Journey After Retirement

Going to the Cottage

2012-01-30T09:50:00.001-08:00

This weekend last, we played the adult version of Going To The Cottage. Friday morning we loaded up Big Red including lounge space for Sadie, and headed up to the Bruce Peninsula to stay with the Lutomski's as well as meet up with the Theurigs. The nominal excuse was to set a time and agenda for our 2013 trip to Hawaii. The three families will meet in Honolulu and then onto Maui for some of us. Leah, be quick, we are headed to Sydney afterwards to further explore Australia.

Anyways, Kathy, Sadie & I traveled the Huron Road Highway with the warning from the bank teller that there just had been a big snow, the area dumped on, the roads were icy and snow covered. Big Red being made for such weather we trekked on, the only skid was on the Whiskey Harbour Road at a sharp left, the Jeep's antiskid system kept us 1 1/4 inches from a minor precipice and we made Devil's Glen Road without further incident.

Observe the road into the cottage, boat house to the right.

The winter sky reaches the open water past the ice encrusted Little Pike Bay. The wind blows flurries of snow, squalls appear near and far. The ice is broken into small pieces with pools of water mixed with chunks of ice. Dangerous as some ice is piled upon the shore and blends with the bobbing and heaving mass some distance away. Alluring yet slippery footing. We kept close watch of the dogs.

Here are Bill, Clara & Kathy posing for a snowy picture of the cottage in its best view. Around the back is a 2 foot deep trench through the rock for the waterline from the new well to the pump house. The rock excavated from the trench is piled high. The area to the West of the cottage, behind the fireplace chimney, the area we had cleared and spread the mulch last summer, has not changed, yet. The area will be the new leach bed for the new septic system which will allow us to install a dish-washer, much to Kathy's liking. I wonder if Great-Grandma Vencl's dishes are dishwasher safe? I doubt it as some are now almost a century old. They will probably crack and craze and loose their luster. I guess that is the price of progress up here in the bush country.

I talked to Connie Collins this morning and she said that the Township is very close to accepting Bill Tyler's development plan: The Shores of the Bruce Peninsula.

The vestiges of the great Climate Debate

2011-11-30T11:40:00.000-08:00

As the world's leading climatologist (and government officials who deal with such things) meet in Durban South Africa to hammer out another Kyoto protocol, feverishly working to avert the ravages of Catastrophic Anthropogenic Global Warming, having mistaken a 300 year gradual global temperature emergence from the Little Ice Age of 0.7 Celsius per century, Mother Nature here in East Lansing gave us 7 inches of her Global Warming counter point. A picture out of our snug-in-a- bug condo window.

As we have a four pawed guest (Sadie) for the Holidays, she needs exercise like we all do so she and I took our usual 2 mile walk out around Bear Lake. Winter came before Fall officially left. Sadie and I break trail in the fresh snow, making our way around fallen limbs and some trees along the way.

Today is one of my days to get Continuing Medical Education credits from Sparrow Hospital noon Critical Care Conference. I drove down Burcham Road, past the sledding hill filled with children and adults enjoying East Lansing School District's first snow day of the school year. It seems that the roads and sidewalks had not yet been cleared by

7 AM. Green has now become White: Go State!

Further along my journey, just after the University, heading towards the Capital on Michigan Avenue, a Volvo, with bumper stickers of GreenPeace & World Wildlife Foundation (the NGO environmentalism activist organizations that have contribute more than 1/2 the content and person power to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report #4 which Lisa Jackson, head of our US Environmental Protection Agency has used as the scientific basis for declaring carbon dioxide as a pollutant) was trying to straddle the icey roadway build-up, "slip sliding away", instead of choosing one or the other grooves that were wet but clear of ice. I can only surmise the driver was fearful of the left hand snowbanks made by the snowplows. When I moved around the car at a stop light with the Jeep Compass, I saw a women with a death grip on the steering wheel. I recon that she would have preferred some global warming right about then.

I have digressed from the main topic: our walking the unplowed trails. Sadie litterly was jumping in the air, charging back to me and then nipping at my shoes in her excitement. She buried her nose in the snow and then plowed forward. Suddenly she would be absolutely still, ears cocked forward, tail up, and listening, listening to the sounds of the woods.

For the picture at the right: "tennis anyone?"

Our world is always changing, like the climate

2011-10-11T06:13:00.000-07:00

As summer has slipped into Fall, changing seasons mean that our home is changing also. We are embarked upon a revision of our master bathroom, the master bedroom, and the study/computer room. The master bathroom will now have heated slate floors, new cabinets, and paint instead of wall paper. The master bedroom will now have a bedside cammode, right next to Kathy's side of the bed, along with hardwood floor, a new paint job. Shhh, don't tell her that the commode is permanent, its my surprise. The study will have just a hardwood floor, paint and a new cable outlet. Otherwise, everything is the same, for now.

On another note, go to Kathy's blog and enjoy with us our Sunday journey to Uncle John's Cider Mill and our back roads trip back home. For your further entertainment we share with you the tulip tree in our back yard. The fall colors have been breathtaking.

2011-03-16T16:58:00.000-07:00

Sadie has come for a visit. We picked her up at a Ford Truck Dealership parking lot, across from the long term parking lot, outside of Chicago O'Hare's Airport from Andre who was flying with friends to Central America for a week's R&R. Sadie, a mixed breed Dog Pond dog with some interesting lineage including some attack dog strains, seems to be anything but an attack dog. She turns out to be a very relaxed and loving dog. She is obedient and goes into her cage at night or when we both leave for daytime excursions. She goes on long walks ( 2 miles and more) with enthusiasm. She has great energy and awareness of her surroundings, particularly with regard to squirrels. And she is very powerful. One has to anticipate her lunging and reign her in before an anticipated encounter. She is very bright, keeps tract of what is going on. Inside the house she sleeps on the couch when not in her cage, and she bounds down the stairs to leap onto the basement couch, turns to the TV and watches shows/college basketball with us. She will then sully up to us, putting her head upon our leg and wait for us to pet her, stroke her, and scratch her behind her ears.

She listens for us to come home. She waits in her cage for me to awaken and turn up the heat in the morning. After I have arisen and guide myself to her cage and unlock the door, she comes out, stretches, yawns and follows me to the bathroom as I perform my daily ablutions.

On our daily walk behind Bear Lake, she acts frightened as if there is a predator hiding in the woods; more so earlier in her tenure here and less so now. I wonder if she either is now familiar with the area, or that a fox or wolverine has decided to move on. Anyway, when we get to the InterUrban Pathway with its long stretches of fencing on both sides, we play pitch and catch with a ball until she is so exhausted, that she keeps the ball in her mouth and trots for the exit to head home. No more pitch and chase.

All this canine involvement comes to an end this weekend as we trundle off to Madison, Wisconsin to drop Sadie off at Andre's house as Andre greatly misses Sadie and wants her loving welcome home attitude to be restored. Mixed feelings on my part about this entanglement; as, with most social involvements, the good and bad outcomes are not clearly delineated.

Beware the Ides of March

2011-03-15T06:48:00.000-07:00

Puxsutawney Phil, the famous resident ground hog of Puxsutawney Pa. whose first residents were the Native American Delaware Indians; Puxsutawney translates: "area of the sandflies", well anyway, as you recall, Puxsutawney Phil came out of his log on a cold and snowy day and did not see his shadow, predicted an early Spring. Six weeks later, ie, the flip side of him seeing his shadow and predicting 6 more weeks of winter, it seems that his prediction model was backwards. This morning in East Lansing, it was 24 F and expected to go up to 39 degrees F. When looking out our window, the snow on the ground and the ice on the pond, it looks like a typical March 15th beginning and forecast for the rest of the day. Average. Now I realize that the weather of just one day in the life of Ivan Ivanovich does not totally invalidate any Climate Prediction Model for catastrophic weather on March 15th 2100, however, ALL climate prediction models (here labeled as such although generally called General Circulation Models), predicted warmer winters and warmer nights with increasing atmospheric CO2 concentrations. So far, at least over the last 13 years, that hasn't happened; we've been on a sort of plateau as far as the weather and temperatures are concerned (since 1998). What we do see is that Mother Nature has agendas like earthquakes and Tsunamis that have far greater impacts upon our human condition than computer models, which are based upon other computer models which are based upon yet other computer models that are amalgamated into an assemblage of computer runs to give us a forecast for 90 years into the future of a 3 degree Celsius rise in global temperatures. Today in East Lansing, there is ice on the sidewalks from yesterday's melting snowpack that ran over the sidewalk and froze last night making for treacherous walking, still! Yes, winter is slowly fading into Spring, all pretty average for this time of year; averaged over record keeping for the last 150 years. Is there Global Warming? Possibly 0.8 degrees Celsius over the past 150 years. After all, we are coming out of the Little Ice Age, the end of which was in the early 19th Century, Charles Dicken's "Christmas Carol", cold and snowy in London England and all that; just like this winter. Ground Hogs and computer simulations have similar predictive abilities.

The continuing story...

2011-02-20T14:26:00.000-08:00

Puxatawney Phil did not see his shadow on February 2 nd, Ground Hog Day; hence, it prognosticated an early Spring. Indeed, last week we had Chinook weather, temperatures in the mid-50's, an aboriginal name given to a windy warm period ending winter. All the snow had melted away except the ice piles left by the snow-plows.

Today, as if to turn our lives upside down, we have a winter storm warning: beginning Sunday and lasting until Monday morning. We are to get 3 to 5 inches of wet snow. It is now 5:38 PM and we have 3 inches accumulated already. Another 12 to 18 hours from now, at this rate, we will have feet of snow, not just inches. Kathy and I went on our walk @ 1:30PM as it had just started to snow and we wanted to finish before the going became "work". I noted that the streets and sidewalks were not melting the snow, meaning that the ground was still very cold. This was expected since the ice on all the ponds and streams was intact in spite of the brief warming, the ice was very thick, frozen by 2 1/2 months of very cold temperatures including below zero for days at a time, repeated again and again. Cold days and even colder nights.

I am looking out the study window, doing my bills that the postman still brings, regularly. Our gas usage for February 2011 was 22.6 thousand cubic feet and for February 2010? 13.5 thousand cubic feet. Is there anybody claiming that the weather as viewed winter over winter is getting colder? I am. As pundits have claimed that last year 2010 was one of the 5 warmest in the last 30 years, I think there is something to be said that we have come into a cold "spell". Of course climate scientists have said that with global warming the atmosphere will hold more moisture. Al Gore spoke about warm air "scooping up moisture from the oceans", the science does not support such a mechanism: hot warm air sucking up cold ocean moisture. Warm air can hold more water, but how that water gets there is not the mechanism Al Gore mentioned. So the argument that global warming will lead to higher moisture content of air is, well, in need of a little more observation and not speculation. What is known, that more moisture will fall out of the skies with colder air temperatures. A snowy day does not prove that mankind is not heading to hell by irresponsible burning of fossil fuels. What a more than average snowfall for a winter says, and the colder winter this year vs last year says, that the observation, more snow and colder temperatures, go together and should be taken into account, as opposed to saying a warming world leads to more snow. I am not forecasting the future, just issuing a disclaimer. Pundits, and Al Gore is just a very rich pundit, don't know their science, and the people who know the science find it difficult to speak out and say: "Hey Al, you are entitled to your own opinion, just not your own facts." Another thought popped into my head: Karl Marx commenting on intellectuals championing the communist cause: "Useful idiots."

Before there is a Winter, there is a Fall

2010-10-21T12:55:00.000-07:00

We traveled the West side of Michigan for our Fall Color Tour. We towed Rudy and made our obligatory stop at Uncle John's Cider Mill just North of St. John's Michigan. Cider, pumpkin and buttermilk donuts and we continued. Up 127 to 10, across to 115 towards Cadillac and stopping for the night at Interlochen State Park. The view out our door was East on to Green Lake; near solitude. Clear skies at night, a bright moon, Jupiter rising in the East and the temperature dropping. The furnace warmed up our temperary abode.

That was Sunday. On Monday, we left Rudy to its devices in the campground and headed upto Petosky and beyond, stopping and starting at every photo opportunity. From Petosky we took the "Tunnel of Trees" coastal road, county route 119, stopping at a nature preserve and a walk to the cobble stoned beach; Kathy in the foreground, Lake Michigan to her right and the forest to her left.
The scene of water and shoreline are at Torch Lake, some of the clearest water on the planet. Large fish, a half dozen or more, Muskellunge and Northern Pike swam in the shade of the dock. A sign posted the markings to tell the two types of Great Lakes Pike apart and gave the size and weight limits for catching and keeping. My experience with catching and eating Northern Pike was at Lake Tamagami in Northern Ontario, 50 years ago, on a canoe trip. One fish fed 4 boys. Two fish fed 6 boys and a man.

After a very long day of travel through forest, wilderness and seashore, dinner courtesy of Tom's ShopRite grocery store for a night campfire, and to bed. Tuesday morning I skyped with Leah, sitting in the open air, in a parking lot of Bud's Restaurant which had a electrical outlet and WiFi but wouldn't open until 8 AM. Cold as the dickens, but a heart warming talk with child #3 Down Under. Breakfast purchased to go, eaten on the picknick bench watching the sunrise over the Lake, hooked up Rudy and off to more Western Michigan county coastal roads. At Silver Lake we took the Dead End road to the Sable Point lighthouse, restored. Then more county roads to Muskeegen, bobbing and weaving over ancient sand dunes from Lake access to apple orchards vistas. Our final turn East, I-96, and heading home. A close, brief but long (698.5 miles) tour filled with memories and plenty of pictures, all within a 3 days reach. That's us, just hangin' out here and there.

ReUnions of a sort

2010-09-22T14:43:00.000-07:00

My 50th High School ReUnion was my first high school reunion. I went for several reasons: 1) I didn't think I would make my 100th reunion; 2) nobody else would be alive even if I were and so I would be talking to myself; that is, I would be talking to myself more; 3) I wouldn't know my way around the area as I still do now as I suspect that there will be a lot of changes in the next 50 years, with Global Warming and all that: Chagrin Falls Ohio having a resort seashore beach and ticky-tacky amusement parks ala Atlantic City NJ. However, one of the most powerful reasons for me to go, family. Pictured are the three cousins, born within a month of one another (July & August) 1942. That must have been some 1941 Thanksgiving get-together! Secrets, now buried with the dead as they should be. We children tend not to think of our parents as sexual beings. Bob, Susan and Richard. Growing up together more or less within close proximity.

The reunion of high school and family came about because Susan graduated with me from Orange High School. Susan lives in Manhattan, NY, near Union Square and has come to dance in her 40's and she pursues this passion full time. She has a limited budget and was brought to Ohio by Teresa Champion, who lives in Reno Nevada and she drove from Reno to NYC, pick up Susan and they drove to Ohio. Susan stayed in Ohio with Gretchen, also in our class, who was gracious enough to accomodate. I stayed with Bob and Kathy.

The description of setting and circumstances does not address what was a heart felt re-connection amoungst the three of us. I drove Susan to many of the activities and we had our chances to talk. The highlight of the entire experience for me was our Saturday afternoon; 5 hours in Bob's back yard, warm and comfortable weather and clear skies. We talked and remininsced and told each other what we knew of our Grand Parents and their early pre-America life in Czechoslovakia, Grandma Marie brought into a rich family and taught to be a cook after her 9 other family members died of "consuption", ie, tuberculosis. There are other tales and collective experiences shared. Towards, the end of the afternoon, this picture was taken by Kathy, with Susan's camera, and here we are.

Closing up the cottage

2010-09-08T17:19:00.000-07:00

The picture was taken in Chicago while sailing one of the tall ships out of the harbour breakwall: Starboard lighthouse in the background.

My tale today is of a different time and place. I am up at the cottage, preparing to leave tomorrow, and not return probably until next year, although I am holding out hope for a Canadian Thanksgiving October 12th visit.

We have had 6 days of Wind Warning weather, Gale force winds (> 34 knots) and gusts even higher. The wind has changed directions several times this week, right now it is coming out of the NorthWest. Weather bouy 45003 in Northern Lake Huron says air temperature 14 Celsius, the water temperature is now 13 Celsius and waves 3 meters: 59, 55 F & 10 feet.

The clouds are heavy on the horizon, there are slits of salmon pink evening sky with even lower light gray clouds racing along the water. I am safe now, warmed by a hot shower, heater going full blast and dressed with many layers. Earlier, I had been cold.

Bill Tyler has his boats in the water including his large Morgan 24 sailboat Little Pike. He had moored Little Pike with a shore line and a line to the standing anchor. Her stern closest to shore and taking the brunt of the gale force winds and 10 foot seas crashing over the rocks. If he hadn't attached her to shore and let her swing free, she would strike the shoal running the length of Mare Nostrum as she had apparently done earlier in the year. She broke free of the shore line sometime in the last 24 hours and was now dancing over the shoal, clearing it because of the one foot storm surge. But, when the wind dies down a bit, she would be subject to pounding her keel on the shoal until she cracked her fiberglass, leaked water and became stuck on the shoal. So, if anything was to be done, then it had to be in the gale force winds, 10 foot seas, and, and someone had to go into the water to free her tailing, now broken shore line as it had wrapped around the standing anchor in the water. In my 3/4 wet suit, goggles and water shoes, I went in, Connie and her husband Steve (both in parkas) on shore holding onto an auxillary line I attached to the broken line, and they pulled Little Pikes stern against the wind and waves to shore and we made fast both lines.

