, one that has proven to be big enough for not one, but two Royal Canadian Mounted Police disguised as Oregon State Police, who hide in the concrete tunnel beneath my driveway, and swing a sword as I walk by there.

================================

8:10 pm:

On the return trip back home from the terror in Medford, I was reminded of something I would prefer to forget about when I passed by the house on the corner of Russell Road & Jackpine Dr. There, out in the horse pasture behind that house where some horse stables are at, was a familiar portable structure. The structure is only big enough to put a rain cover over one horse, one cameraman, one kidnapped victim, and one or two audience members. The structure is old, been moved around all over the place, is for when victims are kidnapped and the SAG ClubMed Junket members want to see someone having sex with a horse, donkey, or even an African Lion. I usually see that set up in the horse pasture area at the fence line at 333 Jackpine where it meets 315. Many years ago they used to set that up at the house behind mine where there were two donkeys for about twenty three years there. The thing is set up behind the house on Russell and Jackpine near where there is a dark colored truck parked out in the horse pasture, the truck never moves, has been there for years. So, what that means, is that the JP Morgan Chase Bank terror cell is there at that house on the corner, and are ready to make some bestiality/snuff movies. The animals kill the victims during the activity most of the time. The JP Morgan Chase Bank branch on the corner of 7th St. and Midland Ave. is most likely to be there doing that, as I have seen them do that before. They use the bank vault too for the same thing at that branch. It’s not uncommon to see farm animals in the lobby at the JP Morgan Chase Bank on 7th & Midland. One of the terror tellers there I think her name is Adrian Wytcherly, supplies some of the farm animals that are used at the bank vault for that kind of snuff movie. There are a whole bunch of Wycherly family members in Josephine County, they are some of the oldest known terror family cells I am aware of in Oregon. Where Wycherly’s are found, so are the Shippy Family. I have seen the African Lions in the vault there with kidnapped victims. There is another gal who goes by the name “De la Rosa” who was there the times I saw the Lions, she looks a lot like Kate Brown, about the same size and weight too, and could easily do impersonating of the Governor. There is a man who pretends to be a bank customer who has been in that branch every time I have gone, I am pretty sure his name is Richard, and is the person who runs Richard’s Welding on Merlin Galice road, next to the Shell gas station in Merlin Oregon.

As bad as all of that sounds, in comparison to other terror, that is more like a tourism brochure: “Come to Oregon! Enjoy the Wildlife, and Beautiful Scenic views”.

Some of the Wytcherly’s live on Three Pines Road, or, visit a place there. East of the corner of Wilson Ave on Three Pines is an wrought iron gate, that leads to a house on a hill above “Dead Man’s Curve” where there is a nice pond right there, and a old fashioned wind mill on a tower for pumping water from a well to fill the pond.

It turns out, after thinking about some of my encounters with “De la Rosa”, that it’s equally likely that Kate Brown could easily do impersonation of “De la Rosa” who is about as Spanish as is Taylor Swift, their names are similar in other ways. “De la Rosa” could actually be Kate Brown, Oregon Governor.

======================

9:07 pm:

That terrorist bitch that was in my bathroom night before last who put the sword on the toilet seat, I almost sat on the sword, then grabbed it with the toilet paper roll.... and turned the sword around to run her through with it... that one... might have been Kate Brown... de la Rosa.

Brown is a German name.

Clyde Baum’s house changed ownership of record from Powers to Brown about 8 years ago-ish.

We have to do a decode of everything that is “Wall”.

Walgreen‘s... with a German decode. “V Val Green‘s”. How do you say “Green“ in German?

Have to do the same for Walmart. “V Val Mart”, that gets directly into the Vatican Choir to Vivaldi.

Walmart = V Val Mart = Vi Val di mar T = Vi Val di mar X = Vi Val di mar cross = Vi Val dimark Cross = Vivaldi Mark Cross = Classical Mark X = C L Ass I C Al Mark Cross = Holy See, Ass Eye See Artificial Intelligence Cross ...

Walmart = Classical Mark X = Classical Jesus = Sail

Walmart = Sail

I already know that Mark Ross, and/or Mark Cross is someone who claims to work or otherwise be associated to Walmart. That I already learned this past year.

Sail. To move the Pirate Ship.

There may be ways to test that. The people at Walmart will know if that math works out. The ones who wear the vests, work the Service Counter will have some kind of response to the word “Sail” when spoken as a sail on a mast for moving a boat. If so, that response could help to make the necessary connection to the rest of that math, if it’s any good.

They would also have a response for Vivaldi, and Mark Ross.

Mark Cross is a maker of “Fine Leather Goods”

I think “Walgreen‘s” needs to be done in a German dialect with similar Text Math.

VIVALDI - Four Seasons - Alexandra Conunova - Orchestre International de Genève

youtube

Once upon a time, there was only ten months in the year, with only two seasons, Summer, and Winter. Then, someone came along and decided that the Equinox was also important, so, they tacked two extra months onto the calendar, but, put them at the beginning of the year, as January and February, thereby putting March in third place, out of the spotlight.

March, became nothing to be concerned about.

By putting those two months on the beginning rather than the end, where they may have been better suited to go, gave the people who decided that the Equinox was important, a slight advantage of understanding and control of knowledge, thereby, may have been the very first application of Gnosis over Knowledge, which is the advantage made possible by control of Real Knowledge.

And thus, the two seasons, Summer and Winter, became Four Seasons, by a division in half, for a quotient of quarters, by addition of Two in the Back at the Head.

Quotes, are a Text element: “Two Blood Moons to Start the March”.

Two in the back at the head, divided with a can of steel:

Scary.

And terrorism was born. A quest of control of all of the land on Earth, by Pirating of Time at the beginning, as a means to the end.

To Divide, a verb, it turns out, is more than the key to the conquer, it’s divinity of the Text.

Walmart is the Sail of the contemporary Pirate Ship where customers are nailed to the mast, to propel the boat with their wind. Jesus’ in the breezes.

=====

11:06 pm:

Let’s have a look at Trump’s “Wall” for a quick decode:

Wall = V V All = V Twin All = V X Win = V Cross Win = V Cross V V I N = V V I I V = VVIIV = W”V = WWV = Waves = Air Support = Terror Air Force at 535 Jackpine Dr. and Erickson Air Crane of Eagle Point Oregon

... V V I I V = Vatican 57 Vatican = Vatican Heinz 57 Vatican = Vatican’s Take Saws = Ohh My, Gobsmacked! = Blades of God = A Right Off = “It is Written“ = It’s Text = The Text = Bible

... V V I I V = 55 2 5 = ..... Muslim terror numerical algorithm language presented to entertain anti-terror agencies globally... then... after millions of US Citizens are murdered, on US soil, at home, the security team takes notice, see’s truth... the terror responds with a “sex sell’s sail” ...

... The 5:00 mark... here:

“singing “Come away, come away, come away...”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmPgMc3R8zg&list=RDUmPgMc3R8zg&start_radio=1

Well then suddenly there was no one Left standing in the hall In a flood of tears that No one really ever heard fall at all Oh I went searchin' for an answer Up the stairs and down the hall Not to find an answer, just to hear the call Of a nightbird singing "Come away" (Come away)

Trump supporters rush the White House in the first week of January 2021 in effort to sex up the terror, bringing it even closer to home at the White House, anti terror agents are called to a trap by a Knight-bird... AF-1... the leader of the terrorists. The anti-terror agents have been fooled again... they are not aware that the White House was sold like a pharm... along with stories or Pride and Hope at the Auction two decades ago, after the renters decided to buy it with a steel disk count of thirty years of occupancy there. Capitol Sex Distraction at the WH to draw attention away from Global terror HQ in Oregon.

=======

... V V I I V = 55 25

=======

(1-7-2021: 7:26 pm: addition to:

... V V I I V = 55 25

The shit goes sideways right there in the terror math even more than it already it.

British terror includes five quarters. One and one quarter is what humans are composed of as a whole, five parts, all are quarters, they are unequal, are “Drawn & Quartered” when Brits do the math, that goes sideways in at least two directions with a “call to arms” as the draw, and a place to stay as “The quarters”. The other direction is done with equestrian means, horses, to “draw & quarter”, pull physically apart, use a sword to quarter limbs and head into five parts, torso does not count, is not part of the math. Two arms, two legs, one head, are the five quarters when the math is done British style under Vatican Christian Hokus Pokus rules.

So, 55 = a ten divided by two... is a “half” or “Two Piece at the Pollo Loco”.

That 25 then is the head of the bird at the Pollo Loco.

Other Math, alternate division:

The 55 is two SDA soldiers swinging a sword on a “high/low” attack, one swings at the feet, the other at the head, at the same time, is a “high/low”, the 25 is the head rolling around on the ground, and they don‘t talk about feet, they don‘t want to get caught doing pedophilia trafficking for the Pope, so, they stay quiet about matters of the feet on a “high/low” attack by SDA mating pair Christian terror cult members.

I suppose the shit goes sideways in three directions, my bad, I saw only two at first.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wall = ... = Air Support = Terror Air Force at 535 Jackpine Dr. and Erickson Air Crane of Eagle Point Oregon

(Take that to “Mark Cross Fine Leather Goods” from the “Walmart” decode above)

https://www.markcross.com/?msclkid=746c57034eff1776e4e808f0b5802b46&utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=Mark%20Cross%20-%20Branding%20-%20Search%20-%20US&utm_term=Mark%20Cross&utm_content=Official

Then, you carry your leather over to Stevie Nicks, she is going to Trade you that leather for her Lace. You need to say some magic words, she is a Witch, so, magic words have to happen there, maybe “Eagle Point” where the Air Support comes from will work, as long as Don Henley is saying it, otherwise, Stevie might respond to “Landslide” as a workable magic word.

Don Henley = Donald Trump Bird = Donald Trump Air Support

(You are Donald Trump as of that moment.)

That checks out real good.

You need the song Leather & Lace, a Duet by Stevie Nicks and Don Henley, and five minutes on the clock at a pro basketball game where each team starts with 100 points, and five minutes to score as much as possible, Canadian Style (basketball was invented by a Canadian).

“Leather & Lace” ~Stevie & Don w/five minutes on the clock:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob4cgakHwsQ

Make the trade, leather for lace.

Now you got laid, and have Lace, some Text in the aisle (sex math goes here)

“Biblical” begins right there.

(What could go wrong? Donny has a terror air force called Air Support and a Bible after that. Pompeo keeps the Bible in his inside left jacket pocket along side Bob Dole’s Pen. The Bible is called a “Cadet Bible”, is custom made, special words, special passages, you need to have one in order to know what Mike Pompeo has in his pocket, is holding for Trump. Dole, is a company that makes pineapple products on Maui, Hawaii. Go Figure. The Cadet Bible comes with a Bikini, that one is not a good thing, trust me, you don’t want that kind of Bikini, is a terror Bikini, a Two-Piece for Cadets, from the Top. Double D. D-Day. Two Dimensional, SAG card in good standing, dues paid in full).

(it’s 12:46 am: 1-5-2021: I am too tired to continue, this decode needs more work. This one is, well, it’s a Key that unlocks a lot of other terror decodes. Maybe I can do more later, unless you want to take a whack at it, or come talk to me, that would be much more expeditious)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

... = V Cross V Vin = V Cross V AF1 = V X V AF1 = 5 10 5 AF1 = ...

---------

... = V Twin All = V Twin Awl = V Twin Scribe = V Twin Script = V Twins Crypt = ...

---------

1-6-2021: 2:25 pm: Addition:

Back to this part of Trump’s Wall presidential terror math:

“... = V Cross V Vin = V Cross V AF1 = V X V AF1 = 5 10 5 AF1 = ... “

... 5 10 5 AF1 = 5 1 0 5 AF1 = 5 1 5 0 AF1 = 5150 AF1 = Pollo Loco = Crazy Chicken = One Bad Bird = Experimental Chicken ...

-----

... 5 10 5 AF1 = 5 1 0 5 AF1 = 5 1 5 0 AF1 = 5150 AF1 = Pollo Loco = Crazy Chicken = One Bad Bird = Rotten Egg = Aerial Gas Attack

-----

... 5 10 5 AF1 = 5 1 0 5 AF1 = 5 1 5 0 AF1 = 5150 AF1 = Crazy Eagle = Don Henley & Stevie Nicks Duet: Leather & Lace = ... (that story above about trade, and five minutes on the clock at a Canadian Basketball Game where the score starts at 100 vs 100, or, “Two dead bitches” doing some tradin‘)

=====

(technically, there are two separate parallel walls)

... = V Twin Awls = V Twin All Wood El Services = V Twin All Wood Ell Services = V Twin All Wood Capitol Services = Vatican Twin All Wood Capitol Services = Vatican Twin All Treason Capitol Services = Vatican Fascist All Treason Capitol Services = VFATCS = V Fat C’s = Vatican Fat Cats

Wall = Vatican Fat Cats

=============================================== -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1-5-2021: 12:57 pm: addition:

From Vatican Fat Cat’s, presidential terror comm puzzle parts “Don Trump-Henley”, go in tandem, a duet of “Eagles and Dove’s”, along with Stevie Nicks, a SAG representation from Capital Records Building (maybe is only the messenger, kept in the echo chamber dungeon beneath the building. watched over by Frank Sinatra’s Microphone down in the hole there, until she is needed for sending messages), into the front door at Amp Guru, where Stevie’s people (captor’s?) are at, Lindsey Buckingham and Christine McVie, where Lindsey takes the Lace as Down Payment towards a Whole Lot of Linen” (Ann Wilson’s Wardrobe), and Christine McVie sets hands out keys, from “The Key Board at the Valet Parking at The Luxor”, where Amp Guru is at. There, “Tribute to Pink Floyd’s Welcome to the Machine” is forever managed to revolve by Christine McVie, where she is initialized at the Turntable (Technique’s SL Q-2 Quarts Direct Drive w/Strobe), and she becomes Trump Initialized as “DJX“ (that’s Christine McVie doing a Transgender Trump as “The DJX” at the Turntable as a reincarnation of the characters Tin Tin and Kyrano from the 1960′s TV series The Thunderbird’s, all morphed into a single being, and is from whence Amp Guru came from. The two tend to mesh together, and are listed as a single character: Tin-Tin Kyrano = DJX Machine Revolutionary)

Then, from that, where Roger Waters and David Glimour of Pink Floyd are eternally sitting atop a super colossal enormous pyramid, entertaining everyone eternally, with the ominous sounds of Welcome to the Machine, and all of the Windsor’s of Buckingham Palace and all of the Christians of the McVatican are making Cheeseburgers, from the meat locker that is USA’s population, all in effort to maintain The-Heart-Beat-of-America while feeding the beast, Ann Wilson, who has an insatiable appetite for American Cheeseburgers, but is finicky, only will eat them while inside of a Enormous Super Colossal Pyramid.

From there... everything that is Egyptian, is used as a sail to power the pirate ship.

Egyptians knew about the secrets of the feline animals, as do I. You either know about the secrets of a cat, or you don‘t.

That is where the song “Walk Like an Egyptian” by The Bangles, fits in as a command orders, and, also serves as a cover, so that no one will learn the secrets of a cat. If you start a Cracker Jack’s Decoder Ring decode on that song, it will take you deep into the realm of “Rampart Division at The Coliseum”, and towards “The Hell’s Angels do Security for Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones”, and of course “Jon D’Arms of Winchell’s Doughnuts”, the place of origin of Chanel #5 and N-95 Masks”, and beyond ... into space... the final frontier ...

