Timothy Birdnow

This morning my arms are sore and my legs, too. Why, you ask?

After the recent spate of storms I needed to get down to the Ozark Hilton. I've been down there exactly one time since last fall due to my wife's health issues, and I had to get down to make sure the place hadn't blown away to Oz, or that the roof hadn't decided to pack up and head for Illinois (the direction in which the wind blows on that land.)

Cathy was doing well and she had food ready to eat, so I decided to schlep on down to that Four Seasons resort in the wilderness, the fabled Ozark Hilton.

It took forever to get there. Traffic was bad, and people were driving like they had been nursing on tequila. It took almost an hour longer than usual. I just had bad luck; I stopped to get gas and kerosene, and the card reader on the gas pump refused to accept my card. Then the girl inside didn't know how to ring up kerosene (and I was out at the cabin and had to have it or I would be sitting pretty much in the dark.)

It was one of those kinds of days.

At any rate, I arrived at the OH and had to stop at the roadblock. A tree had thoughtfully deigned to defend my property by falling right across the cowpath I call a driveway, and I have had to stop there and turn around in a space too small to turn my F150, but I have had to do it anyway. It means a LOT of turns of the wheel; back up four inches, turn, move forward four inches. After about an hour and twenty or thirty left turns you can get facing in the right direction. Hopefully you won't dent the fender hitting a tree.

I had a lot of stuff to take into the cabin too, and really didn't feel like hoofing it through the shrubs - the tick and chigger-infested shrubs - and risk stepping into a hole in the gound hidden by fallen leaves. So I decided to maybe cut the fallen tree and perhaps clear the road.

My chainsaw has been broken down for a while and I have just not had time to mess with it (or get a new one.) So I got out an old saw and ax and decided to have a go at that tree.

Well, the place I had to cut was probably 15 inches or better across, and my tools were, uh, problematic. The ax was fine, although I couldn't find a decent sharpening stone and had to use a rock from the ground. The saw was a problem; I started using it and one of the bolts holding the blade on the handle fell off, making the blade rotate and thus useless. I couldn't find the bolt anywhere on the ground; it had disappeared into the fallen leaves and was gone forever and ever, swallowed by the maw of the Ozark Mountains.

So I inserted some twigs into the saw which worked fine until they fell out - which happened every few minutes. Had I had a wire or a bolt that fit I would have been o.k. A bread twistie would have worked well!  God gave us bread twisties and duct tape to prove He loves us and wants us to fix stuff, no matter how badly something breaks. It is His proof that the male of the species has a vital role to play in this world.

The chain on my toilet at home  broke years ago and I jury-rigged it with a bread twistie. It's still there, and the toilet still is working fine after several years now.

At any rate I sawed and chopped, chopped and sawed. After about an hour and a half I had cut trhough 11 or 12 inches of tree. I had thought this would be easier; the tree has been down for months and months. But there were green leaves growing on this fallen hero, meaning the core was still alive, so it wasn't dry enough. And it was a hardwood tree, so it was no easy task severing the two halves.

My hands were blistering so I put on gloves, but they continued to blister, My muscles in my arms were starting to cramp up, and it was getting a little late. I sawed and chopped and blistered until I I feared my arms and hands would cramp into strange Salvador Dali shapes.

I had to just give up and unload the truck and make the trek through the scrub.

Next time down I'll finish what I started, I hope. Then I'll still have to drag the very large portion of tree out of the road. That may be easier said than done.

At any rate, I had to make no fewer than four trips to between truck and cabin (about 50 yards, but a very circuituitous route through the dark jungle) and then the sensor on the truck wouldn't turn the passenger lights off. I had a devil of a time with it, having to open and reclose the doors several times. If I couldn't get those lights off I would have a dead battery, and would have had to go home to avoid being stranded.

But eventually I got the lights out, and it was getting late enough that I decided to start working on the lamps.

Now, at the Ozark Hilton we have a state of the art lighting if one considers lighting from the 1850's state of the art. Kerosene lamps and kerosene lanterns pretty much round out the base, with a few battery operated lights thrown in for good measure. I like those, but they run down too quickly. Unfortunately the kerosene lamps don't last that long and require maintenance. I would probably be well served to shell out some real dough for the good kind, made in America, but I wind up buying the really cheap ones made in China or Mexico or wherever. They look nice but are not designed for any real long-term service. I have a bunch of broken ones down there with no idea what to do with them.