Connie Steve and I said our brief goodbyes and I headed for the cottage and a hot shower. Here I am, now fed, watered and ready for the evening festivities: a rusty nail and to bed.

If I could

2010-06-29T12:47:00.000-07:00

If I could see beyond the curvature of the earth, I could see Alpena Michigan. If I could sail a Clipper Ship, I could sail to China. If I could hold this moment, it would last forever. Today the wind is more than 25 knots. There is not a haze upon the horizen. The water is green and blue and frothy. I have walked to the island deck, sat in the Mascoka chair and contemplated all that I could see. A pair of seaguls drift in the wind, slowly being pushed from the shore and more inland. They dive and twist, catching another air current and rise again, searching the shore waters for their prey.

Earlier in the day, I had been in Keading for the Farmer's Market and livestock auction. Cherries and tomatoes, onions and scallions, thick sliced bacon and lean cut ham sausage ring were duely scrutinized, fondled and purchased. There are hundreds of stalls; Amish with black and white hats, buggies, plastic cardtables with lettace and potatoes, rows of berry jams. Cattle were lowing and chickens were clucking. There were tables piled high with Chinese made belts and gloves and nicknacks. The baked goods were real, fresh and inviting. Antiques, real and imagined occasionlly draws one's mind to a different era.

Tonight I am going to the Lutomski's for Pizza.

Tonight I am wearing my silver whisle. Last evening a black bear meandered through the shallows of Purgatory Harbour. Lately, on all my walks including shoreline walks, I wear my whisle. People from Whiskey Harbour and Devil's Glen having "cottaged" over the weekend who had left their garbage out for Monday pickup will find it strewn about when they come back. A mini dump every few houses; what bear could ask for anything more. Hence I carry my whistle, to scare the beast were we to cross paths. The whistle makes me feel better at least. Today's sun and sky and water and wind make me feel even better.

The Web of Life

2010-06-28T11:21:00.000-07:00

"Oh what a tangled web we weave..." Sparty's windvane sports an evening's work, highlighted this morning by the dew. No matter that West is now East, North is now South. Life can take us in many directions, some of which are opposite to which we perceive the wind is blowing. The spider's web was built in hopes that unsuspecting insects will pass by and get entangled. The mid-day thunderstorm, lightning and wind disconnected everything, and once again, Sparty is cleaned and ready for duty. We shall see what tomorrow brings.

Today is Monday and that means wash day, all the clothes, linen and towels that have been accumulating for the past two weeks; off to the Tyler's for the marathon wash and dry cycle.

Today also is fetching water day, the ultra filtered, osmosis derived, ultraviolet radiated kind that only comes from our Lion's Head Home Hardware. $5.00 Cnd for 24 liters. "While you're up..." and in this case "out and about", stop at the dump, take the recycling, the 50 feet of telephone line lying in the grass on the Hydro line, and put the bottles and cans in the Boy Scout's shed; passively making money. On the Tyler's Turnpike, I met a 10 inch diameter shell snapping turtle who did not want to get out of the way of my vehicle. As he/she was on one track, I had room to move over and pass he/she by. Coming back, I didn't see he/she so I guess he/she didn't wait for me. Further on down the road, at the junction of Shaw Road and Little Pike Bay Road is a Yellow Flower canola field. Then on to Lion's Head via the West Road, taking the road (45th parallel) that is closed for road repair and bridge work from June until September. Without invoking 4 wheel drive, or even slowing down, cruise control on all the way I make it to Highway 6, no bridge, no road repair, no workers, no signs. I guess the sign at the West Road heading East is a vestige of times past, filled with good intentions. The road in Lion's Head is being reclaimed and refinished although the clerk at Scott's Home Hardware and I both agree that it didn't need it and haven't the foggiest idea why it is being torn up. Then a stop at the LCBO to get beer, back to Highway 6; making a left turn, more construction signs and orange and black barrels; cruise control on all the way to Little Pike Bay Road, no slow downs. I stopped at Tyndale's Gravel to have them call me about laying gravel on part of our road. The heavy well drilling trucks and the back and forth truck travel of the well and aquafer testers have now made a rutted muddy mess of things. The solution of course, lay more gravel. Somehow, I feel connected to the Sparty spider; I'll make a new start tomorrow.

A walk in the park

2010-06-27T14:39:00.000-07:00

You can not believe how sweet and complex are the aromas in the forest when it rains. Stepping around puddles of water I breath deeply to capture as much of the fragrance as I can. Each breath contains a variance upon a theme: sweet cedar, balsam firs, wildflowers, and earth musk. I stand there at times, in the moment. The rain is pouring down, the sounds of patter on my brim hat, wearing too small a yellow raincoat and try to memorize these smells, these sights and this feeling. I forget for an instant why I have a silver whistle around my neck, I snap to vigilance, I am on the look-out for bears. Two nights ago, a porcupine awakened me by chewing on the cottage. Banging on the walls and bathroom window only gave the creature pause. I had to get dressed, flashlight in hand, out the back deck, around the bedrooms to the pump house, open and close the lid with a bang, proceed to the front, across the front deck, to the side of the sunroom and there, about to scurry under Big Red, a porcupine. My light shooing the prickly quilled endanged species along until it disappeared from view by climbing a tree. This morning I got a call from Clara Lutomski, there had been a bear sighting on the Devil's Glen Road. A big black bear, apparently unperturbed by people who had just been bicycling or jogging along, nor by dogs barking.

As it has been gently raining all day on and off, I did not feel compelled to dash off on my daily walk. The bear alarm only added to my indolence, glued as I was to my MacIntosh screen. Leaning into the afternoon, it was becoming apparent that my delay, or wishful thinking of finding a clearing window in the weather were for naught. Distant rumbles of thunder had me casually check Environment Canada's doppler radar for this area and I saw that the drizzle was more likely to become a torrent and I had better be inside for that. So, dressing for the affair, I headed off into the over cast skies. I passed our Hydro line, seen to the right in sunlight rather than gloom, I headed down our roadway to take the road tour towards the Tyler's rather then penetrate deeper into the bush by going to the green gate. It was in this early stage of my journey that I encounter the perfume that accompanied me in various degrees for the rest of my walk.

I am back now. There were no bear sightings by me. There was this ying and yang, so pleased to walk the bush in the rain, so emotionally aroused and alert to possible danger. The creatures both seen and talked about, plus the sensations felt and imbibed are part of why I come up here.

Observations from a deck chair

2010-06-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

The Canadian Soldiers are limping around on the front deck. Their life cycle complete, the female has laid its eggs on the Lake water, to sink to the bottom. There, they morph repeatedly until they are an adolescent, rise to the surface, molt into an adult flying form and for 24 hours fly in swarms so dense these swarms have been seen on doppler radar. These Mayflies mate mid-air and then are done.

This morning I had breakfast on the front deck, successfully following the instructions of Jim Mininger making an omelet without ending up with scrambled eggs. I watched the ending of one life form as the hummingbird garnered sustainence from our feeders.
As you might have guessed, the deck on the island has a canvas topped gazebo. When the mood strikes me to meditate away from all electronic intrusions, its a nice place to be. The island deck is the place to watch the evening sunset. As the Summer Solstice has come and gone, the sun's furthest reach North has been setting over the far Little Pike Bay Point. Earth's wobble will take the sunset from over the Point to so far South, it can only viewed by going to the island deck at the Winter Solsitce. Sunsets across the water with colors and images to wonder about.

When things are not seen

2010-06-22T13:20:00.000-07:00

Today is rainy, foggy, and cold. The wind off the Lake has an edge to it. I've closed the sliding glass door. Sounds of a motorboat engine are heard through the fog. I wouldn't be out there, but somebody is. The water saga continues; today, they are pumping all day at Bill's well next to his house and checking water levels of our well and the one off his road near the red Tori. Testing the resilience of the aquafer. The Lutomski's are about to come over for drinks and dinner; how easy it is to drift into a life-style "where the living is easy." Days ahead will be more like the one pictured, than the one I am presently experiencing.

Peace be with You

2010-06-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

As one comes to the red Tori in the middle of the bush, the sign says in part: Mare Nostrum: "Our Sea"; the Latin phrase of Roman times to describe what is now called the Mediterranean Sea. "Our Sea" reflected how the Romans believed they controlled the known seas. Stella Maris is "Star of the Sea" the name of the first boat to reside in Mare Nostrum. Pax Vobiscum,"Peace be with You" is on the other side of the Tori sign: have a good journey.

Over almost a century, this area has had the Tyler's imprint. From an island in Howdenvale harbour, they ventured along the coast, both North and South, exploring and cook-outs. Mare Nostrum, a bay on the South side of Little Pike Bay served as refuge in a storm and a great place to picnic while traveling up and down the Bruce Peninsula in Argyle, the boat Ralph Tyler had built on Tyler Island in Howdenvale.

As you all know, times have changed and this 65 + acre parcel is undergoing changes, land development changes. The picture to the right was taken from our road facing West, the stake and the clearing represent the boundary separating the North portion of the development and the South portion. Although the sign leaving the property begins with Pax, peace, events have been anything but. A week ago, Monday June 14th there was a second Municipal of Northern Bruce Peninsula Township Board meeting to discuss the proposed development and to hear from a wider group of people than who had participated at the earlier March 26th Township Board meeting. Over the last week, I have heard from several people who had attended that meeting. I have read the minutes of that meeting and their attachments as well as the minutes of the March 26th meeting. I was provided with newspaper articles discussing Aboriginal People's issues regarding development on the Bruce Peninsula and I went to the First Nation's web site to read a more general perspective on Aboriginal Rights issues since Canada has become a separate country within the now more nebulis British Commonwealth of Countries.
Right now at least, the dialogue is acrimonious. Bill has leap-frogged the Township Board and filed with the Ontario Municipal Board as the Township Board has failed to act within the 180 day window per their Code of Ordinances. Some people were angry prior to the June 14th meeting and many more are angry now that the Township has been by-passed. What seems to be on the minds of many, is the issue of Aboriginal People's claims over lands and treaties that have previously been not addressed. There have been several widely publicized RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police -Sargent Preston-and more up to date- equivalent to our FBI) and OPP (Ontario Provincial Police) confrontations where someone has died. Land disputes all wrapped around money. The view is from the Tori West towards the Tylers. To the left of this road heading West is the "road allowance" which is now in dispute, requiring consultation with the First Nation People, which cuts across a portion of the development, etc., etc., etc.

And here is our little piece of paradise, at least the road along the easement to our cottage. It seems that our being just West of the Whiskey Harbour road allowance does not subject us to some of the Shore Allowance issues although the First Nation People claim all under water land to the International Border with USA. My understanding is that many of the land claims are in various stages of litigation which will end up at the Supreme Court of Canada at as yet some future date.

In the mean time, the sun is shining, there are wisps of clouds in the sky, a gentle breeze wafts from the Northwest, the hummingbird visits and revisits the feeders, I have finished my walk to the green gate and now it is time for me to shower and shave, get ready for company this afternoon; wine and cheese.

Father's Day on the Bruce

2010-06-20T04:56:00.000-07:00

Presumably Justin & Sherry have finished the move into their new apartment in Shanghai. I say this because Kathy was/is such an integral part of the move's success. I had Skyped with her on Friday morning prior to the move on Saturday.

Here on the Bruce, Father's Day morning, Sunday morning, the Lutomski's and Thuerig's and your dad will travel to Cape Chin for a Sunday brunch celebration; no kids from any of the families.

The water story never seems to end. Here is a shot into the bush just off the road. There are ponds and ponds of standing water. And yes, there are black flies. I use plenty of DEET, cover up in a broad brim hat and wear a flannel shirt, long pants and long sock. So far so good.

Wild flowers are going through their spring evolution. We had yellow lady slippers when we were up over Memorial day weekend that held out their shoe for us to peek into. Here we have the brilliant reddish orange tiger lily, alone and in triplets. I find them along the roadways and hydro lines where they receive the full benefit of the sun.

This morning the flag across the way hangs limp, yet, through the open sliding glass door there is a breeze, a pretty chilly breeze as a matter of fact. The wind is from the Northwest, right off the Lake, Lake temperature still at 10 Celsius.

Yesterday there was a windsurfer coming from down the Bay. He had on a bib wetsuit and no life jacket. I wondered, after the paralysing shock from cold immersion, would he end up like a partially empty bottle floating on the water, head down and the buoyant leg and feet section sticking out of the water? I wondered, how could I rescue him? Drive over to Bill's, get his aluminum boat, hopefully the motor not disabled, putting on my life jacket, bringing one for the windsurfer. What? Maybe 20 minutes? According to the US Coast Guard immersion tables, in 50 F degree water (10 degree Celsius), 20 minutes would be at the upper limits of survival if he hadn't already drown. Maybe its tempting the wrath of the gods, but, we could use a little global warming up here right now. My mother told me about summers when she would be at the cottage after her school year, and she would have a fire to keep warm every day. Anticipate, prepare, enjoy.

More than what you may have asked for.

2010-06-18T10:13:00.000-07:00

I am sitting on the front deck, in the green chair behind the white patio coffee table with my feet up and a cold beer at my right hand ready. The sun is obviously out yet high clouds are to morph into low lying storm clouds tonight bringing wind and rain into the early morning hours. Tomorrow, another awakening to the sounds of rain outside my bedroom window. Our now 51 year old cottage itself has morphed into a picturesque cabin in the woods, by a lake, surrounded by wilderness. Not seen, but obviously present is telephone service and high speed internet. I could get a satallite dish and be able to watch television, summer re-runs of last year's action shows and situational comedies. Maybe, with enough channels, I could watch the Cleveland Indians baseball team, live.
Of course, I could go out to the island and sit in the shade of the gazebo, watch the clouds roll in. The winds are strong and out of the South. As the Bay is sheltered, the water looks calm. The Canadian flag across the way is really whipping around which helps me guage wind speed. The Environmental Canada weather forecast for Northern Lake Huron is for winds 20 to 25 knots and waves to 2 meters. The barometer on the wall in the cottage has been falling all day so a low pressure system is coming and the forecast for a storm sounds reasonable. I still like my line of sight flag waving as a guestimate. The Northern Lake Huron buoy 40001's readings and the interpretation of its readings does help add precision to my wet fingertip in the air weather forecast.
We have red geraniums and another red spindly flower that serves as a beacon for the Humming-birds. Our sugary sweet offerings keep them coming back. It is somewhat amazing to me that the Hummingbirds were buzzing around here a month ago, before red flowers and before sugar flavored feeder water. They kept coming back and buzzing the location where the planters were last year. Maybe they would have eventually given up had Kathy not come up two weeks ago and we bought the flowers, filled the feeders, and then watched and waited. It seems there is a lot of that going on up here: watching and waiting.

RJ, Nana and Rhythm are coming up to the cottage beginning with the July 4th USA holiday and returning to the West Coast the following Sunday. I have arranged for that week to be sunny and warm, the water refreshing, and the boats in the water. How could you ask for anything more?

Well, my beer is done, so I guess its time for me to do something else for a while.

2010-06-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

Its 6:30 in the morning, the sun has been up for about 20 minutes. The storm of yesterday is history, and today is calm, waves barely breaking on the shore. There is still coolness in the air and I have turned on the electric heater to warm the cottage a bit and gone back to bed to await the joules translate to watts into heat and warmth and comfort.

Leah wrote back to say she was more interested in seeing pictures of the cottage than the hole in the ground so some early morning shots.

The hole in the ground still captures my attention as this morning the well drillers have come to test the well they have drilled; obtain information on gallons per minute and recovery time to send off to the Health Department. Somewhat simple, a 2 gallon bucket and a stop watch; 10 gallons per minute, enough for a family of 4. I did smell the water coming out and it does have a faint iron smell, no sulfur, no other grotties that I can detect.

These two fine young men were accompanied by a gray-beard from down Kindardin way who pronounced our well is fit and more than adequate. Good news.

With the day now moving to noon, it is time to refill the humming-bird feeder and journey about for a while.

Dinner at Lutomski's tonight.

Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink

2010-06-16T08:10:00.000-07:00

This morning I awakened to the sounds of gentle rain which grew louder and louder until I had to partially shut the window. Of course I lingered a while before arousing from my bower and beginning the puttering of the day. At first, looking out at the lake, the surface was flat and the rain was coming straight down. Water was racing out of the little bay infront of the cottage. Gradually, the wind picked up. Now it is blowing at 20 knots and the seas are mounting; likely to reach 2 meters by late afternoon. There is fog. The haze blurs the outlines of the shore across Little Pike Bay.

Lake Huron is now 578.04 feet above mean sea level; a foot and a half above the low level in the 1960's, and 3 and a half feet below the highest levels in 1986.

It is fairly cool today and I have the heater on to make things toasty what with the wind blowing off the Lake with it 10 degree Celsius water temperature.

There is more water news here at the cottage. We now have a hole in the ground to get water. Actually, a 132 feet deep hole, nicely capped for now, eventually to bring us @ 10 gallons per minute well water. With all the expansive water of Lake Huron, why go to a well you might ask? Well, "...the answer is complicated" as I recall the answer given to reporters by the call girl of the then Governor of New York, Spitzer. I imply no such nefarious doings here though. Rather, a well has been in the long range plans of the cottage, to have it drilled while helping Bill with his land development plans. The opportunity is now, so we have taken it. Finishing off the well water project will have to wait at least another year. For now, the hole is in the ground and we await water analysis to determine if we need to scrub out iron, or sulfur, or whatever the aquafer has to offer. I have spoken with several people with cottages on Devil's Glen Road (Purgatory Harbour for those who want to know) and they describe wildly different well depths, water contents, etc. Next door neighbors, less than 100 feet apart are all different. I guess I don't understand bedrock aquafers like ours. For now at least, we will continue to shower, wash dishes, and flush our toilet with pumped from Lake Huron water, and schlep osmosis or steam derived filtered ultravioleted store boughten water for drinking (pitcher in the frig), ice cubes and coffee making.

