1/1/99 There were bodies all over the cabin. Six or eight on the main level, six or eight in the basement, a couple out on the deck, and me in the loft. It was actually a pretty calm party, with no real casualties. The only one that came close was Carolyn. She is the one who got into the ham early, and the wine, and she spent most of the dancing part of the night laid back in the big leather chair next to the fireplace, sleeping. It is one thing to sleep through all of the dancing and the music, but one of the two big sub-woofer speakers was directly under her head, and it was really pumping out the base, and we couldn't believe that she wasn't rattled right out of her seat. She did say that she woke up once and looked over and saw Bob Robinson down on the floor flopping like a whale, and so she decided she didn't want to see any more and so went back to sleep. Bob way trying to do some dance where he danced across the floor on his belly - he wasn't very good at it, but did manage to polish the floor some.

My first recollection of the new year was an intense yellow light. The bright sunshine bounced around the room and looked pretty neat. The yellow only lasted for a few minutes, then it disappeared, and I knew it was time to get up. Carolyn was already up and making coffee. She was the breakfast cook, and before long there were many warm bodies milling about, and fresh waffles on the griddle.

It was cold and icy outside. It had started to sleet or something at about 6 in the morning, and everything was covered with a layer of ice. (The sun broke through the clouds for only a minute). I immediately checked on the bird feeders, and not only found them to be quite scenic with all of the ice on them, but there were BIRDS on them!!! Yea, at last, feathered friends had returned to Cloudland. The were all goldfinches, and they seemed to be enjoying the seed, even though they had to break through the ice.

Back to the kitchen. Hete was giving a lesson about bananas, and how they will actually come apart in thirds. Scott had to check it out, and found Hete to be telling the truth. I noticed that Roy had positioned himself at the bar within easy reach of where the waffles were being stacked. There was always a waffle on his plate. Good thinking.

Everyone survived the night, although Luke and Mary did kind of get blown off of the deck when the ice storm began. No hangovers that I could detect, and lots of smiling faces. It was brought to my attention that one of the bears down on the back deck was not the same - he had two long icicles hanging from his mouth. He was promptly named the "Saber Tooth Bear," and got a lot of pictures taken of him.

The big thing this morning was that Hete, Bob Robinson and the Wildman were all supposed to hike down to the river and go for a swim. Yea, right. The trail was covered with ice, and I don't think they had planned on it being so cold. They quizzed me about the pond up at Bob's - was there enough water in it for a swim? Lordy, I wouldn't swim in that thing on a hot summer day. Yuk. But, by gholly they wanted to take a dip, so they bundled up and headed up the hill towards the pond. Well, Bob was all ready to swim, Hete went along for moral support, and the Wildman stayed back at the cabin.

The two troopers hiked to the pond, then on down to Bob's cabin to see what he was up to. Bob called us and said that they were indeed going to go for a swim, and suggested that someone run up the hill to pull out the frozen bodies before hypothermia set in. Before anyone had mounted a rescue mission, Hete and Bob showed up at the cabin. They had decided to do the swim in the pond, but wanted some reinforcements first. The Wildman was ready to go by this time as well. I counted eleven folks heading up the hill to the pond - most of them to watch.

I can't give you a first-hand account of the plunge, but I do know that the mighty three did brave the muddy, icy waters of the pond, and emerged OK. The only problem was that Bob sat down on a frozen rock to dry off, and his web cheek froze in place (yikes!). The only complaint that I heard from the group came from the bystanders - it seems that the Wildman went in in the buff! I'll bet none of those guys will be able to find it for a couple of days.

Scott and Luke and I attacked the closet in the main guest room - and I do mean attacked it. I knew that closet was a mistake as soon as I had finished it last year. It just made the room too small, and no one was using it anyway. So we tore it out. Stick by stick. And within fifteen minutes, there was a lot more room in the guest room! It looked SO much better. I had the Aspen board to put in place (I hadn't finished the walls inside the cabin yet, so it was bare studs with insulation), but needed some more insulation first, so we elected to leave the walls bare for now.

Before the swimmers had returned, the kitchen crew had everything cleaned up, and a new wave of cooks arrived. Ken and Terry Eastin drove up from Fayetteville. They had to stay home to take care of the kids, but did bring out New Year's brunch, complete with black-eyed peas, greens and corn bread. By the time the swimmers returned, brunch was well on its way.

There was a big football game on TV, and Bob and Dawna headed back up to Bob's cabin to watch it before brunch was ready. They are die-hard Razorback fans. This was one time where a TV might have been a good idea at Cloudland, for a group to watch a football game, but since Bob had satellite TV at his cabin, it wasn't really needed. For now. Thank goodness.

We all dug into the brunch, even though we had just finished breakfast a short time earlier. It was great. During the feed, there was an eye exam being administered. The weather station served as the chart, and it had to be read from the dining table. Most everyone could read the temp - it had been 31 degrees all day. We did notice that the wind gauge was not working, as it had been showing 0-mph all morning, and there was an obvious breeze. I went on over and changed the display to read the inside temp, and all of a sudden no one could read it. Hum. Before the group left, the outside temp clicked up one to 32, so it was working, the temp had just been hovering at 31.

The weather seemed to be getting worse, and the forecast called for it to get really bad. As soon as brunch was completed, Dottie and Steve cleaned up all the dishes, and everyone packed up and left, all in mass. Within fifteen minutes, the cabin was empty. I heard later that our little caravan back to town ran into someone whose truck was hanging over the edge of a small bluff and had to be rescued, and our little group filled the bill.

When Bob and Dawna returned to Cloudland after halftime, they were a little surprised to find everyone gone. There was plenty of brunch left though, so they had a plate, and then took off themselves. I found myself laying back in the leather chair in the middle of a suddenly very quiet cabin. That was OK with me - there was still lots of laughter bouncing around me.

Most of my group had already signed the lamp shade at other parties or visits, so there was only one or two new named added. But I found it odd that not a single word was written by anyone in the journal. This is the very first party where this had happened. I don't know if everyone is getting tired of it, or if there just wasn't any free time, what with all of the food and music and good company and all.

Even though we had a big group, and the water system was taxed a great deal, we never ran out of water. One of these days, I may even let the guys pee inside instead of having to brave the cold/heat in order to save water.

I didn't linger in the chair too long, as I soon got up and began to clean up the place a little. My guests left the place in very good condition, as they always do, but for some reason I felt like putting a real shine on the place. I spend a half hour polishing the map bar, and the rest of the kitchen, then vacuumed some, and generally got everything neat and tidy.

Then I returned to the chair. The temp stayed at 32 degrees, and it began to rain. I love to hike in the rain, when it is warm, and I really enjoy hiking in the snow. But when the temp is in the 30's and it is raining, well, that is about the most miserable conditions that I know of to be outside in. So I stayed inside, and took a nap or two.

My friend called to check in, and said that she was beginning to feel better (that was odd for someone to be sick BEFORE New Year's, and then feel better the next day - it is usually the other way around!).

Today was the first of two full moons in January. I doubted that I would get to see it, as the weather continued outside. There was a lot of food left from the party and feast, so I munched my way through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. The rain picked up, and not only was it coming down hard, but it began to thunder and lightening! Goodness, that doesn't happen too much in the middle of the winter.

I fired up the computer and started to answer some e-mail, and work a little on the journal, and then the power began to flicker. The computer shut down. Darn. I lost this big e-mail that I had been working on. The power was only off for a few seconds, but long enough to mess up the computer. I got it up and running again, and retyped my e-mail. Then the power went down again. Darn, lost it once more. This power flickering thing would become a trend. I talked to Bob Chester, who was still down at his cabin, and he was having the same thing going on.

Then the power went out for good. No computer, no lights. I sat there in the dark and enjoyed the fire. It was raining a lot outside, and there were clouds forming and dancing around in the valley below. I wrote some by candlelight - it felt like I should be using a feather quill pen! Then I decided it was time call it a night, so by 8:30 I was on my way up the stairs to the loft. I figured the power would be back on again soon, as it has never been off for very long. I was tired anyway. There actually was a great deal of light around - coming from the lightening flashes outside. The rain was really coming down too.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, the phone rang downstairs in the guest room. I have telephones all over the cabin, but the one in the guest room is the only one that does not require electricity, and so is the only one that works when there is no power. It was probably just Bob calling to see if my power was out. I got up slowly and made my way down the steps in the dark and into the guest room. I was SO glad that I answered the phone - it was my lady friend, she was feeling a lot better, and was on her way out to the cabin. There had been somewhat of a somber mood in the air ever since she first called and was sick two days before, but all of that was instantly swept away, and a big smile landed on me. Good thing the cabin was all cleaned up!

I thought for sure the power would be back on again before she arrived, but just in case, I ran around and gathered up all of the candles that I could find. Oh yea, I forgot to tell ya. Luke and Mary had given me this wonderful, long four-wick candle that sits on the mantle. We had it going full blast during the party, but one of the wicks burned a hole through the back of the candle and lots of wax poured out. It spilled onto the mantle, then down onto the face of the fireplace, and finally pooled up in the grindstone that is set into the hearth. Yikes, there was hot candle wax everywhere!

When my friend arrived, she said that the paved roads were OK, but the dirt road from Red Star was covered with ice and rather slick.

1/2/99 The forecast was for heavy snow, but that didn't really happen. It did snow during the night, but only an inch or so. It was a winter wonderland outside just the same, and the feeders were full of birds. They were segregated though - goldfinches on the east feeder, and juncos on the west feeder.

The power was still off. I stoked up the fire, and had in fact kept it going strong all night, so the main rooms were pleasantly warm (it was so warm in fact that I had a window open next to the bed all night). I rummaged around and found a backpacking stove and we heated up some water for hot chocolate.

Bob Chester called and was OK - I'm sure it was about 80 degrees in his cabin. His little wood stove does a great job of heating it up. But he did have a problem - his bird feeders were all empty, he had mad birds flying around everywhere, and he was afraid to make the trek to the wood shed for the bird feed without someone else being around (he did that once an fell and really messed up his knee). We wanted to get out and go on a hike, so we volunteered to come on over and rescue his birds.

We bundled up and headed out into the snow. It was very nice, but rather cold. As we reached the edge of the East Meadow, two thing happened. First, a bitter north wind hit us right in the face; and secondly, a coyote dashed across the meadow right in front of us. He was in a big hurry to get away from us, and even though he raced across the widest part of the meadow, he never so much as paused once to look back at us - he didn't like us, and he wasn't about to stop and talk about it. He was a beautiful critter though, and I guess you could say that he was really "dashing through the snow." Sorry about that.