============================================= -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It can go in a lot more directions, it’s presidential terror comm, so, there will be three outcomes. One heavenly, one devilish, one ghostly or hidden meaning. That one, Vatican Fat Cats, looks more like bonus to me. I think the “V Twin“ part is going to lead somewhere though, and the “Awl” seems a good “Jesus was a Carpenter” peace to have stumbled onto, could be part of something: “V Twin Awls” is a good place to start over, on another day, unless you want to take a whack at it.

============

11:44 pm:

I having some recollection of a time between 1998 - 2002 or so when I was held captive and forced to create a lot of graphics, drawings, technical things, inventions I never got credit for and others are profiting from.... a lot of high level terror artwork is what I had to make... that part about “Vatican Fascists All Treason Capitol Services” goes with this Beatles classic.

It might be better to say: “Vatican SAG All Treason Capitol Services”

McCartney asks for directions and assistance from the WH, so, WH/Vatican gives him Google Maps, some traveling money, a US VISA, plenty of Political Asylum, some swords, airplanes, Third Amendment Violations, and a whole bunch of other stuff. There should be a remaster of the song from around 2000 or so if my memory is working.

youtube

===================================

January 7, 2021: 6:21 pm: Addition to:

[Oh I went searchin' for an answer Up the stairs and down the hall Not to find an answer, just to hear the call Of a nightbird singing "Come away" (Come away)]

[From above, when the WH was stormed by Trump supporters at the 5:00 mark]

Then this:

Well I hear you in the morning And I hear you at nightfall Sometime to be near you Is to be unable to hear you, my love I'm a few years older than you (I'm a few years older than you) my love

Time warp terror... those Trump supporters were filmed rushing the White House sometime between 2001 and 2008. The story is “a few years older than you, my love” (comes with a hauntingly familiar echo)

“You” become “My Love” right there, at that moment.

Refer to “Come Down“ (scroll to the bottom) by the band Bush for the keys that unlock secrets about “love = zero”, a tennis score element somewhere nearby a net, funnel, and Cello at a Castle. Annette Funicello... and onward into the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes with a Disney land vibe, and an E-Ticket to ride Mr.Toad’s Wild Ride at the Theme Park.... eternally.... on, and on, and on, and on... etc... and so on...

===================================

This goes above in the part about Donald Trump’s Wall decode where it turns into a terror air force based in Eagle Point Oregon with air force General Bruce & Janice Freeberg at 535 Jackpine Dr. in Grants Pass 97526. (Bruce is dead, he is inside of a stolen F-18 national guard fighter jet trainer at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean off the Oregon Coast, not far from Brookings.)

youtube

1-5-2021: 2:16 pm: addition:

Important consideration:

I have done this decode before. The pieces all came together in remarkably similar ways simply by starting at a few particular places in history.

The “Secrets of a Cat” is no small thing. It’s so big that the last time I mentioned “The Secrets of a Cat”. Juseph Myers of 560 Jackpine, a neighbor with whom I have never spoken with in more than 20 years, and his terror cell members went out on a mission to collect all of the cats, small, four legged feline animals that make great pet’s. They collected thousands of cats, and killed all of the cats, and tortured many of the small animals, only because I said “secrets of a cat” online, wrote it down. There was a drummer I knew, “Crack Head Jed”, who turned out to be part of the Myers terror cell, and Drummer Jed used to cut the heads off of he cats collected by Myers, and keep them in a big glass jar he had... the cat heads continued to Meeowe for as much as two-weeks after being cut of of the cat body, and there they were, on a kitchen/dining room counter top on display in the big jar, all meeowing away... about twenty of them, when I learned about that, in around 2002. Drummer Jed lived at the house that was nearest to the school bus parking garage entrance at Grants Pass High School at the time when I saw and heard the cat heads in the jar in his dining room. He and others from Myers have been trying to kill me to take my home for a long time. The Jed parts of the Myers terror cell extend over to a place called “The Laughing Clam Restaurant Bar & Grill” on G St. A man by the name of Scotty worked there, was a guitar player along with Jed on drums at various venues, including JD’s Sportsbar on Red Wood Hwy. where there is entrance to underground tunnels behind the bar and inside of refrigerator. The JD’s Sportsbar is nearby the County Fair Grounds, but more important is that it’s nearby the company that provides all of the school bus services for schools outside of Grants Pass city limits, District 7 Schools. The Buses are on Ringuette, and that, is next door to the County Zoning Department, and that, is across a footbridge that leads to the All Sports Park... endless access to children of all ages, can be associated to the Myers terror cell, and, as I already have reported many times, the Myers are national leadership of the Green Jello terror cell, and Green Jello is Universal, NBC, Comcast, where David Letterman heads the east coast chapter, and Jay Leno heads the west coast chapter, of Green Jello terror cell, for doing international terrorism on a grand scale.

So, be advised that the things I write to try to get some help, are used to hurt others, while making me look as the bad guy. That, is a component of the Christian terror on all of it’s levels, to conjure up whatever is necessary to advance the Christian Pirate ship out of the air, and blame others, while propelling the boat forward at the same time. What happens to me, has happened to millions of other people who did not live long enough to explain any of it to you, or to any one who could help.

=====================================

1-5-2021: 3:11 pm: Addition:

More about the hijacking of Time with insertion of “Two Blood Moons at the Back of the Head as a means to End”

It’s easy to see that there was a vertical division of annual time before January and February were tacked onto the head of the Gregorian Calendar. The addition of the two months created a horizontal divisor on the annual calendar. You could study for ages to get a lot of info out of a “Time Cross” where two halves became four seasons of the same whole as the two halves, for net gain of Zero Time, with vast increase of texture within the whole annual.

With that perspective, we know exactly who hijacked time, when it happened, how it is used as weapon, and that “To Divide is Divine, to Conquer Made Just, in the Nick of Time”

It keeps looking more and more as Stevie Nicks is either a slave, or takes pride in assuming the position of The Russian Whore that is the Mother of all Hoaxes. who ran off with Marcus at the Christening of the Christian Pirate Ship, 2021 years ago.

Moore:

E = MC² is part of a formula that describes something other than what everyone has been brainwashed to believe. That is only a tiny fragment of the whole equation. I have done the math, it’s lengthy and complex, sophisticated but straight forward and is easy to follow, but not easy to catch.

It’s a mathematical equation that discuses within it how lies and falseness will forever accelerate at such an exponential rate, that true, real knowledge, is never able to catch up to it, as the lies are accelerating down range, out into the future, while the truth chases after it, and is only interested in measuring the size and speed of the lies as they increase, indefinitely forward.

It’s the non-equate equation, where G > K, where G = Gnosis, K = Knowledge, but there is a time component that is built in with a square of a Carpenter, the Compass of a captain, to make lies that last forever, because it turns out that Christopher Columbus did not “Forget” the compass, he tossed it over board on purpose, while keeping a secret one, in his pocket.

That said, the “E” can also transcribe to “Power” as it is contained in the equation, but that is a trap built into the equation, don‘t go there. Instead barrow the E to make Power... Energy, as a means to see that Power = Alpha, then, E = A... Power = Alpha

So, you have A as the strongest thing, most important tool, most desirable item, etc...

Then, you carry the A over to January and February.

Simplify.

Jan

Feb

Change the e to a: Feb = Fab, and is second of the additional annual blood moons, and has a secondary Alpha built in now.

Feb becomes Fab right there.

F-A-B is what the Thunderbird’s say when they are on a mission.

Jan & Fab are now more subject matter that needs further decode assessment.

That’s as far as I have gone with January & February, but I have not applied the “Brew” of February yet to anything.

(1961 Chevy Impala roles into the service station over-heating, clouds of steam coming out from the hood, lots of hissing sounds going on under the hood... driver shouts:

“Does anyone have a T-Bag?“)

It happened again, almost the same way, except the vehicle was a 1986 Toyota SR-5 Extra Cab Manual Transmission that overheated the same kind of way, and was brought home, over-heating, clouds of steam all coming out from under the hood, lots of hissing sound under there... the drivers father shouts:

“Does anyone have a T-Bag?”

In around 1987 I began a mission, a quest, to find a pre-1975 Ford Bronco that I could afford to buy. I searched everywhere, but only when I had some money, so, like three times over a course of about twenty years I looked around for a Bronco. In my search for the illusive Ford Bronco, I encountered the Toyota Land Cruiser FJ-40 and FJ-45 models of off road goodness. The FJ-45 is a “Holy Grail” grade vehicle... not for sale anywhere, not available for any amount of money. I wound up skipping the Bronco, they had become too expensive over time, and found a suitable Toyota FJ-40 while looking for a Ford Bronco.

US Department of Defense contracts out assignments to commission development of some very specifically defined technology with a communications broadcast company that specializes in the kinds of things that DoD is looking for.

The technical explanations are very specific, are task specific.

The company develops the requested tech, as described by DoD. They do a ton of Research & Development in the laboratories, under top secret conditions. While the broadcast company is working on those carefully defined communication tools, they stumble over other, more sophisticated, more useful, whiz bang technology, for a different application, but, that is not what the DoD ordered, so, they keep working, give DoD what they want, but, they keep and own that other tech that was found by coincidence.

The broadcast company develops a plan to take over the world with use of DoD throw-back, rejected technology.

-----

Carpenter wants to build a house on his property, he knows that the Building & Safety people are a lot like the DoD, are not very flexible, and are real assholes when it comes down to a simple change in preference when such changes happen in the midst of the job. So, the carpenter makes the necessary drawings to satisfy the Building & Safety people, but, he is not exactly sure if he will use interior wood siding, or dry-wall, or plaster wall coverings, and is not certain about what particular exterior siding he might want, and certainly does not know if he will be able to afford those granite counter tops that he wants, maybe some money will fall out of the sky, for those granite counter tops and shower enclosures. Building & Safety hates it when the counter tops, siding, fixtures and such are drawn onto the plan, but change in design later on.

The Carpenter simply draws the plans for the house to show all of the structural safety elements are present, and won‘t ever be changed.

Bare minimum plans, to show the least amount of detail, and produce the necessary result, while leaving the door open for luxury, or appearance details out of the drawings, are submitted, are passed, everything is good.

The carpenter, and the inspectors, are all happily satisfied, and the carpenter can make adjustments to decorative items later, without interference or extra expense imposed at the Building & Safety for making small changes to per-approved plans when the changes, or decisions are made later on.

=====================================

Some years passed. As they did I had a idea that maybe one day I could get a hold of a 1966 Lincoln Continental, with the suicide doors, slam it to the ground, with some power under the hood, and big shiny wheels.

It did not happen, yet.

One day, after being bombarded with a relentless barrage of attacks from every direction, my family all divided, people suing, people stealing, trespassing, taking everything, lots of heartache and distress... there was a 1959 Ford Thunderbird for sale on the side of the road by the railroad tracks.

The same guy that designed those old Lincoln’s is the guy that designed those old Thunderbird’s. The T-Bird’s look similar to the Lincoln, if you squint your eyes, and soak it in with some dreams.

On a whim, at a time of distress, I bought the Thunderbird from side of the road by the rail road tracks.

The car was good, the circumstances and timing was bad for me to have been weakened such that I made a decision that was not in my best interest at the time. I never got to use that Thunderbird except long enough for some asshole to crash into it head on.... I avoided that, it became a side-swipe down the length of the Thunderbird. It’s solid as a rock though, only some minor damage.

It was a very expensive lesson, I made a lot of bad choices because of a car for sale at the railroad tracks, in Merlin. I swapped a perfectly good 1996 Dodge Caravan for that old Thunderbird, and was the biggest mistake I made associated with that. I suspect the Caravan was used to make me look as the bad guy, so, for the record, by the time the T-Bird was registered to me, I no longer had the Caravan.

That 1959 Thunderbird was once owned by the owner of a Chevron Gas Station in Hawaii. I am in Oregon, the car came somehow from Hawaii, ten thousand miles on the odometer later, and was parked for sale on the side of the road by the rail road tracks in Merlin, but I don‘t when of how it arrived in Oregon.

=====

By the way, there is a name for the Christian Pirate Ship, as explained before.

The HMS Eleanor Rigby

(comes with that brew I was talking about, it turns out, where the e is the a of FAB)

================

1-25-2021: 5:42 pm:

Local Update:

I went outside to get the mail just now.

Some asshole was vandalizing some things I have at the end of the driveway. nothing important, but what is important is that I finally saw that the asshole who does that actually drives over here, stops in my driveway, gets out of the car for the purpose of knocking down a tree stump that is balanced on some branches there. It’s little more complicated than that, but the items there that were vandalized are bothering someone to the extent that they are tipped over from time to time.

The asshole took off in the car from my driveway as I went out and saw, then heard the sound of the things being knocked over, I suspect it’s Chartrand’s Royal Canadian Mounted Police terror cell who does that. The items are symbolically placed. They tell a story. Only few can read what I wrote with a stump and branches, precariously placed.

Monroe’s are signaling that they want me to fully explain what the items mean as the vehicle drove away. They use lighting, and objects, sounds, smoke, fire, farm animals, cages and enclosures, statuary, trash, small and large, loud and soft, bright and dark, contrast, with a blur, speed with a stall, sound with a directional pan, nature, plants, odors, stink, and aroma.... they have a very large three dimensional vocabulary at Monroe’s, they know exactly what the stump and branches mean, but will never say so to anyone who could send some help to the places where the help is needed.

================

1-5-2021: 6:15 pm:

There are both helpful people and not helpful people around nearby somewhere. I need to touch a subject of audio surveillance that is heard by the helpful group, and is consistently fouled up by the non-helpful group.

The problem is that what I really need to explain is not believable. There are only maybe a few dozen people on Earth who have a particular set of knowledge about human beings and what we are capable of.

That is part of the audio subject heard by potentially helpful people. The idea that what was heard, is so top secret, that no one knows what is going on when the activity is witnessed.

I am not going to reveal the top secret information.

I am only going to say that the reports where someone says: “He has no eyes”, or “he is injured, his eyes have been removed, are gone”

Anything heard about absence of eyes, the ones people see with, should just be disregarded. Reports that the author of this account is a blind man are false. What they are seeing is a reaction caused by their own weaknesses, nothing more.

I still need help, the only thing that is currently wrong with my eyes is regular attacks with handfuls of ground up glass dust tossed into my eyes. That really does hurt, and fouls up my vision. Other airborne poison gasses used by the Monroe’s and others to poison me on a daily basis are also suspected of fouling my vision in other ways, but any mention that I have no eyeballs, is a false story, you are being fooled by local authorities.

There may be some helpful people who say they saw a condition of absence of eyes, then saw me drive away, without hitting anything. In that case, disregard all but the part where I drove away without hitting anything, and can do that as I please, if I had freedom to go somewhere, and did not have the glass in my eyes.

You too, can achieve the same thing, a condition of enlightenment that is so powerful that your eyes are not necessary, and that is the secret knowledge that is not believable, and only few people know is possible. It comes from a combination of fear, knowledge, confidence, and knowing the difference between smart and stupid when your life depends on smart.

You don‘t have to believe any of that. That’s why I ask that you disregard the audio, and the witness accounts of “He has no eyes”.

I can see better without them showing.