Well, the rain has stopped, the fog and mist are still heavy all around us, so maybe this would be a good time for my daily walk.

Just in time

2010-06-13T08:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Kathy took off for Shanghai, not from

Lansing as originally booked, but from Detroit, arriving there, just in time. After a leisurely morning, getting to Lansing Capital Airport in plenty of time to sit and have yet another cup of coffee, we said our "good-byes" waving to each other as the escalator took her out of sight. Off I went to finish errands, getting home, and a phone call, airplane mechanical problems, "come pick me up." The trip to DTW was charged with angst. Did I take a longer route? should I have gone down MLK to I-496? "Would you please drive a little faster! (?)" I passed two MI State Police cars out with their radar guns, I wasn't stopped going 77 MPH. Down I-275, we ran into a brief but torrential downpour; raining so fast that the fastest speed of the windshield wipers could not keep up. Thank goodness for my purchase of rain tires for Big Red. Then, which route to take? to the International terminal, again, we went the long way. Finally at Delta International terminal; out and unloaded both big bags, brief kiss and off she went. Kathy had previously remarked that a family who were on the same flight in Lansing and traveling to England were driving to DTW in their VW Golf and didn't have room for Kathy. I saw a family, egress from a Golf, scrambling with their bags. I wondered if this were the same family as the one Kathy had mentioned. If so, someone still had to park the car. I guess we made good enough choices ourselves. I drove to a McDonalds at the far Eastern side of the airport, ate and waited. Phone call, she was booked onto another flight, this one a direct flight to Shanghai, no intermediate stop in Tokyo, upgraded to business class, seat A-1, handed an orange juice and champaign, and, settling in to her comfortable seat. I could leave now.

The trip back was altered as the entrance ramp onto Northbound I-275 was closed for construction, so I drove West on I-94 past Ann Arbor to exit 159, the Chelsey exit and headed North on M-52. Now I was traveling "country", rich green fields, winter wheat thick and knee high, corn already knee high and this isn't even the 4th of July; ponds full of water, cattle pastured. Just as I was coming upto MI-36, an East-West road and my turn towards Mason MI to avoid the I-96 traffic and construction, in a field on the right was a bird, a tall bird, with buff colored neck and wing markings. Instead of all white like an Egret, this bird had light tan colored markings, standing in the middle of a field, dart-like spearing a prey, this on land and not wading in water.

Today, I Googled and found the bird, a Cattle Egret, in breeding plumage, no longer confined to the Iberian Peninsula, but has now spread, over the last 200 years, to become world wide, as cattle rearing has spread all over the world as well. I had never seen one before. It is sometime surprising what one finds and learns when you keep your eyes open, and are "mindful."

Another phone call from Kathy: she is safe and sound at Justin & Sherry's, in Shanghai which is hot and humid, just getting ready to go to bed, and her bedroom air conditioning is working well.

Its nine o'clock, do you know where your father is?

2010-06-03T18:16:00.000-07:00

On a clear night, and tonight is suppose to be a clear night, and this night in the Western sky, we will be able to see the rare occurance of Saturn, Mars and Venus. Saturn and its myriad of rings reminds us of the Earth and agriculture, the god for a good harvest. Mars is the god of war, and I am reminded of King Leonitis of Sparta, and the stand against the Persians at Thermopylae only to be betrayed by dissident Greeks leading the Persians through a mountain pass. And then there is Venus. Who does not know about the goddess of love and her quarrelous relationship with her husband Zeus. As we look to the skies for answers, we should observe where we are and in whose company we keep.

Tonight I will search for these planets alone, at least, not here with Kathy as she has fled to the viscitudes of patient care. I will join her tomorrow, but I will not be able to see the Canadian sunset over the darkening waters of Lake Huron for the next week or so.

As the sun sets one can see different hues and colors, depending of course on the pollution in the air. The more beautiful the colors, the more intense the colors, the more dirt and grit are in the atmosphere. Beauty to the eye may not be beauty in someone elses mind.

And finally, a pastoral glow. Pine, spurce, cedar, and tamarac trees are dark and contrasted against the lighted evening sky.

I have not packed anything yet as I am not in a rush to leave although I am in a hurry to see my Venus with whom I do not have a quarrelous relationship. Does that mean that I am not Zeus? the king of kings? For sure I am not.

Right now I can see Saturn, the rings are verticle, like a globe in a library. I will look for the other two planets anon.

If you were I, what would you do?

2010-05-31T17:02:00.000-07:00

This is a snapshot of our days, well, a snapshot of Kathy sitting on the front deck, under the rollout canopy shading from the mid-afternoon sun, yesterday. Today is not so sunny, we have had thunderstorms and showers, and have spent most of the day indoors, not online as a fiberoptic cable was cut near Colinswood so all the internet came to a halt for us. However, we do have Books, and we read Books, surprise, surprise. A morning visit by the Lutomski's and a visit by Bill Tyler to talk about drilling a well, a trip back to Bill's to talk with the well drillers, an after quitting time visit by the well drillers to help us locate a place for them to drill our well, and finally a dinner of grilled chicken, broccoli, and popcorn. Tomorrow, breakfast at "Mom's" in Ferndale and then Kathy and Clara drive off to Keadi and the Keadi farmer's market, Bill Lutomski and I to erect our Spartan weathervane on the front deck. Good natured companionship; priceless.

2010-05-30T07:50:00.000-07:00

This morning there is beauty all around. The day is warm, there is a gentle breeze off the water, the sky is cloudless and the sounds, oh the sounds, are magnificant. The cry of the gull, the tweets of the birds flittering from tree branch to tree branch, the buzz of the bees.

Up on the front deck, a spring chicken landed in the chair next to me, coffee cup in hand, smiling and relaxed.

Other birds of spring are busy carrying nest building materials, disappearing into the cedar bows. Mr. & Ms. Robin are getting bits of moss from the watery rocky area just East of the cottage. Flying in a straight line, they make a bee line for their lair and return for another round of building material & nest building.

The humming birds are back, apparently chastizing us for not getting our plants and humming bird feeders out like last year. They seem to remember from year to year.

Yesterday I went for my first sail of the year, on Bill Tyler's boat "Little Pike", gentle breezes from the Northwest, sunshine, full sails, and just ripples on the water; quiet and intermittent conversation.

Last night at the Lutomski's for dinner which included the Theurigs. Walk back in the twilight, my "torch" used only to navigate the rocky ledge from Devil's Glen Road, torch off, then on again as Kathy heard some noises along our road. Something likely moving around, heard us, and mosied on.

This morning, coffee & conversation with Lutomski's & Theurig's on our front deck, then, after they had left, Kathy and I are off to buy some red flowers and fill our hummingbird feeders, summer will have officially begun.

When the journey is worth it

2010-05-27T11:57:00.000-07:00

From where I am sitting, this is a beautiful day. Since I have been here, there have been three consecutive days of sunshine and warmth. The first two days have been very warm, mid-80's inland although cooler here by the shore. Nights cool off giving lazy under the covers sleeping. Today, after a flat calm morning the wind has picked up, blowing through the front door, through the cottage, and taking the nast winter closed up smell out through the bedroom windows. Last night, I fired up the barbeque for dinner, toated the sunset as it slid behind the horizon, and drank in the evening glow of first orange, then yellows, pinks, purples, and then fade to darkness, stars, and a rising moon.

One hitch in the idyllic Canadian escape. The 50 year old water heater has succumb and yesterday I traveled to Owen Sound, to Home Depot, next to Walmart, up the hill on the other side of town towards Medford on route 26, "its on the right you can't miss it" to get a Mexican made GE brand 10 gallon water heater. Sorry kids, nothing bigger will fit in the pump house space. Your stuck with "Navy showers." Other than I really shouldn't go out in public, I guess I will clean up with new hot water, the weather looks good for the weekend too.

A gorgeous Saturday afternoon

2010-05-22T15:07:00.000-07:00

Today is the East Lansing Art Fair spilling out of parking lots into the streets and sidewalks. To begin touring the more than 200 booths, we fortified ourselves with a lunch at El Azteco: beer, topopo and botana. Roof top open, a darkened morning and threatening thundershowers gave way to billowing clouds, a fresh breeze to cool you as you baked in the sun, oblivious to the tanning rays. Down the crowded passageway from rooftop to street level and out into the heavy beat of a band: waaaay to much base: abump, abump, abump. Kathy is on a mission of sorts, to buy birthday gifts for co-workers at the Pediatric Pulmonary Clinic, whom we will see at the Cystic Fibrosis Walk-a-thon tomorrow, held in Dewitt. More walking, biking, chatting and catching up.

I will not be going to the Cottage tomorrow as planned as Big Red developed an electrical problem and the mechanics can't figure out what's wrong so they will have to wait until Monday to speak/with the "tech center." I am sure all will sort itself out. Kathy is glad this problem occurred while we were at home and not during out crossing of the upland California dessert or at Vail Pass, 10,666 feet, or even at Warren Dunes last week. There is a rainbow after every storm.

As part of the looking for presents for others we stop-'n-shop.
Kathy stopped at a hand dyed hand made clothing shop and she tried on some cover overs and a hat. We discussed the merits of how she looked in various outfits and hats, both agreeing upon some flattering threads that she could wear to work as well as her upcoming trip to China in the middle of June. During our tour de force we stopped and chatted with people we knew, and those whom we didn't, although they had cute kids and we told them so. As it had rained significantly last night, there were pools of water spread around and one child sat down in one puddle: looked good.

We all need to give Beth Murphy a hardy Congratulations as she has graduated from High School and will go onto college; Tennessee, did I get that right?

I will be heading upto the Cottage just as soon as Big Red is ready and able.

The progression during retirement

2010-05-19T17:24:00.000-07:00

It should come as no surprise that the first images of grandparnethood is that of the grandchildren. Marcus at Potter Park Zoo during the Ahlfeldt US tour in anticipation of their getaway to Sweden. Hear Marcus roar!

Ellen with her green (most important is the color) back scratcher, on her head, dazed by the flurry of the changing times.

I struggle to capture the intensity of the moment, the absolute, the mind boggling speed of life as it passes us by. Behold, Kathy and I around the fire pit, next to Rudy at Warren Dunes Michigan on the South side of Lake Michigan, near the Indiana border.

And here am I, on the down

side of the dune, as I look out, I can see Chicago, almost as a mirage on the distant Western shore more than 60 miles away. Much like Sleeping Bear Dunes to the North, these are massive dunes, trampled by feet of adventurers. In front of me, about 1,000 feet, are the shores of Lake Michigan, placid for now, clear water, and barely a ripple. For four days and three nights we lingered, a fire every night; meeting up with Justin who was in the USA for a business meeting from Shanghai, leisurely meals either straight out of the camper or just down the road a piece, and some stops for some road side antique shops. Nice work if you can get it. More news and film at eleven.

See what you are missing

2009-10-23T12:14:00.000-07:00

We have traveled far and wide to see what we have sought, out our back window. Fall has just begun, yet Fall colors are coming to a close. The annual "turning of the leaves", a ritual to which we look forward in the Eastern time zone, began for us in Acadia National Park on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. There, there were some color changes and the smell of wet leaves. As we headed West, particularly western Maine and the eastern foothills of the White Mountains, the autumn leaves began their color show, initially high on the hill sides and slowly descending to the valley floors. After a night at Hastings campground in the White Mountain National Forest, we regained US Route 2, pulling Rudy along a very good, wide shouldered road.

In northern New Hampshire we jogged between scenic turnouts. Descended into riverside New England towns, past elite boarding schools, and signs to regional snow skiing areas, not yet open. The colors were distinct: reds were brilliantly red, as were the oranges and yellows. All this punctuated by the evergreen green. The trees still had carried their leaves, few on the ground. A full-color Fall.

On one particularly broad vista scenic turnout, we stopped behind a pick-up truck, back cover open, and artfully displayed, all manner of Vermont maple syrup. Jars of whipped syryp. Unique bottle shapes as well as an assortment of maple syrup candies. The man purchasing syrup ahead of us said that the women's prices were the best he had found. We believed him and bought our share, spredding the flat-land mid-Western wealth to the rural hill people of Vermont. We did our duty. By the time we had reached the home-base for Ben & Jerry Ice Cream, the colors were less intense. Past Montpelier, the capital with >8,000 people, continuing westward, up Lake Champlain and further up Upstate New York, really a muddy color, orangish reds and yellows, everything running together. Over the hump and then down along the southeasten shores of Lake Ontario. ("Is there an Off tario?")

We finished up our fall color tour in the western foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, Chagrin Falls Ohio. Some trees are just beginning to turn.

Looking out our back window, it was all here. You should see it for yourself.

Ahoy matie

2009-10-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

Our Mississippi Covington Inn B&B was a "towboat", a misnomer of course since these tugs push barges, not tow them. At night, when it is very quiet, the engine sounds of passing tugs are barely perceptable. The engines are buried below the water line, making a muffled, low pitched humming sound. Inspite of their great cargo, their square shape, a 6 or 8 barge ensemble barely makes a wake. No rockin' or rollin' for those tied to shore. The towboat at night is lighted fore and aft with its navigational lights displayed, and a solitary companionway light midships. Our towboat is permanently docked, with city water and sewer, great for showers and flushing toilets. The long dark vertical poles keep the boat in place as the Mississippi River water level rises and falls. The life ring is mostly for show as we are fast lashed to shore on its port side. On the starboard side of course, with the expanse of the River; a life ring may come in handy. Topsides is open, and, because of a raised teak deck, the railings are somewhat low, for the party crowd.

Opening the midship's companionway, through the swinging doors, deposits you into the main salon, nautical in authenticity. This is where breakfast is served at 8:30 AM. Our first meeting was at 7 AM at the Minneapolis Convention Center 20 minutes away. Needless to say, we missed breakfast. The fireplace is real only it is propane fueled; it takes the chill off the moisture ladened Fall evening. Cozy. We met our ordained minister hostess who marries couples officially on board; 36 so far. All the elements for a shipboard romance. We were the only ones on board so we had the pick of accomodations. The lower level, down a companionway, below deck and the water line, where engines once hummed, was not our first choice. On the salon level, just steps from this cozy environment was the 1st mates quarters, smallish, with a queen sized bed taking up most of the space. We passed.

The spiral staircase, not like that of "Tara" of Gone With The Wind fame, is a compact helical contraption, brass rails worn from frequent use, leading to the Master's suite and Pilot house. A jingling bell key fob hung from the door's lock. A quick turn ushered us in. Plenty of room, a fireplace, wooden blinds; with starboard and port egress narrow passageways, to the open party deck. A "Sleep Number" bed provided some brief entertainment. The "head" was small but sufficient as we have become accustomed to such facilities onboard "luxury liners" during our travels. Our seafaring quarters quite in keeping with our maritime theme. We had arrived in the middle of Middle America, as far West of the East Coast, and as far East of the West coast as we can be, again, we are aboard ship. Kathy, for all her protestations about seasickness at the slightest hint of boat motion, has booked us into another water adventure, and of course, it has paid off in a wonderful and memorable experience. Go Kathy!

Another day in the life of Ivan Ivanovich

2009-10-09T15:30:00.000-07:00

I drove from East Lansing sunshine into rain yesterday evening as I arrived at the cottage. Big Red managed to make a whopping 28 mpg as I slowed down going into towns traveling at 37 miles per hour, the transmission still in gear 5 and the engine using only 4 cylinders. Pretty amazing. I averaged 23.9 MPG for the entire trip. I'll bet Al Gore would be glad, NOT.

I unloaded Big Red of all the important stuff and started my brand spanking new Made in China 4800 watt electric heater to warm up the cottage, only to find that the emergency shut off switch was defective and kept shutting off the heater after 3 to 5 seconds of heat. Needless to say, I was lucky that the outside and inside temperatures were in the 49 F. range and not 39 F.

This morning I awakened to not see the crashing into the moon of an Aires booster and payload. I am told the crashing was a success. Time will tell.

The internet works well as I was able to do my Pulmonary Function Testing interpretations on line and on time: 300 miles away.

Jumping into Big Red during a particularly heavy downpour, I went to Miller Lake area and the Peninsula TimBr Mart Hardward where I had purchased the heater, and exchanged it, without proof of receipt, just my word. This one puts out 4800 watt of heat. The place is toasty warm now. However, the oil residue on the calrod heating coil sent out fumes and the smoke detector loudly anounced its displeasure.

I drove back from the hardware store in a pouring rain, wind from the North, again, only 2 of the three wind turbines working, just like this Spring and this Summer. Either the folks up here in the Northern Bruce Peninsula Municipality aren't using electricity, or, the resting wind turbine is still malfunctioning. To support the former hypothesis, there are no lights across the way even though this is the Canadian Thanksgiving holiday. I am the only one here on Little Pike Bay. I am doing my best to use all the electricity those turbines can generate. As the wind has die recently, I probably am using the electricity from Bruce Nuclear, a more consitent base of generation. To support the latter hypothesis, several times this last Spring and Summer there was a crane with its arm raised tinkering with the balky windmill. Wind turbine reliability is an issue it seems. If we hitch a ride on the "alternative energy" boat with its unproven and currently evolving (ie, over several decades) technology, we may find ourselves crashed up on the rocks, lights out and in the cold. Enough said.

