Skiing Stevens

So back in early December of last year, I was finally talked into going skiing with several friends at work. It had a long while since I last skied, but the timing finally seemed right and everything would have worked out great except that was the the particular day that Mother Nature chose to unleash one of the mightiest windstorms in years. After a couple very shaky runs on the easiest chair lift, the resort was closed for the rest of the day. Wind speeds were reported at 100mph at the top of the mountain.

Fast forward nearly three months later to March 8, when I finally had a chance to go back to Stevens Pass and redeem the lift voucher I got for the aborted attempt in December. My friend Randy and I took off from work for the afternoon and hit the slopes at about 130pm under fair skies, 28 degrees and no wind.

It felt great to be on the slopes again and though I probably haven't skied more than 10 times in the last 20 years, I did OK, all things considered. My thighs burned like fire during the first few runs, but eventually settled down to just a semi-crippling sizzle. One of the highlights of the afternoon was recovering some stashed beers and watching the boarders go through the terrain park as we chilled out on the sidelines. Never did the once-laughable bottle opener feature on my jacket seem quite so brilliant.

I think we took every lift on the mountain, save for the single most difficult and the easiest. Randy didn't let up on me at all, and by 6pm I was wiped out and ready to head back home. I only fell once the entire afternoon, but it was a pretty bad event, being a combination face plant, knee and ankle twister, sliding down the hill, totally out of control sort of thing. That was one fall where it would have been real nice if the bindings had released.

Neverthless, I survived and it was all good.

Time standing still

One more thing I want to mention regarding the fall off the ladder is how long the time seemed from when I first realized that I wasn't going to catch my balance until I was picking myself up off the concrete. I remember several distinct phases to the fall, including the thought that I surely was going to regain my balance, to definitely thinking I'd be able to jump away from the ladder and somehow land on my feet, like a two-legged cat. When those scenarios didn't pan out I knew immediately that it going to be a bad thing, the landing part, and I went over in my mind if I was going to land on my head, or which bones I might break, if anybody was watching, how much it would hurt, if I'd have to go to the hospital, if I'd be able to drive the car and so on, all in the space of a couple seconds, at most. Still, I was frightened or angry at my bad fortune, but just felt acceptance of whatever might happen.

It is truly amazing how the mind works and while this concept of time standing still during an event like this is certainly not original, I can definitely now validate that it is true. It does make you wonder about such things as near-death experiences and other traumatic events where one's consciousness feels truly altered.

Sonics Game

A friend gave me a couple tickets to the Sonics vs Blazers game last night so at around 6pm Savi and I jumped in the car and headed downtown to Key Arena. Of all the events we've been to, food has always been the prime motivation in her going, and last night was no exception. But she's always such great, great company that I've never minded indulging her with a pre-game burger and fries, popcorn and soda at the game, and of course whatever candy bars and other goodies we can sneak in under our coats.

We had a quick dinner at a burger place near the Arena and got to our seats a little before tip off. The game itself was uneventful, as are most NBA games, with a steady stream of turnovers by both teams and continuous breaks in the action for TV timeouts and free throws. The halftime, however, was great, as they retired the jersey of Spencer Haywood, one of my all-time favorite players from the early days of the Sonics.

We left the game a little early, played leaf tag on our way back to the car as a light drizzle fell and got home at around 9:30.

Sitting here in bed, semi-conscious...

...so I thought I'd resurrect my blog with a few random thoughts.

First of all, I'm sitting here with nothing to do because about an hour ago, while trying to install a new basketball backboard for my daughter, I fell off the topmost step of a 6-foot stepladder, landing flat on my face on the concrete, smashing the backboard and ladder to smithereens, in so doing. I'm still in a bit of shock, and wonderment, at the fact that I apparently did not break anything on my personal body, though my pride was severely bruised. I think the problem was, besides stupidly standing on the very top of the ladder, that I had my body half way through the actual basketball rim, trying to reach a screw at the topmost part of the backboard. That sort of prevented me from catching my balance when the ladder started to wobble, and worse yet, stopped me from jumping clear when I started falling. I had not finished securing the backboard, so that came loose when I pulled away and in some weird way I think it actually cushioned the impact. Of course, a car was just driving past when I fell, but it did not stop.

Anyway, to console myself a little bit (after I confirmed there were no fractures), I finally ordered a new digital camera. I just couldn't stand the research and the waiting for new models to come out, so when Costco.com today posted a good deal on a Canon a710 with a 2gb memory card, I jumped on it. It's not the dSLR type camera I initially wanted, but will probably be much more practical and hopefully something everyone can use.

The big Chilly Hilly bike ride is tomorrow and I was looking forward to spending a couple hours this afternoon tuning up my bike, but I'm hurting to much to do that right now. Hopefully I'll feel good enough in the morning to go on the ride, though my left wrist and the left part of my jaw are in considerable paint, at the moment.

What else has been going on since my last posting way back in October? Not that much really. I survived the holidays, in an uneventful, though somewhat melancholy, fashion and have been struggling a little bit to get traction in the new year. Did try downhill snow-skiing for the first time in several years. Unfortunately, it was in the midst of possibly the worst blizzard in a decade, and the resort was subsequently shut down after my third run. I got a credit for the cost of the lift ticket, which I'm still waiting to redeem....