So can you. You have to stop watching television, to start with, in about two years you will be much smarter as a result. But to achieve that other thing “He has no eyes” requires constant exposure to life threatening fear to the extent that there is no more fear, somewhere on the other side of constant fear, is a place where only few people have gone, and survived the experience. So, honestly, it’s a useful thing, but I don‘t recommend learning the hard way about why people say: “He has no eyes”.

I have an example about the level of fear that causes internal survival skills.

I get shot at often, bullets, arrows, even at least one cellulose missal and a number of wire guided missals have been shot at me.

So, that kind of fear, there is a helicopter, it’s shooting missals, at you.

Another example is the African Lions that the Safari terror cell uses. If while checking the mail, and the mail carrier suddenly comes down the road, stops to put the mail into the mailboxes, but the door on the other side opens, and a African Lion is set loose. right there where I am standing to wait for the mail carrier to drive away, only to that she dropped off an African Lion there at the mail boxes. That, is scary. So, you have to outsmart the Lion, there is no other way, when the US Postal Service drops off a Lion.

Those are the times when I see much better, can move more deliberately, can outsmart an African Lion, or a cellulose missal, and the helicopter that brought it.

You can too, just move to Oregon, and do as I suggest if you want to survive here without joining the terror army, or obtaining a smart phone the way they demand you do.

I have fought more than one-hundred African Lions armed with no more than a fingernail clipper, and lived to tell about it. I don‘t want to tell about it. I need to because of “He has no eyes” keeps the helpful people from helping.

I suggest this, with every amount of energy possible to convey: “do not come to Oregon. If you are here in Oregon, go back to somewhere safe, then, come back with US Military, well equipped, quietly, with big ears, small mouths, not a lot of unnecessary activity, and learn, observe somehow without giving away the observation techniques. Drones won‘t work. They are loud, only an absolutely silent drone might work if it also is disguised as a bird, and makes bird sound as it fly’s. Mechanical sounds won‘t last more than an hour. Be advised that any tech brought to Oregon and is captured by the terror army is modified by Amp Guru, and used against the people who brought it. Equipment brought by helpful people is used to try to kill me often. It’s used to torture US Citizens. If you cannot tether it to your body so you don‘t loose, then maybe you should use that. Guns won’t work. The terror army plays a mind game, where there is too many people downrange, might miss, hit an innocent victim. Your gun is used to kill you without any shots ever being fired, because of the mind game, those with guns are attacked from perceived innocent people during the time they are deciding when and who to shoot at.... in that small delay that happens due to uncertainty. You have to be certain that 100% of the people in Oregon are terror soldiers. The men, the women, the children, the elderly, and the disabled, all are terror soldiers. The exception is the slave soldiers, who are kidnapped US Citizens forced to do whatever they are told to do. I don‘t have a way to determine who is who about the slave soldiers vs their Canadian soldier captors. Consider that the slaughter has already been done, there are no more US citizens, the slaughter happened and was complete about ten or more years ago, so, there are not likely to be very many small children who are under ten years old who are slaves. The problem with that deduction is the terror army are traffickers, can import slave soldiers of all ages.

That’s why US Military needs to find a way to quietly learn who is who.

Otherwise, just go to all of the broadcast networks, and shut them down. That will expose a lot about who is who. Radio, Television, Twitter, newspapers, junk mail advertising... all is used to advance and update the terror army.

“Easter Egg Phones” are a problem for helpful people. The terror army has a network built of many hundreds of thousands of Blue-Tooth phones that serve as a wide area communication network, each phone plugged in and turned on serves as a miniature cellular telephone tower that can daisy chain with others, all are within range of a few others, to maintain uninterrupted connections throughout Oregon. They are everywhere, tucked behind and beneath every refrigerator in all directions for miles around, as of 2004-ish. I suspect they have gone to a next generation idea, where the Pacific Power Residential and Commercial Smart Meters serve as the daisy chain blue tooth base units for bouncing a signal to terror soldiers where ever they go.

I advise taking control of Rocky Mountain Power, all of it, all five of the sub companies. I suggest to continue power service at a subsidized rate, where nominal usage is provided, and extra usage over a calculated limit is charged for at least on a temporary basis. All of the linemen of those companies serve as the controlling strong arm of the terror army, they use their easement rights as a front to cover access where access is not always necessary. So, those guys all need to be rounded up. Same is true about Oregon Department of Transportation, they too serve as a strong arm. That, and the Easment Maintanance companies who contract with the state to maintain roadway shoulders and medians, as well as Power Line easements, for keeping the trees from the lines, and out of the shoulder areas, are a big deal, there are tens of thousands of those guys, are all physically fit, able to climb tall trees, are skilled with tools, and are also skilled at using those tools as unconventional weaponry. Both the Power Linemen, and the Tree Service guys, as well as Forestry workers, are highly skilled with use of cables, fulcrums, mechanical means of all kinds used for moving heavy stuff around, all of that works as a weapon, is hidden, easily overlooked spring loaded traps and wire snares.

Centurylink Internet and Land Line Phone Service is a giant size nightmare problem because none of the phone lines go to the addresses that they are supposed to go, all were switched out at the access terminals, there is a map somewhere that enplanes how they were swapped out. The map of accounts at Centurylink HQ is intentionally wrong. That shows where the phone are supposed to lead to, but not where the lines actual are physically connected. There is detailed explanation about the different ways that the phones are fouled on this account, is extreme complication, many layers of fouled phone activity going on at Centurylink.

I received email notice today that my account number was changed, as was all of the Centurylink customers. That could be good news because part of the confusion service was that everyone had an account number that is also a phone number, even for people who do not have telephone service, only use the DSL as I do. The same format as a phone number is how Centurylink causes some of the confusion service they do. All of the customers in the 541 area code start with 541, (there are no guarantees about reality, the account could be in Hawaii, and only say 541 for confusion) and all of them end with 234 for residential customers. That leaves 7 digits in between for unique account number at Centurylink. I am told that account number system changed, is no longer a 541 or a 234 happening in the account number, which they informed me is a 9 digit number, and provided me with new account number in today’s email from Centurylink. So, as of this morning, my account number is different than it was yesterday, or last billing cycle is better to say.

https://www.centurylink.com/home/help/account/pay-bill/faqs-about-account-changes.html?rid=accountchanges

Above is the link that tells of the extent of the changes with the billing. See that the information is written in less than collage level writing skills. See that there are a lot of open doors where terror can stick it’s foot into among the details, notably there is something about: “There are a number of reasons why your due date could change....” I smell a yeast infection waiting to happen with a lot random activity going on with that.

===================

Don‘t drop this.

There is no Russia!

This happened:

One day, on the day before the soccer ball changed hands, a terror soldier had come into my house, was hiding behind the chair where I was reclined in. Communication was going on, I was being poisoned with nitrous gas, other gas is also suspected. Chris Wallace’s voice was in my house. There was talk about what to do at a meeting between Putin and Trump. Trump had already sent a lot of assassins to my house by then, i think Jeff Sessions had already been killed in defense, Trump began sending his cabinet over immediately when I sent email to the White House asking for his help to stop mass murders in Oregon.

So, “What should we do at the Putin/Trump meeting?” was asked of me.

I said: “Give Trump a gift, a soccer ball, can you get a soccer ball on short notice?”

The reply was “Yes, we can, the soccer world series just ended, and there are soccer players nearby, we can get a soccer ball”

So, I said: “There you go, that is my suggestion, have Mr. Putin give to Mr. Trump a soccer ball” (I still thought there was a Russia at the time)

I don‘t recall if an explanation was included, but the explanation is that the ball is made of Pentagons, tiny Pentagons are sewn together, it makes a soccer ball.

The idea was that maybe Trump would understand the magnitude of the terrorism (before I considered that he was a leading terror general, or a British Knight disguised as US President.) Maybe a Pentagon Bell would go off in his head.

So that happened. I don‘t remember any more right now.

Important considerations of that: Terror is “International”.

“International” is a key word for the Christian terrorists.

Soccer is an international game, known as Football everywhere except USA,

There are recent reports about a world renown Soccer player who died recently, stories are on Twitter, I think he was a Columbian (best coffee comes from Columbia. Maybe some coffee was poisoned)

The soccer players casket was fashioned to resemble a race car, or other vehicle, people gathered in great number to his funeral services held around the world.

The casket, to me, was a “Matterhorn Bobsled” from Disneyland symbol.

That’s all I have on that, unless the bridge that collapsed at Florida International University happened shortly after the soccer ball was delivered, then, that goes here too for doing math some other time.

I just want to say: “Don‘t drop the ball”

==============================

1-5-2021: 9:41 pm:

“He has no eyes”

The Christian terror bastards who see that happen, have concluded that I must be God, because I they think I can drive while blind. They say I must be God, because I actually have caught the bullets and arrows they shoot at me.

So, the Myers brand of terror, decided to keep God locked up, to use me as their scape goat while terrorizing the whole world, all because they saw something that they do not understand.

The Sparacino’s do the same thing, they go along with the Myers story about me being God, when all they saw was some unusual activity with the way my eyes look when I am terrified out of my mind, and have to survive impossible situations, like US Postal Lions, Express Delivery.

The Sparacino’s say I am Allah, to cover the scape goat for all of the spectrum of the advance of Global Domination Under the Cross, the stuff I am trying to stop.

What they are seeing, like I said, is a result of their own weakness. They cannot handle the truth, they need a God, at least they believe they do. So these religious cult bastards have been thinking that they managed to catch a God, some of them say “baby God”, and they put the God they found into a bug jar, to watch, and for them to ask what I think they should do. Lately, they are just reading what I write, while I am looking for help, they twist the words around to do Christian terror activities, with biblical scale and scope, Globally to serve their goals while blaming me, and fooling the national and global security people with bullshit all conjured up out of the air.

That truth I was saying about humans are capable of much more than they are told, has a name that the Christians assigned to it, while covering up the notition that people are amazing, but are gullible and will believe in a lot bullshit as long as the people don‘t need to think on their own to save their own lives... people will even line up to buy Hope... even when the Hope is handed out for free someplace else.

“The Fear of God” is what happens on the other side of fear, that is when people like you and me become God Like. The Christians came up with that to suppress the truth about: “He has no eyes”.

I have seen three other people in my lifetime who also had the “He has no eyes” going on at the time I met them. Including myself, that makes four people in about a 35 year time range who “has no eyes” and suffered from “The fear of God”.

The thing that makes those people weak, is their minds. The Christians are raised among a series of lies stacked and layered with a lot of bonus textures, stories with so much false detail that that there is no way to escape the thickness and weight of a lifetime of lies about a invisible man who rules every aspect of their being, a bunny that hides eggs, a fat man who brings gifts into the chimney, those flying reindeer and so much more is all taught with a straight face right out of that Bible at the Church where the children are raped by the pastor.

Weakness of the mind, due to inability to believe things they don‘t understand long enough to study the information for the purpose of actually learning something useful.

WEAK!

I suggest everyone should make an attempt to challenge their own mind.

Your goal is to determine what is real, and what is a lie. Your goal is to move away from the lies, and towards the truth. If you cannot find any truth, you still win by moving away from the lies. Do you believe there is a Santa Clause? If not stop participating in the charade, that is the scope of the challenge against yourself. Are you willing to continue to allow yourself to fool you?

Discontinue participation in lies. Truth by omission of bullshit.

Less bullshit is a wealth that gets no respect.

Every dollar spent on those prearranged fake holidays is a dollar that is used to kill your family, neighbors, friends, and those who’s job is to protect and to serve the population of USA. The way it works, is so much incoming money all at the same time creates a vast momentum in terror advance. They are able to make capital investments in scale that would not otherwise be possible had there been no fake holiday. I recommend discontinue the fake Hallmark Holidays, all of them in favor of celebration of your own birthday, and those of your family and friends to produce a more genuine celebration of those you care about, while leaving that Easter Bunny as road kill on the way to get a birthday gift for someone who really matters.

That, if everyone did just individual birthday giving, all distributed evenly throughout the year, with a similar budget as a Christmas budget, would produce a vastly stronger nation built of companies that can survive all year long, not just in December, while at the same time, pull the rug out from under that asshole at the Vatican and all of his murderous child raping friends.

Is your mind strong enough to overcome the Santa within?

In your minds eye, there is you vs that overwhelming urge to participate in the Hallmark Charades. It’s you vs the holiday, and year after year, the holiday has been kicking your ass in every way. Financially it breaks you, and physically it exhausts you, but you continue to kick your own ass every year, year after year, only because of something known as Christian Guilt, it is taught in such a way that we are addicted to the guilt, and serve it for others to eat as we kill ourselves doing it, to please no one who is impressed by the effort.

Every year it gets harder and harder to overcome the burden of the Hallmark holiday because the terror army is getting stronger and stronger with every dollar you spend for the Hallmark holiday.

So, are you to weak to save your own life from the monster you are feeding?

=============================

1-5-2021: 11:16 pm:

Local Update, update:

Something fishy going on with the mail.

When I went to get the mail earlier, there was the US Cellular Phone bill, and that is all that was in the mailbox. Whats fishy is that the US Cellular bill has almost never arrived on the fifth of the month, it almost always arrives on the eighth, and sometimes the ninth of the month. I am reminded of Clyde Baum of 333 Jackpine, who always was in my mailbox, taking the mail, open the mail, then put the mail back into my mailbox, and nothing I can do to stop it because the sheriff is in league with Clyde Baum, and, because I am outnumbered 50,000 : 1 just in this county, more with consideration of the rest of the state.

So why did the US Cellular bill arrive on the fifth of the month? That’s at least two days early, but is actually on time, it’s just not what I am accustomed to with consideration of the terror spies and the lengths they go to for fooling federal fools who are not accustomed to not being fooled, and insist on being forever fooled by religious cult terror soldiers.

This is for federal fools to ponder, it’s personal:

I suspect the MedDems are behind this one though. Two days at least early for a phone bill is all they need to fool feds who were told I actually received medical treatment. I did not receive any medical services, I received a phone call in the parking lot beneath a cellular telephone tower at a terror cell that is disguised as a doctors office, and I was doing your job while I was there, and have been doing your job there for almost six years regularly. now, they are using a cell phone bill to further fuck with me, to fool you, so they have another chance to kill me tomorrow. That is what the two days early are really about. I have played this game before.

There is absence of helpful people, a vacuum of help is present.

I went for a walk, and someone from Myers 560 had come into my house to make signature Myers brand terror signature mess in my house.

===============

1-6-2021: 12:48 am:

Glue:

There is a woman who lives at Myers 560, she is about 5′ 9“, 180 lbs, 62 y/o, grey shoulder length hair, usually drives white cross over style car, I think is a nissan Rogue, has a grey shelf looking thing around the rear bumper. She has been there a long time, could be Rita, could be nora, I don‘t know which one. She sneaks up on people while dressed in a costume made of human body parts, and always seems to say the same thing, happens so often that I have it memorized:

“Look, I have these... felopian tubes, there fresh... see? Ohh darn, this ovary keeps falling off, I’ll have to glue it.”

That is when she holds a female reproductive system in her hands, to show the victim she is about to kill with a sword. I hear that at Monroe’s from time to time these days, but she has said it to me while dressed that way in that costume made with arms, legs, heads.... at my front door when the Jahova Witnesses come knocking on Saturday morning.

But that is not the glue I have, I already explained all of that before.

Lately, that woman has been wearing a coat that is just like the one that I wear around the house. Green, with hood, cotton. She and the sheriff are using that coat and a pair of jeans to fool the federal fools for about four months to my count.