An outing on a Tuesday night

2009-07-28T19:29:00.000-07:00

The municipality of the Northern Bruce Peninsula extends from Pike Bay to Tobermory. It has 3900 year around residents. Their ancestry is mostly Scottish. They work the fields, the forests, are shop keepers and wait persons at the local eatery. They band together around their faith, believing in the fundamental nature of all things of heaven and earth. They sing, grouped in unison to give concerts in small congregation churches up and down the Peninsula. The Spirit Singers are a 50 person group. The women are decked out in white blouses and a long Bruce Tartan scarf draped over their left shoulder while the men wear a Bruce Tartan vest. The Spirit Singers' director, accompanist, instrumentalist-music writer, as well as the Suzuki violinist are from one family; grandpa to 7 year old grandson.

We gathered, some 125 of us, in the Bethel Missionary Church which has been preaching the gospel for 105 years, recently in these new digs, but before, in a clapboard structure resurrected from a bygone era. The gray heads, the all-one-color-hair older people, plus a smattering of salt and pepper styles made up the majority of the crowd.

The song selections matched the environment: church music, Down East Nova Scotia sea and parting with loved ones music, medley of 1950's Broadway Musicals, and the most impressive piece to me, the choral rendition of two Elvis Presley's ballads. Fiddler On The Roof medley was opened by the 7 year old Suzuki violinist and closed with same. Several pieces were written for them, by them as they performed them. The choir sang with good diction and enthusiasm.

The middle set featured various soloists, instrumentalists, and the 7 year old "fiddler" doing early English tunes, some from Scotland, and some others straight out of Appalachia. His father had arranged the music for "Dueling Fiddles" which was a gas: father and son.

The last set was an extended Broadway Musical medley finishing with a "Restoration" piece written by the father of the fiddler.

The music was fun. What was interesting to me was the plaintive tunes from "Down East", Appalachia, mixed with Scottish Presbyterian church songs that contained some of the song phrases heard in Gospel music.

At the end of the concert, people began filing out slowly, chatting with one another. Choir women's purses were still out on the chairs, and the white heads bobbed towards the vestibule, bulletin boards announcing various doings including "Deconstructing Darwin" on Thursday night at the Sauble Beach Fellowship Hall.

Outside and to the West, layers of pastel colors remain as the sun fell. Night time approaches, and, if it is a clear sky, then the early phases of the Perceid meteor shower may be seen. I will look for it.

Clinging to thoughts of summer

2009-07-25T13:58:00.000-07:00

Clinging to thoughts of summer, I sit inside, sliding-glass door half open; I see the lightning and hear the thunder while the rain pat pat pats the deck. It didn’t start out as an all day rain, but it ended up that way. I awakened at 5:02 AM. I didn’t want to be late to go fishing with Ian Davis on his boat. We were to meet at 7:15 AM so I knew I couldn’t sleep in as I usually do. But, I got back into bed and just lay there. I got up again at 5:58 AM, and went back to bed again, waiting for 6:15 AM. At 6:14 AM I got up for good, made coffee and got ready for my morning adventure. Bag packed with life preserver, raingear, hat, sunscreen and sunglasses I drove to Tyler’s dock. Ian was already motoring in Mare Nostrum. We hailed one another.

He was in a different boat than the one I remembered. This one, maybe 20 foot with an inboard engine. He has had it for 6 years he said; keeping it at the Lion’s Head Harbour because the water level on the Huron Lake side of the Bruce Peninsula has been so low he couldn’t get into his man made cove in front of his cottage.

As he came close to the dock, I handed him my bag and coffee cup and then I tumbled into the stern, there are no steps to transition from its high freeboard to the floor, let alone from the dock to the hull. Plop. I was in.

The day had been overcast, but inside Little Pike Bay there was little wave action. As we motored out past the South Point alongside the shoal, the wind struck us at the bow. The seas that had been building from yesterday were riding towards us, lots of whitecaps. In a boat that size, small weight variances have a big influence, impacting the center of gravity, and, in this case, how far astern the pivot point is. The boat looks a lot like a very short version of the 35 foot Cape Hatteras “Picnic Boat” made several generations ago with a high prow to take on the Atlantic Ocean when Island hopping. In this look alike but diminutive boat, the high prow and heavy inboard engine in the stern results in two nasty situations when the wind is strong off the quarter beam; the wind catches the forward portion of the boat and tries to drive you sideways and then around, forcing the boat to run before the seas; and two, with an already heavy stern, made worse when anybody goes into the stern, the bow rides high and does not cut through the waves. Predictably, the boat hobby-horses in seas. You are pounding and slapping the water constantly. Bang bang bang. “How are your teeth?” Ian asks me. “Still got your fillings?” He said he didn’t understand why the boat was pounding so, “it’s a deep V hull and shouldn’t do this.” I didn’t point out what was obvious to me as I hung onto two built-in handles, eschewing my coffee mug as his portable GPS went flying off of its built-in mount and onto the floor. To make progress in these conditions and this boat in particular, it had to have enough speed to overcome the force of the wind and waves, so out we went banging our way to open water.

After a couple of miles of staccato conversation, in between banging episodes, we slowed down and headed directly into the South by Southwest seas. “Head South” he said turning over the helm to me as he went aft to set out the lines and attach the downriggers so that we could troll for salmon close to the bottom, about 65 feet. He had cut the inboard engine and started the trolling outboard engine and left me facing 6 ½ foot waves at 1.5 miles per hour. The compass course was supposed to be 180 degrees. The outboard is offset on a port bracket and was underpowered to drive us into the wind and seas to maintain course. So, we were all over the map, East, West and at one point North. The bow would rise high and then slap onto the next wave, at times pitching the boat one way or the other. Water sprayed over and around us. Ian was making progress in getting the lines out and the downriggers down. The stern was not pitching as much as the bow and the helm where I was sitting. “One hand for the boat and one hand for yourself.” A sailor’s adage. So true. To increase speed, I gave more gas to the outboard, but no response. “There must be something wrong

with the cables” said Ian. So we started up the inboard engine again. The fishing line suddenly came off the starboard downrigger, but no run of the line to suggest a fish, just too much tension. Back to the stern Ian went, exaggerating the weight and pivot point issue again. He was being bounced around now. “I think these are all signs that we shouldn’t be fishing today.” And so he reeled in the lines, pulled up the downriggers, raised the outboard back onto its perch and we slowly headed back in; with the wind abaft, we were rock’n and rollin'. Our conversation was now steady and enjoyable.

Back at the dock, I clambered out and said my thank you's and good-byes, we will try to go fishing again some other day. It had started to drizzle, the beginning of our rainy day.

The promise of summer

2009-07-21T15:54:00.000-07:00

Rain is coming straight down. There is not a breath of breeze. It is so quiet that you can hear the drops upon the wooden deck. It was not so this morning. Quiet, clear skies, not a breath of breeze, and a mirror of a lake. No lapping of waves, just the rivulets emptying and then filling the front cove. A perfect day for a sail, eh? Well, as it turned out, there came a breeze from the Southwest bringing warm humid air that swung around to the North and began to build. It was time to launch the SunFish, and so I did. Tacking furiously out of Mare Nostrum I achieved the rumpled water of Little Pike Bay, heeling hard to Port and hiking out to Starboard we flew, tension on the mainsheet, entertaining just a hint of luff in the sail. Lots of pressure on the sheet, I remembered I should have taken my sailing gloves. And then, dark ominous clouds in the South. Pillars of rain shown light against the darkening background. I came about and headed in, although there was still gentle puffs of white clouds overhead, and a sun beating down upon my skin, burning my skin; but the clouds were coming, the rain was coming, thunder and lightening were coming. No time for another exhilarating run into deeper waters. Time to run in, wind ahead of rain, moor and wrap the sail tightly so that it would not flap in the storm. Back at home, safe and sound. The wind has gone, and, as I write, the lake is once again a mirror, not even ripples. Mini rivulets resume their ebb and flow in our front cove.

Bounty was launched yesterday. The barometric pressure was high, the seas calm and a run out into the open water was inviting. The lure to the water was mitigated by my deliberate planning of each step, engine position, spark plugs, new

tubing for the gas cans, petcock closed, and then she was launched. She ran like a top. I headed out, past the shoaling waters into the deep blues, the engine now purring, achieving a new state of perfection, almost a quietude. In coming back from a Purgatory Cove visit, I sped through the South shoal finding the deep slot of water on my way home.

The first picture is sunset, oil on water, the oranges and purples of evening. Silence. You can hear yourself think

Sunday at the Cottage

2009-06-28T07:27:00.000-07:00

The sky is crying, clouds' hands reach from horizon to horizon, the barometer has fallen. It is raining; the kind of rain farmers usually love, steady, and long lasting. I am not so sure about this rain though. After a long cold winter with lots and lots of snow, the fields were wet into June. Last week it rained 3 1/2 inches in one night. Fields and roads were flooded. the drainage ditches were full and fast flowing. After dinner with the Thuerigs last evening, traveling to Wiarton to pick up their daughter and friend from a rock concert at the airport, we saw brown field after brown field left after the water had receded, and other fields still with spots of water in them. We want the Great Lakes to fill up again, and I have been watching water levels in Lake Powell in Utah and Lake Lanier, the water reservoir for Atlanta Ga., they are also rising, dramatically. So what is good for fresh water restoration in many parts of the USA, does have its downside here at Little Pike Bay. The bush is wet, everything that is suppose to be green is deep green.

More tidbits from our trip

2009-06-04T13:54:00.000-07:00

We are in the olde person's garden a block from Justin's place. Sun, flowers and fragrance. Casual and smiling after a night's rest and a full breakfast, plus a brisk walk to Justin's. We are overjoyed to be here.

The kitchen in Justin's is modern and spacious. Enough outlets to run the usual appliances, cook the food and wash the dishes. Large refrigerator to pack all the food to be prepared. Unfortunately, neither Justin nor Sherry are much on cooking. Hmmm.

Andre is not quite Rubin's "Reclining Lady" but the living room is spacious, furniture a bit low to the floor for my taste, my needing to struggle to get out of the sofa and chairs, otherwise a young person's modern.

Although the curtains are closed and the skylight has movable cloth shutters, the room is light and airy, the night sky is visible, and the room feels expansive.

Next to the bedroom is partitioned the computer room and an outward looking window. These two rooms plus a large shower and bath make up the second floor. Plenty of room to roam around up here. Hardwood floors, no handrailings to get down the angled staircase though, slippers with traction a must for me.

The night we arrived, we went out for "Chinese" and this is a typical restaurant, on the second floor in the old French concession, a lazy susan in the middle where plates are placed and then spun around to each place setting. There are communal chopsticks to place the food onto your plate, and then there are people willing to share everything.

Our arrival into Shanghai and first stop was the Radisson Hotel, a 5 star affair where the doorman remembered Justin from Justin's stays before finding a place of his own. We were teated to excellent service, a full buffet breakfast, night attendants at the door with greetings no matter what time of night or early morning we came back. A very comfortable experience, all arranged by Justin and Sherry. Andre and Sarah stayed at Justin's and lingered here long enough for Kathy and myself to get ourselves situated in our rooms and then down to walk to Justin's, taxi to restaurants and then back. All this the day we awoken in East lansing at 3:30 AM to catch the Michigan Flyer bus, to catch the plane in Detroit Metro, to catch the plane in Chicago to fly to Shanghai via the north pole, await our health clearance while still seated in Pudong International Airport, lumber through customs with our full compliment of luggage, cab it to the Radisson, etc etc etc. So began our two weeks in China and the Special Administration Region (can you believe it "SARS") Hong Kong, and back again.

Arrangements by Justin and Sherry were outstanding. Thank you so very much.

Thumbnail sketch of China and Hong Kong

2009-06-01T18:43:00.001-07:00

"Welcome to the People's Republic of China. We are from the Government and we are here to help you. Before exiting the airplane everyone will under go a health inspection." 6 decades ago, "showers anyone?"

Sarah found a really neat park a block away from Justin's place in the Olde French Concession of Shanghai. The place was full of apparatus and some people doing Tai Chi. Only later on did we find out that this was a place for "old people."

Shanghai has no functioning one way streets. Cross traffic can really be brutal.

Notice there is no sidewalk. Pedestrians co-mingle with traffic. See the pretty decorative traffic signal ignored by one and all? See Rich run. See Kathy run. We made it across the street. Life is really random isn't it?

Electrical connections are a personnel choice. One does not bother with meters and such. Just reach up, and voila, you are connected.

Let's see now; I do this on myself. This part goes over that part; no, that end goes over this end. See Andre, it is really simple to tie a half Windsor.

East meets West, at the Alter! A gathering of a few close friends.

The French built this hospital at the end of the

19th Century. Pretty isn't it? Behind is the hospital

for Communist Party members and others in good

standing with the Government.

The hospital where Sherry's Grandmother was admitted for a fractured femur, for ordinary citizens: a 6 bed room 4 X 5 meters, curtains separating beds, a common toilet, glass windows viewing from the hall, for women of course. The two bed rooms were for men. Room rates very reasonable, 40 Yuan (@ $5.50 US dollars) and for a single, 100 Yuan (@ $ 14.70 US dollars). Sherry's grandmother was responsible for 20% of the bill. I am sure Medicaid would love those rates, I am not so sure our Medicare and Medicaid patients would appreciate being in beds straight out of our Tuberculosis Sanitariums of the 1920's, and expertise to match the era. US doctors might like nurses back in their hats, starched white long dresses, and standing in deference when the doctor entered. Hmmm.

Notice line 8. This hospital is for Communist Party dignitaries and those in Party favor. Everything is available for those who know someone. There is yet another or third tier of medical care, for foreigners, they have suites. In yet another facility, on the grounds.

All of this inexpensive care is available of course because? costs are low. Just look at the the Staff Parking lot. No, I am not kidding. This is the price for China's Universal Health Care. The gentleman is ZiPing, Sherry's dad. His father at one time was a dignitary in the "Exclusive Medical Care" hospital while his mother is in the 6 bed regular full view Chinese people's unit.

The picture is taken from the window of the Magnetic Elevated Bullet Train of Shanghai's suburbs 30 miles out. We are traveling 430 KPH, about 265 mph.

This is Johnston Street in Hong Kong. Double decker tolleys and double decker buses. The streets are orderly, traffic flows according to the directions intended and signed, only they drive on the wrong side of the street. A legacy of the British, both the orderliness of the traffic flow but also of the side of the road traveled. No one is perfect.

A boutique shop in the Time's Square district and shopping center. Very high end (read no bargains) stores with prices to match.

Entrance to a Taoist Temple. Not surprising, no prohibitions on cigarette smoking. The coils inside the front door are incense, 30 day messages to one's ancestors. How about that, honoring your elders, never heard of such a thing.

Just plain home on the sea. Not the government issue, 100 stories high-rise clustered together like pencils in a cup holder, 600 sq feet, open, no partitions, toilet and shower reminiscent of the one in "Rudy", counter top stove, you provide your own refrigerator. 35% of Hong Kong people live like this. Of course, in honoring your elders, mom and dad live with you, all in bunk bed style; 5 to 6 persons to a suite. No clothes dryer, you hang you clothes out to dry in the 100% humidity. Everybody is doing it. No wonder some people choose to live on a junk.

Hong Kong has a night laser light show: 8:00 PM to 8:13 PM, 43 buildings. One goes to Kowloon, Mainland China to look at the island of Hong Kong lit up.

If you were wondering where people without cars, who rely on public transportation, and where refrigeration and storage are limited, shop for their food as there are no grocery stores or such around each cluster of pencil holder high-rises, there are local cluster day and night markets. People buy just enough groceries for each day/night. No refrigeration? No problem. You cook and eat what you got from the market that morning or night. Here hangs all sorts of choice cuts: liver, heart, pancreas, stomach, esophagus, testicles, ears, legs, hoofs, intestine, pork bellies, etc. Some pig or chicken or duck or goose heads, some brains, eyeballs, you name it, it's yours.

Definitely Organic. Just ask.

For freshness, just come to the jumping fish market, for live fish, shrimp, lobster, clams, oysters, shell fish etc all jumping on, and sometimes off the table, no worries, pick them off the ground and put them onto the table again. You want a dozen?

Do you know what kind of beans you want to buy? Nuts? Roasted whatever? Shopping is for the determined.

Now this is my kind of place. I can identify what smoked fowl I am getting, duck, goose, chicken, pigeon (large and small), and then there are some game birds, tiny ones whose whole roasted body fits on a swizzle stick: one bite and then pick your teeth with the stick's pointed end.

Flowers, orchids, and fragrant? up close? oh boy: The Kowloon New Territories flower market. You really can't smell the flower fragrance from a little bit away since there are competing odors of fish, fowl, and the butchered four legged meat markets just next door.

Further out in the New Territories, that portion of the Greater Hong Kong attached to the main land, hence, really The People's Republic of China, there is a secular holiday celebrating a poet who threw himself into the piranha fish infested waters in protest of corrupt government. Today, there are Dragon Boat races, all through the Special Administration Region of Hong Kong. This one in Tai Po, a 45 minute bus ride from Hong Kong Island. The once sleepy fishing village has given way to the industrial might of China. Alas, the waters are polluted and no more oysters or pearls can be found. The races go on though.

