Wrapping it up

Hoo Boy.

Sorry for the radio silence there. The time got too short and the wireless service got too cranky. I mighta coulda hooked up at SeaTac Airport but $7.95 for an hour online seemed a little steep. Oh sure, I could have left the laptop running down by gate D10 at SeaTac and gotten my full 24 hours of connectivity but that seemed impractical, since I wasn't planning on coming back.

Camp just accelerated once Thursday came along. The Supra (Georgian Feast) Thursday night was a profoundly moving event. It was also a profoundly hangover inducing event. If you're ever invited to one, bring your hankies and your Tylenol.

Friday's afternoon frolics were a gas. The little lake we went to, Hidden Lake up above Cougar Reservoir, was a picture of serenity and majesty. It's surrounded by a preserved margin of old growth. Aficionados of the lake maintain a couple of rafts, comprising large blown-down logs and some cabling and sheets of plywood hauled in by hand. One large log, 3-4 feet in diameter and over 80 feet long, sticks straight out into the lake serving as a dock and basking site. The rafts are powered by swim fin. Some folks swam around quite a bit, some basked, some frolicked out on the raft.

I did a bit of each. The basking was the best bit. 6 or 7 of us were lined up on the basking log like so many turtles, or maybe sea lions is a more apt simile. My head was inches above the lake, and I watched the reflections of the grand old trees rippling in the water's surface. For variety I would move my eyes a few degrees and watch the sunlight reflecting off the ripples on the wild rhododendrons at the water's edge. Dragonflies the size of your fist would occasionally come by and, rumbling like army helicopters, hover in my face and check me out before concluding I was just a naked primate and not a food source.

I can't tell you how to get there. I spent much of the time on the way up listening to an Ipod recording of my solo for the Gushin Shvidni piece. Georgian music, windy roads, and a hangover. I did have to come up for air after a while.

After the lake we stumbled/crawled/clambered/bushwhacked back to the cars and caravaned to Terwiliger hot springs, just above Cougar Dam. Nice little place, maintained by the Forest Service so there's a $5 use fee. Worth it I think, keeps the partiers and stoners from trashing the place too badly. The little signs saying "Clothing Optional" depict a man's outfit standing around with nobody inside 'em.

The hot water at Terwiliger issues from a small cave midway down a ravine filled with rain-foresty lushness. The ravine has a cascading series of man-made pools, each a little cooler than the one above. Pick your temperature, and if you're the type go over to the stream that's been more or less diverted around the pools and douse yourself with some cold water. That'll let you know you're alive. By report the water has a little sulphur and a whole lot of lithium. Settles you right down, that water does.

Saturday was crazy busy, with cleaning up the facility, packing to leave, and getting our musical pieces into shape for performance all vying for our limited time. We had a (long exhausting) dress rehearsal that night, then performed 5 or 6 pieces after services at St. Benedict's Chapel Sunday morning. I only got about 4 hours of sleep Saturday night, on account of being up listening still more to Gushin Shvidni and then waking up early unable to sleep and deciding to spend the time packing and tidying my room.

Our first and last full performance was at the Mennonite church in Eugene. We had about 24 pieces, equal parts shapenote, gospel, South African, Balkan, Georgian, and Corsican. We totally, totally rocked.

Goodbye, goodbye, sniff, hug, stay in touch, goodbye, hug again, goodbye, dammit I was so not going to cry, 1st plane from Eugene to Seattle, sing Georgian music soto voce to the drone of the turboprop, bad fish and chips for dinner, 737 to Spokane, drive, drive, I'm still awake, drive, 2:30 I'm home, kiss me sweet Karla before I pass out, I miss my friends but it's wonderful to be home, thud.