That is not the glue either.

This is the glue:

There was once a man who attacked at my home, about 6′ 4″, 200 lbs, 32 years old, short light brown hair, used an alias name of Erick, I think his real name was Patrick, and I think he was sheriff of Multinoma County Oregon, or nearby county to Multinoma. I killed him in defense, left him in pieces inside of a red Toyota that he came here in. It was about four years ago and was the last time I saw someone I care about who he had with him, and is why I defended that way.

That, is part of the terror doctor visit, it’s the reason for that brown bag that said Erica on it. It may have said Erick, I remember seeing that it said Erick, but I heard the man with the bag say Erica, who is one of the terror doctors at the terror clinic I went to.

So, I am in possession of a paper prescription since that visit, on it are two of these: ** like that, where “Quantity” is noted. There is special instructions that indicate the safety measure. There is also “Tamper Proof Paper” noted as a safety measure.

Those two things are the special terror instructions to send my phone bill through earlier than usual. Like I said, it arrived at least two days sooner than it usually does, almost never arrives on the fifth. What that does, is tells the mail carrier that there is something to be concerned about, and the presence of that in my mailbox on the fifth tells the terror spies on Jackpine that there is something to be concerned about. The concern was noted on Monday the 4th, at the terror doctor, where there must be a way to send a copy to the DEA or some other place as a normal and customary safety measure. The problem is the DEA were hijacked a long time ago, are all SAGClubMed and MedDems terror cell members as of the time that Asa Hutchinson was in charge there, or before that.

The part about the “Tamper Proof Paper” is somehow about the woman who lives at, or used to live at 520 Jackpine, next door to my house, and is also next door to Myers at 560. 520 is in between. I only have been saying that the woman is “Mystery Pot Grower Lady” for not knowing anything about the people there who somehow obtained the home of an entire dead family called the Nathan & Naomi Phillips family who used to live at 520, are all dead now. The Josephine County Tax Assessors Online Portal says that someone by the name of Tammy owns that 520 house now, and that Tammy is also presumed to be dead. So, Tamper Proof Safety Measure is just exactly the kind of thing that the US Postal Service terror cell can use to alert other terror cells of what kind of problems the terror cell at the terror doctor is experiencing there. US Postal Stork knows everything there is to know about everyone there is to keep track of, they know more than the people at Mikey’s Video know, and that is saying a lot. 520 is a place where I have seen Sir Richard Branson, and have encountered a Queen‘s Guard along with Prince Charles Windsor out front of there on the road. The terror on Jackpine is indeed global, international terror.

Two asterisks are being used to fool the federal agents who are assigned the wrong kind of duty for the wrong kind of crime, they need to be bringing US Military to ward off hundreds of thousands of Canadians who took the state of Oregon twenty years ago, but instead are sent to investigate a possible prescription counterfeit for a few pills, and were sent into the Lions Den like Dan on Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, where there is no lion, the Welsh Dragon that’s in the den, ate the lion and all of the other previously sent federal agents who insist on being lion and dragon food all of the time.

All of Josephine County knows you are nearby.

I strongly advise you go back to someplace where it’s safe, do so carefully, they will follow you and have better communication equipment than you do.

Go get US Military somehow... Trump will not help with that, and there are no more US national guard alive in Oregon unless they are held as prisoners.

50,000 : 1

That’s Fifty-thousand to one, that I am outnumbered against a Canadian terror army that took the state, killed all of the citizens, unless some are prisoners as explained above. That’s only considering Josephine County.

Jackson County = 75,000

Douglas County = 25,000

Klamath County = 25,000

Josephine County = 50,000

That’s 175,000 just in those four counties. I cannot make estimates farther away, and the information is ten years old. They are much stronger now, far more refined in their ways.

I have been told by Walmart terror soldiers that my estimates are too small, too conservative. They read everything I write and use it against me and those who are sent to see what’s going on here. The are Google, so, they made a searchable data base, and a parallel set of information to keep track of what lies were told in association with all of the different details I have explained about, so they can keep their lies all organized nice and tidy, thanks to Google and their expertise of organizing information.

Please, don‘t get dead, go get military.

=====

1-6-2021: 1:52 am:

(Centurylink is still turning off my number pad on my keyboard when I need to use a numeral)

For people who might choose to try to wing it:

You need to be aware of taxedermied humans, and how they are used as bait. There are such taxedermied humans. They are placed in houses, seated at a computer that is on and running, or in a kitchen, propped up at a counter that looks as if they are making some cookies, or in a car, or anywhere that a person might be doing activity. They are bait. You see someone that you are looking for who disappeared in Oregon, follow a lead from the sheriff, who says to go to that place over there, to look at this car over here in this garage right there, and shows on Google map where the tip says to go. Then, there is the person, looks in good shape, like nothing is wrong.... so, you let down your guard... bad idea.

The person is dead, is taxidermy.

The terror sheriff tells Myers that you are on the way, so, they make last minute preparations, to take you captive, not kill you. They need to torture you first, so that you will say the secret words that can get their people into your HQ.

=========

1-6-2021: 2:17 am:

Also, you have to pay close attention to that train that just sounded the horn at Jess Way crossing, what that train does alerts many thousands of terror soldiers along that route. The train is two hours late, so, at minimum, there is abnormal conditions around here. The characteristics of the way the train operator feather’s, or lays into that horn is a language all it’s own. I don‘t know how to read it. I can read the timing is off. There may or may not be another train at around dawn at Jess Way crossing, they seem to go north more than south somehow.

======================================

January 7, 2021: six o’clock hour additional decode keys are contained here for “Edge of Seventeen“ contained in a song by.... you guessed it...

Bush

Come Down ___________

Love and hate Get it wrong She cut me right back down to size Sleep the day Let it fade Who was there to take your place? No one knows Never will Mostly me But mostly you What do you say? Do you do? When it all comes down? 'Cause I don't want to come back down From this cloud It's taken me all this time To find out what I need again I don't want to come back down From this cloud It's taken me all this All this time There is no blame Only shame When you beg You just complain The more I come The more I try All police are paranoid

So am I So's the future So are you Be a creature What do you say? Do you do? When it all comes down? 'Cause I don't want to come back down From this cloud It's taken me all this time To find out what I need Yeah, yeah, yeah I don't want to come back down From this cloud It's taken me all this All this time Shoot up Shoot up Shoot up You're high Love and hate Get it wrong She cut me right back down to size Sleep the day Let it fade Who was there to take your place?

No one knows Never will Mostly me But mostly you What do you say? Do you do? When it all comes down? 'Cause I don't want to come back down From this cloud It's taken me all this time To find out what I need Yeah, yeah, yeah I don't want to come back down From this cloud It's taken me all this All this time Why did you? Why did you? Why did you? Why did you? Why did you? Why did you? Why did you? Why did you?

Why did you? Come down I don't want to come back down From this cloud This cloud This cloud This cloud This cloud This cloud This cloud This cloud This cloud

youtube

The song is used by the Christian terror army to change the meaning of “Love” to “Hate” then further to “zero” or “nothing” or “utter eternal darkness” and the result, “Death“.

The meaning carries over to “Edge of Seventeen” and other places where the Christian terror cult needs some kind of written (text) to justify the things they do, because if it is written, they feel, it is so, and thus is “sewn” into the fabric of “The Cloth”.

See... ? it’s all very simple...

At some point along the Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride featuring Annette Funicello or Stevie Ncks as you prefer, you must carry the Bush over here:

For further understanding, it’s a burning bush.

Use it to gain some wings to navigate the airwaves of the Audioslaves of the Christian terror cult army, all armed with smart phones and nitrous oxide rocket fuel. Terror comm is located where you look for it. It’s everywhere you look.

There is no one looking for terror comm.

There is no one watching the baby. The baby is on fire.

youtube

0 notes

rememberthattime · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 58. EuRoad Trip, pt 3

Ah, fall. Crisp air. Colorful leaves. A reprieve from the heat of summer.

To fully enjoy my favorite season, Chelsay & I continued into the third and final phase of EuRoad Trip: “Fall”, with stops in the Dolomites, Bavaria, and the German Black Forest.

The change in season wasn’t gradual for Chelsay & I: we went from summer to fall in a matter of hours. Like, the three-hour drive between the Italian Riviera and the Dolomites.

Over the course of our drive, the setting went from Mediterranean chic to the Sound of Music. We’d left pastel-colored homes along the sea to log cabins dotting the mountainside. I love this setting. Obviously, I enjoy the Mediterranean, but it’s hard to beat an alpine autumn.

The Dolomites might be the perfect destination for fall. The air is crisp and clean. The leaves are changing. Charming villages sit at the base of undulating green fields, capped by towering limestone spines. The shops have a Swiss alpine theme but not in a kitschy way – it’s authentic. This is just how they’ve always been. Timber homes surround the tiny village, with potted flowers hung from every window and balcony. When planning, I was most excited for this leg of the trip, and it was meeting my expectations before we even left the car.

Our first stop was a picnic high above the Val di Funes, a picturesque acclimation to our new alpine surroundings. Chelsay and I enjoyed some of our recent garlic truffle spread investment, while Indy frolicked and grazed about the sloped green fields.

It was pretty overcast, but we weren’t bothered: it fit the cozy, fall atmosphere. Our only worry was that the next destination, Seceda, required some level of visibility.

Seceda is a unique mountain peak. A gradually ascending green field gives way to a sheer cliff, with limestone spines looming in the background. It looks like if the Cliffs of Dover were transplanted into the Italian Alps. That said, not even Seceda’s prickly spires could pierce this cloud cover.

We took a gondola to the peak but were soon shrouded in thick fog. We couldn’t see 20 feet in front of us, let alone Seceda. Though dense, the clouds were moving quickly, so we decided to roll the dice and stick around.

It’s pretty easy to pass the time with Indy: we teased him with weird noises, laughing at his reactions. We played fetch with anything we could find. Then when Indy got tired, we pulled up Ray Harris Jr and the World War II podcast. Chelsay would forecast potential gaps in the clouds while Ray educated us on FDR’s preference between pencil or pen.

youtube

There were a few near misses. Chelsay spotted incoming breaks in the fog, we’d frantically stir with excitement, but ultimately, each proved impervious. Still, there was hope.

After an hour, we were just starting to question whether staying was worth it. But Chelsay thought there was one more break that might work out. It was excruciating to wait, but slowly, the shy rock began to reveal itself. This was it!

youtube

Not only did the clouds part, but blue sky began to appear and then… a burst of sun. And what’s that? A rainbow?! What an epic setting. The soft glow of sunshine against the limestone crag. Fog still rolling quickly, but abruptly halting against Seceda’s impenetrable cliffside. The clouds shot up like waves hitting the coastline.

This was one of the lasting memories from the trip, and we celebrated with a tortellini feast that evening. We’d stopped at a grocery store earlier to pick up picnic supplies – an Italian grocery store. I’ve never seen so much pasta. And it all looked so delicious that we couldn’t settle on just one: we bought two types of tortellini and three different sauces. We enjoyed our tortellini sampling from our alpine chalet while watching World War II in Color. Ray hooked us.

The next day marked our first real physical activity in at least a week – since the calanques in Cassis. We were taking the 6 mile Tre Cime pass through pretty challenging conditions. Yesterday’s quick moving clouds were stagnant and heavy today. Whenever the weather was too much, Chelsay, Indy, and I would find shelter in the ‘refugio’ huts along the path, warming up with hot chocolate.

After the hike, we stopped at Lago di Braies, a teal alpine lake set between evergreen slopes. The setting looks like a screensaver, but the real highlight was once again Indy. Without his frisbee or other toys, Chelsay and I had been using sticks for fetch throughout the trip. So now every stick Indy saw was a toy.

He’d dart along the shore trying to tempt Chelsay and I into playing with him: “Maybe masters will like this stick? Oh, here’s a big one! Will they like this? How about a wet stick?”

Eventually we gave in – I threw the stick as far into the lake as possible (owner’s tip: that burns the most energy), and he’d inevitably plunge after it. Indy once again drew an audience with everyone taking pictures of our goofy dog in the otherwise serene setting.

That was essentially our last activity in the Dolomites, but before moving on to our next destination, I want to quickly mention the phenomenal food. It’s Italy, so obviously it was delicious. But it wasn’t just pasta and breadstick – it uniquely Italian-Austrian. Ricotta pizzella (alpine pizza), truffle ravioli, venison, and every type of dumpling imaginable.

After the Dolomites, we’d turn north and head back to London, driving through Austria, Germany, Belgium, and France on the way. The main focus of this trip were the Loire Valley, Cote d’Azur, and Dolomites, so while planning, I essentially just looked for spots along the return route. Ultimately this included three destinations + one we spontaneously added along the way.

The first stop in our return journey was Neuschwanstein Castle. Yes, we’d already visited Neuschwanstein, and yes, our goal this trip was to explore new destinations. But there was a delicious currywurst place we visited the last time so Chelsay and I HAD to visit. …I guess the views are pretty magical too.

Jokes aside, Neuschwanstein is very special to me. It was the first adventure Chelsay and I embarked on after moving to London in 2015. I laugh at those two inexperienced travellers, somehow learning that Mary’s Bridge was closed only after landing in Munich. I think back to our can-do spirit to capture that Hero view anyway, and how giddy we were at our success. I think back to the Rick Steves audio tour through Munich, our white sausage breakfast and bowl of coffee, and the hot chocolate from Beluga. And yes, I think about the currywurst from Neuschwanstein.

More broadly, Germany is very special to Chelsay and I. We visited every October while in the UK: first Munich, then Berlin, and then Rothenberg. There’s something about Germany’s dense forests, and heavy ethos (fog, food, their accents, etc) that just fits fall.

So, now consider all of this history as Chelsay and I ascended the hill up to Neuschwanstein. It’s about a 30-minute walk, and I was giddy with anticipation the whole way… basically saying exactly what I just wrote above: “Remember the currywurst Chelsay!?”

Indy was similarly excited but for different reasons: we passed a few horse drawn carriages and he DID NOT like them. He ripped out of his collar and ran back down the hill.

After calming him down (aka distracting him with a stick), we continued up the hill and came to Mary’s Bridge. It was weird not hopping any fences this time.

We arrived just as the sun was setting. Keep Chelsay & I’s history with Neuschwanstein in mind as I describe the setting… Soft light draped the Castle. The sky took on a pink glow. The valley below faded into the shadows. Indy nervously trembled from the heights. It was just as magical as the first time.

As we left the Castle and made the long descent back to town, we were just as giddy as 2015. Unfortunately the currywurst restaurant wasn’t waiting for us at the bottom, so we audibled to the nearby town of Fussen and a neighborhood beerhall. It was clearly popular with a line out the door, and the currywurst had its own page in the menu under the title “Reminders of Home”.

The currywurst lived up to this place’s popularity, but I want to specifically remember how unique Chelsay and I felt in this restaurant. We were clearly the only native English speakers there. That might be the case normally, but it was especially true during Covid.

This was clearly Fussen’s beerhall – owned by the locals. The place where patrons come to relax after a hard week of making pretzels or whatever they do for work. Families were connecting and talking about Bayern Munich or the latest season of Dark. It felt comfortable, even if Chelsay and I were outsiders. It would be like if a German were dropped into a Buffalo Wild Wings.