I am dipping my toe in the South China Sea off the island of Lamma, a trip recommended by Bec, and much appreciated. The island hosts coal fired power plants that supply all of Hong Kong's electrical power. 2 liters of beer in the noon day sun later, politics and government intrusion into one's life; ie, presumption of guilt instead of innocents, I could go on and on of course but won't since it does not seem to be as important as those issues seemed just a little while ago. The people are very nice. They are not angry with one another when they speak in an animated fashion, its just that Chinese language is a tonal language: Mandarin has 4 tones and Cantonese (Hong Kong and there is only a 10% overlap with Mandarin) has 6 tones. Mainland China is rapidly emerging from a 50 year civil war and 50 years of ruralification (backward looking) under Chairman Mao into the 21st Century; its just that the people have not come that far nor as rapidly and can be a bit rough around the edges. Its like in this country bringing an isolated Appalachian Mountain person into a big city and expecting etiquette and appreciation of fine Vietnamese French cuisine. Ain't going to happen over night. Hong Kong on the other hand, is a very crowded modern 21st Century city, energetic, and industrious. Fun to be in, for a while. Hectic to live there on a long term basis. Glad to be wandering home.

2009-05-08T13:35:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have followed Kathy and myself on our walks around Bear Lake, you may recognize that the lake, in Spring time is full and there is a hint of green color coming to the tips of shrubs, bushes, and trees. Leaves are budding and the spring flowering trees, bushes and shrubs are festooned with pastel and vivid colors. Puffs of clouds low upon the horizon and clouds high up in feathery array speak to the Spring showers that help nourish the earth. On our walks, we no longer prepare for a downpour as the rain has been gentle and soft, if not cold.

In this picture, the pathway heads into the water and the raft and peddle boat in the distance have their bottoms wet as the rising water has not only crept over the path, but touched many things brought up for the winter and thought safe from harm. The other day, I found a canoe half filled with winter water that had eventually been floated from a distant shore and wind driven upon the lee shore. This sea tale foretold no hardships, as I emptied it, measure by measure, and then brought it high up and turned over. The next day, it was back in its proper yard, high up from the water's edge and turned over. The canoe thing was a reminder that we can not adequately judge the consequences of climate, we can only be prudent, observant, and respond to measured changes. Its too difficulty to predict the future, even over a winter's season.

2009-04-30T12:19:00.000-07:00

The wide open spaces appears to be the place to be what with the "Swine Flu" pandemic on WHO level 5 now. Imagine if you will, being isolated from people yet still connected to the rest of the world by telephone and internet. At least until the extent and nature of this respiratory health situation comes closer into focus, maybe the Canadian cottage would be a good place to ride out the storm.

Unfortunately, that will not be our case. Plans for the coming months have us working in clinics, either like Kathy reviewing charts for insurance companies or myself volunteering at a free clinic. We will be getting a snoot full of exposure, if you know what I mean. In addition, I just came back this weekend from the Michigan State Medical Society House of Delegates meeting in Grand Rapids, plenty of Docs there, attended this last monday and will again in two weeks attend the Meridian Township Planning Commission; I am scheduled for the Ingham County Medical Society Legislative meeting monday May 11th and MTPC meeting that night.

The major issue is the impending wedding of Justin and Sherry in Shanghai May 24th. Kathy and I are both hopeful that sufficient time will have elapsed so control and treatment strategies will be in place and we all can go about our business knowledgeable and adopting appropriate precautions. We leave Saturday May 16th on two different airplanes, one from Detroit Metro to Chicago and the 14+ hour one from Chicago to Shanghai. Vice President Bidden said that he recommended his family not ride public transportation or fly in airplanes although that stance is being modified as we speak because the airline industry already have their shorts in knots. Three feet is the magic number. Three feet between people, although I would sit next to Kathy just as a matter of principle. Who knows: cover your mouth with your forearm when you cough or sneeze; hand wash frequently, especially before touching your mouth, nose and eyes, and be sure to get plenty of sleep. Sleep and the immune health that sleep provides, will get us all through.

Oh by the way. The two pictures? One is from inside our cottage this early April. The second is from the Litomski's (now Devil's Glen formally just plain old Purgatory Harbour) front window. Notice the glass allowing all to see out to the beauty beyond the deck. We are doing something like this for our cottage. We got the idea right here.

Well my chickodees, I am about to boost my immune health for a while or until Kathy gets home from her work day.

The importance of not making headlines

2009-04-22T10:53:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of where I was going. The second picture is how I got there.

"Its only a false alarm, everything is fine."

My trip to the West Coast began early Tuesday morning with Kathy delivering me to Detroit Metro Airport in plenty of time. Our aircraft left the gate on time, but turned around on the tarmac as there was a "computer malfunction," something about the engine not working right or something like that. Anyways, we returned and heard: "everyone stay seated, everything is fine." Mechanics enter the cockpit, rebooted the engine module, and voila, we were back on our way, only an hour late which means of course I missed my connection in Denver to San Francisco. I guess I will not arrive at noon as planned. In Denver, I, and my "fellow travelers", a line taken from the McCarthy era Senate trials, are booked on a later flight to SFO, to arrive later, but still in time to have dinner with Nana and Rhythm and tuck them into bed.

Above the Rockies, at 38,000 feet, an alarm goes off. A very loud smoke alarm goes off, somewhere near/around the center toilet. Ah hah, someone must have been smoking in the bathroom. The flight attendant checked it out and she proclaimed on the overhead speaker: "it is only a false alarm, everything is fine." After several other flight attendants went in and out of the bathroom fiddling with something, overhead we hear the co-pilot say in a thick foreign accent, they were cutting the electrical power to the area, and sure enough, the smoke alarm, the loud smoke alarm went silent, reassuringly. Then pilot/co-pilot came and went, each in turn to inspect the problem area. They returned to their lair, and over the intercom "there had been a minor electrical incident, everything is fine." A few minutes later, it was announced, "we are still going to San Francisco, everything is fine." Shortly afterwards, "we checked with our main office and your safety is our most important concern, everything is fine." Another voice "The beverage service is suspended." Still later from the cockpit, "there are two main airports we can choose from, Salt Lake City and Las Vegas, everything is fine." Again from the flight deck, in a declarative tone, "We are going to McCaren Airport in Las Vegas, everything is fine." Later "we are descending into Las Vegas. There will be fire apparatus next to the aircraft as we land. This is only a precaution. Your safety is our first priority, everything is fine." Shortly after that announcement, a flight attendant came to our row of seats, I was in the emergency exit, aisle seat, over the starboard wing, he kneeled down and in a stage whisper queried, "do you know how to operate the emergency exit? don't open the emergency window exit until instructed by the cabin crew!" I reached and found the "emergency card" in the back seat pocket in front of me. I read the emergency card, twice more. Bump! we land, braking hard, I lurched against my seat belt. The aircraft stopped in the middle of the runway. Indeed, yellow fire apparatus closed upon our airplane, men in silver suits were out with their hoses, the fire truck rooftop turret nozzle was pointed at me. Minutes later, the fire apparatus and firemen backed off and we powered our way to the terminal jetway. "Everyone stay in their seats." Then the center passenger door opened and three silver suited firefighters entered and began poking around the bathroom. When the firemen were done, "you can leave your seats now, take all your belongings with you." This was to be my exit from this story, not really. I did win $35 at the slot machines in the airport which paid for my sandwich and one beer. The United Airlines ground person eventually worked through, over 4 hours, the 200+ people in line waiting to be rebooked onto what turned out to be a chartered aircraft from "Ted Airlines." And, after some more time, we boarded a modestly appointed aircraft, and winged our way to SFO. I took BART from the SFO Airport to the Downtown Berkeley station, took a cab to University Village and awakened RJ in his bed, kicked him out as I wouldn't be able to get up off the floor after a night's sleep, checked the kids, went to bed, and was awakened later in the early morning by Rhythm, "Grandpa? where is daddy?" "He's asleep on the floor in the living room." And so ended one adventure and began my West Coast sojourn. Everything was fine.

The coming of Spring; off again on again. March Madness

2009-03-30T14:10:00.000-07:00

It snowed last night covering the grass and roofs. There was ice in the pot-holes in the road in front of us. Otherwise, the roads and sidewalks were clear. And, although it is really blue-sky sunny outside, it is still cold. Out of direct sunlight, the snow stays as evidence by the picture shot out the side of the sun room.

Last night we stayed up for the celebration of MSU men's basketball team achieving the Final Four to be held in Detroit this year. Sparty beat the number one ranked team in the nation: the Louisville Cardinals in the MidWest regional final game held in Indianapolis IN over the weekend. Kathy and I have tickets to the NCAA Final Four tournament, the first game is Saturday, April 4 th between MSU and University of Connecticut. Game time 6:07 PM. Kathy had the foresight to enter the lottery to get tickets last year some time, and we got our Final Four Tickets in October. With MSU now in the Final Four, the place will be packed with 72,000. Our seats are in the nose-bleed sections so we will bring binoculars. We will be there in our green and white cheering for Sparty. General Motors, who have a suite, decided not to use the suite after the private jet travel bruhaha in front of Congress a couple of months ago. I wonder now if GM is planning on raising capital by selling the seats in the Suite, or now hosting a couple of Congress persons as a bribe for Rick Wagoner keeping his job. I guess, since MSU and Villanova busted Obama's NCAA Basketball bracket Final Four participants, the Administration will not look kindly on anymore hanky-panky as MSU might beat U Conn and V might beat U of North Carolina which would completely mess up bracketology.

Coach Tom Izzo, for MSU, has put this game in Detroit on the same level as TARP in resuscitating the Michigan economy. All positive vibes. Imagine if you will the pressure on these kids playing basketball, playing in front of their friends and family, Michigan's economy on the line, with every defensive stop, basket and free-throw made. Not too much to expect would you say?

Emerging from hibernation

2009-03-22T19:01:00.000-07:00

Winter has officially passed. Yesterday, at 7:44 AM, our sun crossed earth's equator, the vernal equinox, and so began our passage into more days of sun than darkness. Once the sun has reached its further Northern journey, the Tropic of Cancer, the Druids will dance in Stone Hedge and earth's longest Northern day will have arrived. It won't be until September 22nd that the sun will re-cross the equator, autumnal equinox, on its Southern trip. Pictured here is my Spring flower, Kathy, on her birthday March 20th, in Frankenmooth MI, in a garden, going from small shop to small shop, dabbling in items, purchasing some, as evening approaches.

Rich emerges from his winter slumber, grizzled, but willing to greet friends and be cordial to new acquaintances. Our day trip will be dwarfed by our impending schedule for April, May and June. It is amazing, looking at our calendar, where we are all planning on traveling. But first some Final Four ticket at Ford Field in Detroit, purchased in hopes that our Spartans will be amongst the participants.

Since last I wrote, Michigan State Beat U S C this evening, now they are in the Sweet Sixteen; they will play Kansas on Friday in Indianapolis. MSU must win two games in Indianapolis before traveling to Detroit and the Final Four. It is not so much do "we "believe, rather, do the players "believe." I think they do. Go Spartans.

The Ides of March

2009-03-15T12:54:00.000-07:00

"Et tu Brute'? " Julius Caesar was warned and yet he came to give his "politically incorrect" speech at the Forum. And yes, his friend Brutus was amongst the conspirators. I am reminded of this affair, certainly on this date, as I read about many issues currently in the public forum, from the "bailout" of various economic institutions, to plans to change the very complexion of health care here in the USA. What troubles me most however, since I know so little about economics or national health care delivery, is the cavalier use of what is labeled "scientific evidence" to justify a particular strategy. Associations found between various events are being equated to causality; ie, cause and effect. "The reason why the government should......" Causality is invoked to pronounce prescriptions or remedies. So it was recently announced that after 10 years of project "Sure Start" in the UK, a comprehensive all age effort to effect the rising incidence of Obesity in one health district including several towns, after millions of Pounds Sterling spent, no impact. The National Health Service Director said the study was undertaken only after obtaining "scientific evidence" that the programs used were effective. Then why didn't the programs yield the outcome promised? Because, the "scientific evidence" was a product of a "consensus conference", a group think. Selection of the participants of the group predetermines the "consensus." The nominating committee is the real power behind the throne, behind the economic direction, behind the selection of the "science" used to justify a particular idea or event. So who is selecting the "science" to justify a Cap and Trade CO2 policy being advocated by our government? I think it is important to know since there will be far reaching ramifications and unforeseen costs. What is the "science" that is being put forward as justification for such a policy? Does it matter that the measured global temperatures were rising before the industrial revolution? Does it matter that CO2 rise, man made or otherwise followed the rise in measured global temperatures? Does it matter that as atmospheric CO2 continues to rise, that the last decade's global temperatures have actually declined? The hypothesis does not explain the historical measurements. Time for a new, improved hypothesis. I suggest, my family, that you Google " global temperature CO2" and choose the 2008 article "The Environmental Impact of Increasing Atmospheric CO2" by Robinson Robinson & Soon, from the Oregon Institute of Science and Medicine, and read the article in its entirety. Certainly these authors were not invited to the table to discuss Anthropogenic Global Warming, or a Carbon Cap & Trade policy. There are many scientists who say the "science" is just not there to say what is being said publicly, stridently. They are not "deniers," they are skeptics; fair enough. By their comments, I don't think any of the authors I have read had voted for George Bush.

Besides Global Warming, there are many other instances where public policy is being shaped by media invoking "scientific evidence." Recently there was a report that after a 2 year comprehensive interventional effort to assess weight loss programs, high fat high meat, low fat, high carbohydrate, Mediterranean, South Beach diets, after 2 years, guess what? the only important factor leading to weight loss was decreased calories. All diets decreased weight and blood cholesterols during the dieting process, but after two years, the average weight kept off, was 4 pounds. Think of all the billions and billions of dollars spent on weight loss products, gyms, gurus, etc. and for a few million, the answer is: "eat less" if you want to loose weight. Eat less McDonalds, eat less vegetarian, eat less pasta and sauce. The media, "Supersize" and a host of other guilt "exposes" are just entertainment, otherwise, of no value. According to a recent survey, of the Top 10 most nutritious chain restaurants in the World, McDonalds comes in # 8. Who'd a thunk it? You can look up the survey and see who the raters were; surprising. Within hours of bariatric surgery for obesity, obese patients no long have Type II diabetes. Startling? You bet. Unexpected? Unexplained? Yes. So the next time you hear about obesity and the rising specter of a nation of diabetics, watch out. Observational studies do not give causality results. There is more to this issue than "fat people get diabetes."

There are other popular topics that have politically correct solutions: HIV&AIDS, home foreclosures, the education of inner city children, etc. etc. etc. "We can't just sit around and wait for the answer, we have to do something!" I don't mind trying something, intervening, make some sort of effort. If that is what one is doing, say so. We are trying this or that and we will assess the outcome in so many days, weeks, months, years. Just don't say there is "scientific evidence" behind what we are doing when all it is is a "consensus" of presumably knowledgeable people, hand picked for their particular viewpoint.

Too many times, what is "politically correct" has taken on a life of its own, and become the dogma, a religion with its own zealots. And we all know, from our Bill of Rights, our government shouldn't be messin' around with religion.

Friday the 13th

2009-03-13T08:12:00.000-07:00

Last night, before going to bed, I turned the heat down, with the lights off, and awakened this morning to indoor temperature of 55 F. The over-night outside temperature was in the low teens. Ice that had all but melted, 6 to 8 inches of it from the previous 3 months, reformed on our Emerald Lake this morning, not half-a-foot of it, just a thin sheet covering the entire lake, a thicker slice close by in the shallower end. My eye was drawn to the new ice by a pair of Mallard ducks, trying to forge their way through the ice, breaking a path of open water.

Lake ice news peppers our print and electronic media. There is piece on the Michigan side of Lake Huron, where ice cubes, about one foot square, were driven through the East facing picture window of a lake front home. Mounds of similar sized cubes were piled in the home's yard; like an ice cube dispenser had dumped these blocks out of a bucket.

Nothing as dramatic for us. I am just noting how reluctantly Winter is in giving up its seasonal place to Spring.

2009-03-07T09:56:00.000-08:00

I can hear the rain beating upon the skylights above me. It is early March, the snow has melted, all except the residual ice mounds left by the driveway snowplow, but the ice on the lake remains. We have had two snow melts in the past 2 months, mid-January and last weekend with a half-a-foot of snow in between melts. Our Emerald Lake is about as high as it gets and the other flood plain lakes in our wetland area are still at flood stage. After the last thaw, although the days were sunny and at times above freezing, the nights were in the single digits, night after night after night. The flood waters froze in place, so these great ice sheaths have frozen to the very edges of the shores. I presume our rain today will further melt the lake ice, although going from 6 to 8 inches thick to 2 inches still leaves a cover of ice, delaying the onset of spring, heralded as it is by geese coming to nest and breed. This morning I awakened to the honking of a pair of geese, walking the yard where a neighbor lady feeds the wildlife. The area has long ago been picked over, the deer it seems, no longer coming. So the geese, in their quest to obtain the choice nesting spot, have arrived but find no food, and most important to their safety and survival, no open water. They are gone now, they will have to wait for another time to return.

Kathy and I went on our 2 mile walk today, sheltered by our raincoats, one red the other orange, colorful, on a cloudy rainy day.

