I Am Not a Happy Camper

I am not a happy camper - in fact I am not a camper at all this week and I was supposed to be.

I have been participating in Rainbow Family Gatherings for a number of years. On most years I just make it to one Gathering, on a few I made it to two and in one exciting year, I attended three Gatherings. They are important to me - they are times and places where I get to hang out with my chosen family, people with who I am comfortable with, people who are comfortable with me.

I may not like all of the people at a Gathering, but I do love them. As a collective of people they cover the entire range of possible type of personalities, body shapes and attitudes -I even have known a Rainbow or two who said they were Republicans. Like all families there are good times, great times and times that are not as great. There are times where the folks who have decided to make supper have done an extraordinary job - with there being lots of it, perfectly spiced and inventive; I have had other meals that have been served very late and the taste was not so great. There have been times when there appears to be such perfect harmony within the circle that one could almost weep for the sheer joy and beauty of it all; but there are times (thankfully very seldom) where people disagree on a particular issue or two and their discord affects the whole Gathering for a while. I look forward to Gatherings; I look forward to going home. I am sad that I was almost there and had to turn back.

I had planned to go - I was packed, the car was loaded and I was on my way. On my way up island I dropped in on a brother and picked up a car load of kitchen stuff (pots and pans, a propane burner and tank, some tarps etc.). The car was definitely just as about full as it could be.

Like so many of the Gatherings on Vancouver Island, this year's Gathering was down some logging road. One can dislike clear cut logging with passionate hatred but still have to admit that without the extensive network of roads built by and maintained by the logging companies, most of us would not have access to much of the Island. The first part of the logging road was not too bad, it certainly was relatively smooth with only a few potholes. Logging truck are large, the weight of the vehicle constantly wears and tears at the roads, therefore replacing culverts, strengthening the bridges and grading the roads are a constant activity.

The road, especially until noon can be a dangerous place - the logging trucks, loaded with good size logs drive like they own the road - because they do own it . The truckers assume that people will get out of the way. Those trucks, some of which are driven faster than I would ever drive, could not stop quickly if they had to- there is just too much weight. If one needs to drive on the road when the big trucks are active, it is best to get behind one of the multitude of pickup trucks driven by service crews and follow them. They have radios that tell them when a log truck is coming and so get off the road. All of the traffic makes everything, the trees included, covered in a fine dust, a dust that sticks to everything.

The last 16-20 kilometres of the road were horrible. The road was no longer in use and therefore the forestry company was not maintaining it. It was relatively steep in some spots, it had either large potholes or numerous medium rocks on the trail (sometimes both). Every ten or fifteen feet I would hear a loud clunk on the bottom of my car. I had visions of crushed brake lines, broken tie rod ends and smashed mufflers. After two-three kilometres I stopped and turned around. It was just not worth the risk. There was also the possibility that I had somehow got on the wrong road. Surely the scouts did not plan on me going down that road!

To be continued.....