When retirement got a bit too exciting, Part 2

Sleep was hard to come by after watching a rollover car wreck.

When daylight came, I crawled out of bed with the certainty that a day in my favorite huckleberry patch would return me to my retirement happy place.

It just took a few minutes to pack a lunch, find my berry bucket and load up Boo, then it was off to the "Berrymuda Triangle."  As a somewhat obsessive huckleberry gatherer, I have a special spot deep in the wilds of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest where I lose myself to find berries every year.  I had been travelling during peak gathering season, but I hoped to collect enough late huckleberries to make at least one batch of jam.

Although past their prime, there was a smattering of purple treasure to be found on the bushes, so Boo and I got busy. Gathering huckleberries is a slow but rewarding process.  After picking for a half hour or so, I accumulated a reasonable quantity of berries in the bottom of the bucket.

Boo likes huckleberries as much as I do.  Nearby, lots of chomping and heavy breathing provided a rhythmical accompaniment to my gathering activities as he pulled berries from nearby bushes.  My mutt of many maladies has paralyzed larynx, so his breathing sounds akin to a steam engine. At eleven years old, Boo also retired from going to work with Pat this summer and he was excited to be back in the woods.

It was a beautiful early September day, and time passed as I quietly worked my way through the woods searching for elusive berries.

Quietly?  There was no nearby chomping and panting.

The air was suddenly filled with high pitched yips and barks and they weren't dog sounds.

Over a log bounded Boo, streaking towards me at a speed I hadn't seen him achieve since his youth. Two coyotes followed in hot pursuit.

I yelled loudly and grabbed a stick. Then Boo barreled into me, knocked me down and tragedy struck.... I dropped my bucket an spilled a morning's worth of huckleberry gold into the dirt.

The coyotes? They ran off as soon as they saw me.

I gave Boo some water and loaded him into the car for safekeeping.  Today was not his day to provide a meal of elderly dog for coyotes.  I defiantly resumed my gathering, but it just wasn't the same with a stick in one hand, and yelling like a crazed ninja a couple of times a minute.  Yes, I momentarily lost my retirement happy place, but it was restored with a short hike, followed by cooling off in a shady stream.

There will be no huckleberry jam this year, I only came away with enough for pancakes. However, the berry bushes will be there next year and I will be there stalking purple treasure.

When retirement got a bit too exciting, Part I

On one of my early days of retirement, I joined Jessica at Yacolt Primary School to help her set up her classroom.  It sounded like a useful and relaxing way to spend a not-working day.

Putting the classroom together in a brand new building was a big job, compounded by the fact that all her materials had been packed up by the substitute teacher while she was on maternity leave. Less than a day before students were due to arrive, the place was still a construction zone without a certificate of occupancy.

I arranged and wiped down desks, filling them with school supplies so that Jess could work on lesson plans. I laminated name tags for the desks and decorated the bulletin board with dozens of hot air balloons cut from scrapbook paper.  Fun and relaxing, even with contractors coming in and out of the room to finish up various tasks.

Less than 12-hours before students arrived we headed home from the wilds of Yacolt. I followed Jessica, because I'm not familiar with the winding back roads between this wooded rural hamlet and Vancouver.

Just north of Battleground, we saw oncoming headlights.  Blazing fast oncoming headlights that were entering a sharp curve.  Blazing fast oncoming headlights with a driver who failed to negotiate that curve and barrel rolled at least four times into a field.

Heart stopping.  We yanked our cars over onto the shoulder and Jessica ran through the dark field towards the wreck as I dialed 911.  I didn't know how anyone could have survived and I was thinking about how many years it had been since I took a first aid refresher.

First, we first heard a slurred male voice, shouting "I'm okay, I'm okay, no problem!"  A little voice in my head said, "You're not okay, moron.  You just totalled your vehicle in the middle of nowhere and are lucky to be alive."  Unbeknownst to me, Jessica also heard a beseeching female voice coming from the wreck saying, "Help me, help me."

A guardian angel must have been watching out, because the first car to arrive on the scene contained two nurses.  They provided aid to the injured passenger while Jessica held a light.  The driver on the other hand raged at the subsequent cars that came upon the accident scene, cursing them as ambulance chasers and punching and kicking their cars.  It was very scary, I faded back into the shadows whenever he came close.

After a few endless minutes, emergency responders arrived on scene, restrained the driver and transported the injured woman.

"I feel bad for her," Jessica said as we waited to provide a statement to the sheriff.  "She had a dog with her in the cab of that pickup and it's nowhere to be found."

As she drove to school the next morning, Jessica was delighted to see the dog hanging out near the site of the wreck.  The property owner, who was out cleaning up debris, agreed to contact the sheriff to reunite the dog with it's owner.

So a relaxing day, not so much due to the adrenaline rush at the end.  Useful, yes. I was a good classroom assistant and I had the rare opportunity to call 911.