To put this all in perspective, I have been thinking of the cottage, Lake Huron water levels, and I am pleased to inform you, all who hopefully will be coming to the Cottage's 50th Anniversary, that with all the snow, the bitterly cold winter causing ice covering major portions of the Great Lakes, reducing evaporation which accounts for 95% of Great Lakes water loss, the Army Corps of Engineers predicts Lake Huron's August water levels to be 5 to 12 inches above last years, levels. Hopefully, the foot above last year is the real number; the island will be an island again, which it hasn't been for quite a while now. Grandkids can play in the in between shallows, still with their life jackets on, nevertheless, the water will be warmer, the bottom siltier and hence dig-able and they can get really dirty. Take them to the end of the island, dunk them in, and voila, clean again, ready for another round.

So, a dreary day with a bright forecast.

Where electricity does not exist

2009-02-13T12:42:00.000-08:00

When we had arrived back home from Wisconsin after a 10 day sojourn to dog sit, we had the same bitterly cold weather, subzero temperatures as we had left in Madison. Subsequently we had a gradual warm spell with temperatures eventually reaching 60 degrees. The snow melted but the lake ice did not as it was more than 1/2 foot thick here on our pond. Then, February returned with upper teen nights and lower 30's days. As the date on the photo to the right shows, summer at the cottage is warm and pastoral. Lazy thoughts of a comfortable earlier time.

As summer passes to Fall then to Winter, so too did our weather here in East Lansing change and with it, a bit of reminder of why we cling so tightly to electricity. Around 10:30 Wednesday night, in the middle of the North Carolina vs Duke basketball game, kaboom, and all was dark; dark within and dark outside. No street lights, no neighbor house lights, just plain dark. As it was near time for bed, we found our handy-dandy just-in-time flashlights and proceeded to make sure electrical appliances vulnerable to a power surge were turned off and we went to bed. No electrical power meant, no furnace and no furnace in the winter means that the inside temperature begins a slow but steady descent, more in an ascentotic slope towards the upper 50's; not bad for sleeping with a down comforter. Abruptly, at 6 AM the alarm horn: smoke, fire, intruders began to blast. It is still dark. I grabbed my flashlight, put on my terry cloth robe, slippers and headed first to the site of the horn, no shut off switch, then began investigating all rooms, garage, then proceeded to the basement. No dangerous sights or smells in the furnace room, bed room, bath, then into the circuit breaker storage room and alarm system hub. Up and then down again the stairs as I needed a screw driver to unlock the unit, and disconnect the battery (dated December 1993). The battery, no longer a spring chicken, could not hold its charge for long and was warning us of its impending failure. Electricity off and battery run down.

After the rude awakening, I crawled into bed, lying there and listened to our grandfather clock (mechanical) strike the quarter hours until time to get up at 7:30 AM to prepare to go to Care Free Clinic for my Thursday's volunteer Asthma Clinic. Shaving in cold water, no coffee, keeping the refrigerator closed to prevent spoilage of its contents, I dressed in the dark, with a mishmash of colors and styles, rousted Kathy out of bed for her own preparations for her volunteer Therapeutic Riding Program at the Beekman Center. Disconnecting the garage door from the electric garage door opening system, I backed out both cars, shut the garage door again and locked the interior kitchen door.

Throughout all this time, Kathy had called Consumer's Power and she was given times when the electricity would be restored. 7:06 AM Thursday came and went. Upon return from our volunteer endeavors in the mid and late afternoon, another phone call to CP and 7:08 PM was the time. We took our daily walk to see how the replacement of the electrical fire burnt telephone pole on Burcham was proceeding and talked to some CP employees who said at 6 PM that within the hour, power would be restored. We walked home and our indoor temperature was in the upper 50's still. We started the fireplace, lit candles and paraffin lamps, put 6 batteries into the portable boombox, ate a store bought dinner and listened to NPR. 8:30 PM another phone call to CP: now, "indeterminate time". The electricity and heat came on around 9:30 PM.

So, 23 plus hours of no electricity, we survived and made due. The picture of the winter scene is that looking out on the cottage island deck across the bay. Frozen water.

Good that we have heat again; started the full dishwasher before heading down to the TV, in time to see the ending of CSI.

Tonight we head to Munn Ice Arena to watch MSU against OSU hockey. Its nice that electricity helps keep ice in predictable desirable locations.

Travel tales for those who wonder

2009-01-09T15:08:00.000-08:00

The family all together, ever so briefly, was well worth the 6444 mile drive. Others, like Leah who flew in from Sydney AU and Justin and Sherry who flew in from Shanghai and then onto Goshen IN traveled further. Kathy and my West Coast sojourn took a month, pulling "Rudy" behind "Big Red", using the Southern route, remnants of Route 66, and then the Middle America route Interstate 70 for the trip back.

Leah was last seen by us when we went to Australia February 2008. Now she came back to the States to share the joy of Christmas and the warmth of family ties. I told her I missed her and I had a tear in my eye as she walked through the doors of San Francisco Airport to catch her flight back to the land of Oz.

Grandma Kathy was engaged with all of the Grandchildren, they clinging and loving her as she is immediately recognized by these children as the loving and inclusive person she is. We have many photos of Kathy and the Grandchildren, individually and collectively. Location is immaterial, they are connected. Each grandchild tried to monopolize Grandma Kathy's time and attention, keeping mental accounting of her time with the others and protesting when one child received more time than another. It seemed to me that each child drank a sustenance from her interaction with them as an individual. I hope they thrive upon the rememberance.

Events were a part of Christmas past, present and future. Justin and Sherry took Kathy and myself along with her parents to Carmel-by-the-sea Mission for a Chanticlear concert: Chanticlear is a 12 men's choir out of the Bay area who presented material ranging from the 4th Century to the present, ending in "Ave Maria". The setting in a stone mission church had perfect acoustics, no echo, and the group's extraordinary articulation and vocal note movement moved me to tears for its beauty and effect. Other activities included a whole family dinner cooked by Kathy and hosted by Bec, trips to the SF Zoo, site of tiger rage a year ago, park visits, beach walks, Oakland Observatory, as well as simple down time with everyone, sit down breakfast, lunch, and dinners. Interactions and time after kids went to bed was limited as the fatigue factor engulfed us all. Parents and Grandparents worked hard to maximize our presence whether at RJ's or Bec's. And, after two weeks on the West Coast, Kathy and I charged up Rudy's battery, hooked it up to Big Red, and headed for the Southern Route again, only this time, heading North East from Bakersfield CA to Las Vegas.

Surprising to me was the time it took to go from Las Vegas to the beginning of I-70. We climbed from @ 3,000 to 8,000 feet in altitude. We endured a drop in temperature from 57 degrees in Las Vegas to minus 10 degrees at Salina Utah where we camped for the night. We were buffeted by 30 mph head winds as we went North on I-15. We stopped at Zion National Park, we were not charged a park entrance fee since the park road was open only for 2 1/2 miles, areas of which were ice covered. Our miles per gallon plummeted from 15 mpg to 11 mpg. What was extraordinary, was the performance of Big Red. Every aspect of the complex engineering of our Jeep Commander was utilized. From clawing and hauling its way out of a canyon over a hairpin turn 1000 foot rise snow covered road, to fine adjustments in long sweeping hill climbs and descents in the high desserts of New Mexico, Arizona, California, Utah, Colorado and beyond. Our Jeep performed flawlessly on our 500+ mile weather window of opportunity from Salina Utah to Denver Colorado, from the Western to the Eastern Rockie Moutains, crossing the 10,662 foot Vail pass. We saw one other camper on this entire section, another single axle, but smaller trailer. Once we reached Denver, we continued to Limon CO so that our trek to Heather's in Kansas City KS would be less than 600 miles. Heather, Peter and clan put the weary travelers up for the night, entertaining us with Weii games after dinner and before bedtime. In the morning we said our "goodbyes" as the Murphy household inhaled breakfast, packed lunches and were off to work and school.

Our 750+ mile trip from Kansas to East Lansing MI was through light snow until Indianapolis IN then steady road covering snow accumulations, until the Michigan border, 88 miles to go, more and more trucks pulled into Rest Stops, eventually, a single track of more-or-less pavement to Lansing. Reduced speed for the past 4 hours, dwindling traffic until deserted roads, Big Red carried us home; no slips, no slides. Mounds of snow, ice underneath, every aspect of this piece of "Detroit Iron" worked beyond expectations. The lady next door, with a Toyota Camry, was stuck in her driveway three times so far this winter because of snow. I told her to call me if she needed her car to be pulled out so that she to go to her job. Is there hope for the Big Three Auto companies? I don't know. I do know, that their "macho" vehicles do work as advertised. We of course could have taken an airplane, whose carbon footprint would have been the same as our entire drive trip, only, not as much fun or informative. Big Red needs a bath now, will a wash push the carbon footprint calculation over to the use of an airplane? Hint: for Kathy and myself to fly from Detroit to SFO and back has the same carbon footprint as driving Big Red for a year!

Heading West and dragging our Michigan weather with us

2008-12-18T21:04:00.000-08:00

Many of the roads at higher elevations were sanded. The morning of our departure from the California Eastern high dessert it snowed; large flakes coming down wet, sticking on every tree tip and shrub. A joyous winter wonder land. Also covered in this wet snow were the highways. "Its supposed to be like this all day" we were told just as we were leaving our campground. And so it was. The high dessert was covered with so many inches of snow that the undercarriage of small, fuel efficient cars was scraping the center ridges between the two tire tracts. Yet people persisted in trying to get through, loosing control as the front end of their car was litterly lifted off the ground and the back wheels and car momentum spin the car in 360 degree donuts. Drivers terrorized by their recent loss of control would stop in the middle of the tire tracts creating road hazards and making plowing roads impossible. As Rudy, Big Red Kathy and I headed West, the Sheriff were closing one road after another behind us. When we reached Victorville, we were told highway 14 was closed going South, still open headed North towards Bakersfield CA. North we went to lower elevations and more sleet than accumulating snow. Turning West again, through active oil fields and valley orchards and cotton fields eventually we were climbing again.

No services for 79 miles read the sign as we were in the wide open spaces, rising higher and higher into the snow covered mountains. Occasional ranch houses could be seen miles away. Cattle walked narrow paths imbedded in the mountain sides; dark figures against the contrasting snow. Upward we traveled, the roads narrower, and more twisting and turning; hairpin turns were the usual, not the exception. Upward we climbed, solitary, twinkles of lights from the ranch houses. Big Red was now in its glory, shifting gears up and down to meet the road challenges, calibrating its horsepower and gear ratio to meet our assent, only to call upon all its engineering for a controlled descent. Eventually we made it over the multiple high passes and down the other side of the mountain range. The upper elevations of the highway had been sanded; the packed snow had traction. We spent the night at a "rustic" KOA campground, in reality, a lower tier trailer park. Where do people go who have lost their homes? Some at least park their trailers in a campground and pay a monthly fee. What has happened to all the campgrounds dependent on RV traffic? They have taken in weekly and monthly transients, at a discount; and so was our KOA "rustic" campground, amongst the hills and trees, rutted roads, toilets and showers in need of "maintanence", and old cars parked facing the camper, not capable of pulling the Recreational Vehicle, even this older and smaller version of the RV.

Route 66 at age 66

2008-12-16T18:43:00.000-08:00

Route 66 no longer exists except in the hearts and minds of aficionados of a bygone era of television and movie adventure shows. Route 66 started out in the 1920's as a federal effort to connect existing state roads into a motor pathway from Chicago to Los Angeles. These pathways were the first "interstate" for its time and resulted in many twists and turns through now defunct state highways as evidenced by our finding signs for "Historic Route 66" in Santa Fe NW as well as into Southern California desserts and mountains. The route Toby DeWoody and I traveled in 1962, and that pictured in song and story, we took, returning from the Seattle World's Fair via the Pacific Coastal Highway, Pacific Palisades CA, across the Mojav Dessert to Flagstaff AZ and onto Winslow AZ and the Bar T Bar Ranch. The 1950's version of Route 66 was a clearly delineated highway by then. The picture represents a remnant of "66" near Winslow AZ. Our present Interstate system was the vision of President Dwight Eisenhower who as General Eisenhower admired the pre WWII German Autobaun. In answer to a question by David Grim, the bridge you queried is within 100 feet of Interstate 40, a steel bridge similar to one might see of the 1930's era, and a copy of which I had with my Lionel Train set.

The Bar T Bar Ranch is also a bit of historic and contemporary "Americana". The Ranch began in the 1930's as a partnership of Cleveland Ohio business people I believe as a tax shelter. The original ranch was joined with several surrounding others until -T- was/is the second largest cattle ranch in Arizona. The lead person forming this ranch was Burton Tremaine whom I believe had a nick name "Sky," was a descendent of "Johnny Tremaine" of American Revolutin fame. Sky Tremaine was the Cleveland Ohio business person whom I had met in his waning years in Pacific Palisades CA before Toby and I headed for the Ranch. Toby's mother, Nancy, was a Tremaine who married Charles DeWoody a Cleveland attorney. Toby is a nick name for Charles Tremaine DeWoody. At the Ranch I met Earnest Chilson the ranch manager of many decades. I say this as I met and rode horses with Earnest Chilson along with the DeWoody Family. I learned about the remaking of the ecology of mesa cattle ranching. Large D-9 Caterpillar tractors would travel in pairs, linked with a one inch diameter cable and traveling over the mesa they would clear the shrubs that soaked up the precious water and nutrients of the soil. While out riding, I watched as the ranch hands lit the brush piles with flares producing a bonfire and a pungent odor. After the brush was cleared and burned, the rocky soil was seeded with a genetically modified grass, producing three stalks instead of one. More feed grass means more cattle. Prior to modification of the mesa, the 300,000 acre ranch could support 3,000 head of cattle, now, 15,000 head. There are 5 ranch hands (cowboys) for the ranch. At dawn, I met them at the bunkhouse, the cook made a breakfast of steak, eggs, flapjacks and black chickaree coffee. After breakfast, the ranch hand would walk into the open pasture towards his horse, feedbag in hand, slip the feedbag over the horse's head, lay on the saddle, cinch it up, when the horse was finished feeding, the feedbag was slipped off and the bridle slipped on, cowboy would climb aboard and ride to the day's work. The horse could have bolt and run free, but didn't, there was a partnership of shared expectations.

I re-encountered a disturbing piece of historic and current Americana beginning around Joplin Missouri and carrying into Southern California. The old Route 66 and current Interstate 44 and 40 traverses large Native American Reservations. For over a 1000 miles there were abandoned dwellings, subsistence living isolated houses, trash, junk scattered around, chain link fences around many, dilapidated siding, roofing, doors and windows, all reminding me of what I had seen some 47 years ago. New for me, was seen at exits , a combination casino, gas station, convenience and souvenir store. In the gift shops were painting of Plains Indians, all portrayed on horseback. There did not appear to be signs of Native Americans activities prior to the arrival of the Spanish at the beginning of the 16th Century. The Spanish brought horses from Europe. There were no horses in North America prior to the Spanish. Horses were few and far between for the Spanish, and horses that had escaped from the Spanish were the ones available to the Indigenous People. Since mares may have 3 to 4 folds in her lifetime, I imagine that horses were not plentiful to the Plains Indians until the late 18th & early 19th Century. By the middle of the 19th Century many of the Plains Indians were already on reservations.

The paintings available in the gift shops, reportedly painted by authentic Native Americans, unlike those at the Painted Dessert Lodge painted in the 1930's, show a limited spectrum of time and indigenous people activities. While in Sante Fe NM and the first mission church in what would become North America, the founders of the church came to the area with their Native American servants, numbering in the hundreds for the 92 Spanish individuals who made the first claims to the territory.
While in a restaurant restroom, I heard a man retching and vomiting in the stall next to me. I inquired if he were "all right?" He said. yes he was "... just a little hangover." I met him outside the stalls and saw a bloodshot eyed Native American young man. I wondered to myself if a hunting and gathering society had the cultural pre-requisites to survive now that the plains were fenced, the buffalo gone, and the rocky soil and available water can support few people, like the numbers that inhabited pre-Columbian tribes, 15 to 25 individuals. If one believes the Center for Disease Control and Prevention statistics that more than 50% of Southwestern Native Americans are obese, 25% of these have Diabetes Mellitus; the complications of alcoholism is the number one killer of young Native American men, it occurred to me that a new paradigm is needed other than the current one which portrays a post-Columbian time, truncated to a 25 or so year period, of a mounted hunting and gathering society. Believe me, I do not have "the" answer. What I do know, is that what I saw as a young man in my travels in 1961, persists into the 2008. This realization casts a pall for me and perpetuates a continuing mind's eye dialogue with myself as Kathy and I continue on our travels.

Another piece of Americana, the murals in the now museum of a former lodge overlooking the Painted Dessert National Monument were painted by an Indigenous American artist during the Great Depression. Also in the lodge is a glass ceiling whose panels were painted by two Pennsylvanian artists, members of the Civilian Conservations Corps (CCC), 1937 to 1941, a Depression era "make work" program which included artists and artisans. Kathy identified the glass ceiling paintings as those of "Pennsylvania Dutch" designs. Who would have thunk it, way out here in Arizona.

