New Year's Eve Getaway
The internet is closing in on Glenwood, Washington. Years ago, cellular service would drop off long before you reached the high plateau of open pastures and the small farming community with a general store and a gas station. On this trip, my phone held tight to that one last bar of signal all the way into the campground. The signal thankfully dropped off as we rounded the bend towards our cabin. But one day soon cell service will overtake this place as it overtakes every place on earth.
In something of a new tradition we are spending the New Year’s weekend in a bougie cabin in the woods with the poodle. There are other cabins here, but the vibe of this place is to keep to yourself and keep quiet. It’s about getting away, not making friends.
Our poodle will never understand this, but part of our motivation is to escape the idiot parade of illegal fireworks so he can sleep through the night without the terror of crackling booms overhead. At the moment he is lounging on the bed like the spoiled prince he is. Vacation rules: The poodle can sleep with us. None of us sleep well when all together, even in a large king bed. But the sound of a poodle gently snoring as his head rests on your thigh while you doze is worth a couple of nights of bad sleep. You will not find many things more therapeutic.
I packed food carefully and thoroughly. We have salmon and roasted root vegetables for dinner. Smoked trout for breakfast, and an array of dried fruits nuts (a Christmas gift) for lunch. We have a ration of wine for each day.
I weighed out 4 one-ounce containers of whole bean coffee and packed my exceedingly hipster hand-crank Japanese coffee grinder (ceramic burr, naturally). Of course the one thing I forgot was the coffee pot.
I woke up with the poodle this morning at around 6. I threw on yesterday’s clothes and harnessed up the good boy for a quick trip outside. In the dark, in this still-strange place he formed a circuit around the cabin sniffing and marking the same three spots three times each. A tree trunk, a small scrubby shrub growing outside the main cabin window, and a patch of tall grass standing alone between fallen trees on the backside of the cabin.
Three loops, three marks, and the poodle tried to drag me onto the gravel road which circles the campground. No sir, we are not walking around the campground in the dark and the cold (I explained patiently). We returned to the cabin and I fed the poodle. I sat and thumbed through a book in the dim light over the kitchenette counter. With breakfast finished, the poodle needed to go out again. Here “need” is psychological. What if someone else marked where I marked? I must investigate. If I refuse to take him out he will stand at my side and stare into my soul until I comply. Once the second walk was complete I wiped down his feet and coaxed him back onto the bed next to my sleeping wife. I jumped into the shower. The tiny hot water heater is no match for me and soon the water becomes tepid.
I drove into the little intersection that passes for town and bought two extra large coffees from the general store. The store is done up to look more country than it is. We’re in wine country, and this little store has a better wine selection than your grocery store. The store is ramshackle with tiny aisles of random things. The store serves the farming community and campers at the bougie campground. So they carry a mix of assorted camping stuff, canned goods, some fresh produce, odds and ends that people are likely to have forgotten - like batteries,An assortment of hot prepared sandwiches, coffee, and drinks take up one corner. Oh, and I can’t forget the splendid display of lottery tickets. The nice lady behind the counter tries to sell me a breakfast sandwich.
Back in the car with coffees and a small carton of half-and-half I check my phone. The internet has blown away over the night. Dead again. Yesterday’s cloud cover must have ricocheted the internet up the mountainside. I drive back to the campground and slow down to 10mph, creeping down the road between dark cabins. Back inside I does my strong coffee with a splash of cream and begin making breakfast.
I drove into the little intersection that passes for town and bought two extra large coffees from the general store. The store is done up to look more country than it is. We’re in wine country, and this little store has a better wine selection than your grocery store. The store is ramshackle with tiny aisles of random things. The store serves the farming community and campers at the bougie campground. So they carry a mix of assorted camping stuff, canned goods, some fresh produce, odds and ends that people are likely to have forgotten - like batteries,An assortment of hot prepared sandwiches, coffee, and drinks take up one corner. Oh, and I can’t forget the splendid display of lottery tickets. The nice lady behind the counter tries to sell me a breakfast sandwich.
Back in the car with coffees and a small carton of half-and-half I check my phone. The internet has blown away over the night. Dead again. Yesterday’s cloud cover must have ricocheted the internet up the mountainside. I drive back to the campground and slow down to 10mph, creeping down the road between dark cabins. Back inside I does my strong coffee with a splash of cream and begin making breakfast.