We made it to Bob's, and found him cheery and warm inside. We helped him fill his feeders, which the birds just loved, then sat around for a while in front of the wood stove listening to his stories. He made us some hot chocolate and coffee drink, then topped it off with whipped cream - very nice.

From Bob's we headed up the hill and then down to the Crag. It was pretty nice walking, although the wind was still blowing, and it was a might chilly. From the Crag we made our way along the top of the bluff, admiring all of the big sandstone blocks and interesting trees along the way. I knew that all the rain would create some nice waterfalls, so we hiked on over to the double-decker waterfall at the far end of the bluff.

We climbed down one icy bluff to get a better view of the upper falls, and spent some time under the overhang. There were some interesting ice formations there, and the waterfall was really cooking. We also found an Indian grindstone, and then my friend spotted some petrified wood up in the ceiling. What, petrified wood? Yep, sure enough. I had heard someone else talk about it, but had never seen any myself. This had to be some of it. There was also a phoebe nest tucked away under the bluff. A nice spot to hang out, but the falls were a little noisy, and it was getting colder by the minute.

It didn't take us too long to get back to the cabin, and we had warmed up a bit by then, and so spent some time down in the lower meadow taking a look at what needed to be done in order to get the area ready for wildflowers. It was going to take a lot of work - digging up small trees and bushes and clearing out a bunch of other stuff, then scratching the ground a little and planting seed. The area was probably too large to do all at once, so we decided that we might open up several areas first this winter and spring, then do more as time permitted.

A big flock of geese flew past - heading due South. They were a few days late, but looked to be having a good time. Normally a flock is all either snow geese (all white) or Canadians, but this group was made up of at least three different types of geese - snows, Canadians, and a composite species - white with black wings (or it might have been the other way around). Perhaps these were Ozark Geese, and there had been a little inbreeding (oops, sorry about that terrible pun).

It felt a little funny, but as we made it up onto the back deck, we both sat there in the rocking chairs, just rocking and talking. Hey, that is no big deal usually, except that it was probably 20 degrees outside, with a wind chill below zero! I guess we had gotten warmed up during the hike, and it just seemed comfortable.

We didn't spend too much time inside, just long enough to get a little something to eat, and make plans for another hike. Soon we were driving off up the hill, with a big waterfall in mind. One of the main places that I've always wanted to hike to out here is the twin falls way up in the headwaters of Whitaker Creek. We tried to find it one day last spring, but didn't go up far enough. It only runs good when there is lots of water, and there certainly was plenty of that today, so that was the destination.

We parked up along the main road, and head cross-country down into a drainage that dumped into Whitaker Creek. The little creek was running nicely, and there was plenty of snow to walk through. There was also snow blowing through the forest, and it was chilly. We hit Whitaker Creek, and to cover all bases, we headed upstream first, knowing that there would be a good waterfall along the bluffline that we had passed through. The creek was wonderful, a series of little whitewater areas and green pools. And the ice hanging from the bluffs on both sides was spectacular.

Sure enough, we finally did come to a pretty good sized waterfall. While it was a very nice one, it wasn't the one that we were looking for. We took a few pictures, then turned around and headed downstream, with my friend leading the way. That is one thing that I like about her, the fact that she is just as comfortable out here in the middle of the woods as I am, and I trust her judgement to find good routes.

The creek was running through a rather mundane stretch of mostly level terrain, and while the hiking was easy, and it looked like a Christmas in all directions, we weren't too optimistic about finding a big waterfall. Just when the creek was about to lull us to sleep, we heard it - lots of water noise. There is was, right out below us, a big waterfall plunging from the top of a horseshoe bend in the bluff. We were up above it, and made out way gingerly around the side - everything was covered with snow and ice.

It was the double falls for sure. In fact, there was so much water, there were actually three falls, a smaller one in between the two main ones. During normal water flow, there is only a single falls here.

My friend found a narrow route down through the icy bluff that was not totally frozen. One reason why it was not frozen was because there was water flowing there - it would be a wet descent, but looked OK, and we really wanted to get to the base of the falls. She went first, and soon landed down at creek level. We both had complete waterproof coverage, so the water was no big deal, except that I didn't have any spare gloves, so I spent the rest of the trip with bare hands (she had a dry pain in her pack - smart lady).

The waterfall was marvelous to say the least. Tall and skinny, and plunging into a deep pool. All of it surrounded by ice-covered bluffs. It was a very cold spot, but the beauty of it all kept us warm down to our toes. (I will post a picture of the falls here as soon as I get it scanned in). I was glad to finally see this place. I first saw a picture of it in one of Neil Compton's early books, and have wanted to get here ever since. As we made our way back up the wet and icy climb, and then up the steep and snowy slope back towards the car, I realized that I had now been to all three of the major mystery spots that I wanted to see near my cabin - the Bear Cave, the Pioneer Wagon Road through the bluff on Beagle Point, and now the Twin Falls. And even though I had basically lived here for over a year and a half, it wasn't until just the last month that I had made it to any of these three, and I found all of them while with my friend. There are still hundreds of great mysteries and beautiful places around here to explore and discover, but now I felt like I had a good start on them at last.

The power was still off when we got back to the cabin. The fireplace was going strong, but we were running out of wood. In fact, I had gotten to the bottom of the big pile on the wood rack next to the cabin downstairs. When I emerged from the cold with a handful of wood, my friend cried out "Oh no, now were are burning the furniture!" She was partly right. There were a bunch of left over pieces of the railing that I had stacked on the bottom of the wood pile, and the were actually made of the same logs as all of my log furniture. So sure enough, we had gotten desperate, and were now burning the furniture!

The lack of wood was a bit of a problem. So we bundled up once again and went down to the meadow and spent some time hauling up a few big chunks of wood, plus some stuff that I had already split up. That would be enough to last another day or two.

And then we had a brilliant idea - to bring in the BBQ grill from the deck into the living room and use the burner on the side of it to cook on! The propane bottle was about full. It would be so easy. We had a real cook top once again.

The clothes drying rack came in really handy too. All of our clothes were wet from sweat, waterfall splashes or melting snow and ice. Soon the rack was covered and the clothes were drying.

We lit up all of the candles, and cooked up a storm - Greek Pasta! And, of course, there was plenty of wine - still 45 or 50 bottles in the wine rack downstairs. If you are going to get stranded in a cabin in the woods somewhere, make sure it is well stocked with wine!

We spent a delightful evening in front of the fire, and the power being off didn't bother us a bit. Outside the wind was howling, and it was cold. The wind gauge had freed itself sometime during the day and was working again - it was 18 below zero wind chill. Good thing that we were camping out in a log cabin with a big fire.

1/3/98 It was another warm night, and I had a window open part way, although I closed it sometime in the early morning hours. It was 6 degrees at first light, but the sun was out, and it seemed a lot warmer outside (it wasn't).

We used the BBQ grill once again, not only to heat water for coffee, but toasted/grilled bagels for breakfast. It worked pretty darn well - I may have to leave the grill in the living room all winter. Well, maybe not. Needless to say, the power was still off.

The fire felt really nice this morning, and so we hung out in front of it a bit longer than normal. We wanted to wait until the temp climbed up into double digits before heading out for a hike. When it reached 10 degrees, we were still moving slow, but at least we were moving. By the time we were all bundled up and ready to go, it had reached a balmy 12 degrees.

We had another mission in mind today, but stopped by Bob's cabin first to see how he was doing. Oh yea, the telephone lines had gone down during the day yesterday, so we had no means of communication with the outside world. Oh darn.

Bob was doing fine, and Jeff Montgomery was there with him - he had come out the night before to take a few pictures. We motored on.

We wanted to go see the waterfalls in Hawk Hollow, and then drop down and measure the height of Bowers Hollow Waterfall, so we drove to the Kapark Trailhead and headed out. It was cold out, but it didn't feel too bad, and the hiking down the old road trail was easy.

One stretch of the trail went through some recent tornado damage - the same tornado that made the mess that can be seen from the cabin. Wow, this storm knocked down some HUGE trees! And took up big piles of dirt in the root ball with it. And created many little ponds, which were now half filled with water and ice. Some of the ice was formed in many patterns. One of the giant trees was simply twisted and snapped off near the base - it was one powerful storm for sure. And like most tornadoes, the trees were tossed about in many different directions (indicating that the wind was swirling, not just blowing in the same direction), and it only took out big trees - the rest of the forest was left untouched.

Hawk Hollow was just incredible! Not only were all of the waterfalls running wildly, but the ice hanging from everything was gorgeous. There had been some stupid hikers camped out under the bluff the day before though - we could see their tracks in the snow. They had left piles of dog food all around, and a lot of trash stuffed down inside a hollow log (and in the fire pit too). We pulled out a pair of sunglasses, an empty can of fire starter, and other misc. trash that they were too lazy to pack out. Folks like that should not be allowed to return to such a wonderful place.

We hiked on over to look at the view of the river and the hollow from the wild azalea patch. Getting close to the edge of the big bluff was a little tricky - everything was covered with a layer of ice, and then snow on top. But everything was beautiful. The sun was out all day, but it was bitter cold in the shadows.

Next we went on down into Bowers Hollow. The south wall there was simply covered with ice flows. My friend is an ice climber, and I could see her drooling at the sight. Some of the ice was climbable, but most of it was not quite right for one reason or another. It all liked like just plain ice to me! It was all spectacular.

We finally made it to the big waterfall, and it was running as much as I had ever seen it before. Words cannot describe it. We both stood there, silent, and then sort of wandered around on our own, without any conversation. To call it a magical place would be an understatement. Besides the incredible waterfall, there were tons of ice hanging from the surrounding bluffs. And there was ice that had built up on everything that the waterfall splashed on. I worked my away around in back of the waterfall, and man it was like another world back there. I'll bet there were a dozen different types of ice back there, from very delicate almost hoar frost ice, to piles of smooth ice balls, all frozen together. The trees were covered with ice. The ground was covered with ice. Any plants around were covered with ice. And the walls were covered with ice. There was lots of ice. But I found it quite easy to walk on, although I did remain cautious - didn't want to end up in the frigid pool below.

OK, it was time for the purpose of our visit (well, I guess just being awed by the beauty was purpose enough!). We climbed up through the north wall and made our way towards the top of the waterfall. Even though the sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly, the air was filled with a million glittering ice particles - not really snow, but ice I guess. Whatever it was, was certainly, well, I've run out of expletives. It was just great.

I used the empty lighter fluid container as the end of my rope, and tossed it over the edge next to the top of the waterfall. I couldn't see the bottom of the falls from that point, but my friend could see it from your vantage point, and she helped me know when the can was at the right location (we had to move the rope a time or two to get a free and clear run for the rope). Got it. We hauled the rope up, marked the location, and wound it up on a piece of bark. I had already gotten the rope all tangled up, so my friend took over and did it right.