I'm still working at the boatyard and that subject is probably deserving of its own posting, which I will try to do sometime in the near future. Suffice it to say that since late last September, when the office manager suddenly quit and I had to take over, it has been extremely challenging, and not necessarily in a fun way. But it has kept me on my toes and put me in an environment where I have to deal with people all the time. I'm happy to say that I have succeeded to a certain degree, though I admit that I have not totally committed to the idea of being in the marine repair business, especially with the prospect that my brother is going to retire in a few years.

So now it's later. 6pm the next day, to be exact. I diligently got up this morning for the bike ride, checked the weather, checked the ferry schedule, packed up my little collection of energy bars and packed away nearly two litres of PowerAde. I was totally convinced that my wrist was going to hold up but I thought it worthy of the attempt, inasmuch as I had been looking forward to this event for months. Though the entire left side of my body ached from yesterday's fall, I curled onto the bike and headed downtown.

It was an achy, uncomfortable ride and when I got to the ferry dock I knew there was no way I could deal with a 4-5 hour ride in my condition. By the time I got back home I could barely squeeze the front brake lever and nearly crashed into the garage door. Anyway, it was a good try.

I thought I'd better do something to be somewhat productive, so I ran to the store, got some fixins for a stew and got that started. Afterwards, I went to the garage and began resurrecting the old backboard, which mainly included some cosmetic fixes, including a new coat of paint. I'm sure Sav will be disappointed when I put it back on, but it served me faithfully for nearly 20 years and I don't really want to spend another $100 for a new one.

After lunch, I ran over to the Guild 45th Theatre to watch Peter O'Tooles new star vehicle, "Venus." Loved it. Though I don't really see an Oscar for O'Toole, it was a great performance, certainly worthy of a nomination. The film was touching, a bit sentimental, and for anybody over 50 years old or so, a potent reminder of our mortality.

That's it for now--back to the Oscars. By the way, the stew was great!

Annual Cle Elum Bike Ride

We'd only been planning this ride since about March, but when the phone rang at 6:15 am Sunday morning, I knew who it was and I knew what he was going to say.

"Hey Frank," said my brother Tim, somewhat too cheerily, "looks like we're going to have to cancel the ride. Rain."

Well, I had noticed a few sprinkles when I got the paper from the front porch, but until the phone rang, it hadn't occurred to me that it was enough to possibly scare someone off from what I was sure still was going to be a very pleasant ride.

"Cathy (his wife) is already back in bed, so we're going to bag it." That was about it for the conversation--his mind was made up. Little did I know then that he had made the right decision, though possibly for the wrong reasons. While maybe not mind-boggling, the rain that was to fall over the region during the next 6-7 hours, especially up in the mountains, was the most during a 24-period since early May.

Nonetheless, blithely ignorant of impending doom, I called my sister Sue and feigned indifference to the weather, which was now squally, but with encouraging periods of dry, and confirmed that breakfast was still a go at her apartment and more importantly, that brother-in-law Greg was still a go as my stalwart riding partner. He was.

I left the house at around 6:45, armed with every layer of fleece and nylon that I owned. I counted 8 little rain drops on the windshield during the short ride to Sue and Greg's place. Breakfast was at 7 and by 7:30 we had loaded up the bikes and were on our way, as the eastern sky was slowly brightening. It was now sprinkling, but relatively warm. We were hopeful.

By the time we got to Bellevue, we were hedging our bets a little, looking for wood to knock on and hoping the bright spots near toward Snoqualmie Pass were not illusions. As we approached North Bend, the rain had stopped and the roadway was almost dry and things seemed to be in a clearing mode. The old Subaru faithfully chugged up the steep hill to the Rattlesnake Lake trailhead and by 8:30 or so, we were on the John Wayne Trail.

Ten minutes later it was raining and it didn't stop raining until about ten minutes after we arrived in Cle Elum, almost exactly six soggy, sad hours later.

In the beginning, the moderate sprinkles were light and refreshing, sort of like the soft drink, with the perspiration from the inside meeting the rain from the outside, comfortably somewhere in the middle of my several layers of clothing. I had a digital thermometer on the bike and the temperature was a brisk 41 degrees, but despite it now raining harder and heavier, we were still plenty warm as we were pushing the pace pretty good, and going up a little grade, to boot.

It's about 18 miles from the North Bend trailhead to the entrance of the Snoqualmie tunnel, and by mile 15 I had started to bonk a little bit, trying to keep up with Greg's tough 11 mph pace. I suddenly remembered some PowerAde I had brought along and after just a few sips, I couldn't believe what a difference it made. I had never before been so energized by a drink and it helped me make it to our first serious rest stop, at a little snowshed just a couple miles before the tunnel.

The break, which I had been hugely looking forward to, was a major disappointment. Cracks in the roof allowed the rain to pour through. There was not a single inch that was dry, nor place to sit, so we had a miserably short break. To make matters worse, my much anticipated granola bars were like lead from the cold and were almost impossible to chew.