We hit the road again the next day, but not before a brief walk around Schwansee, the lake nestled below Neuschwanstein. Obviously the Castle was the highlight from 2015, but I remembered I really enjoyed our fall walk around the lake. Also, we had to get some of Indy’s energy out before our drive. This trip’s walk felt nostalgic but was made even more fun with our newest family member.

Our next step was Beilstein, a tiny German village along the Rhine. If Chelsay & I thought Cliousclat (population: 600) or Portofino (400) were small, Beilstein only has 145 residents! It took about 15 minutes to walk the entire town, but it’s incredibly charming: like an authentic Disney village.

I’ll briefly mention this story. It’s a good thing touring Beilstein was so quick, because I needed extra time to bring Indy to the vet. Before returning to the UK, we needed a local vet to administer and provide proof for a tapeworm treatment. The closest vet was a 20 minute drive, so I plugged it into Google Maps and set off.

Well, it seems Google Maps users aren’t frequenting Dr Frank Feiden, because the app took me to an elementary school. I had zero service so couldn’t call, so I was stuck driving in circles around this children’s school… which I’m sure looked suspicious. Finally I gave up, and decided to interrupt either four teachers’ or four parents’ smoke break to see if they could help. Shockingly, they knew exactly where he was and shared the most precise instructions I’d ever received (classic German). It was a bizarre situation to find myself while on vacation, made even more bizarre when the person next to me at the vet had lived near Southlake. We bonded over our shared love of Mi Cocina. These experiences again made me feel like part of the community despite being such an obvious outsider.

Alas, just as we were starting to feel at home, it was time to return to London. Our last day of the trip. I’m now 6000 words and 10 pages into this three part EuRoad Trip post, but still plenty of stories to tell.

First, we made a short stop at Eltz Castle, a romantic palace well hidden in the Black Forest. The castle is uniquely vertical, but I’ll remember this visit for Chelsay falling on the walk down. She’ll hate me for writing this, but hopefully we can remember and laugh. Very similar to my tumble at the Sete Cidades in the Azores.

Finally, our last stop on the road trip was Dunkirk. This was the spontaneous visit I alluded to earlier. Dunkirk wasn’t initially in the plan, but after 20 hours of Ray Harris Jr telling us about Operation Dynamo, we decided we visit Dunkirk Beach for ourselves.

It was extremely windy when we visited, as Storm Alex was moving through with winds up to 60 mph. It was raining too, and the raindrops felt like bullets as we ran along The Mole. The chaos felt fitting though, as this was the location where 300,000 British and French soldiers chaotically escaped the charging Nazi army.

The Mole, a sea break that the British used as an escape dock, is well removed from the city… and hardly marked. You drive through an industrial center and park in what appears to be an employee lot. In fact, I only found The Mole because I crawled Google Satellite View searching for sea piers along Dunkirk beach – there weren’t any other articles or traveller blogs about how to visit.

But this solitude made the pier feel that much more important. This was the place where 300,000 lives were saved, providing the Brits with necessary troops to withstand the Battle of Britain. If not for Dunkirk, would the UK have fallen to Hitler? Then, could the Nazis have focused their forces solely on Russia, and the US after? It’s hard to call this retreat a victory, but the Allies escape along the very pier I was standing was vital, and the moment felt similarly significant.

youtube

The trip from Dunkirk to London was a disaster – I’m sure it felt a bit like those soldiers on Dunkirk Beach. We again took a taxi from Calais, but the driver decided to go directly through the center of London, costing us about an hour in gridlock. Then when we arrived at the house, I found I’d lost the key in transit – brutal. It was 9:30 pm so the property manager wasn’t available. We called a locksmith, who determined the backdoor was the best lock to open. I store the gate code on my phone, but my battery had died, so I had to hop the fence to let the locksmith through.

This must have looked suspicious to our neighbors: pitch black, man jumping fence, commotion in our backyard. Sure, that’s suspicious until you consider Chelsay, Indy, and ALL OUR BAGS AND INDY’S CRATE WERE ALL STILL OUT FRONT!

Anyway, the locksmith and I are in the back. The back lock turned out to be a tough one, so he had to use a drill. He wasn’t wearing glass so a piece of metal shot into his eye. I had to remove it. Brutal.

Then a helicopter showed up. …

The neighbors had called the Hampstead Police, who sent a chopper for a potential B&E. The helicopter hovered over us for 30 seconds, before two officers arrived, batons at the ready. They realized what had happened before calling out on their walkie talkie: “Call of all units.” Were there MORE on the way!?

Anyway, we finally got in and FINALLY changed out of our wet clothes from stormy Dunkirk. All that said, we woke up the next morning and were totally fine. I made myself some coffee, and the whole thing just seemed like a bad dream. Similar to Chelsay falling at Eltz Castle, I think we can laugh about it now.

Okay, now that’s really it. The conclusion of our EuRoad Trip. 16 days. Six countries. 2500 miles. Two seasons. One crazy pup.

I know I’m wrapping this up quickly (sorry, I’m now on page 11 and nearly 7000 words in), but the past two weeks were truly special. Although we’d gone six months without any international trips, lockdown really enabled this journey.

We had plenty of vacation days. We didn’t want to fly, so we drove. This simple equation brought us to extremely charming and authentic places we never would have visited otherwise. Starting with the Beauty & the Beast phase, driving south through France’s Loire Valley, stopping at chateaus, provincial hamlets, and the charming fishing village of Cassis. Moving into the Summer Chic phase, with hot temps along the ritzy Riviera, including stops in Nice and Portofino. And finally, concluding with the Fall phase, passing through the jagged Dolomites landscape and fairy tale castles of Bavaria and the German Black Forest.

This was likely one of our last European trips, but each destination exhibited why we live abroad. New places. Exciting experiences. Escapes from the routine.

Our EuRoad Trip was another reminder of how far you can go in just a few hours.

1 note · View note

sending-the-message · 7 years ago

Text

I need to talk about what happened in fall of 2013 by kotpotato

I don’t ever talk about what happened during the fall of my junior year. I think about it all the time. There were five of us at the start of the year—Ryan, Claire, Meg, Reid, and myself. We were lazy and happy and we spent all of our free time in Ryan’s basement watching movies and talking shit. That’s the way it had been for us since we were kids. I graduated three years ago, but only three of my friends graduated with me.

School started the last week of August, so we peeled ourselves off of Ryan’s dingy couch and packed our backpacks. We all lived in the same neighborhood so we all drove to school together. Meg had a car. She was the only one who had a job then and had busted her ass all summer at the diner so that she could buy her aunt’s old 1999 Ford Contour.

“So when are we gonna go out to the woods and make out in here?” Reid asked from the back seat.

Meg mimed throwing up and we laughed.

“When are you going to stop being a huge slut?” I asked, turning from the passenger’s seat to throw gum wrappers at him

“I’m a slut of opportunity and I will never stop,” he answered, volleying a wrapper back into my face.

“But can Claire and me borrow this car and go make out in the woods?” Ryan asked.

“Don’t answer that, Meg, we’re not going to be making out anywhere other than the couch,” Claire objected, punching Ryan’s arm.

“Please don’t say that, we all sit on that couch,” I said.

“Hey, if anyone else in this car is able to find someone to make out with, you can use the couch, too,” Ryan laughed

I saw Meg’s face flush with color, but I didn’t say anything until later.

Meg and I had our first period together, Calculus 1. During the second half of the lesson, our teacher let the class start the homework assignment.

“You’re dating someone,” I accused over the graph I was working on.

Meg’s face glowed pink again.

“Aha!” I said, “Whom?”

Meg narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t tell anyone.

“Who? And why?”

“I’m not sure if we’re dating. I don’t wanna be weird and desperate.”

“You dumb bitch, anyone would be lucky to date you. So who is it?”

“Mark Sessa,” she whispered.

I ‘ooed’ appreciatively. Mark was a year ahead of us. He was somewhat of an enigma to us; no one knew much about him. He wasn’t on a sports team, he wasn’t in band, and he didn’t do theatre. Claire was the only one of us who did extracurriculars, though, so I didn’t think poorly of that.

“He works at the diner with me,” Meg went on, smiling at the thought. “There was a night, in July, one of the other servers called in, and the kitchen staff all left already, so it was just him and me.”

“And you did it on the tables!” I whisper yelled.

“No, you’re gross. We just talked. And then it happened again the next week. And we started hanging out after our shifts, just talking. We would walk to the lake at midnight. We kissed. Once. Well it was last week.” Meg’s eyes were gazing dreamily at the wall behind me.

“So when do you get to know if you’re dating?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know. I can’t just ask.”

“You can,” I demanded.

And she did, later that week. Most nights after that, there were only four of us on Ryan’s couch. Every moment that Mark wasn’t working, Meg was with him. He lived a few miles away from the rest of us with his dad in a two bedroom apartment. Everything was great for two weeks. We went to school, we came home and did our homework together. Sometimes Meg would bring Mark over and we’d all watch movies.

On September 20th, 2013, Mark was absent from class. He was in a painting class with me, at the end of the day, but that day he didn’t show up. Meg hadn’t heard from him all day. We found out on Sunday what had happened.

“A woman from my building is missing,” he told us in a low voice on the front steps of Meg’s house. “She lives in the apartment across the hall from us.”

Isabelle Cooley was 22 years old. She was beautiful and alone, with no family in town. Mark’s dad had been friendly with her, and they had developed a habit of having a meal together on Thursday nights. But she hadn’t come. Her car was in the lot, though, so Mark’s dad knocked on her door. When she didn’t answer, he turned the doorknob and found it unlocked. The studio apartment was a mess, but Isabelle was gone. Her wallet—cards, license, cash, all of it—was still in her purse on the couch.

Mark’s dad was distraught. He’d been watching over her since she moved to town when she was 17. She was part of their family. How could he have let this happen? Mark stayed home with his dad on Friday; they weren’t sure what they should do, but they didn’t think they could leave their apartment.

Over the next few days, we tried watching the news and reading the paper, hoping for an update about Isabella’s disappearance. But there was nothing. No one said a thing. They reported on the weather—‘Isn’t it a bit chilly for September, Phyllis?’—and the reported on the junior high musical—‘They’re doing Mary Poppins, isn’t that sweet!’—but they didn’t report a single thing about Isabelle Cooley. She’d as good as evaporated into thin air.

Uncomfortably, we all wondered how much crime was going on under our noses that we never heard about.

By the end of September, two more women had gone missing—Alisha Jones and Starr Moore—both from low income apartment complexes near Mark’s. They were both beautiful, alone, and in their twenties, just like Isabella had been.

The only reason we ever heard about them was Mark. A neighborhood watch had been set up by some retired members of those apartment complexes. The police, from what Mark told us, didn’t care. They were wholly disinterested and despite the fact that none of the women had taken any of their belongings, they insisted that the woman had run away. Most of them had run away to our town, of course they also decided to run away from our town.

Mark didn’t believe it. We didn’t believe it either, but there was nothing we could do.

On October 9th, Meg didn’t pick me up for school. She didn’t answer my texts or my calls. With five minutes until school was going to start, I decided to walk. I ran into Claire where our two streets intersected.

“Haley!” I heard behind me, I turned and there she was. “She didn’t pick you up either?”

“She didn’t,” I said. “Did you talk to her? Any clue where she is?”

“She never came over to Ryan’s last night,” Claire told me. “After you left, she texted me and said she probably would, but she never showed.”

We felt uneasy, but neither of us wanted to say anything.

“She probably just got sick,” I finally said, if only to break the silence. Claire nodded.

“What the hell?” Reid yelled at us as we walked past his house. “Where’s Meg?”

Soon after, Ryan caught up with us as well. No one had heard from Meg since the night before. We walked to school in silence.

Meg was gone. We were called out of class one by one and asked if we knew where she was. Her mom had reported her missing that morning. She didn’t come home the night of the 8th.

She was on the front page of the paper and every local news station. ‘How could this happen to her?’ they all wanted to know. ‘She came from such a nice home—who would kidnap her?’

Her car was still parked outside of Mark’s apartment on the morning on the 9th. He told us later that he walked her to her car that night, a little while after she’d told Claire she might come over. He kissed her goodnight, she got in the car, and he went back inside his building. He said that was around 9:30. He noticed later that she’d left her jacket in his house, and had intended to give it to her at school the next morning. He never got the chance, though.

Meg wasn’t the first girl to go missing that fall, and she wasn’t the last. She was the only one whose disappearance was investigated though, the only one who the police agreed was kidnapped. They never found her. They never found any of them.

After that, I stopped going to Ryan’s basement. Claire and Ryan and Reid still hung out, but I withdrew. I started hanging out with Mark. By my graduation, he was the only person I considered a good friend. We both left town as soon as I finished school, going to a university out of state. We live together now, renting an apartment off campus. We like to spend our time watching movies and writing papers in the living room. We don’t talk about what happened that fall.

Except now I think I have to. I went to the grocery store yesterday and I saw someone who looked familiar. I recognized her from the photos Mark had shown us back in Ryan’s basement in 2013. It was Isabella Cooley. I knew it was. I went up to her—I don’t know why—and I introduced myself. Of course she didn’t know who I was—she was six years older than me. I told her about what had happened that fall—that my friends and I all thought she’d been kidnapped. I told her how happy Mark’s dad would be that she was alive.

Isabella became pale when I mentioned the events of that fall. She looked terrified and angry. She told me I was mistaken and then left the store, leaving behind her cart full of groceries.

I watched her leave, confused, wondering if I had truly been mistaken. But through the wide store windows, I saw her talk to another woman, and point into the store—at me—frantically. The other woman turned to face me, her face drained of color as well, and I knew I was right. Because the second woman was Alisha Jones.

I tried to follow them, but by the time I escaped the store, they’d gotten into a black sedan and peeled away, tires squealing.

Isabelle left something over than groceries, though. She left behind her wallet. Her photo ID says her name is Becca Smith, and it has her address as well.