While we were standing there taking in the beauty one last time, there was some movement up on the hillside. It was another coyote, and he was heading on down the hill in our direction. As he neared the waterfall, he veered to his right, and ran along the top edge of the bluffline. We wondered if he just came down to take a look at the waterfall too. He disappeared. A few minutes later, he came trotting back, working his way up the hillside. A beautiful animal. Not the mangy type that you would think a coyote would be. This guy's fur was all fluffed out, and his tail was kind of red, and there were streaks of color in his coat.

We soon followed him up the hill, back onto the trail, and headed out. It was getting late, and the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows of the trees. Once we hit the top of our route, we slowed down. The next mile of hiking was one of the most enjoyable that I can recall. There weren't any really spectacular views or objects. I don't know. It was just very pleasant, walking silently through the snow and ice, in the evening light, with someone that I enjoyed being with. The only sound was the swoosh-swoosh and occasional crunch of the snow. We did not speak, or gesture. We didn't have to. We both were just enjoying the walking motion, and the moment, of being in the silent woods. It was very nice.

It was a slippery drive back - the roads were still covered with ice and snow. The cabin was warm, and was glad to see us back. The power was still off. After two days of hiking, it was time to get cleaned up. I heated some water, and my friend disappeared into the shower. When she emerged a while later, there was a large smile on her face, and that look of "boy it is great to be CLEAN!" So I heated up a bucket myself. It had been quite a while since I had bathed out of a bucket, but it wasn't all that bad, and actually felt really good. I made sure that there was enough warm water left over for me to dump a bunch over my head for the grand finale.

Hey, the living without power was not all that bad after all! We fired up the BBQ grill again and cooked dinner. Thank goodness we had hauled up enough wood - that is a major item in powerless living. You can take a lot, and even enjoy yourself, if you are warm and toasty, like we were.

After dinner we dug out the Dominoes. I've had a set around for many years, a nice bone one in a leather case. But I've never played dominoes in my life, so they were unused. We sat down at the dinner table next to the fireplace and played dominoes for several hours. There was a great deal of laughter, and I even learned how to play dominoes, well sort of. She beat me, of course, but was kind enough to let me stay close. When we finally put the game away, the score was 380 to 365.

1/4/99 It was sometime around 4am when I got up to feed the fire. As I stepped outside to water the flowers, an arctic blast hit me and crawled up under my robe. Dam, it was COLD! And it was also very, very bright. The moon was incredible, as were the million twinkling stars. All of that moonlight reflecting off of the snow made it look like the middle of the day - no problem running through the woods if you wanted to.

The sun broke over the ridge and lit up the world with pure light. The sky was clear blue, and it looked cold out. The weather station showed a wind chill of 19 below zero. Yikes! The cabin was pretty warm though. We had a leisurely breakfast of coffee and grilled bagels. Having that BBQ grill right in the middle of the living room had its advantages.

All too soon my friend had to pack up and leave. I did too. Since there wasn't any hot water, or much water at all, we sort of stacked up the dishes in the dishwasher and in the sinks, to leave for another time when I could deal with them.

The backup battery in the weather station finally gave out, and the screen went blank just before I left. The temp in the basement was 42, but it was quite toasty in the main room. I filled the fireplace with oak, loaded up all the bad food and trash from the big party, then fired up the van and headed out to spend a few hours in town - I would be back later in the day to stoke up the fire.

I did return later in the evening, and rolled up to a very dark cabin. The temp on the van thermometer showed it was 9 degrees up at the Faddis Cabin, but warmed up as I got near to Cloudland, ending up at 13 degrees. That sounds about right - my little cabin is always a warm and welcome sight, even in the dead of a dark winter night!

Much to my surprise, there were FLAMES in the fireplace. That last log that I put on was still burning after eight hours. There was really a pile of ash built up in there - I hadn't cleaned it out since before the party, and it had been burning constantly since then (four days). I did my best to scoop out the dead stuff and leave the live coals - about seven gallons of ash. Then I wrapped myself up and went down to the little meadow with my yellow maul, and a flashlight strapped to my hat. It was dark, and cold, very cold. But no wind, thank goodness. There wasn't a scrap of wood left up at the cabin, so I had to do a little splitting and hauling.

Even though it was a bit nippy out, after a few minutes of wood work, I was dripping with sweat. Love that wood splitting stuff. Then as I was standing there, feeling pretty good about myself, and enjoying the crisp night air, a bright light startled me - had the cabin come to life? Nope, something much better - an incredible bright orange moon topped the far ridge to the northeast - wow - it was one terrific sight!!! I know it really didn't, but I would almost swear that it got a little warmer out once the moon came up. I turned off my headlamp and went back to work.

My bones ached under the weight of the wood and the steepness of the hill as I moved my new wood from the meadow to the upper deck. It was tough work, but few things could have been better for me to have been doing.

As I was filling the fireplace with the new wood, another wave of light swept through my brain - this time, it WAS the cabin that came to life - the power came back on. Yea! I was saved! This was the first test of the cabin under extreme conditions, and all systems seemed to work pretty good. The basement still had a ways to go before it was cold enough to have frozen any water pipes. Of course, being here and keeping the fireplace going helped out a great deal. This was one of the worst power outages up here in a while. It used to be off for a week at a time, but the power company has been very good at keeping things running much better in recent years. I hope they continue. But if they don't, I'll just have to plan to be here and keep the fire going!

The heat pump quickly warmed up the basement, then added to the rest of the cabin, which had gotten a little chilly as the big log burned down. I turned on the stereo, flooding the place with music. The weather station had totally melted down, but I brought out a new backup battery, and got it set up and running again. I had lost all of my highs, lows and rainfall totals for December. Should have listed all of that stuff before the party.

I turned the computer on and downloaded about 35 e-mails. Many of them were from folks who wanted to know what the heck was going on, since I had not made a post in a long time. Sorry. I had a good excuse! I spent a couple of hours answering e-mail.

Then I took a break and wandered on over to stand in front of the fireplace. The cabin was full of light and music once again, but somehow it was lonely - I missed my friend. Being in the dark and silence with only candle light and her voice for the past few days had been much better. Oh well, moonlight and falling stars don't last long either, and you just have to learn to enjoy them to their fullest while they are there. I counted my blessings to have spent some great time with my friend, then shut the cabin down and went to bed.

1/5/99 Sometime during the night a cloudbank snuck in, which kept the temp from dropping too much. There wasn't any sunrise, but I did get up early. Lots of cleanup to do, now that I had water. Actually, when I got right down to it, there weren't hardly any dishes to wash at all - we were very efficient eaters. Cleanup was a snap. That was good, because I had to head back town to work. It was a good feeling leaving a fully-powered cabin.

1/7/99 The clouds were setting down low, right in the trees, as I drove in near dark. There were six deer grazing in the big field at the top of the ridge. Deer are funny about cars. You can drive right on past them and they won't hardly even notice. Now if you stop the car, then they perk up. And if the door opens, they are gone in a flash. But if you stop the car and just roll down the window, they will usually just stand there looking at you. These did a lot of looking as I drove by. They looked really neat all silhouetted there in the heavy fog. Someone should have taken a picture.

I stopped by Bob's cabin to pour some antifreeze into his sinks, and to get a bottle of cumin that he had left for me (for my veggie chili).

My own cabin was cold. It was cold outside too. And beginning to ice up. Oh darn, I had no wood. It was down to the meadow for me. I had left the yellow maul down there the other day, and now, of course, it was covered with ice. When I first looked up towards the cabin, the fog was so thick that I couldn't even see it! I split several logs, and hauled them up the steep slope to the deck. When I went out the door at first I had on a number of layers. With each trip up the hill, a new layer was shed. I had to put a pretty good thump on some of the logs in order to get them to split. Hard wood. Heavy wood. Really heavy wood.

This new wood was tough to get going. The wood that I had been burning this year had all been split up for about a year, and it was just about perfect for burning. This new stuff had been cut down and sectioned at the same time as all the rest, but it hadn't been split until tonight. I guess is was more like green wood instead of seasoned. Once it got going good and hot, it really took off, and before long I was resting my bones and my mind next to a roaring fire. More than once during the evening, I would slip when picking up a log, especially the heavy ones, and one end would land on the pine floor - oops. Another dent. More personality some say. I say another dent!

At first, I sat there in the dark, with only the music of the fire to keep me company. My cabin has great acoustics - especially when you are listening to the crackling of oak in the fireplace on a cold winter night. Then I put a CD in, and the volume went up. I went right to the fireplace song. "Oak will burn as long and hot as a July afternoon..." Yep, that's what I wanted.

The music kept getting better, and louder. I sat back and thought about how good it all sounded. I could close me eyes and pick out all eight of the speakers - a different instrument or sound coming from each one. Now I may not have the best stereo system, but it sure beats my $25 Radio Shack speakers that I've had since I was in high school.

It was still early, and I had a ton of work to do this next few days at the cabin, so I dug out some paperwork and spread it out on the dining room table. I sat down in the rigid chairs and went to work. When I first got this log furniture from the Amish, I thought that it really was rather uncomfortable. And now I'm sitting in the chair for hours on end playing dominoes. I guess the more I use these chairs, the more I like them. Anyway, the chair felt great tonight, and I actually got some work done. The dining table next to the fireplace and surrounded by eight speakers seemed like a better place to work tonight than over at the cold desk of mine in the corner. Too bad the computer wasn't on this table. It was over in that cold corner.

One of the big chores this weekend was to get the journal updated. The power being off really messed up my schedule, and although I tried to write while in town this week, I just couldn't - had to do it out at the cabin. Writing in the journal is a lot like going out on a date for me. I usually have to spend hours, sometimes days, putting off calling or starting to write. But then, once I get into it, all is well, and smooth, and fun. I was at the beginning of that date tonight - I could do a lot of other tasks, but I just couldn't get the journal started. So I put it off until the next day. After all, the fire was waiting, and I had to go stand in front of it.

1/8/99 The heavy fog isolated individual trees, and they looked like dancers. Ballet dancers. Without the fog, trees usually blend into one another, and so do their personalities. But with the fog, the graceful curves and stout trunks stand out from the others, and create individual trees, the dancers. There were a lot of dancers around the outside of the cabin as grey light slowly crept in.

The temp has actually gone up a notch or two during the night, and it was in the low 30's, and would slowly climb during the day. After my Mocha by the fire, I spent the day alternating between writing in the journal (I FINALLY got started!), and splitting and hauling fire wood. It's funny, but the more you split and haul the wood, the less you really need it. Ha!