Somewhat fearing that we might get overly chilled if we didn't soon get moving, we jumped back on the bikes and headed for the tunnel. It was possibly in this short stretch that the rain seemed to intensify, coming down in focused freshets, soaking us to the bone. Ironically, it was here that we saw some bikers going in the opposite direction. Somehow they didn't look, at least, as miserably as we felt.

We made it uneventfully through the 3-mile long tunnel and emerged into Eastern Washington at about 11 am, where it was, not surprisingly, still raining hard. We passed the Hyak parking lot where another group of would-be bikers were milling about, trying to decide what to do. I was hopeful that our beleaguered appearance as we rode forlornly past might have convinced them that they should try again in spring.

We passed Lake Keechelus and were cruising along nicely at a solid 15+ mph. We were taking a beating on the rough trail (which worsens considerably at this point), but because we were going a little downhill, it wasn't too bad and I was sure I could make it to our next rest stop, at a short, dry tunnel about ten miles away. It was here, about halfway between Hyak and Easton, that we met another big group of riders, heading west. They asked how far it was to the tunnel, we told them and they reluctantly continued up the trail. I still don't know where they had started from.

We made it to the rest tunnel and thought that the rain was starting to lighten slightly, but it was still just 42 degrees and we were starting to get a little cold, especially in the feet, which is almost always the first thing to go when riding bikes in inclement weather. I changed my shirts and put on a dry jacket and felt a little better.

This particular tunnel has nice memories for me. I remember taking a long, long break here the first time I rode the trail six or seven years ago, when I had an old Walkman cassette player taped to the handlebars of my trusty old Motiv comfort bike. I did this same ride once again by myself and then a much-shortened version with my daughter Tiana when she was about 10 or 11 years old. It was then that Greg started riding the full route with me and in the four or five years since, we've had various combinations of brothers, brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law and kids riding along for at least part of the trail. But we always stopped at this scenic little 200-yard long tunnel 5 miles west of Easton.

It was an easy ride down to Lake Easton, through the back streets of Easton proper and back onto the trail, which now parallels the freeway and becomes very monotonous and very rough. We were making good time again, but eventually the pace wasted me and I had to slow down. But we were within 15 miles of Cle Elum now, and the rain, though still heavy, wasn't so heavy and we could sense that we were at the beginning of the end, which along with a slower pace, made things much more palatable.

But then the effort suddenly increased and it took me a couple minutes to realize that my back tire had blown. What a miserable experience that repair was! Cold fingers, raining, dirt, sand and grit everywhere and just very, very tired. Finally got the spare tube on the wheel, the wheel on the bike and the tire pumped up. We were on the final leg, with just 5 or 6 miles to go.

We passed over the Yakima River a couple times, came to the South Cle Elum trailhead with it's cozy trailside restaurant still open and headed on blessed smooth pavement to our cabin, two or three miles away.

Arriving precisely at our predicted time of around 2:20, we got no heroes welcome, as everyone had gone out for nachos and beer. But the rest of the family arrived about half an hour later and the traditional Cle Elum reunion (ostensibly for Tiana's birthday) was once again underway, for the sixth or seventh consecutive year, always in the first part of October.

Food, beer and birthday cake followed and after a short respite, the rain started up again. The leaves outside had fallen, NFL football was on the TV and for a brief moment all was at peace.

Wisconsin 2006--Central

Merrill, Wisconsin Look at a map of Wisconsin and a little above the state's center, twenty miles north of the booming Wausau, lies the sedate town of Merrill, where my Dad grew up and where much of our family still lives.

Merrill has a population of approximately 10,000 and bills itself as the "City of Parks." I wasn't going to argue with that, as I think the parks almost outnumbered the houses and the houses may have outnumbered the people, who are apparently leaving the town in somewhat alarming numbers. Houses are for sale everywhere and what might pass for a decent downpayment in the Northwest will buy you a nice 4-bedroom house on a tree-lined street in Wisconsin. Jump on the nice freeway for a twenty minute commute to your job in Wausau and you would have it made at $14 an hour.

The town has a somewhat disjointed, army-surplus sort of downtown, where the clear, crowning glory of a wonderful old county courthouse stands out from what is otherwise non-descript. There is a classic, old-school apparel store called Thelma's and a scary tatoo parlor next door. This is not a gentrified downtown, although I believe an old convent had been turned into condos, which seemed kind of progressive.

We stayed at a nice motel well on the outside of town, across from the omnipotent and omnipresent Walmart, a MacDonalds, a grocery store and a few other little stores, which the kids loved. The motel had a new pool and spa, which kept Savanna and I entertained. It was very quiet. In the 50-room motel, I don't think 4 or 5 rooms were ever occupied at one time.

On Friday, we visited Bob and Rose Aikey, (my uncle and aunt), who live nearer downtown and just a few blocks away from the house where my Dad grew up. That night, we went to a fish fry at a local roadhouse. I must mention something right here that struck me about the entire Wisconsin experience: into every public place we went, most noticeably the restaurants, it was absolutely uncanny how we were stared at by the locals. It wasn't so much a "you're not welcome here, stranger" kind of look, but more a piercing, "do I know you from somewhere?" stare. It was very weird--these people are so used to seeing only people that they know, that we became a legitimate curiosity. So different from here in Seattle, where dealing with strangers is the norm, where eye contact is seldom made and where chance meetings of acquaintances in public places is rare.