Travels with Charlie or whomever

2008-12-14T19:43:00.000-08:00

Big Red and Rudy are more than a match for John Steinbeck's camper on a pick-up truck bed "Rosenante," although the literary punch is not. Kathy and I set out to find the bits and pieces of Historic Route 66 that have survived being paved over by Interstate 55, Chicago to St. Louis; Interstate 44, St. Louis to Oklahoma City; Interstate 40, Oklahoma City to Los Angelos. More than a year ago, we did I-55, following the Lincoln Trail, Chicago to Springfield Ill. This time we headed straight to Indianapolis to pick up I-70 for St. Louis. The first leg was to be our longest as I wanted to be West of St. Louis by our first night, and so we were. More than 600 miles. I had planned on stopping at the M something State Park our first night, but Kathy did not want to get off the road in the middle of the night to search for a campground that may not even be open. So, our first night, Wednesday night, we spent in Missouri at the Doolittle Rest Stop (you all remember the Doolittle Raid over Tokyo at the beginning of WW II memorialized by the book "30 Seconds over Tokyo", separated somewhat from the dozens and dozens of 18 wheeler rigs, we on the unpaved part of the auto area. The only real hic-up was the need for me to change propane tanks for our furnace that kept us toasty warm.

Our next leg of our trip was 60 miles West of Oklahoma City in Hinton OK, population 1600, with its one blinking red both ways light, where you park in the middle of the street, and the streets are all paved because of the tax revenue from the 2200 inmate correctional facility just down the road. We camped at the Red Rock Canyon State Park along with two other campers. The Red Rock Canyon served the indigenous tribes as a winter shelter from the blowing prairie winds. The sun was just beginning to shine upon the West wall as we arose, shower and shaved, unplugging the electricity and heading for breakfast snack and coffee. I of course had used the microwave to warm up left over pizza from our forage from the night before. We left Hinton, surviving on the prairie while neighboring towns, wither, their unpaved roads a legacy of when the horse and cattle were king, a now bygone era.

As we traveled West, the time zones changed, but still sunset was at 5 PM and we were searching for campsites in the dark of night. At Red Rock Canyon we campers were three in number, the next night, Villanueva State Park in New Mexico, we campers were 2. North off I-40 into the mountains, elevations of 6000 to 7000 feet, and then plunging down a winding, hair-pin turns narrow road into a valley where a Spanish community had an early success but lost 1800 people when a priest had a vision and lead most of the valley inhabitants South to Mexico leaving behind a remnant subsistence group; first electricity 1949, first community water well, 1952. Littering the valley floor are discarded cars and trucks, broken windshields, hoods up, door open, all with weeds growing around and through the various orifices. The other campers were a group of Spanish speaker men with several small boys, intent upon trout fishing in the Pecos River having intended to go elk hunting this weekend with the two small boys but failing to obtain the necessary licenses through somebody's error, or so we are told. Nevertheless, Kathy and I hiked the valley ridge along the river as our morning excursion. Later on we left for Santa Fe, an artsy community, populated by people who left something behind to get a fresh start in life as we learned at Harry's Roadhouse Cafe. As a winter storm was coming with 5 to 8 inches of snow for the area, by 3 PM we headed South towards Albuquerque and then Westward. The afternoon sun set upon the ribbon of highway as we made our way to Prewitt. We turned South towards the Bluewater State Park. And now we were one, as in one and only in the Park. The wind had been buffeting us all day, 30 mph steady and gusting to 45 mph. As we drove the seven miles to the campground, we took the wind broadside. We had climbed to over 7000 feet elevation in our journey from Albuquerque and again plunged more than a 1000 feet down a narrow winding road to a valley with raging winds and flying dust. In the darkness of night we found a site close to the heated toilets and showers. We also found that we were the only ones there. All night the wind howled, rattling whatever was loose on our camper, rocking us in multiple gusts of wind. We had electricity, propane for our furnace, down coverings for our bed and so we slept, fitfully. In the middle of the night, a pickup truck headlight's danced on our Cabin A and then moved off into the night. Later on, we heard sounds of rain or snow against our metal shelter. It was snow, 8 inches of it, heaped up and swept into drifts. After morning luke warm showers, we unplugged the electricity, fired up Big Red and blazed a trail where the road likely was. Out of the campground and onto the narrow roads, bisecting more evidence of subsistence living with cars scattered about yards in various states of disrepair, we confronted the snow covered narrow steep winding road that we had to climb to get out of this valley and back to I-40. It was this trek up the mountain side that Big Red earned its keep; all 4 wheels churning, clawing upward, pulling Rudy behind. There was a little bit of slippage as we slowed our momentum and turned a particularly sharp curve, but we straightened out soon and regained our course. At the top we were now headed downward and gaining speed. I downshifted and used the engine as a brake and we descended in a more controlled fashion. Our entrance to I-40 was closed and we headed to Historic Route 66 to the next town 25 miles away and another opportunity to get back on the Interstate. I-40 was plowed, although only the right travel lane had pavement showing, the left travel lane was mostly snow packed. Kathy suggested breakfast in Gallup NM another 40 miles hence to let the snowplows and sand trucks finish their work. And so we did.

The roads become progressively clearer as we headed West. We arrived at the Painted Dessert and Petrified Forest National Parks for an afternoon cruise through "Badlands", beautifully colored petrified trees from tropical forest 225 million years ago, when there was but one land mass, and this part of Arizona was near the equator. The petroglyphs you see to the right represent indigenous people from 1250 to 1380 AD who inhabited these enchanted but parchment dry lands eventually, these people blended into the Hopi and Zuni peoples who lived to the North and South of this area. I wonder if a spiritual leader had initially led a group from the Hopis or Zunis sometime in the 13th century much like the priest had led a group from the Villanueva valley to Mexico in the 18th century. The stories in the rocks do not tell of the demise of the community, only the tales of when it prospered. Tonight we stay adjacent to Meteor Crater National Historic monument, clear skies and a full moon. The furnace purrs away.

Election Day

2008-11-04T08:50:00.000-08:00

Here we are waiting in line at an Obama rally on MSU campus. We waited in line to vote today as well. A blow-up of this photograph shows the line to get into the rally extended to the Administration Building, we standing across from Beaumont Tower. The line at the voting place was @ 15 people. In the rally line, we struck up a conversation with kids from Sexton High School, only one was 18 years of age. In the voting line, we talked with our neighbors, all were somewhat above the voting, as well as drinking age. In fact, there were people 81 years of age (reverse of figures) and above.

Kathy and I walked to the voting polls, the sky was cloudless, the temperature in the mid-70's. After voting, we spoke with more neighbors, all offering us a ride home, we preferred to walk. Upon opening our front door, the temperature was appreciably colder than outside. Fortuitously, my laziness in removing screens from windows and doors has now paid off again. The whole place is wide open, and we are loving it.

We have done our part in the Eastern time zone, please everyone do their part in their time zone: go Vote!

2008-10-28T11:51:00.000-07:00

The weather is cold and blustery here in East Lansing Michigan. Dark clouds overhead rolling in from the Northwest remind us that winter is just around the corner. Kathy and I are articulating plans to go "South" in early December for a Route 66 tour as we head to Northern California's Pacific Coast. However, I just received the New Mexico Tourist Information 2008 Vacation Guide plus the not requested but included "Slopes!" 2008-2009 Winter Adventure Guide. Beginning my reading, I now realize that much of what I had planned upon seeing in New Mexico is at significant elevation 9,000 to 12,000 feet, the bottom of the Rocky Mountains. Which means of course, there will be perfect conditions for dry powder snow skiing (300 inches a year) and COLD. The good news is that there are 310 days of sunshine and the roads will generally be clear and dry. Ahhh, not quite what I believe Kathy had in mind when she said "... this time I would like to go South and warmer weather..." Therefore, the picture of Leah and myself, Down Under at the Whitsundays, in our winter time, Australia's summer, our cold and their warmth.

Rapidly coming up is Halloween and what better way to represent that time than a picture of Humpty Dumpty at the Hunter Valley Gardens, also in Australia's New South Wales. Again, everything in order, neat and tidy. Friday night, I am not sure what we will be doing, maybe going some place as we are, and scaring a few college students.

Included in this blog, at no additional cost, is a picture taken by Justin at the Iowa Lake house and July family retreat of Kathy and her sister Virginia. The weather was hot and humid and we were glad there was air conditioning.

2008-10-19T11:49:00.000-07:00

Today was a significant milestone in the changing landscape of American Politics. Of course I am not referring to the fact that Colin Powell endorsed Barack Obama. Rather, that Ms. Kathy, that's right, my wife, your mother, step mother to Leah, RJ and Bec, grandmother to Ellen, Rhythm, Marcus, and Nana, has for the first time in her life, sent a donation to a political candidate and did it over the Internet! Our household has been energized by this election season like at no other time in our history.

While standing in line Friday night, waiting for the doors to the Breslin Center to open at 9:30 PM for the MSU Women's and Men's start to the 2008-2009 Varsity Basketball season: Midnight Madness, we talked with the couple ahead of us in line about Barack Obama, the campaign, debates, Sarah Palin. The young man was born and raised in Michigan and moved to Tampa Florida to complete his Bachelor's degree (USF) and he brought his New York girlfriend to see the MSU OSU football game on Saturday. They came to Midnight Madness as an entertainment bonus. He spoke of his Michigan relatives and their evolving views of Obama; the college campus enthusiasm for Obama, and the need to press on, don't take anything for granted, and the need to get out the vote, especially young people who have registered to vote.

Kathy is talking about driving people to the polls who need a ride, she just doesn't know where to sign up. I hope she gets a chance to pick and choose whom to pick up, there are KooKs out there as we have all heard and seen.

2008-10-12T12:40:00.000-07:00

"When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock..." and more from James Whitcomb Riley, it surely is Fall, an extra ordinary Fall. Today the temperature is in the 80's, shirt sleeve and short's weather. A glorious day for a walk outside; or as last weekend, a walk in the pumpkin patch, a 50 acre pumpkin patch. You walk and walk, pulling you little red wagon, trying not to notice the "made in china" embedded in its bottom, selecting a perfect, at least to us, pumpkin. Such a prize sits upon our doorstep; upright, face gleaming, and its tall stalk pigtailed and cocked to the side.

A picture out our back lower level door shows the colorful trees mirrored in and two geese silhouetted by our lake. The grass is still a deep emerald green, kept alive and thriving in the moisture of recent rains, the warmth of the daytime and the sunlight that shines regularly upon us.

The witch out our front doorway, spins in the wind, from a distance, appearing as riding upon a broomstick, yet a closer view, shows the stick is really driven through her heart, and she swings on, smile and all.

Of course, Kathy has thought of all this, reflecting the changing seasons and the dynamic state of our lives and environment.

Jim and Virginia Minninger left this morning for Heston KS, with Virginia saying that it is a beautiful day to travel; and so it is. Tours of the MSU Cyclotron and the Michigan Capital on Friday were followed by a Saturday focused on busy work before watching Michigan State beat Northwester in Evaston, Ill. A good time was had by all.

2008-09-26T12:15:00.000-07:00

It is hard to get the color of the new siding on the cottage right with the lengthening of shadows as our sun heads further to the south. Of course the sun doesn't head south, just that the earth tilts north. Anyways, we are in the throes of a major refit, face lift, repair/remediation. The sky is robin egg blue, the days are warm and sunny, there is ever so slightly a breeze.

The color of the siding is best seen on the West side, near the pump and fireplace. I like the color, the board and batten design, and the unevenness to the texture of the surface. The white of the windows, the white of the overhang (soffits) gives enough contrast.

The sun porch had wood rot along the northeast corner, necessitating removal and rebuilding the corner. The windows will be slightly different in the bottom with the center post gone and just one piece of glass. Otherwise the appearance of the sun porch will be the same. Here Bud is framed, working on the sun porch frame.

The weather has been spectacular, even better than the summer. I haven't removed the hydrolube from the underwater gear of Bounty's engine, almost tempted to put her back into the water, ala "paddle to the sea".

The front windows are covered with plastic as they are leaking more now, which was especially evident when the remnants of Hurricane Ike came through the Bruce Peninsula.

The front deck is without railings and it feels like one step into the air off the deck.

The day is done for the workers, and off they go for their weekend plans.

Kathy and I will remain here for the weekend, but we may not remain for the following week as it really is a mess here and hard to move around: always just making do. We do enjoy the weather though. So if the weather remains as gorgeous as it has been so far, and the trees are turning their reds, yellows and browns, we may stay a bit longer. We have a football game next weekend: Iowa and Homecoming, so we'll be back by October 4th. After that, who knows if we will come back anymore this fall. We shall see what we shall see.

Evolution of things as we knew them

2008-09-18T14:59:00.000-07:00

As the sky's refection into the mirror water shows palisades of color, demarcating yellows, oranges, blues, grays and a plethora of colors in between, so to, upon reflection, our summer season comes to an end, our abbreviated fall season begins next week, and our cottage morphs into its 50th year.
A look down from the front deck to the front yard will remain mostly the same, clearing away the birch trees in front which are showing their age and the strain of eeking a living off the moss and peat covering the bedrock. Kathy of course wants me to do more, ie, clearing of trees in the front. What is the purpose of having lake front property without having an unobstructed view of the lake? My argument has been that the trees serve as a buffer against storm winds, particularly of the winter variety which has necessitated the placing of plywood shutters over the one pane thick glass front windows.
With the redo of the cottage, board and batten siding and a replacement of the front glass with thermopane double glass windows, and a sliding glass door, shutters may no longer be needed, and the barrier trees may not be needed also. Since all work on the siding and windows will be done this fall, then we shall see how the glass front windows stand the winter storms, not protected by 1/2 inch thick plywood shutters. If there is no leakage of water into the cottage over the winter through the cracks and crannies of the front glass, then maybe, maybe I'll consider removing a cedar tree. Always one step at a time.

Kathy emailed Connie Collins regarding when the
work on the cottage was to begin, we have not heard from her yet, so, Kathy and I may or may not have a partially done project when we come up next week. We shall see what we shall see. I have included pictures of the cottage as it was at the beginning of September 2008. We hope to have pictures of its evolution; preparing for the Saturday August 1st 2009 50th anniversary celebration party. (Bec is the coordinator of the invitations, the first week is my preference.)

We are in the throes of planning our Southwestern swing to California for our Christmas family rendezvous. We shall keep you posted.

Towards the end of our cottage summer

2008-09-02T17:39:00.000-07:00

If you can imagine fire and water mixed, stirred slowly by a large wooden spoon, blending the two for a visual sensation evolving before your vary eyes. Welcome to the cottage.
Time well spent on the deck of the island. All present and accounted for to watch another spectacular Canadian sunset. Kind of routine to see such beauty, only, it is never routine nor taken for granted. Here we are, bundled up for the cool of the evening and its accompanying evening dew.

On Sunday, we had our first annual End of the Cottage Season Party. Cottage "voyageurs" came from Purgatory Harbor to celebrate. People from up the road a bit of Devil's Glen and Little Pike Bay road.

Their return home was also by canoe, only this time, the ladies decided to walk, so the two "hubbies" paddled back at sunset, on a calm and mirror lake, towing their phantom passengers. The next morning, the two paddlers: Bill Lutowski and Peter Thruguris came over to show us where they have found the "Lincoln" wreck on their paddling voyages as I have been unable to locate the wreck recently. It appears to have moved. I will look some more, anon, next year.

Bob and I enjoy the morning sunshine on our lower deck in front of the cottage. We were making big plans!

Bounty is back on her trailer, in the boat house, all traveling accoutrement's removed and stored.

Big Doin's at Little Pike Bay

2008-08-19T06:35:00.000-07:00

The sky is a light blue. Puffy low flying clouds sweep by. The wind is quite cool from the Northeast, creating wavelets on the water. There is a sailboat far upon the horizon. The morning sun highlights the rocky and scraggly bush coverings of Little Pike Bay Point. A hawk glides air currents, eyes searching the ground for a meal; the hummingbird is back sampling red flowers. There is the smell of Autumn in the air. It seems that summer has taken a respite. The grass is still green, yet, as we drive along the West Road, the Bury Road, Cemetery Road, the bush shows clusters of trees changing colors.

Standing back from the cottage, and looking at where the paint is peeling, it is increasingly evident that, before entering its 50th year, something has to be done. The cottage has withstood the weathering of 49 years of Northern clime's, and, if we want to have it for another 49 years, identifying and addressing what needs to be done has become a priority. Bud Boswell and Connie Collins were over to look at how much scraping, sanding and painting would be needed. Permanently removing the shutters that remain hung on the outside of the cottage is necessary since the bats have left the interior of the cottage and taken up residence behind the shutters, creating quite a mess and damage to the plywood of the shutters and exterior walls. Bud took out his jack knife and began poking at the front windows and found rotten sections, surprise, surprise, just were water is coming inside from beating rain storms. Caulking rotten wood will not address the issue. Looking at the front deck, and, in anticipation of our cottage's 50th Anniversary celebration August 1st and 2nd 2009, we decided we needed bench seating to accommodate the expected large group of celebrants. (Keep those dates open and look for your invitation.) Finally, the cottage has a mixture of two wire and three wire electrical system, which for those of you in the know, can make for surprise electrical outlet problems and blown fuses. So we will be upgrading from a 50 AMP service to probably 200 AMP service (apparently the price differential between 100 and 200 is not great) and bringing the electrical system up to "code."

The plan for this Fall is not to scrape, sand and paint the cottage, but to put on vinyl siding. For the front windows, we will be removing all the windows, put in an 8 foot central sliding glass door, expanding the glass to the full 22 foot width and of course floor to ceiling. We will have the windows made to order, double glass thermopane, no need to put up shutters again. The front deck will have more seating and stairs (off to the right as you leave the 3rd deck). There will be a new electrical system. The only thing we won't do now, is change the color of the roof, currently green, which may not match the "earth tones" of the new siding, but in another 10 years or so, we/you can do it in an earth red color which Kathy and I think would match the siding color.

