After my terrifying episode from the 1994 FLOOD, I attempted to organize the neighbors to repair the seriously decade foot bridge. No one was interested. I was informed there was another better foot bridge about a mile up stream. Numerous attempts were made to locate the emergency exit to no avail. Soon I too coped the who cares, got better things to do, attitude. During a weekend flash flood, that no one paid any attention to, I noticed the water man had had it into the treatment plant. Concerned with who was at our then, public water supply, I drove down to check. Sure enough it was our water man, soaked to the bone. "How in the world did you get across the bridge", I had to ask. He explained he took the invisible foot bridge everyone had told me about and walked across a large fallen tree. Satisfied the situation was under control, I returned to the warmth of my home and forgot the incident.

Until I got a call at work from home. The dam had burst above the house and the bridge had trees hung up and the water had covered the road for a mile. A number of my co-workers had offered to put me up for the night, but it was Friday and I needed to get the root cellar cleaned out for this years harvest. The closer I got to home the more I was sure the call must have been a prank. None of the usual streams were even swollen. I was within a half a mile from my bridge, when reality struck. A line of traffic blocked the road. Neighbors were gathered around their vehicles. Not only was my bridge blocked, but the state road to the next community was cut through. They were waiting a two way radio call to see if they could get to their home from a back road across the mountain. The all clear came through and the crowd dispersed. We will never have cell phone access in this area and ham radios are still popular. It was early evening so I started checking down all the private drives looking for the good foot bridge the water man had told me about. I was a quarter of a mile into a private farm lane, when I spotted the foot bridge. Feeling like a trespasser, I looked for a door to knock on. As I parked my car in front of a yard gate, an elderly framer and his wife met me on the lawn. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, "Do ya mind if I use your foot bridge this evening", I shouted over the gate.

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Not at all", he replied,"but I'd rather you come in and stay the night. It's worst than I've seen it for awhile and the hay field on the other side is flooded half way up." After several minutes of exchange, we settled on , I'd try, if I couldn't make it I'd be back and they'd have a house guest. I was off. The bridge was solid, but it was so long it swung back and forth as I walked. I almost crawled, but I was afraid the farmer might still be watching, so I graped both side of the cable and looked not down at the terrifying raging water. I exhaled a large breath of relief when I approached the first descending step. Until I got half way down and the water covered my shoes . Then my jeans. I was waist high when my feet caught solid ground. It was back water with no current. Land lay within ten foot. If I lost my footing, I could swim that far. No debris upstream. I loosened my grip on the cable. My footing held. Off I went across the the flooded field. Each step bringing me further out of the water and closer to home and safety.

Under and over fences, I went, up across the fields, into the mountains to the west, to my warm dry home. When I reached the roaring ravine, I looked down. The fields had disappeared. The comfort of the smoke from the farm house had vanished. I was deep in the mountains, alone. My heart beat increased. A moment of fear flooded me as I survived the full circumference of my environment, wondering what wild creatures were watching me. The forest floor was covered in christmas ferns, and there was a hay fern and over there a maiden hair. I was comforted by the familiarity of their presents. Upward I pressed, following the ravine, continuing my quest. Thirty minutes later I realized I had taken the path of less resistance and was on an old logging road, I could no longer see the ravine. It was beneath me. Immediately I drop down, through the briers, knee deep in leaves and soft ground that had not perhaps ever been touched by humans. When I reached the ravine once again, my breathing became more rapid. Had I missed the tree? Should I go up or drop down? I held on to a tree and peered deeper into the ravines path. I moved closer to a suspicious disruption in the landscape. There it was! A three foot diameter moss covered tree laying firmly and securely across the raging waters. As I approached, recalling the water man's words of how he had walked across, I had to chuckle to myself. Not me. Not on that wet slick moss. I sit my fat fanny down and slide across the log. Glad no one was around to impress this time. I took the safe way. Dare devil was never a part of my nature.

Exhilarated by the accomplishment, I crawled up the next steep obstacle, pulling myself along with every firm branch I could find. Over one more downed wire fence and I was sliding for home and the road. Before I reached the road, I ran into the property owner and his son. Thank goodness the rain had washed most of the mud from my soaked body. The timely coincidence turned out to have been a search party that had been sent out by phone from the old farmer. They were looking to see if the crazy woman had survived the quest or was lost in the mountains. We had a good laugh. I was informed I could not follow the road home as the culvert had over flowed the road. No problem. One more open ridge and I was home. As I descended into the opening to my home, I could see the driveway full of vehicles. Loud noises were coming from my garage. As I approached, I ran into another neighbor who looked shocked to see me and asked, "Where'd you come from?"

After a brief summary of my journey, he informed me that water was already in two of their trailers and up to the front door of the third. The blocked bridge had them cut off from exit and they had barely gotten their vehicles through the raising water to reach the up my lane. My partner had given permission for them to use the garage. I could hear dogs barking and children screaming, as I entered the garage, to assist my guest in making themselves as comfortable as possible. They had a fire going in the wood stove, with pots for their eveing meal. Thinking ahead in the emergency, they had grapped enough food to hold them for a week. Thank goodness. I could have never feed this many unexpected guest for more than one meal.

The next morning, the elder of the clan, made the steep trek down to check on their property and returned serveal hours later to report the water was receding. By evening they could return home and begin cleanup. He was correct. The rest of the day consisted of packing and returning pets and family to their home. See Part II "The Rescue"