It remained cloudy all day, only retreating once around noon to show me the river below. There were a number of big ice chunks clinging to the bluffs over on Beagle Point. And the temp climbed up into the high 30's, and there was just a hint of rain. It was quite comfortable working outside, but everything was wet, very wet.

By the end of the day, I had four different stashes of wood - two outside, and two inside. I added a pile of split wood downstairs in the basement because there was ice moving in, and the lower deck near the big wood pile gets really slick when it is icy out. I figured that I had enough wood piled inside and just outside the deck door to last me well into the afternoon the next day.

Once I was satisfied with my wood supply, I put on my jacket and headed out for a hike. The wind had begun to blow, and the temp was dropping. In fact, it had already dropped eight degrees by the time I started on the hike, down to 30. I made my way on up to the Faddis Cabin, where a strong north wind hit me in the face. Yep, some kind of storm coming in all right - the wind doesn't normally come from that direction.

I went on down to check on Bob's, and everything was OK. Then I wandered on over to the East Field by way of the lower trail. When the wind wasn't blowing, there wasn't any sound at all. And no movement either. I saw one bluebird at Bob's, but that was the only critter out besides me. I crept into the East Meadow hoping to sneak up on a grazing deer in the fog, a flock of turkeys, or at least a bear or two. But nothing. There was just nothing out stirring. They must have known something that I didn't.

The rest of the hike went well, as I strolled on down through one of the maple groves and back to the cabin. It had been a tough day at the mill, and I was ready for a hot shower. Bathing out of a bucket is fine when you have to, but few things can replace a wonderful shower.

There was no real end to the daylight - it just got a little darker over a long period of time, and then a little darker, more grey and less white. And then, after a while, I noticed that it was finally dark outside. The fog was very heavy. I sat back down and worked on the journal. And fed the fire. And munched on junk food. Well, actually I had a good dinner, then munched on junk food.

The temp headed right on down, and it was in the upper teens by 10pm. My wind gauge had frozen up again, so I couldn't tell what the wind chill was, but I'll be it was easily down below zero. All of the decks were slick. The fog had drifted off somewhat, but was still hanging around I bet, up there in the darkness.

I listened to the Blues on the radio, fed the fire, had a little wine, and wrote and wrote.

1/9/99 Very cold outside at daylight. 12 degrees. And very bright - clear blue skies and lots of sunshine! I got up and milled around the fireplace a little. And I'm glad that I was up. Man, even though it was clear out, there were these clouds of brilliant glitter floating past. Must have been frozen moisture of some sort, but they were so tiny, and the only place that you could see them was when they were backlit by the sun. As it turned out, the sun was right behind the eastern bird feeder, and so I got to sit and watch several Juncos feeding, always surrounded by all of this floating glitter. It was amazing! Looking out across the main valley, I could see a number of these glitter clouds drifting by. They would swirl around a little, then gradually get smaller and smaller until they disappeared. A little bit of magical dust from heaven.

Across the way, up on top of Beagle Point, all of the trees were frozen. I couldn't tell if they were covered with ice, or with hoar frost, which is kind of frozen fog. Looking way up the valley, all of the high hilltops towards the fire tower were frozen too. It must have been a altitude thing, because nothing at my level was frozen. Beagle Point is a little higher than me.

OK, enough of this beauty stuff, I went to the office and fired up the computer. I was still behind on the journal, and vowed not to get up from the keyboard until I was finished. And this forced imprisonment worked - by noon I had finally caught up. It was a lot of fun going back and recalling the days past. In some ways writing the journal is a way for me to relive all of the great times, and laugh at myself once again and some of the silly things that I do out here. Since I seldom get to sit right down and write about the day's events when they are fresh in my mind, I take notes, a lot of notes. Often a single word on the note page will produce three or four paragraphs in the journal. My problem is not so much trying to find something to write about, but cutting back of what to write about - as you know, things can get a little wordy here, just like this paragraph.

With my journal up to date, and the sunshine calling my name, I bundled up and headed out for a hike. The temp was in the low 20's, but it was cold, at least at first. I dropped on down to the trail on the bench below, and headed towards the Crag, with plans to emerge from the woods near my mailbox and get the paper, then stop by Bob's cabin and borrow a 1/2" drill bit that I needed.

Before I was out of sight of the cabin, I heard screaming. It was coming from above. Hawks! There really haven't been any/many hawks in the skies at Cloudland in quite some time. What I saw was three hawks, all circling in close formation above. They were squawking and screaming, and appeared to be playing some sort of game with each other rather than hunting. It was great to see them. I hoped that they stuck around. What kind of birdseed could I put out to attract hawks - mice?

For a sunny day, the colors of the forest floor, the trees and the blue sky were very rich and satisfying. It quickly turned into a very pleasant stroll through the woods.

I saw some ice up on the hillside. It was hanging over a small bluff opening that is located right next to my property corner. From a distance, the whole thing reminded me of a big mouth open wide, with all of these giant, white teeth. I guess it was the hillside waking up and yawning. I even took a picture.

As I was returning to the trail, I thought that I had spotted the biggest cardinal in the world - and it was really bright RED! As I got closer, I realized that it was nothing more than a red mitten that someone had dropped along the trail, and someone else has propped up on a limb to be found. A really big cardinal.

As I moved on past a rock formation, a little bird jumped up from the rock and landed on a nearby limb. It was a little nuthatch, and he didn't like me disturbing his morning routine. But then he calmed down, and flew down onto the rock, within three feet of me. I stood there and watched, very still. He would turn his head and look over at me, then turn back and dig his beak into a small crack in the rock. There was something down inside there that he really liked. Pretty soon he ignored me altogether, and spent his time eating. Nice little bird.

There was no one at the Crag, but the view was spectacular, as always. My hawk friends were no where in sight. Probably off chasing mice somewhere. I did get buzzed by a bluebird though. He swooped down and flew right past my ear, then landed in a tree up ahead. Boy, this little guy was really puffed up and twice as big as normal - a good indication that it really was a little chilly outside.

I followed the bluffline trail (the one that the Forest Service does not want anyone to use - it is just too scenic I guess) to a point where I could look down and see a large part of the bluff, and it was highly decorated with ice. The sun was warming up the rock, loosening the ice, and causing it to break loose and fall, or rather crash on the rocks down below. And crash it did - sounded more like dynamite going off when it hit! I took up a comfortable spot leaning against a boulder, and watched the spectacle for a few minutes. There were about three crashes per minute. It became a game to see if I could spot a chunk of ice falling before it made any noise and crashed - this was tougher than it seems. I think that the bluff won this game, because I was only able to spot every third one or so. Not a good place to be walking down below.

I eventually got back onto the main trail, where I passed a couple of guys that were hiking in from the trailhead. We stopped and chatted for a moment, and I'm sure they wondered about me since there was no other car at the trailhead. When they asked me where I was going, I just said "Out to the mailbox to get the paper, then on over to a friend's cabin to borrow a drill bit." They looked at each other, laughed, and hiked on. Hey, I WAS.

The registration box was empty once again, as usual - no pencils, no cards. It's no wonder that people have begun to carve names and dates into the box. I wonder if the Forest Service will EVER get the message?

I got my paper, then walked the road towards Bob's cabin. As I was passing the big green field owned by the Goat Man, I saw a large hawk hovering in the air way up at the far end of the field. The closer I got, the stranger the hawk looked - it was doing all sorts of crazy things, but staying in exactly the same spot. Oh yea, there was a power line that went across the field there, and so he must be sitting on a wire. But the wind must really be blowing, and he must be trying to keep his balance. As I walked on, I decided that it must have been a trash bag or something caught in the wire instead of a hawk - there were just too many crazy motions going on. Then I got right up next to the narrow part of the field, and sure enough, it was a very large hawk, struggling to keep his balance on the wire. There were many trees nearby that he could have hung out in, and I wasn't sure why he choose to stay on the bouncing wire.

Birds, birds and more birds. They were everywhere at Bob's cabin. On the ground, in the trees, at the feeders, and flying back and forth overhead. They really like his place. And his feeders. I got the drill bit, tossed the birds a few handfuls of ground corn, and continued on my hike.

As I topped the hill near the Faddis Cabin, I spotted a flock of turkeys in far side of the meadow. They saw me immediately, although they did not run off or fly away. They did sort of wander in the other direction though, and eventually disappeared into the woods. As I walked along the lane, I could see them in the woods, just waiting for me to leave so that they could resume their meadow munching.

When I was back in the woods, a flicker came flying by and landed on a tree in front of me. What was the deal with birds flying past me today - I think I saw more birds on this hike than any other in a long time. Come to think of it, with the exception of the two hikers, I didn't see any living thing today except for birds - not even a single squirrel. Wait a minute, I DID see something else. Back at Bob's, crouched low at the edge of the woods, was the black cat. Bob had put a contract out on that black cat, but so far it had escaped all attempts to collect. The cat has been eating a lot of birds at Bob's. Why not, it is kind of like an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord there for cats.

Back at the cabin, the temp was 25 degrees, and there was no wind. If I didn't have so much work to do, I would have simply laid out in the swing and napped all afternoon. But instead I was a good boy, and put on my carpenter stuff and worked inside for the rest of the afternoon. Well, actually I worked inside and out on the deck - I set up my sawing station on the deck, which meant that I got to go outside a lot. And every time that I went out to cut a board, I was forced to take a minute or two and survey my little wilderness world from the edge of the deck. Very nice, all very nice.

I worked until after dark, putting up paneling in the new guest room closet, and adding insulation to a couple of walls that needed it. Then it was time to do a little cooking. Since Bob had left me the jar of cumin, I felt compelled to cook this veggie chili recipe that I had. And hour later I sat down in front of the fireplace and pigged out on two big bowls of black beans, tomatoes, zucchini, yellow squash, onion, green and red bell peppers, plus various spices and toppings (sour cream and cheddar cheese), and of course, the cumin! I wish that I had two or three stomachs, because I ate until I was about to pop, but still wanted more. A new Cloudland standard meal was born.

After a hot shower and dish duty, I sat back down by the fire with a little wine and some folk music on the radio. I was tired, and didn't last too long. I got up a time or two to wander outside and collect some firewood - it was VERY cold out, and the sky was filled with a million, no make that two million, sparkling stars. Wow, I was dumbfounded at the stark beauty of all that black sky and all those sparkles. Had it not been so cold, I could have stood there for hours, staring up.

1/10/99 At some point in the middle of the night (I had to get up three times to feed the fire), I looked out my window and saw a half moon rising above the ridgetop across the valley. It was not really orange, or yellow, or white, it was some other color. And it lit up the loft with very soft light.