So I took my lamps out and began preparing for the night. I have to trim the wicks (I generally just use my fingers to scrape the burned parts off) and wipe down the globes to get the brown gunk off, then fill them with fuel.

And after all that trimming and washing and filling you might get about as much light as a single 25 watt electric lightbulb. Yeah!

It was starting to rain and I still had some things I had left on a plastic table in the "yard". I went to carry it in and felt a pain in my leg. Then a second pain. Then a pain in my chest. I looked down and there was a red wasp!  Not one of those shiny black fellows who look so ferocious but leave you alone unless directly threatened. No; this was one of the red devils, the vicious little love children who attack for no good reason. I was quite surprised; most wasps, even the red ones, usually give you warning by flying at eye level to make sure you knew you were in peril. This little jerk had given me no warning whatsoever. And he attacked me down low, very low. No warning, just zap! 

I had to make a beeline for my chair in the "yard".

He stood guard, flying low around the steps to the porch. I've never seen that sort of behavior from a wasp before. And he wasn't letting me pass.

Now, I've had a lot of encounters with wasps (and other stinging creatures) over the years. The black paper wasps rarely bother me (although I was stung by one once, but I had stuck my hand in a spot where there was a nest and understandably spooked them). I've even had cordial relations with black paper wasps; one time I had one come and sit next to me in the cabin on my futon. It was night time and I had settled in to read a book (back when I could still see well enough to read by the dim light of kerosene lamps) and this fellow came and sat down right next to me. He just hung out, clearly enjoying my company. Every once in a while he'd buzz to keep up his end of the conversation. I was a bit alarmed when he landed there, but it was clear he meant me no harm. So I sat there with my pet wasp, like old friends.

I've had other friendly creatures, and not so friendly creatures. I had an enormous spider sitting on my easy chair. He was easily the size of my hand, black and shine and flat as a pancake. He left when he realized I saw him. I wasn't about to make him leave; he was there first! When a spider that size chooses a seat you don't easily evict him. I've also encountered a tarantula in my wood pile. And once I was carrying a piece of wood I was going to use as firewood when I walked through a spider web. I dropped the wood and saw what I thought was a spider on my chest but it turned out to be a scorpion! A very quick flick dislodged the menacing arachnid. I also got stung by something that hurt like the dickens - something under the covers in my bed. I think that might have been a scorpion. And I was stung up by yellow jackets once quite badly. Ditto other red wasps. They are really mean little love children.

So anyway I was being a dominated prey to the apex predator at the OH. It was starting to drizzle though and I wasn't going to sit in the rain because some jerk didn't like me. So I picked up my cooler and hoofed it around through the woods to come up the other side of the cabin. The nasty litttle wasp was on the other side of the porch.

I hot footed it into the cabin. Then had to come out quickly and grab the lamps I had taken out.

I don't like filling lamps in the cabin for a simple reason; it's too easy to spill kerosene. I did just that; making a mess on the wood floor. But I got them filled and lit before dark, which is the most important thing.

Two things get rid of wasps - rain and darkness. As soon as it was dark my friend was gone and I could sit out on the porch in comfort.

The rain never really let loose; it kind of drizzled on and off but never really came down. It was a nice night and I enjoyed sitting outside, puffing on a cheap cigar and soaking in the wonderful feeling of peace and magnificent isolation.

At any rate, I eventually went in and at a deli sandwhich I had brought, watching a movie on my portable DVD player. I hook it up to a marine battery so it will last all night (otherwise the device will run out of juice too quickly). I slept in my easy chair in the "living room" as I usually do in summer.

Woke up at four with a charlie horse. I guess I had overdone it.

I saw nothing of my wasp friend when I left, and was grateful for that. It was drizzling rain. The drive home was uneventful except for the rain, which came and went all morning.

I was glad to get home; I was tired and had to go to the bathroom (I usually go before leaving the cabin, but don't on rainy days as my first class bathroom features two cinder blocks with a toilet seat and no walls or roof.) Cathy was fine and I luxuriated in my bed at home (which has also been an easy chair and I vacated the bed so Cathy could have it to herself while stranded up there.)

I won't be able to get to the Ozark Hilton for a couple of months at minimum; we have a busy time coming up and it will last for a while. So it was nice to get into the wilderness for a while. I didn't pick up any ticks that I can see, although I can't say for certain I didn't get any chigger bites. They usually take a few days to manifest.

I know I make it sound miserable, but the Ozark Hilton really is a wonderful retreat. Things like the wasps or the other problems are but a spice that enhances my experience. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at 09:45 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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