Next day was the vacation's main event--the Ryan Family Re-union at Kitchenette Park. Family from near and far started showing up at around noon and it wasn't over until nearly dark. A very long day, especially for Tiana who wasn't really into the eating or activities, but a day that went pretty fast with lots of food, beer and miscellaneous activities. We had something like 75 people show up. My Dad was the oldest of his generation, I was the oldest of my generation and on it went to the next two generations. Everybody got along great and it was great fun seeing most of my 21 cousins, many of whom I had never met and most of whom I hadn't seen for more than 40 years.

Sunday morning we were up early for the five hour drive to the airport at Minneapolis. We got their early enough where we had time to jump on the train and went to the Mall of America for a quick visit. It was then back to the airport, a quick run through security and onto our Sun Country flight, for the three hour journey back home.

Wisconsin 2006--North Woods

August 22, Cable, Wisconsin Arrived at my Uncle Pat's house at about 8:30 where a big dinner was waiting on the table. Pat and his wife Evelyn met us in the driveway and it was so great to see them. Tiana and Savi were a little overwhelmed, especially in the fatigued state they were in after the long (nearly 5-hour) drive from Minneapolis.

After dinner, or "supper" as they call it out here, Pat and Evelyn's daughter, Bridget, came over for drinks and dessert with her husband, Jeff. In their mid-40s, they have already raised two kids, both of whom are in their early 20s, and are living by themselves in a grand Northwoods style house just a hundred yards down the road. They offered to let us stay in their basement, as they had a little more room than Pat and Evelyn.

We lugged our stuff next door, settled comfortably into the spacious and beautifully appointed basement, where Tiana had her own bedroom and I shared the bunkroom with Savanna. We played a little pool and at about 11pm went outside to the hot tub, where we watched the stars for the next hour and looked out over the classic aspen and pine forest of this region.

Interestingly, as Bridget lived next door to Pat and Evelyn, one of Bridget's sisters had a beautiful weekend cabin next to her and then just five minutes away, another one of the sisters had a very nice cabin next to the golf course at Telemark. Needless to say, the family is very close and all six of the kids very successful. They have all carved out a very nice and civilized existence here in the northern reaches of Wisconsin.

Next morning, we had a big breakfast at and did some sightseeing, including a drive up to the shores of Lake Superior, where we had lunch. Later that day, Jeff graciously offered to take us to nearby Lake Owens for a kayak outing. We quickly gathered up 4 sea kayaks, threw them in the truck and in half an hour were on the water. The girls did great, as neither had done much, if any, kayaking before. We went on a 4-5 mile paddle, threw the boats back in the truck and were home in time for dinner. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera, so we don't have any pictures.

Cable is quite possibly the quintessential Northern Wisconsin town. The population couldn't have been more than a couple thousand, but everything seemed so sedate and comfortable, from the bucolic and compact downtown area, to the outermore neighborhoods on the large lots with the cultivated gardens and that sort of plain, but solid and ageless architecture that is more typical of the colder parts of the country. Outside of the city limits, were the classic Wisconsin weekend cabins, virtually all made largely of the local native pine, inside and out.

This is the kind of town where everybody really does know everybody, where the seasons are abrupt and distinct, where hunting, fishing, football and hockey dominate the lifestyles of every generation. Where staying warm in the winter and co-existing with the deerflies and mosquitoes of summer is an artform.

In the northwoods, a new lake is always on the horizon, with a spiderweb of swamps, canals, rivers and streams to connect them. The pine woods are never far off and they are deep and they are dark. These features define the landscape and the towns just try to fit in the best they can. And on the outside of each town are the ubiquitous roadhouses, home of the Friday night fish fry and center of northern Wisconsin social life.

We left Cable early Thursday morning, heading toward my grandparents' old cabin on Plummer Lake, a three hour drive. On the way, I was again struck with the tranquility of the small towns the highway passed through, with the mom and pop shops, the well-kept schools, kids riding their bikes everywhere, the classic churches and just sort of the sense of stability that seemed to permeate everything. Yes, I was definitely envious of what I perceived to be a superior small-town way of life. I'd love to be there during just one winter.

Wisconsin 2006--North Central

Plummer Lake, North Central Wisconsin (Aug 24, 2006) It was 41 years ago since I last stepped on the hallowed grounds of the Ryan Family's lakefront cabin.

Not much has changed.

The small pines and alders still dotted the gentle slope to the beach. Some growth-challenged maples, already changing to their fall colors, were mixed in. My cousin Katie stood again in the doorway of the one-room cabin. My grandfather's workshop, just small and cozy enough for a comfortable chair and a bottle of rye hadn't changed. The boathouse, though a little aged, looked familiar. The two-seat outhouse had not been updated (can an outhouse be improved?), but I hear that it has nearly filled up, and changes may be in order.