The room got light once again - pink light this time. I could see the eastern horizon reflected the lamp next to the bed (the spot where the sun rises is still out of direct sight from my pillow). I leaned over and saw an incredible pink light show, then rolled over and went back to sleep. A few clouds had moved in during the night, and there wasn't a real sunrise - the pink light just turned to white. I slept in.

After my now normal winter breakfast of Starbucks Mocha and hot Grape Nuts (45 seconds in the microwave with milk is great!), I went over to the computer and began writing again. I only had yesterday and this morning to catch up on. Two big things happened while I was writing. First, the dam power went off, and of course, I lost whatever I had written but not saved (which turned out not to be all that much - I tend to save often these days). It seems that the power company gets its kicks by flipping the switch off for a second or two at least a couple of times a day. I used to have a backup battery power supply attached to the computer out here, but it only last about two months before the battery went dead, and I have been unable to replace it. I plan to do so before I come back out here again.

And the second thing that happened did so because of the power failure. As I stood up to stomp and cuss at the power company, I looked out the window and saw a mature bald eagle flying by. Yippie! I grabbed the binocs and headed out the door. This guy was big, with pure white head and tail, and a bright yellow beak. And he didn't just fly by on his way somewhere else like they normally do. He was actually in a pattern, which included my little meadow. At his closest point, he was actually flying inside the pine trees out in back, and very close to the cabin. He never made a sound, but he did look over at me and wink during one pass. Well, maybe he didn't wink, but he did look right at me. I stood there motionless, and not breathing. Bald eagles still take my breath away, every time. After several passes, he made his way on up the valley and out of sight. Thanks Mr. Eagle.

And while I was writing the above paragraph, the power went off again - I had not saved, so it is the second version. I will be at the office supply store at 8am tomorrow morning to buy a new backup battery!!!

Sometimes things just happen, you know, without any explanation. Well, I just put up on the main room wall of the cabin one of my most favorite photographs ever. It is a picture that I took back in 1995 when I was touring around the country, taking pictures for my Wilderness Reflections book. I consider it one of the best of the 40,000 images that I shot that year. Anyway, the image is of a spectacular scene in the Canadian Rockies. Well, this morning, I received an e-mail from a lady in Canada who had been reading the journal. I've never received an e-mail from Canada at the cabin before, and now one came as soon as I put up a picture (I hadn't mentioned this picture in the journal before now). Hum, I wonder how that happened?

I'm afraid to report that the remainder of the veggie chili disappeared around noon time. Then I could be seen out on the swing, dozing in the warm sunshine. The swing is set so that the winter sun, low in the southern sky, will shine on it most of the afternoon. In the summer, the sun doesn't get there because it is too high in the sky, and is blocked by the roof line. But wintertime sunny naps are encouraged out here at Cloudland, so I did my best to comply.

However, I never really got to go to sleep. Something kept tugging at me. I wasn't sure just exactly what it was. After I laid there 30 minutes, I finally realized what it was - it was the river who was calling to me. I hadn't been down there yet this year. A mistake that I had to remedy!

Soon my boots were slipping and sliding down the leaf-covered trail. The ladder had just a little bit of ice left on it, as did the surrounding bluffs. The sun had melted most everything. It wasn't long before I was down at the river. Right where I emerged was the source of the river noise - the music maker that plays its tune all day long and sends it right on up to the cabin. I walked on over to the rapids and tipped my hat.

There is a nice rock bar here too. I was amazed at how many different colored rockers there were there. At least four or five different shades of grey limestone. Plus red and orange and brown shades of sandstone. And some blue rock. And white. And even a black one or two. All of them smoothed down a bit by the churning of the waters. They aren't polished smooth and shiny, but rather have a matte finish.

I reached down and picked up one stone that was mostly black, but had an interesting white pattern in the center - the white was bird poop.

The water looked cold, and I was glad that I didn't really need to see anything on the other side today.

I turned around and headed back up the trail, then went over to Whitaker Creek. Oh my goodness - there were a million diamonds floating down the swift current towards me, then they all came together in a small rapids and melted together like liquid silver. The splash sent them all in separate ways again, only to reconvene again at the next rapid. The bright sunshine was really lighting up the river. In fact, the water sparkles were so bright that everything else in the scene - the rocks and trees and ground - were all black. Nothing but black and silver. It was marvelous.

I went over to the edge and bent down to got a drink - looking carefully this time for Mr. Moccasin. He wasn't around.

As I left the stream and began to work my way across the grown-up river bottom, I was stopped dead in my tracks. The most wonderful, fragrant, light and beautiful scent in the world came drifting by - witch-hazel! Oh, wow, it was heavenly. And strong. Probably the first burst of fragrance from this particular tree this winter. I breathed deeply to take it all in. If I had the time, I would have gone up to the big backrest rock and see what that witch-hazel tree was doing. Just another example of perfection in nature.

The trip up the hillside was pretty good - I took it slow and deliberate, without stopping. About half way up I passed a hiker coming down from above. First time that I had seen a hiker not from my own party on this trail in a while. When I reached the top and plopped down in the swing, I was very wet with sweat, but not breathing all that hard. The sun and light breeze felt great. The temp was 45.

I did a few more chores around the cabin, worked on the journal some, then packed up and headed back to town. It was a very nice stay this week. I won't be back soon enough.

1/12/99 HOLY KANSAS! The wind blew 44mph at 12:45am this morning. It was dead still outside when I arrived after dark, but I noticed that some of my chairs from the deck were missing. After checking the weather station and finding the big reading, I went outside with a flashlight and found the chairs, two of them broken, down on the steep hillside to the east of the cabin - this is the spot where most of the stuff that gets blown off of the deck ends up. It must have been one big gust!

It was very warm out - 54 degrees - but was actually colder inside the cabin - the logs hold heat out as good as they hold heat in. I opened up the doors and windows to let some warm air come in -kind of odd doing that in January. Everything was a little wet, although I don't think that it had rained - just very high humidity. The pavement was all we too. And I saw dozens of groups of deer along the roadsides as I drove in.

The Buffalo River was singing a very loud tune, and must be running pretty good. Maybe there was some rainfall upstream.

There were two chores that I had for myself this night. The first was to drill holes in the wall and install oak pegs up in the loft on either side of the bed - to hang clothes and robes and stuff on. I used to have two log clothes hangers up there, but used both of them to make the floor lamps down in the main room out of. I have two more ordered from the Amish as replacements, but like the peg idea even better. I may make a couple of more lamps out of the new ones.

The other chore was to learn how to play a new board game that I just got. It is called Mancala, and is a very simple game to play. I like it because it is made up of 48 stones that you move around on a wooden board. You can actually use any items instead of the stones, like acorns, or marbles, or, well, anything. So I opened it up and sat down at the dining table and began to play, using my alter-ego as the other player. Son of a gun, while it was easy to play, I must not be very good at it, because I lost! Come to think of it, I guess that I won too. A fun game, that will become a classic at Cloudland.

1/13/99 A heavy fog set in this morning, and it was dead still, almost spooky outside. No birds at the feeders. Oops, I take that back. There is one little goldfinch sitting at the feeder just outside the office window. He isn't eating anything though - just sitting there on one of the perches enjoying the view. Well, there isn't any view because of the fog, but he must like that. It was still warm out early - 54 degrees.

This morning I plan to vacuum the entire cabin - it has gotten a little dusty from all of the fireplace and wall drilling and Aspen installing activities.

Then I will load up my faithful van for the very last time. My new car has arrived, and I'm picking it up tomorrow. My old buddy van, which just turned 180,000, has been one of the best vehicles that I've ever owned, and it will be a little sad to see it go. It went with me on the 50,000 mile trip around the US back in 1995, and has been my tent for over 500 nights. It has only let me down once, when the serpentine belt broke (I was out here, before the cabin was built, and had to get a ride back into town). Otherwise, I've done literally nothing but put gas and oil in it. But it is time for me to move on before it falls apart. The new car will be four-wheel drive, smaller, but with a better stereo system (the van has a great stereo in it though - sometimes I used to just go out driving so that I could listen to music). I spend so much time driving that a good stereo is important. The new car has one of the 6CD changers too (I have had one in my vehicles for the past 12 years, and couldn't live without one), and a Bose speaker system in it. I can't wait. Actually, the new car is just a cabin accessory - I even got the color to match - Green ("...Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose..." --- James Taylor). Greens and blues are the cabin colors. So I leave the cabin today for the last time in my good old van. But will return on Friday driving my new Mercedes-Benz, and a beautiful young woman next to me (please, don't wake me up, let me dream a while longer).

The cabin is vacuumed, the heavy fog is still here, and the temp has been dropping like a rock - 34 degrees at 11am. I discovered that the high wind yesterday picked up one of my big bird feeders and moved it - there were three goldfinch on it, trying to eat, and it was tilted about 25 degrees. They must be hungry!

1/15/99 We arrived well after dark, and the cabin was a little chilly, but it didn't take long for the fireplace to get a blazing. It was crystal clear outside, and there were a million stars out. The moon was no where to be found, so the sky was black city. (By the way, my dream had come true, on both accounts.)

The second thing that I did was to hook up a backup battery power supply to the computer - those darn power outages won't mess me up now!

1/16/99 Daylight came early, and the bright sunshine filled the cabin with a cheery glow. I had to get up a couple of times during the night to feed the fire - most of the wood slabs in the pile are pine scraps from the cabin, and they burn up pretty fast. But they are HOT when they burn! We made coffee, had a bagel or two, then loaded up the new rig and headed on over to the Richland Creek Wilderness for a day of bushwhack hiking.

Richland has always been one of my favorite wild spots in all of Arkansas, but I hadn't been there in a while. It is one of the many great drainages that empties into the Buffalo River, so it is sort of related to Cloudland. We were going to hike down to Twin Falls and Richland Falls, but also wanted to find a pair of mill stones that I had been told about. My hiking partner, Chally, had a new pair of boots that she was trying out. Since we would be bushwhacking (there are no trails), those boots would get a workout in short order. Us too.

The creek that we followed into the wilderness was very nice - lots of little waterfalls and blue-green pools and whitewater. And right next to one of the more scenic waterfalls, we found the mill stones - two of them, about three feet in diameter, and 8-10 inches thick. These babies were very heavy, and had been carved out of solid sandstone. There was not a single sign of anything else man-made in the area where they were, so I suspect that they were from a mill that had been used back in the 1800's.

