A remarkable coincidence after Miracle Beach in a cathedral of trees.
Ed, from the road
Each of my road trips had its' own high point, one particular incident I could point to and say, that was what made the trip worthwhile. in 2000, with Sonntag, it was the metaphor that Prudhoe Bay stood for, reaching the end of the line. With Leben and Erde: in 2001, it was the changing of the guard (dogs) on the tundra just north of Atigun Pass; in 2002, reaching the end of the road in Labrador; in 2011, our discovery of Lake Bukemiga; and in 2012, our hike to Beech Mountian, my old Boy Scout Camp in NY, just days before Leben became paralyzed. what happened today will surely be remembered as the high point of this year's trip, during a journey that had so much more competing for that coveted prize.
My plan was to stay in Port Hardy on the northern tip of Vancouver Island after an arduous four-day ferry voyage for only one day and then move on to Victoria on the southern tip for one day before crossing over into the states and then head home. One of the good things about homeward-bound legs of journeys when there are no schedules to keep is that you can change plans. So, Port Hardy was such a nice place to rest up for the return trip, each morning for the next four days I added an extra day to my stay there, and was amply rewarded for doing so thanks to the wonderful people I met, the quaint town, the idyllic camp site and, of course, the muffins, especially the pumpkin ones, at the Market Street Cafe.
On the fifth day, fter reading a severe weather warning that covered Vancouver Island sent to me by from my Karen, i decided that it was time to move south, so I packed up and moved on, mostly through rain and wind. We were more than ready to call it a day by 6:00 p.m., but because it was still raining, i pushed on until the rain stopped at 7:00 and we battoned down our tent for the night at Miracle Beach Provincial Park, a pleasant camp on the ocean. The next morning, no sooner did i respond to the sound of Reveille streaming from my iPad when that severe weather met me at my tent's front door. Decision time again. With a promise to feed the dogs and myself later, we packed up and move on.
Twenty miles down, the road I stopped at a general store for some coffee and treats for the dogs, a sorry excuse for their usual breakfast, and for an update on the weather, which indeed confirmed the earlier warning. So, for the next hour, I sat in the Defender drinking my coffee, treating the dogs, blogging, smoking my pipe, thinking about my options and procrastinating, for want of any better word. At noon, the spirit moved me, and we moved on through the rain, and i mean heavy rain, and heavy winds, too. Some miles down the road, at the intersection of highway 19 and highway 4, the winding, scenic road to the west coast, I pulled into a cut-off to think some more. Should I or shouldn't I take a two-day side-trip to the west-side ocean? Removing the noise of the foul weather from my thinking since it no longer made any difference to me, the decision came quickly an easily, to head west, so I jammed the Defender into first gear, gave the dogs a treat, and slogged on.
Several times along the road west I came to one scenic rest stop or another, but disqualified all of them as suitable for a wheel-chair bound dog and his sister. At 3:00 p.m., though, the Defender drove us through us what appeared to be a cathedral of stately, tall trees, appropriately named Cathedral Grove. Acting very quickly because backing up on that highway is not an option, i diverted the Defender and awkwardly steered jt into one of the few remainjng road-side parking spaces, and then sat in it debating whether the walk outside in the rain would really be worth it. It would be, i convinced myself, and so I got out, donned my foul weather gear, and started the numerous steps i have to go through to unload the dogs for a simple walk. Believe me, taking a paralyzed dog for a walk is not the same thing as taking a fully ambulatory dog for a walk.
The perceptive among my readers, which includes all of you, are probably calculating the probability of my being in that exact spot at that exact minute, and i do mean minute, starting from our arrival at Port Hardy days earlier. It is low, very low. We are talkng about .00X, where X is some number between 1 and 9.
As soon as i started to remove Leben's wheel-chair from the ladder to my roof rack, and then lift Leben from the rear, I could not believe my eyes. it was like I was living in a parallel universe. Directly on the other side of the narrow, but busy, highway, a young man had just removed a pink canine wheel-chair from his vehilce and was then starting to gently lift his German shepherd from the rear. Since i first put Sonntag in his wheel-chair in 1998, and after having driven almost 50,000 miles across all of Canada and through most of the states, I have never seen another dog in a wheel-chair. (More on this at a future time.). dodging the traffic coming in both directions on the highway, i hurried to the other side, approached the man, and because I was almost speechless, pointed to my Defender, hoping he'd recognize Leben's still-secured wheel-chair. He did.
There are many personal institutional bonds that I have formed over the years, from my many schools, work places, the Navy, places I have lived, and so forth. But i never had the chance to discover the bond between myself and another guardian of a wheel-chair bound dog because i never met one, until today. Let me tell you something, that bond trumps by a long shot any of those other bonds, and the next 30 minutes proved that. During those 30 minutes, i learned that the young man, Nicholas, had been caring for his absolutely beautiful 14-year old female German shepnerd named Kyra as a paralyzed dog for the last 14 months. It was a bizarre experience for me to hear someone talking about the chores, as well as reasons and rewards, of caring for a large paralyzed dog in precisely the same terms i have used for 15 years. It was a beautiful, unreal experience that will surely trump all other highlights of this trip, maybe all six.
Over the years i walked Sonntag, and now Leben, on the streets, throusnads of people said, shouted or gestured so many wondferl words of thanks, praise, admiration, or whatever to me, including that it was an honor to meet me. Some even broke down in tears. The reason they did this was that they knew, or could imagine, how difficukt a chore it must be to manage a large paralyzed dog, especially given that it is so easy to blamelessly reason one's way to a conclsuion that it is time to let the dog go, as i had to myself on April 10, 2001, when i let 14-hear old Sonntag go, a scene that was captured for generatikns to come in January 2002 and May 2011 special issue of The National Geographic. I finally had the chance to say some of those very same things that were said to me to Nicholas, including what an honor it was to meet him, said while I was choking up. How wonderful i feel to have had that opportunity, and the opportunity to meet this gorgeous, gentle dog named Kyra.
I will defer to Nicholas in whatever forum he choses to talk about Kyra and her condition, a condition that he knows will bring Kyra's long life to an end, probably soon. But whatever words he writes, Nicolas's caring for his magnificent ward, and my running into them by sheer coincidence, gave me to the chance to understand what Tommy Norris of Augusta, Georgia, said two weeks ago to those around us during a rest break on the Denali Park Road, "This is better than Denali." Thank you, Nicholas, for giving me that chance, and for doing what you have done for Kyra. And thank you, Kyra, for showing us humans that your life has as much meaning to you as our lives have to us.
i will post one photo of Leben and Kyra here The other photos i took I will post in an annex, which you will be able to access by clicking here. Nicholas has not given me permission to add his email address here, but ignore that and please send him an email at heartfyre@hotmail.com thanking him for what he has done for Kyra for 14 months and what may turn out to be her last. Believe me, I know what hard but rewarding work it is.
Ed, from the road
2 comments:
Put a big smile on my face and a tear in my eye... What a special moment this must have been!
Thank you Ed, Leben, Nicholas and Kyra for being such beautiful beings and teachers. Love Michelle
Post a Comment