They know what happened that fall. They can tell me what happened to Meg. I think I should follow them.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

1 note · View note

taylorowelch · 7 years ago

Photo

8/24 - 8/4 Mile 2461.5 - Mile 2660 - 198.5 miles

I slept until about 9, which felt heavenly. The bunkhouse was fresh with cold morning air. Jerry, the trail angel who runs Hiker Haven, drove all the hikers into town to have breakfast. We sat around a big round table at the inn and I ate a giant plate of scrambled eggs with a warm homemade biscuit. I was so content. One of Jerry’s friends, Bill, walked in as we were eating and had breakfast with us, eventually offering to let Dustin and I use his washing machine, since Jerry’s wasn’t working. The town of Skykomish is about 200 people. The high school, middle school and elementary school are all contained in one building. The girl who gave us a ride to town yesterday told us that she graduated from that high school and that there were six people in her graduating class. When we told Jerry this he said, “Oh, wow, that was a big one.” When we finished breakfast Jerry dropped Dustin and I at Bill’s. We did our laundry and made phone calls and googled things for a few hours. I sat by the Skykomish river and talked on the phone, watching the light catch on the water, watching tiny birds flit from one bank to the other. When our laundry was done, Bill drove us back to Hiker Haven where we watched movies, ate copious amounts of gas station microwaveable food and basked in our cleanliness. The next day all the hikers got ready to leave. We got to town, ate breakfast and did phone chores, scrolling and scrolling in service land. Supposedly there’s no service until Manning Park, in Canada, 188 miles away. I ordered shoes and a new tent since my zipper broke. We got a ride back to the trailhead at Stevens Pass and scrolled some more, trying to squeeze every last google out of the internet. We hiked out around 2:30, later than we had planned but it was nice to have a relaxing day. This last section of trail into Canada is tough, notoriously so. We hiked a difficult 10 miles to camp, our feet aching after the short day. We pitched our tents next to a lake, cooked dinner and went to bed. My alarm went off at 5:30 and I ignored it stubbornly. I was up by six and walking around 7:15, later than I would have liked. The day involved lots of climbing and descending, over and over again. The terrain was tough, roots and rocks nestled in ditches where water had eroded the trail into little canyons, barely wide enough to put both of my feet inside side by side. It was painstaking work. My pack heavy with five days of food didn’t help. Huckleberries grew dense along the sides of the sunken trail. When I felt discouraged or tired I stuffed my face with a handful. We took more breaks than usual, stopping for water every five-or-so miles just to take our packs off, sit down, and drink a liter of water. We ate lunch at a beautiful lake that sat low in a basin of gray boulders. The water was a stunning blue, bright and deep at the same time. After I ate a tortilla with cheese and hot sauce for lunch we plowed on, climbing and descending for twelve more miles to camp. We only hiked 21 miles but it was arduous work. We finally got to camp at 7, in a little saddle at the top of a climb. I cooked spicy pasta shells and set up my tent while they soaked in boiling water to finish cooking. I ate them gleefully and chatted with a Swiss couple camped in the same spot. The setting sun cast these beautiful rays over everything, like it had spun the light with gold and laid it out over mountains and tall spruces and firs and patches of dirt. My alarm went off at 5am. I sleepily ate my breakfast and left camp at 6:15. The morning was dangerously warm and the rest of the day followed suit. There was a lot of climbing today, steep inclines leading to breezy passes. The trail was rough, rooty and rocky and carved out of the earth like yesterday. Sweat ran down my face, dirt gathered on the insides of my elbows, stuck to the sweat on my legs. We stopped for lunch at a creek and I hid in a patch of shade. A couple hiked up to me while I was eating. “Is that real food?” a middle-aged lady asked. “If you count cheese and cheetos and taco bell hot sauce in a tortilla as real food?” I mumbled back at her through my mouth full of junk food. After lunch I washed my feet in the creek, put my pack on and hiked, climbing again, dealing with many large blowdowns. I took a break at a creek three quarters of the way up the hill. I killed flies that bit my legs. I watched an ant carry a dead fly body in a large circle, pulling it around, yanking it through tufts of grass with all its might. It had no idea where it was going. We climbed a bit more and then descended a couple of miles to camp for a 23 mile day. The backs of my knees were sore from all the climbing. I made dinner and pitched my tent. Dustin made chocolate pudding that didn’t really set but we ate it anyway and it was better than not having any pudding. I didn’t sleep very well, and I was up at 5 and walking at 6:30. The morning was warm again and I knew we were in for another hot day. I climbed up and over a pass as light slid onto the mountains. A warm breeze passed over the mountainside. I lumbered on into the morning, tired, my feet hurt, my pack straps digging into my shoulders like they do. In a couple of hours I was dripping sweat, climbing 1500 feet in the humid sun. When I got to the lunch spot, a little campsite perched almost at the peak of the climb, it was half-shaded. I was so happy. I laid on my tyvek, feeling the weight of my body released from me feet, my skin hot. I ate lunch and then dug dirt out from under my toenails. I hiked out around 2, stopping at a little stream and pouring water over my head. It was so cold. I began a long descent that left my feet angry and painful. The forest around grew huge and tall and dense, moss carpeting the entire floor, growing over rocks and downed trees. It looked like one huge blanket, like snow. It consumed everything. Giant ferns and wide green leaves grew all around. In some places leaves grew into little archways over the trail, tinting the sunlight green. I felt like I had entered another world, like I was a bug, something microscopic, crawling through some super-sized version of forests I thought I knew. At 6:45 we got to camp at the Suiattle River for another 23 mile day. It was raging and swollen and brown. The water munched down over big boulders, slapped against rocks on either bank, making it difficult to get water. I cooked dinner, burnt it, ate it anyway. I was so hungry. Today felt just as difficult as yesterday. As I washed my pot I felt the exhaustion creeping up through all of my bones and I hurried off to bed. At 5am when my alarm went off I could feel that deep tired trying to pull me back into sleep. I begrudgingly got up and moving in the warm morning. I began a monstrous climb, 4,000 some feet. The incline wasn’t terrible but my body was exhausted and painful. My feet hurt in so many different places and ways. As the day heated up I got pack rash again. The straps of my pack began to chafe my armpits. I sat down for lunch and was greeted by biting flies. I killed so many of them and they continued to appear from whatever terrible place biting flies materialize. I filtered water and kept walking, the day beginning to boil. It was so humid. Smoke hung low in the atmosphere, trapping all the heat. My hip began to hurt. I listened to music to try and power through the next few miles and started crying in the middle of the trail. A huge fly whizzed around me, hanging in front of my snotty face. I wiped the snot from my nose and then wiped my snot-covered hand on a tree. I walked and snot-rocketed and walked and snot-rocketed. Washington is hard. I forded a creek and the icy water filled my shoes, which felt great on my aching feet. I sat down on the other side of the creek and filtered water. I talked to Dustin and felt a little better. there were only three more miles to camp. A hot wind followed me the whole way. I got to camp around 6, laid out my tyvek and collapsed on it. I laid on my back feeling the pressure release from my feet. I took off my socks and scraped some of the dead skin off my feet. I filtered water and made dinner and ate snickers bars and felt the heaviness of exhaustion pooling behind my eyelids. I crawled into my tent happy that there were only ten miles left until Stehekin tomorrow. We got up at six and hiked the last ten miles to town, arriving early to the spot where the shuttle would pick us up. A girl I met my second day on trail was there. She was hiking south. It was so cool to see her, in the same way it had been cool to see Blue. A white bus pulled up to the group of hikers and a middle-aged guy wearing a ten-gallon hat and a short-sleeved button down climbed out. He stretched his legs, we got on the bus, and got out at the infamous Stehekin Bakery. I got a lemon bar, a piece of hawaiian pizza and a giant stromboli filled with ham and swiss cheese. Dustin got the same one filled with pesto, onions, mushrooms and swiss cheese. We split them and felt like we could die happy. Then we got back on the bus and got dropped off a few miles down the gravel road at the North Cascades Lodge, where there’s a campground and a store and a public shower/laundry building. I took a great shower, did my laundry, spent too much time at the post office and ate a giant burger with beer battered fries. We stayed up late talking with other hikers and then wandered back up the steep dirt road to the campsite. I awoke to a bright tent, the day becoming warm even in the constant breeze that tumbled over the little town of a Stehekin. I broke down camp and went down to the deck of the lodge. When Dustin got there some kind of debacle was going on about a bus driver not having a CDL, and no busses were running, so we walked the 1.6 miles to the bakery. We got stuck in front of the pastry case again, eyes like saucers, salivating at bacon-swiss stromboli, carrot cake muffins piled high with cream cheese frosting, chocolate zucchini cake, chai coffee cake, six different kinds of cookies, etc. I ate so much. I felt like I did in Big Bear Lake, hundreds of miles ago. I laid in the fetal position on the grass outside, again. Other hikers laughed at me, again. At least this time nobody asked to take my picture. I packed out two pieces of pizza for dinner. A bus came around 11:20 to take us to the trailhead. All of the food jostled around in my stomach. I curled up in the seat and tried to stop thinking about how sick I felt. I sat around at the trailhead for a few minutes and then decided there was no better way to cure a stomach ache than a 29 mile climb, so I started walking. A woman we met in Skykomish named Hot Thumbs has been hiking with us for a few days now. The three of us hung out at a creek and talked for a bit. I saw my first bear on the PCT today. It was a bit small. I think it was a young adult bear. I rounded a corner and it was in the trail eating berries off bushes. I startled it and it ran further down the trail. “Heeey bear,” I called, trying to make it run off the trail. It looked at me. “HEY BEAR,” I yelled. It ran off onto the hillside, ambling over bushes and taking swooping bites of berries as it passed them. It was cute. We reached our campsite around 6:30 for a 13 mile day. I ate my pizza and taught Hot Thumbs how to tie a bowline knot. The trail to the site was covered in bear scat. A ranger had warned us that this area was densely populated with bears who didn’t care about people being there and would do anything to get to their food. We hung everything we had that smelled from a tree and hoped for the best. I dreamed about bears and woke up at 6, the sleep still so close, heavy on my brain. We packed up and hiked out into the dense forest in the cold morning. After a few miles we crossed a highway that led to a trailhead parking lot and caught up with some hikers we met in town, Hats and Butter. Hot Thumbs and I walked with them into the parking lot where we were greeted with trail magic. We each had a beer and sat in the parking lot talking and procrastinating the long climb ahead of us. We let the day warm up a bit and then started the climb. It went on and on through the forest that soon opened up and had us on sandy ridge line, a row of peaks opposite us. Can something be bright dark gray? If it can, that’s what they were. Everything was so bright against the deep blue sky. Everything green was so stark against the pale pinks and browns of the rocks that lined the dusty trail. I hiked with Hats for a bit and then Butter for a while. We talked and marveled at the snow-covered mountains in the distance, the plummeting valleys below. The day was so windy, my hat blew off at one point and I had to tip toe down a steep hill of loose rock to retrieve it. I love that hat so much. After a while I crossed a tiny stream to find John, who I had hiked around for a while in the desert, sitting on the other side. It seems like every day I see someone from trail past. It’s really nice. We caught up for a bit and then I hurried off to camp. Being a Friday, all the weekenders were out and the campsites were all full of big tents and very few people taking up lots of space. All the thru hikers end up cowboy camping where they can fit, which if you think about it is a really funny scenario. Sometimes if the trail is really packed on the weekend and we can’t find a campsite, Dustin and I shake our fists and, when we’re out of earshot, yell “get off my lawn” in an old man voice. I got to camp around 7, made mashed potatoes, set up my sleeping pad on the ground and pulled my sleeping bag around me. I listened to the sound of the Methow River next to me and watched one star in the sky above become ten, twenty, thirty in a little opening in the trees. Another hiker twenty feet away began to snore loudly. I put my earplugs in and hoped no bears would bother me in the night. The first light woke me as stars began disappearing. The sky turned light blue and I ate a pop tart and drank instant coffee in my sleeping bag as everyone else in camp went about their morning chores. I started walking around 7:30. The morning was chilly again, it felt good to shift into fall, away from the heat of summer that crept in at eight in the morning and lingered all day. I stopped at a stream before a 2500 foot climb to filter water. I powered up the climb, stopping a couple of times to take in the views of giant mountains opposite me. They were all angled and brown and dark gray, snow still resting in little pockets on their faces. Once I was on the ridge, wind swept over the side of the mountain. Big white plumes of smoke from two forest fires extended from other ridges to the north and the east. I stopped to eat lunch with Dustin and Hot Thumbs at a little spring in a sunny meadow. We huddled in a patch of shade. I ate cold ramen and washed my socks in the icy water. I left a note for Hats and Butter telling them where we were camping that night. A couple of hours after lunch, Hot Thumbs and I hit trail magic: a canopy set up at Hart’s Pass campground with coolers full of fresh cut watermelon on a table. We drooled over that for a while and then kept walking, climbing and descending and climbing to camp. Nine tents were already pitched in the field, all weekenders, so we cowboy camped on a ledge above the site. The moon was bright all night. In the morning a chorus of pikas woke us to see a beautiful yellow-pink sunrise. The sun was fiery orange as it peeked above the ridge in front of us. It had gotten quite chilly at night so we got up slowly. I brewed coffee thanks to the cup and reusable filter Hats and Butter had given me. This was the best treat I’ve had in so long: to drink hot coffee in my sleeping bag on this beautiful ridge watching the sky light up the day. I felt so soothed and wonderful even though my skin was dirty and my feet were prickling from all the miles I’ve walked and I smell like an old running shoe. Dustin left camp first and Hot Thumbs and I slowly got our things together and left about a half an hour later. We climbed up and over a pass, then descended to cross Foggy Pass (it seems like all the passes in Washington are gloomy: Rainy Pass, Foggy Pass, Windy Pass, the list goes on). I filtered water from a creek, talked to a day hiking couple and their dog, and ran into hikers all day who had chosen not to go into Canada and had already been to the monument. This was weird. This is the end of the trail for so many people. As they talked to me and walked away from me I could feel their energy just colossal and booming in a way that mine couldn’t be yet. Even though I still have miles to hike after I get to the monument, it feels enormous to be able to touch one end of it tomorrow, to bring tangibility to all of these miles, to remember where I was four months ago when I touched the one at the southern terminus. All of the moments I’ve experienced between the two have already been stupendous, difficult, agonizingly beautiful, mind-numbingly fatiguing and filled with infinitely varying amounts of hope and sorrow and joy and wonder. I felt lucky that there were more ahead of me. I knew that if I had to be done today, that if I didn’t have a reason to hike more miles, to keep being on the trail, that I would be deeply sad. My immediate physical pain would be relieved if I didn’t have to continue waking up and walking so much every day, but I would spend so much less time in the sun, so many fewer moments watching the world unfurl itself before me in such a pure, silent, slow way. I would miss drinking cold mountain spring water, I would soon take for granted all the moments I spent squeezing water from one bottle to another through my filter, I would become accustomed to the luxury of turning a knob on a faucet and filling a glass of pre-treated city water. I would be forced to face the world as I’ve grown up knowing it: loud, busy, fast, demanding, stark and harsh in opposite and tragic ways from this one I’ve lived in for four months. This is what people mean when they when they say that thru hiking will break your heart and ruin your life. I have spent the last few days contemplating the progress of human kind in the context of this walk. People who walk long trails often find that it needs to become part of their life permanently. Why is this? I keep visiting this question. Weren’t the earliest humans nomadic? Is this similar to the way they lived? After walking so many miles it seems like it could be true, going where the weather is suitable, following reliable food, bearing witness to the constant pattern of nature accumulating and dying and being born again that is life. We have moved so far from this as a species that to live in this way would be defined as unsuccessful, unproductive or foolish. How could a person make a “decent living” if they spent so much time in nature? I guess that depends on how one defines living decently. Thru hiking ruins a person’s concept of leading a successful life as society defines it. It brings people back to the essence of whatever it was to be human thousands of years ago. I watched smoke plumes from a wildfire extend into a bright blue sky from behind a jagged gray ridge. This fire was caused by humans, rangers had told me a couple of days ago. The smoke was so dynamic, so many different textures, puffy and flat and dense and thin as the wind spread it across smaller peaks in the distance. Some of the smoke was bright white, other smaller plumes were an old yellow, and another was a deep gray. Hot Thumbs and I stood at the last 7000 foot peak on the PCT in Washington. This was going to be her last night on trail, her last big view. We could see the trail below us snaking down the side of the mountain. Another hiker, Chubs, pointed to some peaks in the distance and said, “That’s Canada.” We just stood there and looked. We savored that last northern Cascade peak, the wind swirling around us, our shirts flapping in the breeze. We descended to Hopkins Lake and filtered water as the sun sank behind the mountain, then hiked the last couple of miles to camp. I made pesto pasta, drank electrolyte water and ate a snickers bar. I blew up my sleeping pad on my sheet of tyvek and watched the stars come out one by one. I woke up and made coffee, the process spilling it all over my tyvek. I drank it and watched the pale sky lighten, smoke dense in the mountains north of us. We got to walking soon and descended into it. This was the first time I could really smell the smoke. In four miles I heard clapping and cheering and walked into the tiny clearing where the monument was. It was four little wooden pillars and one metal one, an American flag on one side and a Canadian flag on the other. I walked up and looked at it. “Touch it!” yelled someone behind me. My hand reached out for it and I hesitated just above one of the pillars. Here it was. One end of this thing. I put my hand gently on the pillar. I froze there for a moment, I looked at the clear-cut line of trees behind the monument, the dividing line between two nations. What a moment this was. I was still glad I wasn’t done yet, but it felt good to celebrate all the miles I had hiked anyway. I drank a beer and Dustin, Hot Thumbs and I took pictures. Then we hiked the last smoky eight miles to Manning Park, a resort where we ate giant burgers. We showered and then Dustin and I said our goodbyes to Hot Thumbs who was taking a bus to the airport to go home. Then we got our longest hitch of trail into Vancouver, about 140 miles, during which I got a smoothie and a free beer and chips and dip. We got to Vancouver at about 9pm and met up with Dustin’s friends who generously let us stay with them for a couple of nights. In a few days we’ll take a bus to Sacramento, resupply, and hike into the High Sierra from Kennedy Meadows. I can’t wait.