We continued on down the stream, and the scenery just got better and better. More waterfalls, interesting rock formations, and other neat stuff to explore. We finally made it to Twin Falls, and spent a little time there taking pictures. Then we went on over to Richland Falls on the main Richland Creek, then spent an hour or so laying out on a rock in the middle of the river and munching on lunch, and just generally taking it easy. One thing that we had noticed on the way in, was that there was almost no sign of life in the water at all - only a few minnows here and there. No crawdads (although Chally did find and retrieve one rather large, but very dead, crawdead that only had one claw - and it stunk) or fish of any size could be found.

I creeped over to the side of the big rock to peer over the edge, and was met there by a little spider who was trying to get to the top of the rock for a view. When he discovered me, he turned right around and jumped off of the rock right into the river, which was moving past at a pretty good clip. He scooted across the surface of the water, and didn't stop until he reached the opposite bank. Good grief, I didn't realize that I was that scary looking!

The sunshine was wonderful, and so was the day. After we finished off a pile of Andes mints that I had smuggled in, we left the river behind and headed nearly straight up a rocky hillside to climb out. There were so many rocks/boulders strewn about the forest floor on this hillside that it would be possible to hike/climb all the way from the river up to the top of the hill without ever steeping on anything but rocks. And we mostly did just that - avoiding the deep leaves in between the rocks as much as we could. Chally's new boots were doing great, but she took a nasty tumble when one of the rocks gave out, and sent her shooting down the hillside (no fault of the boots - just unstable rocks).

We finally made it to the top, and the view up and down the river valley was nothing short of spectacular! The last time that I had been to this spot was several years ago. I had hiked here in the dark (about an hour) to get the sun rising up over the wilderness. When I got there, I realized that it was going to be so foggy that there wouldn't be a sunrise at all. So I just sat down and admired all there was to see. About an hour later, the sun broke through the fog, and I got a good picture that ended up in the Buffalo River Wilderness book. We enjoyed the view as well, then found an old logging road that took us all the way back to the Hill Cemetery Trailhead.

Chally wanted to do a little target shooting when we got back to the cabin, so we set up a target and loaded up the pistols. She had a neat old .22 pistol that must have been 100 years old, but in great shape. Remind me to never, ever argue with her - she turned out to be a killer marksman with that little gun! I got out my 9mm Glock and managed to actually hit the target a time or two.

Just as we were finishing up, David McClinton from Fayetteville dropped by with his daughter and her friend. David had just began operations to purchase a home and some acreage downstream a ways at Steel Creek - a very nice place, and a new Buffalo River neighbor. I had asked him to stop by and take a look at my driveway, and give me some suggestions how to fix it up. He did, and we decided that the best thing to do was to wait until summer, then stockpile a bunch of large, softball size rocks, then spread them on the bad parts of the road and build up a good base, one that would allow seeping water to flow through.

By the way, the new car got covered with mud, and scratched up a little on our trip to Richland (I'm hoping the scratches are in the mud and not the paint!). This is probably a good thing to have happen early - now I don't have to worry about getting the car dirty or scratched, and can simply enjoy driving it!

Once the sun went down, and we got all cleaned up and built a big fire going in the fireplace, and Chally fixed a wonderful dinner dish of Indian cuisine. Boy, this stuff was VERY good! And I even picked out a good bottle or two of wine to go with it. We spent the rest of the evening playing Mancala - this simple little game tends to be a little addictive.

1/17/99 It was foggy at daylight, and the wind was howling like crazy. I was shocked to find that the temp was 52 degrees outside! We had a hurried breakfast of Cloudland Coffee and blueberry biscuits, then we put on our work clothes and went down to the little meadow to clean up a little brush. We got stopped in our tracks on the way down by a PAIR of bald eagles that were circling overhead. There were flying in formation, a sort of roving circle, and gradually moved across the sky. I hadn't seen two eagles together in the air around Arkansas in a long time. It was a stirring sight.

We spent the morning, which was a VERY warm morning, getting one end of the meadow ready for wildflower planting. Chally attacked all of the little trees and brush that had sprouted up - cutting out about a hundred trees which were up to a couple of inches in diameter, most of them being those darn thorny hawthorne trees - ouch! I split up some wood and moved some of the larger stuff around. There has already been a great deal of wood removed from this spot, but I made five or six more piles of the stuff - good thing, because I think we are still in for some cold weather this winter.

We only took one break all morning, and wandered on down to Whitaker Point. While we were standing there admiring the view, a mature bald eagle came cruising up the valley - brilliant white head and tail! He looked like he was just cruising around the area, checking things out, and didn't seem to pay us much attention. What a stunning sight to see a bald eagle flying over an Arkansas wilderness!

While we were back up at the cabin chowing down on some lunch, the skies got dark, and it began to thunder and crash - a storm was upon us. Then the sky opened up and it started to rain - we ran down and grabbed all of our tools and managed to keep them from getting wet. We got out the Mancala game (well, actually we didn't have to get it OUT - it basically rests now right out on the table, ready for a game in an instant).

Just as it really began to pour, we heard voices down in the basement - Roy and Norma had been out playing on the bluffs down below, and made a run for the cabin when the rain started. They hung around a little while, and when they realized that Chally and I weren't going to let them in on our Mancala game, they had me drive them back up to the Faddis Cabin.

The rain continued, and we took advantage of the sound and the smells and the sight and took a good long Sunday afternoon nap. Sometimes you hike. Sometimes you work. Sometimes you nap. There is no priority at Cloudland.

The clock was against us, and once the sun came out and burned all of the clouds away, we too packed up our things and bid the cabin farewell and headed back to town. It was as fine a weekend as has ever been had at Cloudland. As I drove away, I just had to smile. I hit another mud hole too.

1/20/99 Bright sunshine, blue skies, and a WARM 60 degrees. I came by the cabin in the middle of the day with a group of photographers that were part of a photo workshop that I was teaching at the Ozark Natural Science Center all week. We had been shooting waterfalls in a nearby area, and just stopped by the cabin to enjoy the view.

The wind had blown at 38mph the day before, and slammed one of my feeders up against a log post, breaking the bottom platform of the feeder. I set the feeder aside to be fixed during the next visit.

1/22/99 My workshop ended, and I arrived at the cabin late this Friday night. The fog was about as thick as I had ever seen it - I had to creep along at a couple of miles per hour in the car, even with fog lights on. It was about 40 degrees outside, but nice and warm in the cabin. I keep the heat pump set at about 50 degrees when I am gone, but it was 56 degrees inside, so the logs were insulating well, as expected.

I was exhausted after a week of driving back and forth to the Science Center and teaching all day (I'm not a good teacher, and so it is rather tiring - but we did have a great week). In fact, I was even too tired (or lazy?) to build a fire in the fireplace. So I just sat down with a thick, dark beer, and a pretzel, gazed out into the fog, then retired for the night. I opened the window in the loft, and slid down deep under the down comforter and let the music of the Buffalo River sing me to sleep.

1/23/99 A bird called out towards the cabin, and I rolled over to see that all of the fog had been blown away by the howling winds during the night. It was about an hour before sunrise, but the woods were taking shape out there in the predawn light. The sun never did come up, but everything was clear down below a layer of clouds, and I could see the river, and all of the valleys. The river was running pretty good after a six-tenths of rain that we got on Thursday night here.

It wasn't until I got up out of bed that I realized that everything was covered with a fine dusting of SNOW - YEA! It was 32 degrees. I put on my thick robe and blue slippers, and built a roaring fire. Standing in front of a big fire in a log cabin with snow outside - that's what log cabins are made for.

One of my big chores for the day was to write my hiking club's newsletter, which I spent most of the morning doing. It was great not to have to worry about the stupid power going out in mid-sentence.

The little birds were gathering outside, especially after I fixed the feeder that had been broken during the big storm. I also filled up the suet feeder, which was almost completely bare. I found that when I raised the blinds on the window that is in front of my computer, that the birds would react when I got up and walked around - they usually flew off. So I lowered the blinds, and just kept them open. I spent a lot of time staring out the windows and looking at the birds flying around, mostly goldfinch and juncos.

Once I got the newsletter about wrapped up, and a good dose of bird watching, it began to snow, just a little. I had to get out in it, so I laced up my boots, and put on my jacket and headed out. The snow in the forest out in front was really very nice, sort of looking like someone had flown over and emptied a shaker of powdered sugar all over. In fact, it was a great way to really see snow - there was so much more detail there, with the contrast between the white snow and the brown leaves. I rather enjoyed an amble through the trees and the leaves and the sugar.

And I got to thinking about building a trail from the cabin up to the East Meadow, since that is one of the main routes that I take. Yes, I would lay it out so that you hiked gradually up the hill, through the open woods, past a couple of lichen and moss-covered boulders, with views down to the bench below, then on to the side of the East Meadow, right at a spot where you can look out into the meadow and see any wildlife that might be feeding or lurking there. Of course, there wouldn't always be the snow. I didn't have any flagging tape with me, but made mental notes of where the path might be built once I got the urge.

There were no critters in the East Meadow when I got there. But the north wind sure was blowing! The temp, a balmy 32 degrees when I left the cabin, was probably more like ten or twelve degrees wind chill as I crossed the meadow. Down in the woods the wind was OK. Most of the snow had melted on this side of the hill, or never fell in the first place. Or got blown away by the wind - that was probably it. I have sat down in the middle of the forest before during a heavy snowstorm, where the wind was blowing hard, and noticed that the snow never did land and pile up - it just kept blowing.

No birds in sight. But I could hear a constant hum of their singing, off in the trees, just out there beyond my vision. I think they were trying to talk the wind into letting up some.

I looked in at Bob's cabin to see how things were going, and found a cold and empty place. Cabins are better when in use.

There was a car parked up near the Faddis Cabin. I took the trail down to the Crag, and met a photographer with a big pack coming out. He had come from Fayetteville, where it had snowed a lot more during the night, and hoped to get a picture of the Crag in the snow. Not much snow here, but he seemed happy to be out and about.

The snow that was around was mainly on the branches and downed trees. All of the leaves were this wonderful glowing shade of brown, and it made a great background for the snowy branches and logs - the snow gave them all individual personalities. I didn't realize just how nice an old rotten log could be until I saw one outlined with snow. It seemed that whereever I hiked this morning, I found the landscape just a little different as far as the snow was concerned.

One thing that was the same was the rich color of green in the mosses that covered boulders and rotten logs - the moisture in the air and the soft light made the greens just luscious.

There were a number of people down at the Crag. Then another group over on the bluff by the big bent over pine tree. One group left, and was soon replaced. Good grief, there were lots of people out today! I saw five groups when I was there. I wandered on back to the cabin, and enjoyed the stroll.