Once inside the cabin, my God, it was a time-warp that words can hardly describe. The same thick-planked picnic table near the kitchen window. Kitchen cabinets and decorations--the same. The beds, the other furnishings, the pictures and animal skins on the wall, exactly as they were 40 years ago (at least in my own mind's eye). Most of all was the rich, honeyed-glaze patina of the cabin's pine interior. The view out over the small lake certainly hadn't changed--no new homes could be seen, no new development of any kind. This is the north-central area of Wisconsin, where home buyers of 20 years ago feel lucky if their home values have appreciated one percent a year.

For the first time since leaving Seattle, both kids seemed to be having a good time. I think they felt a real family connection, if not a sense of history, by finally seeing this modest little cabin I had mentioned to them so many times. Or maybe it was because for the first time since leaving Minneapolis on Tuesday, they had reliable cell phone coverage. Even though I had been here only once before, I remember it as a great time, fishing with my grandfather, swimming and lots of good eating. I can't believe it has been so long since I've been able to come back.

We had a nice lunch and enjoyed some time with cousin Katie and her parents, sister and parents. We went out for an ill-fated ride in the pontoon boat, but were blown onto the far shore when the outboard motor conked out, possibly because of some bad fuel. We had a long hike back to the house, where we fired up the trusty fishing boat with its 1970's vintage Johnson 6-horse and went to rescue the much bigger pontoon boat.

The legendary mosquitos were a no-show, as were the much-dreaded biting flies. By 4pm, we were on the way to Merrill, the re-union's location and "ancestral" home of the modern Ryan clan.

Caution--Screw up Ahead

Until I have time to put these vacation posts in the right order, start seven posts down with "Boat Trip, 2006" and work your way up. They're sort of in reverse order, get it?

Sincerest regards,

The Author

Round Six--Thursday, August 3, 2006

The cove is so quiet this morning, partly due to the fact that because the tide is low, nobody can come in, nor leave. Very peaceful with blue skies, a slight breeze and a little nip in the air. It is fun to watch people as they get up and quietly go thrugh their routines. There is a woman on an adjoining boat eating a bowl of cereal on her swimstep. Another person, I notice, has spent the night in a hammock on his boat’s bow, and is just trying to roll out of it. Others are sitting quietly in their cockpits, drinking coffee. Many still haven’t woken up, though its nearly 8. I have yet to hear anybody start up their skiffs.

There is a boat next to us with a bunch of teenage kids. They seem to have a lot of fun together, have been swimming and playing around on the decks. As Tim mentioned, it’s a great environment for children--I wish I was able to offer this lifestyle to my own kids in a way that was palatable to them, but alas, they have yet to express any interest. Some of my favorite memories as a kid were from being around the water.

Finally, the tide got high enough where we were able to slip through the channel and into open water, on our way to Pendrell Sound, well-known as the warmest body of water in the region, where temps frequently get into the mid-70s. We reached the head of the bay near noon, under perfect conditions. No wind, not too much boat traffic and warm temps. We got the skiff set up for water skiing, had a couple great runs (picture to come) and maybe had the best 2-3 hours of the entire trip.

We headed out of the bay at around 130 or so and suddenly noticed in 4 teenaged boys in the water, 2 or 300 yards directly in front of us, waving their arms. We didn't really know what to think, but supposed their boat had sunk and that they needed to be picked up. None of them was wearing a lifevest. We cut our speed and reluctantly headed toward them, knowing that some kind of hassle probably awaited us. We had no idea how true that was going to be.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a 16 or 17' skiff came speeding in front of us, and Tim and I felt some relief as it seemed that somebody else was going to beat us to the rescue, and we could continue on our merry way to the next anchorage. Alas, it was not meant to be, as seconds later we noticed nobody was actually in the boat, that it was running loose across the bay at about 30mph and tha somehow those kids must have been bounced out. We nervously approached the kids, still waving their arms, and kept a wary eye on the runaway skiff, which was making a bee-line for the port shore, about a quarter mile away.

I was anticipating a neat crash onto the beach, when at the last minute the skiff made a turn and started toward the opposite shore on this 1/2 mile wide bay, where once again it looked like it was going to crash and burn. Again, at the last possible moment, it made another turn, like it had some kind of morbid sense of direction. It was now heading, roughly speaking towards us and the kids, but was poised to pass well behind our stern.

As we got ever-closer to the kids, the unmanned skiff started turning sharper and sharper and it was now looking like it was just going to miss our own skiff, which we were towing about 30' behind. We sped up the boat, as the skiff was turning sharper and sharper but we had little maneuvering, as the kids were now directly in front of our bow. Marian II, like most boats of her type, responded reluctantly and was not a match for the much faster skiff. Sure enough, the runaway skiff ran straight across the stern of our own skiff, ripping off the motor, destroying the starboard pontoon and ripping down the control console, all without even slowing down. The loose skiff was to continue running around the bay for another fifteen minutes, finally running out of gas.

The die was cast, the vacation was ruined. The expected hassles ensued. An angry and somewhat distraught Tim picked up the kids, who were returned to their parents, who seemed equally distraught. Insurance discussions and cleaning up the mess to make our skiff tow-able were finished and a few hours later we were off to Grace Harbor, to consider our options.