#pct

1 note · View note

bike42 · 6 years ago

Text

Sunday March 31, 2019

Last night we retuned to our room after dinner to find that turn down service in these mountain lodges, means they stuff a hot water bottle under the down comforter where your feet will be - talk about heaven! Due to the remoteness of the lodge, the heat is electric, and to conserve power, they power down from 11pm until 6am. So you need to be snuggled in before then, which was easy to do!

Slept restlessly - not sure why. Altitude? Excited for the trek? Caffeine? Alcohol? So anyway, I was easily up before 6a getting ready with my headlamp until I discovered the power was back on. After 15 minutes of power, they promised coffee would be ready, so I went down to the common area where I found my fellow coffee addicts.

We opened the curtains to another amazing day, and a gorgeous view of Salkantay. I decided to wear shorts, but added my gaiters to keep the mud off my legs.

I repacked my day pack with minimal stuff - extra layers, snacks and water. Probably was about 20 pound lighter than yesterday, and that made a difference! Breakfast buffet; I had some yogurt with grains, toast and fruit. Staying away from cheese, eggs and mystery meat until after our big day tomorrow.

We had the option today to rest at the lodge and continue acclimatizing, or hike to a nearby glacial lake. We all opted for the lake. Dalmiro told us that up to one year ago, we would have been on our own on this out and back hike. Now tour operators offer it as a day trip from Cusco (that explained all the vans and buses we encountered on the road yesterday). To avoid the crowds, he has an arrangement to hike across the river on private lands. We started out and soon we were met by Felipe again, this time with horse Jose, carrying our extra water and first aid supplies. They were accompanied by two fluffy white dogs. Dalmiro said they're "working dogs" and their job is to round up the Guinea Pigs in the evening and protect them from predators at night. He said they'd be tired and they'd follow us for just a bit, but then lay down and sleep. They came along for the whole time and they were so funny to watch.

We started climbing early. Felt good to really push the heart and lungs, and recover quickly when we stopped. All those early morning rides on the Peloton paying off! We walked through a lot of mud (apparently it rained in the early am, but I didn't hear it). The views of the snow capped peaks was ever changing and always breathtaking.

Soon we grew closer to a rushing river - Rio Blanco, and at parts it had even carved a beautiful canyon. We walked through a makeshift gate (a piece of corrugated tin and logs). I asked if that meant we were crossing onto private property and Dalmiro said it is all private property, but the fence and gate are to keep the cows out of the potato field. About that time, we saw a man in native dress (poncho with a sack over his back, wearing sandals made of old tires). When we got up to the potato field, he was sitting there, so we took a break and Dalmiro introduced us to him. His name was Sebastian and he was going to lead us though a spiritual ritual when we reach the top of our climb today. He told (through Dalmiro) us about his outfit, and said his sandals are the only pair of shoes he has, and traditionally they'd be made out of parts of alpaca, but now they make them from old tires. He also told us about Sebastian's training to be kind of a shaman. Sebastian took off while we had a snack and a break. Despite his lack of great footwear and short legs ... He was amazingly fast up the mountain!

We continued our climb, back out the other similar gate and into a pasture where there were horses and two bulls having a standoff - we gave them a wide berth. As you looked up at the surrounding hillsides, there were cows all over - some quite high! Not sure if I'd seen that behavior in cows before. We learned that they're not for milk or meat really, but they're raised and used as "currency" by the local farmer who doesn't typically need or deal with money, but if he needs to go to town to buy something, he'll sell a cow!

We walked up River on the flat plateau, and where it was quite narrow we jumped across and started climbing again on the other side. We watched as Felipe and Jose the horse and the two dogs came through the gate and cut the corner, crossing the river just above the first falls. One dog hung back barking at them, and then just plunged in. We thought he'd get washed over the falls, but he quickly bounded out the other side of the river. He'd done that before - this is his turf.

As we were watching that scene and waiting for a few others to catch up, Dalmiro spotted an Andean condor. Soon there were two - awesome huge birds that seemed to be having a blast on the thermals. We should have a good chance of seeing more tomorrow.

The climb got quite steep and we approached 14,000 ft; higher than many of us had ever hiked (and it's been 25 years since I hiked up Pikes Peak at 14,100 ft). With every switchback, I'd think, next one we'll see the lake! And soon we did, and it was amazing to see from above. From there, Sebastian had set up in a circle of rocks and led us through a classical Peruvian offering to Mother Earth. I was really honored to have him there to share his culture with us. At the end, after we made wishes on 3 caco leaves, he gathered the leaves from us one at a time, blessed them by blowing on them and chanting, and wrapped them in paper, along with many other symbolic offerings: candy, spices, etc. He tied the bundle with string, and wrapped it in some woven cloths, and later in the evening we gathered again to burn it to send our offering away.

After that, we walked a steep path down to the lake. The color wasn't as beautiful from that viewpoint and the crowds that had already gathered made up not want to linger.

We crossed around the mountain back to the same plateau and recrossed the river and retraced our steps back down to the lodge. The sun remained out most of the day, and it was surprising how much of the mud had dried up. Lots of activity down below with tourists still starting their trek to the lake.

We arrived back at the lodge and had a late three course lunch. During lunch, it began to pour outside, but only on HALF of the lodge! Back to our room for a 90 minute nap. At 4pm, the sauna and hot tub were open so we took advantage of that - felt great, and what a view from the hot tub!

At 6:30p we gathered for our briefing about tomorrow's big day, then most of us headed outside to the fire-pit to meet Sebastian. It was a glorious night - the stars were amazing and bright. At the fire pit, Sebastian blessed us each individually again, and then laid the package on the fire. Through Bruno, he told us that the offering burned well, which meant it was accepted by the gods. Neat feeling.

Inside for dinner, and a surprise birthday cake for the other Jeff.

Another amazing Peruvian day.

Hike 5.36 miles, 5 hours, Elevation gain 1443 feet

0 notes

suitcasetales · 6 years ago

Text

Two Families of Three

Although our four night stay at Douthat State Park started in July, today, August 1st, we checked out so we are claiming it as our official park visit for August.

Douthat is one of the original six State Parks — the others are Fairy Stone, Hungry Mother, Seashore (now First Landing), Staunton River and Westmoreland — that were built by the CCC and opened in 1936. Three different “camps” of unmarried young men worked here in this Park, with Camp Douthat responsible for the buildings, Camp Malone the trails and Camp Carson the spillway. Apparently young men did not need to come to the CCC with skhills but learned as they went along. Their original contract was a commitment of six months and they were allowed to renew it three times. With food and housing provided, they were paid $30 a month and were required to send $25 home to their families.

Douthat was touted as a model park for all other state’s parks and they must have been a determined lot of perfectionists because Cabin 19 is supposed to be the perfect state park log cabin. We were in Cabin 3, a one room cabin, which was definitely not perfect. In my mind, I had pictured a big square room with a fireplace along one wall, a kitchenette in one back corner and a bathroom in the other back corner.

What we got instead was a fireplace worthy of a room easily ten times this size, in the middle of the room, with a huge mantle on three sides of it! We had not even finished unloading the truck on Saturday before Janet had whacked her shoulder on a corner. The small English flag we brought to hang from our cabin balcony instead hung from that corner of the mantle as a warning to swing wide around! A queen sized bed was jammed in to one corner and a loveseat, table for two and microwave stand were in the other corner. A small kitchen and a small bathroom were technically separate rooms. Add to the limited floor space Elvis’s bed and mat [yoga mat — thanks for the tip, Laura S] so that his little paranoid self could avoid walking on the wooden floor, and there is no wonder that it was still available at the last minute. I guarantee you no one stays in Cabin 3 twice!

We did have a nice view of the lake, which we had not anticipated, as long as you looked past the dumpster sitting at the end of our driveway.

The log beams of Cabin 1 are vertical;

ours, horizontal. Cabin 2’s porch is open on both ends, ours, only on one. We could not see beyond these three so we could not play a game of “can you spot the change?” But remember, you heard it here first: when booking a cabin at this Park, #19 should be your first choice!

There are 43 miles of hiking trails at Douthat and we hiked about 17 of them, from easy to difficult. We tried not to repeat any segments with the exception of the bit between our cabin and the beach and the store/restaurant with wifi, which we walked several times.

Some photos from our hikes:

Sometime toward the end of Monday’s hike, Janet lost her cap. After we walked the perimeter of the lake with Elvis Tuesday morning, we were just sitting on the front porch relaxing when she stood up and said, “I am going to look for my hat.” Despite this being July and the cabins fully booked, the Park felt pretty empty and only on Sunday did we cross paths with any others hikers. About 45 minutes later, here came Janet back, cap on her head. She had it clipped to her water bottle and thinks it fell off while scrambling over one of several downed trees on our hike. So in case you are keeping count (and I can betcha Janet is), Janet probably hiked 20 miles.

I regress for a correction or really, a technicality; we did run into some people on a difficult trail Monday. During our long descent from the Mountain Top trail via many levels of walking along the contours and then negotiating steep switchbacks, we had just been discussing how we could not believe that this trail was also open to mountain bikers and how we would hate to meet up with one. Barely before that thought left my mind, we heard voices and I could see some riders coming our way. On closer inspection, they were not riding their bikes, but pushing them due to the steepness. It turned out to be a group of young teens on a weeklong fat-tire camping trip with Passages (the “We make kids tired” people) from Richmond! We worried about those kids and were happy to see them about 90 minutes later, cycle past our cabin, a couple still with so much energy they were doing wheelies down the road! No doubt in a few years, those two will be camp counselors!

We took all of our food with us (with the exception of dessert which Mrs. Rowe kindly provided),

and grilled out a couple of nights, which meant we did not eat in the historic Douthat Lakeview Restaurant, also one of the CCC’s original builds. (Even though we did not eat at the restaurant, we popped in to look at it.)

We did not have to battle mosquitos or ticks and we enjoyed a swim in the lake and a little time on the sandy beach.

We took the free history walk and signed up for two ranger-led talks, one called “Paddling Through the Past” and an “Owl Prowl” but alas, the latter two were cancelled due to light rain and the threat of thunderstorms.

So what will we remember about our trip to Douthat? No, it won’t be our creepy neighbor from whom we were happy to escape. And it won’t necessarily be the frustration in trying to interpret some of the trail signs, bringing us angst instead of exhilaration. But of course it will be having Elvis along on another State Park adventure and happily taking him out three times in the middle of the night so that he could pee to his heart’s and bladder’s content. That, of course will be our number one memory of this trip. But our number two memory? We saw bears!

Yes, bears....as in a mother bear and two cubs. Readers of this blog will know our history of not seeing bears in places where “everyone sees bears.” And yes, some of you see bears all the time where you live and you would rather not. But us? And especially us in a park, albeit a state or a national park, we would like to see bears.

I told you about the view out the front of our cabin but not the view out the back window of the bathroom and the kitchen door: nothing but undeveloped woods with a gradual but fairly steep ascent up the hillside. About 50 yards up the hill, the easy Wilson Creek Trail that Elvis walked with us that first morning runs parallel to the main park road along the backside of the first nine cabins. The foliage is thin enough that we could access it from our cabin by navigating some fallen trees, lots of spider webs and only low ground foliage.

Virtually every time I went in the bathroom or the kitchen, I would look up the hill and marvel that there were never any critters in sight. Furthermore, with all the lonely hiking that we had done on some of the more remote trails, we couldn’t believe that we had not at least seen some deer; and, we had traipsed through some narrow trails thick with mountain laurel and blackberries, places we felt would have been prime bear hang-outs. But no, not us, not with our luck.

And then, it happened. Yesterday afternoon — again we were just relaxing on our front porch after lunch, debating on going on another hike — I walked in to the kitchen to refill my drink and when I looked up the hillside, I could see a black dog happily bouncing down the trail. Before I could even complete the thought of why someone would let their small black dog run lose in the Park, I realized it was a bear cub that I had seen. I ran out to the porch and said to Janet, “I swear I just saw a bear out the back window!” I grabbed my camera, switched my camera lens and we both started cautiously walking up the hill.

Mom and her two cubs:

We saw the mother bear and eventually two cubs. I would have followed them forever but one, she had already stared at me twice and two, we knew we had left our cabin door open and had walked a good quarter of a mile down that trail. She stayed mostly on the right side of the trail and I had seen both of her cubs going up a slope on the left side of the trail and I kept hoping they would all three end up in the middle of the trail and pause for a family portrait but alas, we were not on the same page. The last we saw of them before turning back to Cabin 3, she was heading up the hiking trail and the cubs were hustling to catch up to her. It is a good thing Janet had already found her hat. Otherwise, can you imagine the scene in the den last night with those twin cubs fighting over who whose hat it is, who spotted it first and whose turn it is to wear it?

0 notes

travelingtheusa · 7 years ago

Text

INDIANA

3 Jun 2018 (Sun) – We did the laundry this morning. Being Sunday, few attractions are open today. We spent most of the day just hanging around the campground, tending to household chores. We drove to the Texas Corral for lunch (looked a lot like the Texas Roadhouse complete with peanut shells on the floor).

2 Jun 2018 (Sat) – We drove to Gary this morning to see the home of Michael Jackson. OMG. It was like going into the slums. The town was full of boarded up and falling down buildings. It seemed like there was a blight on the town. U.S. Steel Works used to be in the town but it is now a mere shadow of what it once was. I guess when the country started importing steel, our industry went belly up. The street where the Jackson family once lived was small and narrow with tiny houses lining both sides of the street. Their home was on the corner of Jackson Street and Jackson Family Blvd. I don’t think there were four rooms in the little house. It looks like there might have been a monument in the corner of the yard but it’s gone now. The house was not open to the public.

We then drove to Porter to see the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. They wanted to charge a $3 fee so we turned around. Then we drove into the Indiana Dunes State Park and paid $12 to park. Paul was quite annoyed about it. It looked just like the beach at our cabin on Long Island. There was really nothing spectacular about the area. It was probably very nice for the residents but for folks like us, it really wasn’t anything special.