It was most pleasant outside, although it was 32 degrees and overcast, with light snowy specks coming down every now and then. The clouds above hung just above the mountaintops, so you could see the river below and all of the hillsides in the wilderness. But it almost seemed warm.

I spent a hour or two down in my little meadow, chopping and gathering and hauling firewood - it felt GREAT! I loved it. Mark that down - freezing is a perfect temp to chop wood. I filled two of my log carriers with split oak. This stuff would burn great, and keep things dry for some time. Hauling it up the hill was the toughest part, and I could feel that my bones didn't like it. I was forced onto the porch swing more than once.

After my hike and log chores, I settled inside and cooked up a batch of veggie chili - um, that stuff really made the cabin smell good! I'm tweaking the recipe, and will post it on the Cloudland Recipe Page soon. It will be a staple on cold winter days here. Already has.

I brewed a pot of coffee, and had a bit with some Bailey's in it, and sat out on the porch swing for a while, watching the fog come and go, and the birds sneaking around. The river was singing loudly, and I could tell that it was having a good time.

Near the end of the day, a car came driving up. They left the main road when they saw the cabin and headed down a dead-end lane. I knew they weren't looking for me, so I strapped on my boots and went to investigate. They got to the dead end, and were trying to turn around when they saw me walking towards them. The engine revved up, and their tires spun - I guess they remembered that they had driven right past the NO TRESPASSING and PRIVATE PROPERTY signs, and were a little concerned about this hillbilly walking towards them. They seemed to be in a bit of a hurry to leave. Hah! They sped off, tearing up part of my road.

I followed their tracks up the road - they didn't act like normal visitors, and I wanted to make sure they went on their way, and didn't bother anything up at Bob's. I didn't find any further sign of them.

As I passed through the Faddis Meadow on my way back, I found a flock of bluebirds. There were probably 20 of them, and they were playing and bouncing and chattering about like crazy. They hardly noticed my presence, or cared. I never could figure out just exactly what they were up to, but they did spend a lot of time down on the ground, although it didn't look like they were eating anything - just playing tag or something. It was great to see their brilliant blue coat and rust breast against the grey day.

It was so nice out, an still a bit of daylight left, so I walked towards the Crag. I was about half way down the trail when I heard a coyote cry out. I stopped to listen. He called out again. Sounded nice in the winter woods. A few steps later he yelped a little louder. As I looked around at the soaked forest floor, and felt the breeze on my face that was coming from the coyote towards me, I realized that it just might be possible for me to creep through the quiet leaves, and against the wind, and sneak up on this little rascal. Hum, could that be possible? I sunk up on a bear in August, why not a coyote? Guess I would have to find out!

I headed off along the bench in the direction of the sound. I covered the first stretch of ground pretty quick, but then slowed down as I creeped up over the edge of the bench up above. I stopped and listened. The light was fading. Since the breeze was in my face, he would not be able to scent me, and the leaves were indeed very quiet. But he had to keep sounding out or I wouldn't be able to find him. Then he cried out again. Sounded like we were on the same bench now, but still a little bit out there. I moved across the bench and made my way through a number of smaller broken bluff rocks. I stopped again to listen, and realized that the rocks around me looked pretty darn nice - almost glowing with all that green.

The coyote yelped again, and he was very close, but perhaps up on the next bench. I crept up the hillside. Very slow, stopping and scanning the forest from left to right and then back again with every step. I crouched low as I approached the edge of the bench, and got behind a boulder for cover. Then waited. And he cried out once again, and I knew he was very close.

I moved on just a few more feet, and then I saw him - right there on the same bench, about 150 yards away, and along the edge of the bench, just like me. He hadn't seen me, and was busy milling about his little area. He wasn't really all that close - way out there at the edge of my sight - but he was WITHIN my sight, and I had snuck up on him without him ever detecting me! His hind end went down into the leaves and he howled again, two short bursts.

That's when the hair on the back of my neck stood right straight up - I spotted another coyote - out there near the first one - and he had his eyes focused right at me. No, he was DRILLING those eyes right through me! It was not a friendly look. I felt very, very small. Gulp. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity - I didn't want to turn away from his gaze - I knew he knew that I saw him and that he had seen me. I wasn't scared, but was a little startled.

Within a few seconds in the real world, coyote #3 turned away from me and flipped his nose at coyote #1, then they both turned and trotted off into the darkening forest. I took a deep breath - hadn't had one in a while. Hey, I wanted to sneak up on a coyote, and it was well worth the effort!

I scooted on back to the cabin as darkness crept in. The wind had died down, and the temp was still very pleasant. I could have walked another hour or two, but knew since it was cloudy, there wouldn't be any moonlight to direct my travels. So I settled for another little visit to the porch swing.

The evening soon melted right into the darkness. I had some dinner, a little wine, and mostly hung out in the firelight. The wood that I had split and brought up burned even and long into the night.

1/24/99 I rolled over and thought that I was dreaming - what I saw reminded me of the flesh of a Golden trout that I had caught and ate up in the wilds of Wyoming several years ago - the sky was the most incredible color of salmon, no, not quite salmon, but Golden trout. It was amazing! Soon the cabin filled with yellow light, then it quickly turned to white. Time to get up!

After some coffee and hot grape nuts, I spent a little while bringing up more firewood. The sun had warmed up the lower deck, and it was time for me to bring out the cutting tools and measure a little Aspen. I put the big miter saw out on the deck, and stacked all of the Aspen boards nearby. My job this day was to put up all of the Aspen in the upstairs guest room, where we had ripped out the closet. I had never finished the walls inside the closet, because I was going to put up cedar there.

I had to make two cuts with the circular saw down the walls where the new Aspen boards would meet the old Aspen - sawdust went everywhere! Fortunately, I had moved everything back and covered up most things. But there was a lot of fine sawdust around. I spent a lot of time with the vacuum.

The cuts went OK, and after I measured all of the spots where the boards were going, I discovered that I had exactly the right amount of wood - oops, that meant that I could not make a single mistake!

It only took me about two hours to cut all of the boards and get them nailed up. The sunshine hitting the lower deck was great, and I was forced to linger out there a little longer than normal to soak it all up.

There was a steady stream of hikers over on the Crag, and several of them made it over to near the cabin - a few even hiked up on past the cabin. A guy from Clarksville who had a log cabin from the same company as mine dropped by to see how mine was coming. We compared notes.

A couple stopped by that was looking for a way down the bluffline - he had been shooting pictures, and lost his tripod over the bluff - something that I had done myself a time or two. I sent them down the ladder trail (he later e-mailed me to report that the tripod was found, and while beat up a little, was still usable).

Once the Aspen was all in place, I headed on over to the Crag myself for an afternoon stroll. I came across four folks from Oklahoma that were headed to Whitaker Point. We chatted a few minutes. They told me that someone down at the Crag was telling everyone that there was a road down at the end of my trail that would take hikers back to the trailhead. That is true, but it is a mile and a half LONGER than just hiking back on the main trail. I passed another group. Geeze, everyone was out today. A picture in the NW Arkansas Morning news on Friday really sent the crowds out.

I spent some time at the Crag talking with various hikers, then headed up the hill and looped back to the cabin. I passed the folks from Oklahoma along the way. While they were down near the cabin, a bald eagle came flying by. I told them it was just one of my pets, and was trained to fly past hikers with camera.

As the day grew long, so did the shadows. The color of the sun on the trees grew yellow, then orange, then red, then in an instant, disappeared altogether. The sun had set. It was time for me to head back to town. Another fine weekend at Cloudland.

1/30/99 It was raining and foggy when I pulled into the carport at the cabin. As I was walking away from the truck, one of my longtime dreams came to life - a beautiful young woman walked right out of the fog towards me. It was my friend. She had arrived a little while before me, had built a roaring fire inside, and was out for a walk in the fog. Cloudland was made for living dreams. It was good to be home.

We both had been cooped up in town all week, and wasted no time making the best of a drizzly, rainy, misty day - we put on our hiking boots and rain gear and headed out into the woods. I absolutely LOVE hiking in this kind of weather! The thick fog lifted just enough for us to see all of the world out in front of us. We went down the ladder trail towards the river. Even though it was a chilly outside, we soon had peeled off all layers but one - guess the humidity was making things warm all over.

The forest had an overall green cast to it. We stopped and studied the scene. Many of the trees were covered from top to bottom with a fine layer of lichens. I wondered if they would eventually kill the trees, but we decided not. I don't recall seeing this much lichen cover before, except perhaps in the rain forest of the Olympics in Washington.

We left the trail and bushwhacked our way on over to Whitaker Creek, which was running pretty good and making all kinds of music. The soft light, the mist, and the fact that everything was pretty much soaked from an all-day rain, made the colors in the forest just incredible - SUPER rich greens and browns. The greens this time were from the thick, lush moss that seem to cover everything along the stream. Boulders and trees and sometimes even the forest floor. And the moss seemed to go on forever up the hillside.

The earth was soft underfoot. And even though there was no trail, the hiking was easy - we just sort of wondered along beside the stream, which was running wildly in places. There were lots of little waterfalls and short stretches of whitewater, all dumping into emerald pools before leaving the other end of the pools to create another waterfall. Many of the trees were covered with layers upon layers of miniature shelf lichens, all soft and green. Other trees were carpeted with moss all the way up, and were leaning out over the stream.

We heard water noise coming from the bluffline up to our right. There were several waterfalls coming right out of the bluff and pouring down the hillside. They were really pumping out a lot of water!

There were several beech forests along the way. Dozens of young beech trees, all growing close together, and all still with all of their leaves. And the leaves ranged from deep bronze in color to nearly white. From a distance, some of the trees looked like dogwood trees in full bloom. There were many places where the branches and leaves from the trees touched each other, and we had to push back the branches just to get through. The light color of the leaves reflected what little light there was getting down into the forest that far, which made those areas much lighter.

Thunder rolled on up the valley. Oops. It hadn't really been raining much, but it did get very dark all of a sudden, and we knew we were about to get wet.

We left the main Whitaker Creek and made our way up Lower Fork, a branch of the larger stream. I have no idea why it is called "Lower" Fork. More thunder. Darker skies.

My friend shrieked with delight - she had found a most unusual beech tree. I'm not quite sure how to describe it, but will say that there was a short, stubby branch growing out of the smooth main trunk, and it pointed down at a 45 degree angle. It had begun to rain a little bit, and there was a stream of water flowing from its tip. Hum. When I asked my friend how I was going to describe this tree in the journal, she said "just say that is was a beech with a penis!" OK, enough said.