It was not one of our pleasanter cruises and Tim passed that night fitfully, no doubt wondering what to do. Here he was with me scheduled to go back the next day via float plane, his wife and several friends due to come up on Sunday, and more family coming up the following week. But he had no skiff, no way to get to shore, no backup in case of emergency. And besides, the skiff was just a lot of fun, whether it being for water skiing, whale watching or just covering a lot of ground quickly.

It was finally decided the next morning to cancel the rest of the vacation and bring the boat back to Seattle. Tim felt much better after the decision was made to go home and the cruise down was actually fairly pleasant, with Tim showing amazing resiliency, considering all that he had been through.

Round Five--Wednesday, August 2, 2006

Today, we left Grace Harbor at about 8, cruised into Refuge Cove, where we were in a race to be first in line at the gas dock. Unfortunatley, a Grand Banks 46 just beat us to the last open slip and we had a to wait a few minutes to tie up. We took on 185 litres of gas (which is god knows how many gallons), Tim got a few candy bars, I finally got my precious potatoes and we were off on a circumnavigation of West Redondo Island.

At about 2pm, we pulled into (at high tide) what I call Sardine Can Lagoon, aka Roscoe Bay. You come in through a tight channel, which is barely awash at low tide, which enters into a snug and cozy anchorage, holding at any one time up to 100 boat. Once inside, its like anchoring in a lake and it becomes like a small floating community. The water is warm, there is a real lake nearby for swimming and a couple hiking trails, one of which we took.

The hike up to the top of a nearby hill is one I’ve done a couple times before. It starts from the north side of the cove, is flat for a little while, gradually starts climbing, is flat again, climbs very steeply, is somewhat flat yet again, and then makes the final root-pulling ascent to the top where there is a commanding view of the entire Desolation Sound basin. I banged my head on a tree crossing the trail and we set a new speed record for completing the round trip in a little under 2 hours (that was Tim, I came in a few minutes later).

We rushed back to the boat, jumped in the water to clean off, had a wonderful pot roast and fried potatoes dinner, read, watched a little Hogans Heroes and went off to sleep a little after ten.

Round Four--Tuesday, August 1, 2006

After an interesting, albeit non-eventful cruise through Okisollo Channel and the Seymour Narrows, at about 2 pm we ended up in Grace Harbor, or as I like to call it “Geriatric Cove.” There are the usual assortment of mis-fit boats, mis-fit skippers and sidekicks, but mostly the code words around here are retirement and being quiet. There is one notable exception, a Tollycraft composed of 4 teenaged girls, one boy and a set of parents, whom are seldom seen, nor heard (we later found out they had taken their skiff into town for a big night out).

The weather today has been mostly sunny, with little wind, except for some brief wisps as we fluttered across the Straits from Campbell River. Temperature has been in the mid-60s. The water temp here in the predictably crowded anchorage is 68.

For dinner we had some marinated chicken on the grill, applesauce and rolls.

Tim is his usual grumpy self, obsessed with keeping the boat spotlessly clean and not allowing other vessels to approach with 50 yards (hopefully you can detect the sarcasm). This keeps the riffraff away, but tends to wreak havoc with people trying to enter the lagoon.

We saw our first mosquito tonight, a smallish specimen, who audaciously landed on my leg and paid the ultimate sacrifice. That was to be the only skeeter I saw on the whole trip.

It looks like it will be another calm night as the boats are facing all different directions, as the last yellow rays of sunshine light up the evergreens on the opposite shore, with an eery, phosphoresent glow.

Round Three--Monday, July 31, 2006

Alas the last day of July and it finds us no closer to Tim’s water skiing than yesterday. We ended up leaving Van Donop at about 7 am for a relatively short but tumultuous cruise to the cooler waters of the Octopus Islands. Along the 3 hour voyage, we had one bit of excitement as we slipped through Beazley and Surge Narrows with about 5-6 knots of current pushing us along.

We arrived in the large bay that is the most popular anchorage in this particular island group, and the most spacious. Literally hundreds of acres of protected harborage, all over good holding ground and consistently 25-40' of depth--just how Tim likes it. We anchored at around 1230 and went out for a putt in the inflatable. The weather has been absoluteley calm the whole day with scarcely a ripple of wind. Temps have been in the mid 70s and the skies have been mostly sunny.

Two hours after anchoring a nice couple from an adjoining bay came over to say hi. They were the owner of the Iphigenia, a 50’ classic belong to Tim’s yacht club. They knew several common friends and we spent a pleasant 15 minutes chatting with them, their skiff tied up alongside.

The water temps in the bay are around 60, a little cool for swimming, though nearly ten degrees warmer than Puget Sound.

A couple of notes: Although I doubt that either one of us have changed our shirts in four days, we maintain an aire of civility by keeping the toilet seat down, though obviously there are no women on board. I find that fact somehow quite comforting.