I called the Goshen RV Center to see if the fender skirt had come in from Vanleigh for the RV. They said they didn’t have it. The tech support guy at Vanleigh told us it was supposed to have arrived by 8 p.m. yesterday. The clerk probably just didn’t want to look for it.

We drove into town and had lunch at the Shoreline Brewery. It looked like a former factory turned bar/restaurant. There were a lot of abandoned factory and warehouse buildings in the town so it was nice to see one repurposed.

1 Jun 2018 (Fri) – We putzed around this morning until after 11 a.m. then we went to lunch at the Ponderosa before stopping in at the Goshen RV Center. We are waiting for a fender skirt to be shipped up from Alabama by Vilano. They did not have the part so I called the service tech in Alabama. He told us it had been shipped and was scheduled to arrive sometime by the end of the day. Oh, well. We’ll have to come back for it.

Our new campground is only 70 miles north in Michigan City. The Michigan City Campground is a very nice facility. The campsites are roomy. The interior roads and campsites are hard packed gravel. There is a concrete patio with picnic table and fire ring. The campground also has a heated pool.

When we left Goshen, the temperature was 95 degrees. When we arrived in Michigan City, it was downright cold. The thermometer was reading 65 degrees. A cool front has moved down from Lake Michigan. The pond on the campground had steam rising off the surface. I hope it’s warmer tomorrow!

31 May 2018 (Thu) – We spent the morning calling around to campgrounds until we found a place to go tomorrow and then the next place near the Midway Airport in Chicago, where I’ll be flying home from. There are no campgrounds less than an hour away from the airport and most of those in Illinois get bad reviews. The Illinois county campgrounds run $60 a night. That’s much too high! We wound up making a reservation for a casino campground for a week while I’m in New York. I hope it’s going to be OK.

Once we finally got the campgrounds locked in, we drove to Elkhart to see Linton’s Enchanted Gardens. It is rated number one on Trip Advisor. It turned out to be a nursery laid out in a nice way with lots of pathways and decorations to dress it up – mini houses, statues, and decorations. There was also a small petting zoo and an enchanted train (which was nothing more than a tractor pulling wagons decorated to look like train cars). There was also a gift shop and a small café. It you’re into flowers and plants and the little extras, then it would be a nice stop. As for us, we really didn’t find the experience very interesting.

After we came out we looked over attractions in the area but didn’t find anything that appealed to us. Ultimately, we decided to go to a movie. We drove to the movie theater in Elkhart but they were showing “Solo” in 3D. We did not want to watch a 3D movie so we drove to the theater in Goshen where we caught the 1:30 p.m. showing of “Solo: A Star Wars Story.” It was OK but seemed to concentrate more on the characters than the story.

We stopped at the supermarket on the way back to the campground to pick up a few groceries. We also got fuel. Ready to move tomorrow. We’ve been here long enough.

30 May 2018 (Wed) – We drove to South Bend to the University of Notre Dame. They only give two tours a day at 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. We arrived at 10 to 11 so we missed the tour. The Basilica closed at 11 a.m. for midday mass so we missed seeing the Basilica. It is a walking campus so we couldn’t drive to any of the buildings to see. We walked for about an hour, looking at different buildings. We saw the murals painted in the halls of the Golden Dome building. We rode the elevator up to the tenth floor of the library because the woman at the visitor’s center told us you could get a good view of the entire area. That wasn’t exactly true. You could walk to each corner of the building and look out of a window. It gave you a peek at a piece of the property. We then walked down the mall to the stadium. It was closed to the public so we just stood in front of it and took a selfie. The entire campus was very attractive and peaceful. All the buildings were built with the same light colored brick so everything looked alike. It was a very beautiful campus.

We left the campus and drove to the Hall of Super Hero Museum. It was a collection of mostly super hero action figures and comic books in a small two story garage. It looked more like someone had so many dolls and comics that they decided they should open a museum. There were also a couple of movie props and lots of pictures of actors with the director of the “museum.” He said they are trying to get donations to open a bigger building because the collections don’t fit anymore. The guy had to nerve to charge $6 per person. It was a rip off!

After the museum, we drove to the RV/MH Hall of Fame. It was a collection of old RVs and motor homes that showed the evolution of camping vehicles over the years. Things sure have changed. There was also a manufactured home on display in back of the museum. It was quite attractive.

We then drove into Elkhart to get a bite to eat. Consulting Trip Advisor, we drove to the Heinnies. It was a steak house but they weren’t serving steaks until 5 p.m. so we had burgers. They were OK.

29 May 2018 (Tue) – We drove to Shipshewana today. The flea market was open and in full swing. There were hundreds of booths to look at. After a while, it seemed like everything was the same. It was so hot – in the 90s. We walked up and down the aisles for about two hours then stopped for lunch. Then we walked another hour. We picked up some items both for us and gifts for others. We heard many people complaining about the heat yesterday. Apparently the flea market was open for the holiday despite signs that said it was only open Tuesday and Wednesday. (We would have gone had we known.) The thermometer topped one hundred yesterday. Today it was in the high 90s.

We stopped at the Menno-Hof Museum down the road. It was a fascinating museum that told the story of the religious groups in the area. Way, way back in history (around 300 BC) a group of people split off from the church because they believed people should be baptized as adults whereby the belief of the day was that baptism should take place within the first year of a child’s life. The group that broke off was called Anabaptists. They further split over the years and basically became three groups, with other splinter groups within them. They are the Amish, Mennonites, and Hutterites. A lot of the splits had to do with how the groups interact with the world around them. Some want extreme purity, some want restricted functions, and some work within the modern world, dressing and acting like the people around them. It was a very interesting stop.

After the museum, we stopped at the Das Dutchman Essenhaus for dinner. I was looking for the fried chicken like we had at a Pennsylvania Dutch Amish restaurant but they had broasted chicken. It looks like a fried chicken without breading. It was good but not exactly what I was looking for.

28 May 2018 (Mon) – We drove into town to watch the parade. It was small compared to what we did back home. I think it was over in ten minutes. The VFW coordinated the event and rode in a couple of cars in front. There were two fire engines. The biggest group was their church. It was still nice to see people turn out and remember the men and women who gave their lives in defense of this country.

We returned to the campground and just hung around inside the RV all day. It was pretty hot.

27 May 2018 (Sun) – With everything in the area closed, we decided to do the laundry. We packed up the clothes and drove into town to the laundromat. After we put the clothes in the washer, we drove to Goshen Brewery Company for lunch. The reviews on Trip Advisor raved about their brisket sandwich. Unfortunately, they had a brunch menu with no brisket on it. There weren’t many options and half of them had duck in them. I chose a meal with several items served in a bowl – biscuit, gravy, potatoes, cheese, duck eggs, and duck bacon. Paul got a bagel with fruit flavored cream cheese and duck breast.

After lunch, we returned to the laundromat and transferred the clothes to the dryers. Then we sat for half an hour. We went back to the campground and spent rest of the day hanging out. We tried going outside but it was too hot. Although the thermometer says the temperature is in the mid-80s, the blazing sun feels like it’s searing the skin.

26 May 2018 (Sat) – We drove to Shipshewana today. We were there in 2011 and didn’t get a chance to thoroughly explore it. Shipshewana is America’s third largest Amish and Mennonite communities. They have the largest flea market we’ve ever seen with hundreds of vendors in many rows. In fact, the Great Amish Country Auction is listed as a must-see in the “1,000 Places to See Before You Die.” Sadly, the flea market is only open on Tuesday and Thursday. There was a large tent with hundreds of people attending an auction. The majority of the attendees were Amish, dressed in plain but very colorful clothing, the women wearing cute little white hats and the men broad brimmed straw or black hats.

We wandered through Voder’s Meat & Cheese Company, which was a large shop right next to the auction/flea market area. There were lots of different kinds of cheeses and meats we could sample, and we bought some beef jerky and cheese curds. Most other places in the area were also closed.

The vet’s office called while we were at the flea market to say the culture came back on Bonnie’s foot. There are two kinds of bacteria in her foot. He told us to discontinue her current antibiotic and to pick up a different one at the office. So we drove back to Goshen and got the new medication. Her foot is doing so much better. It is no longer swollen and oozing and it does not hurt her to have it touched. Things are looking up.

We drove into Goshen for lunch and ate at Tony’s Famous Grill. The food was OK but nothing great. Afterward, we walked up and down the main street, looking at the old buildings and wandering through a couple of shops. We stopped in at the historical society and explored Goshen’s history. We learned that the town built a canal that was used by several manufacturing plants. There are many trains running through the town almost constantly. Goshen is on the route between Toledo and Chicago. They blow their horns every time, even at 2 and 3 in the morning.

When we were done wandering the main street, we drove over to the canal to take a look. We stopped at the dam and admired the serenity of the lake it created. It was a very pleasant area.

25 May 2018 (Wed) – We were up at 6 a.m. this morning. Tucked everything away, hooked up the RV, and drove to Lippert. They had us drop off the trailer and we drove off to find breakfast. One of the workers recommended Angel’s House of Pancakes. It turned out to have very good food.

After breakfast, we drove to a nearby lake and walked a little bit around the area. Bonnie’s doing so much better but we are still trying to take it easy with her. We put one of my socks on her foot and it seems to come off within the hour. She managed to pull out the wick this afternoon. Ugh.

We then decided to find a Pet Smart and buy some booties for Bonnie. The nearest Pet Smart was in Elkhart, so we drove 28 miles north. While we were in the store, Lippert called to say the RV was ready for pickup. We hopped in the truck and drove back to Goshen. They found grease from the seals on the brakes so they replaced the brakes, seals, and hubs on all four tires. I’m glad we got in. There is only three weeks left on our one-year warranty.

We hooked up the trailer and drove back to the Elkhart County 4-H Fairgrounds. Most of the rally folks have gone and we had a pick of many open sites. Once situated, Paul went over and paid for the week. It cost a little more because we now have full hook-ups. We are closer to the office and the Wifi is SO much better here.

At 4 p.m. we drove into town to get dinner. Hopper’s Pike Street Grill had good ratings so we ate there. They had frog legs on the menu and the waitress told us they are known for their fried fish. Seems weird that a state so far north would have good fish and frogs. Seems like that’s more of a southern dish. At any rate, I had ribs and Paul had pork chops. The food was excellent!

After dinner, we drove to the Old Bag Factory. It turned out to be a four-story factory built in the 1800s that has been turned into a shopping area. There were many shops in the building. Unfortunately, they closed at 4 p.m. We wandered about the building, admiring the old floors, brick walls, and hanging barn doors. They kept a lot of the flavor of the architecture. In its hey day, the factory produced soap and bags for produce. There were 28 factories around the U.S.; the biggest operations in Goshen, IN and Orlando, FL.

24 May 2018 (Tue) – Paul was up and out at 7:30 a.m. to bring the truck to Ford. Thankfully, they kept the appointment, checked out the truck, and found a faulty sensor. It was replaced and Paul was back at the campground by 11:30 a.m. It cost us almost $300.

We stopped by the campground office to tell them we would not be moving to the new site until tomorrow. They charged us $27.50 for tonight and left it for us to settle up tomorrow.

We drove to the RV Factory to take a tour of their manufacturing process. This company produces Luxe Gold and Luxe Elite. They only produce one or two fifth wheels a week, opposed to the other guys who churn out about 20-25 a week. They allow customers to buy direct from them, eliminating the middle man and allowing you to customize your RV the way you want it. They use top quality items to build their RVs. We were very impressed and will keep our eye on them when we are ready to buy another fifth wheel.

There is a big store in the area called Menards. It is, I believe, Amish owned and run. We stopped in to see what it was like. It turned out to be some combination of Home Depot, Ace Hardware, a department store, and a supermarket. The store was huge! There didn’t seem to be thing they DIDN’T carry. Wow. We picked up a couple of items and returned to the campground.

23 May 2018 (Mon) – We took Bonnie to the vet this morning. He did not find anything obvious. The doctor put a wick (a kind of cotton drain) in the foot to help pull the fluid out. He also took a culture and sent it to the lab to see if we could see what kind of bacteria is infecting her foot. There is a pretty bandage wrapped around it. Bonnie’s been out of it all day. Dr. Jeff said they were using a light sedation, not anesthesia but she sure is having a hard time recovering.

We had breakfast at Angel’s House of Pancakes. Paul ordered fried mush and I had corned beef hash. It turns out the fried mush is a cornmeal batter that is cooked like a pancake. There was a senior citizen special going on today – five mush cakes and free coffee for just $6.99. Paul ate two cakes and left the rest. He said he preferred biscuits and gravy. Another customer came in when we were done and sat across from us. She asked if the food on Paul’s plate was the fried mush. We said yes and she asked to take a taste. Delighted, she said she was going to order it. When she saw us leaving the food on the plate, she asked if she could have it. I gave her the plate. Weird.

After breakfast, we drove to an RV supply place to try and find a fender skirt for the RV. When we had the blowout last month, a piece of the fender was broken off. We did not find it. While driving around, we saw a sign for a Moose Family Center. We drove over to look at it. It turned out they had a large campground in back behind the lodge. We drove through it but it appeared to be permanent residents; no transient sites.

When we got back to the campground, I started making some phone calls. I made an appointment with Lippert to bring our RV in for inspection of the brake seals on Friday. I confirmed our appointment with Ford tomorrow morning. I called The RV Factory and made an appointment for a tour of the factory on Friday morning. I also called DRV Luxury Suites RV for a factory tour but they close down at the end of the month. They won’t start tours again until June 1. I called Vanleigh Vilano to get a slide seal replaced and see if they could send us the fender skirt, too. The items will be sent to the RV dealer here in Goshen.

22 May 2018 (Tue) – We wanted to pick up a couple of items at the information center so we waited until 9 a.m. when we thought they’d be open. When we got there, the office had opened at 8 a.m. We asked for 22 copies of a DVD about the Army Corps of Engineers’ campgrounds around the U.S. and 22 carabiners. We got a carabiner in the gift bag that was really nice. It has a knife, a nail file with flat tip as a screwdriver, and a pair of scissors.

We had to break down in a drizzly rain and left Iowa City, IA, at close to 10 a.m. It rained on and off during the drive. We arrived in Goshen, IN, at 12:30 p.m. ��There is a rally going on so they put us in an area with just electric and water hookup. When the rally ends on Thursday, we will be moved to a site with full hookups. The Elkhart County 4-H Fairgrounds is very large with 350 campsites. There are many buildings on the grounds where the 4-H club puts their animals for display and judging. There is also a track where they train horses to trot. We have been watching trainers run their horses around the track. One owner had his horse connected to a pickup truck and was leading it around the track at a trot. I guess that’s how they teach it what speed to run at.

When we arrived, I found a veterinarian and we took Bonnie to get her foot checked out. It has been getting worse. The area in between the one toe now has two cysts on either side on the inside of the toe. It is also oozing and bleeding a little, too. The vet said he wanted to take a look at the paw with Bonnie under sedation. It was very tender and Bonnie kept pulling her paw away. We made an appointment to bring her back tomorrow morning.

After dinner, we took a walk around the fairgrounds. There are hundreds of Entegra motor coaches parked around the campground. There is a rally going on. There are vendor displays and a class on how to drive a motor coach. Each coach had a sign outside with the name of the owner(s) on it. I guess when they register for the rally, Entegra makes up a sign for them. There are also a number of golf carts driving around, giving anyone rides from one point to the other as the fairgrounds are very large.

1 note · View note