It got darker. And louder. Then flashes of light. The hillside was really steep, and the sky opened up and it began to pour. Just then we came to a neat little stretch of the stream with three or four waterfalls and wonderful pools - I'd not been to this spot before. We were heading to a larger waterfall, where there just happened to be a good overhang to escape the rain under, so we didn't linger at the smaller falls area, and pressed on up the hillside.

Soon the big falls came into view. This is about the second largest waterfall that I know of in the area, and it was running pretty good. Not very wide, but very TALL! We scampered up the slick rocks and took refuge under the bluff. It was pouring down all over. And cold. We didn't stay to long. It was a wonderful waterfall, with no name.

We made our way around the bluffline and back to the main creek, then crossed it and climbed up onto the next bench and eventually found the Hawksbill Crag Trail. We took the lower, more scenic route along the top of the bluff. It continued to rain pretty hard. I love walking in the rain. There was a good view out over the valley from this trail.

Something caught our eyes - three miniature C-130 aircraft were gliding across the valley below, plowing through the heavy rain. Hawks? Eagles? Buzzards? Nope. They were turkeys! Big and fat and quite graceful. They never flapped a wing, but rather glided on over and into the trees, then came to rest in the large branches of a red oak (with a clunk I imagine). They reminded me of those giant C-130 military aircraft that train over the skies of central Arkansas - and they usually fly in threes too.

There was no one at the Crag - no surprise - but the view was still stunning, as always. We hiked on through the rain. It let up some, then all but stopped. The only sounds were those of raindrops hitting the leaves. I closed my eyes and listened. Sounded kind of like steaks on the grill from a distance - the juices splattering into the hot coals. (I got that image from Hawkeye on a M.A.S.H. episode.)

The trees and smaller bushes were covered with big drops of fresh rain, all shimmering. It hadn't taken long for the black skies to lighten up - almost looked like the sun was going to come out. My friend said that the black clouds were so full of moisture that the light couldn't get through, but now that they had dumped their load, there wasn't as much to block the sun. Made sense to me.

Down below, steam vents were forming fog banks, and the fog clouds moved back and forth, growing and shrinking and dancing all over the place. Many clouds were born here today.

We walked on in silence towards the cabin. Neither of us had much on but poly-pro and rain gear, but we were plenty warm. It wasn't until we reached the cabin and began to take our boots off that we realized that we were both soaked to the bone from head to toe! Inside, the fire was putting out a lot of warmth, and soon were standing between a full clothes drying rack and the fire, sipping on hot chocolate laced with Irish cream. It was a fine hike. And a warm fire. There were smiles all around.

After hot showers, my friend spent an hour or two in the kitchen preparing a wonderful dish for dinner. I chopped a few of the veggies, and made a couple loaves of French bread. The mantle was utilized not only as a spot to place the bread dough to rise, but also as a place to put the plates to heat up before serving.

Soon all the lights were out, the candles lit, a good bottle of wine opened, and we feasted on Green and White Spicy Pasta and French bread smeared with fresh baked garlic. The fire danced and the rain continued on. We were warm and dry and snug and full. Just another typical day at Cloudland.

1/31/99 It rained off and on all night, although never very hard. It stayed about 40 degrees. We stoked up the fire and had a breakfast of Cloudland coffee and toasted bagels for breakfast. Some of the mist out in the valley was rising straight up into the air, while other clouds were blowing across from left to right.

There was a feature on Sunday Ozarks At Large about the Blue Moon, which was going to happen later in the day. A blue moon is a second full moon in the same month. They normally only happen once every two years and nine months, but it just so happens that not only was there a blue moon in January this year, but also one in March, with no full moon at all in February. Very strange. Anyway, I was glad to hear that others were planning to celebrate the Blue Moon too, as I try to do. The full moon always rises at sunset, and we would be right there ready for it.

My friend had brought some of her art to work on, and while she set it up, I put on my hiking boots and headed out into the cool morning air. Once I got into the woods, it was very still, and quiet - nothing moving at all. The rains had scrubbed the forest clean and wiped away all tracks in the road, vehicle and critter alike. As I walked, I realized that there wasn't a single critter track to be found. The longer I hiked, the more anxious I got to see something. Nothing.

I did see the ground covered with black hickory nut hulls under each of the big hickory trees in the Faddis Meadow. I'd never noticed such a complete ground cover in years past - guess it was a really good year for hickory nuts.

There weren't any birds out at all, not even down at Bob's cabin. His bird feeders were vacant. It was kind of weird.

I walked up the road, searching the ground for a single track of anyone. Still nothing. When I returned to the Faddis Meadow, the sky exploded with color, sound and movement - birds at last! In fact, a lot of birds. Blue birds, cardinals, woodpeckers, and several that I couldn't identify. I don't really know what the difference was in this second visit, which was only about ten minutes after the first, but something had happened, and the birds were out. Perhaps I had spooked them when I first appeared, and they all flew off and hid. Then once they recognized me, came out and stayed out, unafraid when I returned. I dunno. It was good to see and hear them.

But still no tracks on the ground. It had begun to get to me. When I hit the woods, I got down on my hands and knees and began to examine the ground very closely for ANY sign that a critter had passed since the rain. Then, finally, there it was. And I followed the track off of the road and into the forest. I just knew that I could catch up with the critter that had made the track - since the track was made on top of my own, it had to be less than twenty minutes old. I got down very close to the ground. My heart pounded. Son of a gun, I had successfully tracked down a snail! He was crawling along at perhaps .0000001 miles per hour. Nothing out on the ground but a snail - I guess it was still wildlife.

Back at the cabin, my friend was busy painting, and I sat down at the computer and wrote in the journal. I don't remember ever being there with just one other person before and both of us busy doing something entirely different. It felt right. (And I must say that her painting was very, very good - I had never seen any of her work before, and was a little overwhelmed at how good it was.)

But soon the call of the outdoors was too much, and my friend put down her brushes and put on her work clothes and went down to the meadow and started cutting brush. It was cloudy and cool out, and the breeze had died down. I soon joined her, and we spent the next few hours cleaning up the meadow spot, and building a really big fire. I mean a BIG fire - all of the brush that she had been cutting out flamed up really well.

There was this very large tree that had been cut down and cut up that has always been just too big to split up. I was trying to figure out whether to try to burn the blocks, roll them down the hill, or what. We discovered a really neat split pattern in one of the giant wood blocks, and thought that it would make a great picture. A little later my friend rolled one of the big blocks over to the fire. It wasn't until an hour later that I realized this was the log with the neat pattern on it! Oh well, it appeared that it would never burn anyway, so I figured I would come back later and take a picture.

Then I decided to try to split one of the blocks. POP! It split right open! It took me a couple of hours, but I did manage to split up most of the big blocks. Since the tree was dead before I cut it down, the wood was already well seasoned. It made one large pile of split wood. Now, if I could only figure out a way to get all of that heavy wood UP the hill to the cabin!

It remained cool all day, and rained on and off.

Boy, by the end of the day, large parts of the meadow and the hillside leading up to the lower deck were in pretty good shape. We walked/climbed around and made up plans for various plants to go here and there - ferns, hostas, azaleas, ground cover, an herb garden, a couple of trails with stepping stones with herbs planted in between them, and generally figured out what the landscaping might look like. The steep slope and the meadow would become a nice garden area. There would even be plants under the decks, which were nothing but barren dirt piles now. I was getting excited at all of the prospects. I wanted my little corner of the world to blend in with the surroundings, but also be a showplace for others to enjoy.

We put up the tools and sat down and drew all of the plans up on paper. I didn't realize how much went into planning something like this. We even got out the tape measure and figured out the square footage. Geeze, there is going to be a lot of plants! I will need to sell a lot of books.

Then the fog rolled in. Thick fog. It engulfed the forest and the cabin and our imaginations. It was getting dark, but we just had to go out and walk in the fog a little. We headed up towards the East Meadow. There was no sound but the fog. The leaves were wet, and the forest was all in silhouette. We creeped into the meadow, straining to see if any critters were lurking there. A very strange sound rang out at the far side of the meadow. It must have been a coyote, but it just sounded, I don't know, a little metallic or something, not like a regular coyote sound. We only heard it once, and never saw anything. There is always interesting stuff in the East Meadow.

We walked on in the fog and talked and listened and watched enjoyed the trees and bushes and grasses. My friend spotted my peach tree. I showed her the deciduous holly, and a couple of paw paw trees. It was nearly dark when we returned to the cabin. A nice hike.

There was no view of the blue moon rise because of the fog. Darn. I had planned a picnic on the Crag, but will just have to try again on March 31st. Once in a Blue Moon I will have a picnic on the Crag with a beautiful woman...

My friend likes to wander around in the cabin barefoot, and she let a dying wasp get the best of her little toe - she came running out into the great room holding her foot. I got out my trusty EXTRACTOR kit that I always have around, sat her down on the couch and let it work its magic. The sting spot was easy to find. I applied the contraption and we both sat there and watched it work, while she winced in pain. Nothing. The pain got worse. No fluid got sucked out. I guess there wasn't enough. Or something. She hopped on back into her room, still in a great deal of pain. I ground the wasp into the floor.

We fired up the BBQ grill and tried out some veggie burger mix. HEY, it was pretty darn good! I was surprised, and went back for seconds. We spent the rest of the evening playing our new board game (the one with the stones that she always beats me at), hanging out in front of the fire, and sipping fine wines. Well, not all of them were fine. I opened a bottle of Arkansas wine that was supposed to be very good. And I must tell ya, and remember that I am a guy that drinks wine out of a box, but this stuff was TERRIBLE!!! I detected a hint of lighter fluid. I don't know much about good wine, but I knew that this was really bad. And I had three bottles of it. We decided to let it breathe, for about a week.

In honor of the Blue Moon (it was hovering about overhead somewhere no doubt), I put on a Cowboy Junkies CD and we danced to their "Blue Moon" song. Well, I can't really dance, but the music and the company were great.

A couple of years ago I bought a gorgeous maple guitar with the specific purpose of singing songs during full moons to beautiful women at my cabin. Having never learned how to play it, I sold it last week. I am already longing for another guitar, but vow not to buy one until I have enrolled in a class and make myself learn how to play.

We could see the big fire glowing down below from the back deck. There was a large dark spot in the middle of the coals - must have been that big block of wood that wouldn't burn. The one with that neat pattern on it. The coals continued to glow even though it was raining pretty good - it was a big pile of coals.

Good grief, January is over! It has been a wonderful month, but I wasn't able to spend nearly enough time out at Cloudland. I must say though that what little time I did spend was put to good use - some of my finest moments in life were at the cabin in January. I will remember them with great fondness. The month came in with a great freeze and no power, and went out with rain and fog and veggie burgers. And I got to track a snail. I can't wait for February!