A comment regarding the popular alcoholic beverage "Mikes Hard Lime-Aid" which I recently tried. Although cool and somewhat refreshing, it was extremely sweet, with the slightest drop outside your mouth, sticking to everything like super glue. An hour after drinking one bottle, I felt like I had been poisoned and had to urinate every fifteen minutes or so, for the next six hours--much the same reaction I get when drinking tea. I don’t know what was in it, as they don’t list the ingredients, but combined with the hangover I had from a single bottle this morning, I can’t really recommend it. But then, that's just me.

Reading a collection of short stories by Joseph Heller, which I am really enjoying. We had bratwrust for dinner tonight, which somehow wasn't a great success, although with applesauce, it wasn't too bad.

Round One--Saturday, July 29, 2006

Leaving for Desolation Sound today at 7, from Shilshoe Marina. Tim and Cathy pick me up promptly at 630 and I promptly forget half my stuff, including sleeping bag, pillow, misc foodstuffs and all my diet pop, in the back of the van. Oh well, most of it can be replaced.

We had possibly the worst french dip sandwiches I’ve ever eaten for dinner tonight. The beef was still partly frozen, the au jus sauce was not mixed well, and the french bread, the 18 pack I got at Costco, was completely moldy.

The cruise up to Canadian customs on Vancouver was uneventful, having passed this way several times before.

Round Two--Sunday, July 30, 2006

Just sitting here at about 9pm, having recently finished a little light reading and a little earliler a much heavier dinner of spicy sausage lasagna. “Here” is in Van Donop bay in Desolation Harbor, where today’s 13 hour cruise from Montague Harbor finds us.

The way up, through the infamous Dodd Narrows, and past a thriving Nanaimo, is best described as tedium mixed in with wonder, as long cruises often are. The wonder today often revolved around the miracle of navigational technology and how seamlessly it fits into the environment of an 80-year old classic wood boat where we still use a knotted string tied to the wheel to help the vessel go straight.

Much of the day was dead calm, which is unusual in the wide open water up here. When we crossed into the milky white outflow of the Powell River just north of Texada Island (which I remember seeing from the plane last year as an epic plume of ash-colored water), the sea flattened out ever more and took on a sort of translucent shimmer, as if one had

calmed it with baby oil.

Finally at around 7 we gained our night’s destination, dropped anchor in a peaceful lilttle cove, had dinner and cracked open our books and magazines. Tim just woke from a nap, promptly turned on the propane heater, despite it being a very comfortable 68 degrees. We’ll now view our much-anticpated Hogan’s Heroes DVD and I will undoubtedly turn into my bunk at around 10pm, fiddling with my AM radio, and if not finding that receptive, listening to some tunes on my player. I shall be sound asleep by 1030.


Tomorrow we head for the warmer waters of Desolation Sound proper, where a day of laughing at Tim trying to water ski awaits.

We had lasagna for dinner--very delicous.

Dinner on the Tug

On Saturday night, my longtime friend Steve Vogel invited me over for dinner on his tugboat, along with my brother Tim and sister in law Cathy. The main focus of the night was to go over the pictures (printed from genuine film!) Steve had taken on a recently finished solo bike tour he took in Scotland. Much of the countryside was what you might expect--a lot of green rolling hills, many bays and inlets with the ocean always in the background, and thousands of sheeps, oftentimes threatening bike riders on the very narrow roads. There were very few trees, but the area was absolutely filthy with castles and the remains of castles--very picturesque!

For dinner we had some barbecued pork ribs, corn on the cob and potato salad. It was very pleasant sitting on the boat, with its marvelous view of Lake Union and the hundreds of boats going by. We talked mostly about bikes and biking and had a very enjoyable evening. Steve was excited about a new $2900 touring bike he had just ordered, which should match up perfectly with his non digital camera. He has always been one for the classics, though, much like my non microwave sister, who has a telephone that actually rings and has a genuine rotary dial, to boot. But Steve is a classic figure himself: professional woodworker, furniture maker, extremely well-read and now, it would seem, a diehard long distance bike tourer.

Pearl Jam

The highlight of the summer, so far, was last week when Savi and I went to the Pearl Jam concert in Portland. I had done the design work and the printing for the event's program (through a sponsor) and was offered comp tickets and a quick backstage tour if I helped out with a little pre-concert organizational work.

We left for Portland at about 8am Thursday, as our first meeting was at noon. We got into downtown Portland at just about 1130, did a quick meeting and had just enough time to check into our hotel (the venerable Mark Spencer, just a couple blocks from Powell's bookstore), before another quick meeting at 200 at the Art Museum, which is just across the street from
Schnitzer Hall, the concert's venue. We then had a chance to go backstage, and into Pearl Jam's dressing room, where I took a picture of Savi standing in front of Eddie Vedder's wardrobe locker.

It was then a 15 minute walk back to the hotel, which in 100 degree afternoon heat, was not altogether comfortable. We hung out in air-conditioned room for an hour or so and then headed to Baja Fresh for an early dinner. At about 515 we started back to Schnicter Hall, where had worked for a couple hour distributing VIP will-call tickets. Finally at 730 we went into the hall and found our seats in the first row of a huge balcony, dead center and not more than 75 feet from the stage. There was a warm-up comedian and then Sleater Kinney played a quick 7-song set, which I enjoyed very much. Finally, at about 9pm, Pearl Jam came on stage and every seat in the ornate, 90-year old theatre was jumping.

They played for about 2.5 hours and the band seemed very tight, and Eddie Vedder, especially, seemed in good spirits and was very personable and was a huge crowd favorite. Their second encore, which they performed with Sleater Kinney was the old Neil Young song, Keep on Rockin in the Free World, which was one of the best live rock performances I had ever seen--it was absolutely stunning.

It had been a very long day, with all the heat and the walking etc, so we left after the third encore started and got back to our room at about midnite. Sav then watched a couple episodes of her favorite TV personal, Rachel Ray, and finally at about 1 am we called it a night.

Next day we had a nice little breakfast in the hotel lounge, went to the bookstore for about an hour or so and checked out at exactly noon. On the way home, we stopped by to see me Aunt Jean (my mother's only sibling) in Vancouver. It was extremely hot, but we had a good time and I was happy to see how well she is doing for an 82 year old woman. We finally got home at around 530 pm.

Annual backpacking trip

Last weekend the girls and I headed up to Thorp Lake for our annual backpacking trip (if you can call one night a trip). I believe this was the first time that everybody had on full-size backpacks, although I was still stuck with the bulk of the load, including a totally separate tent for Tiana, who insisted on sleeping by herself.

The hike up to the lake, though not really that long, was very steep, gaining over a thousand feet vertical in the first mile. Tiana led most of the way, and was even able to pick her way over some snow, which obscurred the trail in the shadows near the lake. Savi also did great, without a single complaint.

When we got to the lake late in the afternoon, there was only one other party already there, at the main camping area, so we headed to the opposite shore where a very picturesque peninsula had our name on it. We made camp well before dark, had dinner and made a nice fire. It was quite breezy, so there were just a few little mosquitos buzzing around.

The night, as always, was a long one for me. Tiana and I were awokened by an animal shortly after 11pm and I was not able to get back to sleep for a single minute, despite taking a couple Tylenol PM, one quarter of which would have knocked me out back home. I think a lot of the sleep problem is not having a pillow. Sometimes, if I have room in my pack, I can bring along extra clothes or a soft jacket which I can use for a makeshift pillow, but because the lake was so high making the night temps so low, I was wearing what little extra clothing I had, and therefore had absolutely no pillow. Miserable!

Savi and I did a little fishing Sunday morning and actually got a couple bites. We left before the heat got to be too bad and were back at the cabin by around noon.

July 4th weekend hike

After being abandoned by the kids for the long weekend (one had a friend coming over, the other was going to a friend's), I packed up the might Subaru wagon and headed east, toward the heat, for a couple days in Cle Elum.

I got to the cabin at about 2pm and the temperature was well into the 90s, without a breath of wind, which is unusual for this time of year, where it usually blows a gale from mid-June through August. The town was having its annual Pioneer Days Festival, which includes a 3 on 3 basketball tournament. It was so warm downtown, with the sun baking the brick buildings, that main street was virtually deserted, except for a few diehard spectators trying to stay cool in the shadows, watching the unfortunate players suffer on the asphalt courts.

Next morning I got up reasonably early and felt like a climb, so I headed out past Lake Cle Elum, intent on climbing Mt Thorp, which at over 5800' would make a reasonable 3500' vertical gain hike from the trailhead. Quite surprisingly, there were no other cars at the parking area (which admittedly is not shown on most maps). I headed up the trail's first mile, which is quite steep, but passed through very lush brush and an overflowing spring creek. After passing through a lovely meadow, the trail headed steeply up again, mostly through smallish pine trees, which provided ample shade in the morning heat.

It was here in the shade that I ran into the first snow, which covered the trail for hundreds of yards at a time. It was fun to practice my old route-finding skills, especially since there hadn't been any recent hikers, so there were no footprints to go by. Shortly thereafter I passed by beautiful Thorp Lake (see picture) and was absolutely amazed that there was nobody here either. I had the whole lake to myself and kicked myself for not bringing my fly-rod.

From there I had to go off-trail, climbing more or less straight up the side of Thorp Mountain, hoping to run into the Knox Creek trail, which would take me to the summit trail. After about 45 minutes I did hook up with the main trail and an hour later I was on top, where I saw two people sitting on a snow bank with their dog.

There are stunning views of Mt Rainier, Lake Kachess and the Stuart Range from the summit, and it's little wonder that it served as a fire lookout for many years. I only had my cell phone camera, which didn't really do justice to the spectacular surroundings. I had been up here once before, nearly twenty years ago, and I can still remember the fierce wind that almost blew me right off the mountain. This time there was a dead calm

I was pleased that there was cell phone reception as I was able to send some real-time photos to a few friends.

It only took me 90 minutes to return to the car, and less than five hours after I left the cabin, I was back home again--beer in hand.

This says it all

I got to looking at the picture I used in the previous posting and I realized what a perfect metaphor it was for that night's event. Here's Tiana, graduating from middle school, outside the lunchroom door, in her glamorous dress, smiling like she was on the cover of Glamour magazine. Then there's Savi, still inside the school, pressing against the glass. I just thought it was very poignant and deserved a posting of its own.