We have had input from neighbors who have either built new or put on "board and batten" siding, log look siding, vinyl vs aluminum vs wood. We have visited multiple recommended homes, sales places. We have looked online at what has been offered and talked to some people about design. When you come for the 50th Anniversary Celebration next year, you will see the new and improved cottage, it will have "curb" appeal.

white-caps on the horizon

2008-08-18T06:46:00.000-07:00

Time has not slowed down since the kids have left, we are just doing different things. Here are Bec and Ellen under the umbrella at Sandy Beach, renamed "Black Creek Provincial Park" once the idea and purchasing of the land had filtered down to Toronto and the name change got done down there. Another object lesson for physically remote government.

The Sun was out yet the temperature was a bit cool for this time in early August. Also, the wind has been blowing almost every day with white capped waves pounding the shores.

Our week with two of our grandchildren was focused entirely on their needs. Marcus was not willing to go on any boat through the week, requesting going into the rowboat with his mother's encouragement and sitting in Bounty as she was still sitting on her trailer in front of the boat house. He is willing to try next year going in boats again.

Having driven the crew to their Grandma Betsy's, arriving close to 1 AM Sunday morning, for their trip back to the West Coast later Sunday afternoon, I went onto East Lansing and returned Tuesday afternoon to the Cottage.

One of the pleasures in my life is sailing, and I now have had several sails, you see, it does not matter if the wind is high and the waves are high, I feel I am in my element. I breath deeply through my nose and smell the water, feel the breeze, and ride the boat, each rise and fall, twist and turn. A great day to be alive.

Yesterday, Kathy and I took Bounty around Little Pike Bay Point and along the South shore of Stokes Bay. We entered areas I had never been before. The sun was overhead and I could see into the water, weaving our way around the rocks and shoals. Then a run through Split Islands, site of the front range for entrance into Stokes Bay and then onto the East shore of Lyle Island. We turned South and hugged the South shore of Lyle Island as the wind had shifted from Southwest to West North West and the waves were building. Kathy, of course, wants a fast smooth ride. Fast is not the operative word since most of the South Stokes Bay area has foul water. So the best that I could do was keep from heading into mounting seas; which we did, sort of, until we lost the cover of Lyle Island and her reefs, then we headed into a confused sea, built from the earlier Southwest and rising West North West wind. A little spray here and there does not dampen the spirits. Our run into Little Pike Bay was otherwise uneventful.

Today, the sun is bright, the water deep blue in the deep areas, turquoise to brown in the shallower regions. Wind from the South again; could it be the influence of Tropical Storm Fay way down South? The air is soft, only the slightest of breeze here at the cottage. The humming bird is feeding on the red flowers. Flies are biting, maybe it will rain soon.

2008-07-19T17:13:00.000-07:00

Today, Saturday July 19th we are not at the cottage, rather at home even though the sunset is that over Little Pike Bay Point. Here, it is raining, coming straight down, a soaking rain. Good for farmers, grass and mosquitos.

Kathy and I have been busy this week supporting our consumer economy in preparation for our King/Mininger family reunion in Ellston IA next week, and rounding up things for the Honicky reunion at the cottage the following week. As always, there are people coming as well as people who won't; we will enjoy those in the present and remember those who are still far away.

Right now, I am developing a sore butt, sitting as I have been for the past week. I do know, that I will be up and about once in IA and again in Ontario (is there an Off-tario") More toys for Bounty, more toys for tots, lots of fun in anticipation.

Oil upon the water

2008-07-12T17:30:00.000-07:00

As our month and several days at the cottage draws to a close, we can reflect upon this stay and say "yes", we have found a rhythm to this life on these Canadian shores. We do what we would be doing elsewhere, only, the location, its environment, dictates our adaptation, nay, immersion, visual, acoustic, the hairs on our forearms are telltales messaging us about the wind. We have to see, hear and feel anew.

We continue to travel and explore. Today we did the "Bruce Peninsula Artists Studio tour 2008". Some 18 stops are on the list from Tobermory to Oliphant. We made only a half-dozen studios as we wanted the Saturday tour of the "bullfrogpower" "clean reliable electricity" from the windmill farm just South of Ferndale. A well spent hour in the midst of our artists' studio tour. At the end of August (30th) there will be another art studio tour where we can visit studios we have missed today. Each Saturday for July and August, baring lightning, there will be wind farm tours.

Yesterday we spent moving the boats out of the water: Bounty back into her boat house, Sunshine on her trailer at the Launching Pad, the dingy hauled to the South side of the island deck. Each was lovingly washed and scrubbed of the fish roe plastered to their hulls, or, as in the case of the dingy, covered with small winged creatures that had hatched, mated and died, littering the white of the boat. During the hatch and aerial mating, Seagulls crowded the skies, acrobatically twisting and turning mid-air, scooping up their minuscule meal.

From a day of cool Northeast 10 knot breeze, the wind died in the evening, Lake Huron became placid and the setting sun cast a pinkish, purplish, hue: our oil on water sunset.

The Launching of "Little Pike"

2008-07-08T14:32:00.000-07:00

Begun more than a year ago, Bill Tyler had the idea of launching "Little Pike" a Morgan 24 (foot) bought by his dad 4 decades ago. The "Little Pike" that Bill had was land locked in its storage garage adjacent to the "Launching Pad." Over the dozen or more years, the marine rail tracks have rusted and become distorted by the winter's ice pack pounding on them.

Driving the isolation of "Little Pike" further, has been the water levels on the Great Lakes which have been very low since 1986, the last high water. At that time, 22 years ago, water lapped into "Little Pike's" boat house. Now there is no hope in floating the boat off of its marine railway trailer. So she sat, and with sitting, accumulated all the ailments a boat, which had previously sat in water, accumulates including frozen bolts, levers, cables and a host of other metal parts previously immersed in water.

Bill's thoughts turned first to restoring "Little Pike" ; ie, taking off all hardware, removing the gasoline in the tank that have turned into varnish, replacing the stuffing box, the through the hull fitting where the shaft from the engine to the propeller is located, and a myriad of fitting and pieces that required replacement. New fiberglass paint was applied and the day drew nye for her launching. The question of course, where to launch her? Take her to Lion's Head Harbour and keep her there at that marina? Find deep enough water in his front yard to launch her? In the end, a road was made to the front yard and the steep entry into the water was moderated with stone, and "Little Pike" was launched, floated off her trailer, having been pushed into deeper water by a chained extension log by Connie Collins' tractor. The launch, again demonstrates, that where there is the will and resources, there is a way.

From launch, Bill and his friend Anna Marie came to the mooring just inside "Mare Nostrim".

At this point it was a "see Bill run...." story. The wind was coming from where I was standing taking the picture. As Bill came up to the mooring ball, he scrambled from the cockpit and the tiller to the bow to catch the "painter" with his boat hook. The engine died and the boat came broadside to the winds directing it towards the rock shoals less than 40 feet away. "see Bill run", back to the cockpit, to restart the engine and make another pass at the mooring ball. "All's well that ends well." After the second or third pass, he snagged the painter, cleated it, stopped the boat's wayward movement, and secured "Little Pike" to her Little Pike Bay mooring.

After launch and a shake down cruise, Bill and I headed out, compass course 270, due West, for 10 miles in a 12 knot breeze, 150% genoa jib flying, heeled over with little pressure at the helm. So, "Little Pike" is back; restored, launched in a new place, and she sails as well as 4 decades ago.

Sunny Day

2008-07-01T07:45:00.000-07:00

Wild flowers festoon our front yard, mostly daisies and buttercups. There are other flowers, something like a dandelion but without the prominent leaf pattern. Small butterflies hang onto the flower as it is pushed by the wind, back and forth, up and down. On the water, there is a cormorant duck diving for some of the fish that I could see on the bottom as I snorkeled on Bounty's standing anchor the other day.

Walking the driveway, there are now Tiger lilies with their deep orange colors contrasting with the gray limestone bedrock and the brown ground cover peat moss. A small flower on a thick stalk, what I call "Indian Paintbrush" apparently has another name Kathy has found, and it too gives a contrasting deep orange color to the otherwise dull background. I found several varieties of iris on my walk yesterday along the shore and on trails through the bush. Kathy has planted geraniums and another red flower to attract the humming birds; Kathy's plan is a success.

Today is Canada Day. A time for Canadians to celebrate their disconnection from Great Britain and begin the arduous journey to self identification. For me, this is three days before my country's celebration for the violent separation from Great Britain and its mercantile system (everything going to GB to be made, taxed, whatever, before an item could be redistributed to the rest of the empire).

It is altogether fitting that Bounty symbolizes the water routes that made that early separation of that bygone era possible and necessary.

Today, after brunch, Kathy and I began the dialogue of where we are traveling to this afternoon. Will the waves be too bouncy? Should we make a dash for Sandy Beach on the inside passage? Is there enough water over the shoals to make such a run? Is the water too cool to moor Bounty off the shore and we having to wade in? All questions yet to be answered. Of course, if it is bouncy, then maybe we should head towards the Fishing Islands in their protection from the seas.

There is an alternative of course, staying right here at the cottage, shaded from the direct sunlight, viewing the bright blue waters, listening to the waves lap on the shore. Yet, there is the magic of riding on the seas, one hand on the tiller and the wind at our backs. I am watching an ant, carrying its prize along the boards of the front deck, trying to reconcile, how to get to the next board.

Of course, Kathy and I could do what we did Sunday afternoon and evening: drive to Sandy Beach until the Celtic Camp kids came for their water sports, go back to the cottage clean up and get appropriately attired for our trip to Cape Chin, on the Georgian Bay side of the peninsula, to have our lobster, mussels, and shrimp dinner at the Cape Chin Bed & Breakfast. This B&B is a rambling rustic renovated farm house, located in a field with surrounding barns. As we sat down for dinner, we chatted with a Toronto couple next to our table, they found this B&B online, they were looking for a last minute place to go for the weekend. High season but vacancies; a sign of the economic times? The food was great, served in a homey atmosphere. Besides the seafood, there was Chicken Paprikash although made with a tomato base instead of a sour cream base that I like. I did have a sample which was also delicious.

There is more to think about as to what to do on this sunny day.

2008-06-26T13:21:00.000-07:00

Memories tend to fade, the aspects that are so pleasant to us we retain, yet the reality portions continue to age, and, when we check back, show their age.

In a move to make new memories, Kathy and I decided upon a trip to Manitoulin Island, the largest fresh water island in the world. After consulting weather patterns from the North Lake Huron weather buoy as well as North American satellite and ground tracking radar, we chose Tuesday and Wednesday as our window to travel. We wanted to catch the 11:20 AM ferry to Manitoulin Island. To do so we left Little Pike Bay early in the morning, drove to Tobermory, got our tickets and parked "Big Red" in line. We walked to "Craigies" for breakfast.

We sat down in the sun porch next to a couple from Toronto. She had been coming to Tobermory as a little girl, and now returns for a reminiscent tour. He retired as City Manager for the City of Toronto two years ago, and they have been traveling back and forth to a cottage his parents had in the Mescoka area, North of Toronto.We chatted for an hour or so until the Chi- Cheeman's whistle blew, signaling ready for boarding.

As forecasted, the barometric pressure was high, the winds were calm, the seas were mirror flat. The ship spun around and we headed at 16 knots North by Northwest to South Bay Mouth on Manitoulin Is. From Tobermory we pass a number or uninhabited islands, part of the Five Fathoms National Park, the last island is Cove Island and its Cove Island Lighthouse. The figurine of the Cove Island Lighthouse that Bob and Kathy V brought for the cottage, is identical to this picture except for the 150 years sign. Seagulls flew to the top decks and matched precisely the ship's speed, appearing motionless as they glided upon the air currents created by the ship. An hour and 45 minutes later, we docked at South Bay Mouth, picked up route 6 again heading North; a few miles out of town we turned Left towards Providence Bay and its local Chamber of Commerce published literature "awe inspiring sand beach"; really, not any better than our own Bruce Peninsula's "Sandy Beach." By traveling roads, we saw lots and lots of trees as we headed West to Meldrum Bay, at the most Westward portion of the Island. Before stopping for the night, we visited the Missisagi Lighthouse, where, on the road we saw a large black bear. He/she looked at us, paused, then loped off into the bush. "We see a lot of them around here, and they generally leave people alone" so said the caretakers of the lighthouse museum. Hmmm "generally."

Meldrum Bay B&B was charming. We had dinner with a couple from Wisconsin whom we had met on the ferry and at Providence Bay, who were completing a tour from Madison, to Toronto via the Northern Lake Huron/Georgian Bay route. After dinner, Kathy and I hot-tubbed it for an hour; relaxed, then trundled off to bed.

Wednesday we awakened early to await our 9:00 AM Continental breakfast, which we shared with the Wisconsin couple, then headed, through the allies of tree forests, to Gore Bay. Another lighthouse, met an artist from Atlanta Ga. and his traveling companion, more pictures then followed the North Channel Eastward to Little Current. A trip across and back over the "swing bridge," ice cream, the obligatory gift shop stop where we found surprise surprise something we both like for our home in East Lansing. We head South along route 6, stopping at 10 Mile Point and its scenic overlook, purchased home-made soap, back onto Rt. 6 to Manitowaning, the berth of the now retired Tobermory to South Bay Mouth coal fired ferry: SS Norisle.

We have a 1937 view of the SS Norisle at the cottage, a print of a painting by Kent Wilkens, "Norisle coming into the coal pile: Tobermory".

Now she is in need of a major restoration; hence, the reality of time moving on. My remembrance of traveling on the Norisle are of coming back from South Bay Mouth after Bill and I had canoed to Manitoulin Island. The ship was loaded from the Starboard side, automobiles were jacked up and swung into a lineup and secured. Quite a difference now with the easy roll-on roll-off of the Chi-Cheeman. Bill and I carried the canoe onto the Norisle, then headed aft to talk with the crew who had quarters in the stern, port holes open, and black smoke wafting inside when the wind swung astern. I remember greeting my mother in Tobermory, I had slung my arm in a sling to appear as if I were injured, she, so grateful to see me alive, either did not notice or care as she hugged me tightly. My other trips to Manitoulin Island have been by water, this one, 300 miles in all, by land and by sea, made new memories for both Kathy and myself.

2008-06-20T18:24:00.000-07:00

I am eating home made ice cream that Kathy has made from 35% whipping cream. It is so creamy and smooth, I could literally eat a gallon. The sun is setting over the distant reef, an orange fireball, radiant and sitting upon the horizon. Night draws close to a day of activity, getting Bounty ready for the water. She is out of her boathouse, I have added gas tanks and filled the underwater gear with "hydrolube", loaded the life jackets, dock lines, anchor and lines, flares, fire extinguishers, two paddles, and horn. I had to put in the new battery box with its tie-downs, added a handle to the bilge cover so that we can open the petcock to let the water out, and rehang the pike pole holders. This endeavor required most of the afternoon. Pictures on Kathy's blog tell the story more. If the weather is anything like today, tomorrow I will powder myself and slip on the wet suit, launch Bounty and attach her new mooring system to the standing anchor. Then I will go for a ride, way out into the Lake, maybe to the red marker off Lyle Island, re-installed by the Coast Guard buoy tender today. As the night progresses into blackness, and coldness, the cottage remains warm and comfortable. Yes we are getting into a rhythm of "cottage country."

2008-06-17T11:22:00.000-07:00

In case you didn't notice it, there has been a lot of work done since we got here: ie, clearing the front trees to expand our lake view. Trees and scrubs are strewn all over the beach, although on the other side (lake side) of the remaining trees. Kathy has supervised these activities with firmness and direction. I have dutifully responded although not with the hop and skip supervisors want.

Look closely at the picture to the right of the cedar and birch trees. You may see many birds, mostly seagulls who are down in the water feasting on dead "fish flies" or as we in the USA say, "Canadian soldiers". These winged insects have mated and then died, and are no bird food. Some ducks and an occasional Canadian goose have been eating the fodder as well.

I have moved most of the boats out of the boat house, but not Bounty yet. I will wait for a sunny calm day, to finish outfitting her and getting her ready for the water. I have yet to attach the all important swivel and chain to the standing anchor as the water temperature is 6 degrees Celsius. Wet suit or no, the water is still very cold. Diving into that water will take your breath away. Riding in a boat on that cold of water, you want to be bundled up, life jacket on, and calm seas as you have only a few moments to get yourself back into the boat if one should go overboard.

Although the day is sunny and bright, high scattered clouds, the wind is 25 knots coming from the West South West (on the compass) and we have a fire going in the fireplace most of the day. Chairs are out. Awning and gazebo covers are on, but we linger only a little while before coming back in. So far, we have seen a sailboat off on the horizon. Someone from the Davis's were in wetsuits and windsurfing, but no other adventurer's.

Our days have yet to get a rhythm to them, but we are getting there.

In the house where you were born

2008-06-04T08:03:00.001-07:00

As I was writing my Seaway Trail blog, my trip down memory lane brought a flood of thoughts which are really insufficiently documented by the one liner in the Seaway Trail blog.

Rochester NY was my first training stop in my Eastward trek post medical school. It is altogether fitting that there is a lighthouse in the picture as a reminder to me of the beacon of that era in our lives. We brought "Rogue" with us, an L class sloop 28 foot with a 36 foot mast made for racing on Lake Erie circa 1930's, sold to us by Rudy Rosales, stored in his barn way out in Olmstead Falls, Ohio, and we sailed out of the then brand new East 55th street Marina in Cleveland Ohio. We brought Rogue with us to Rochester intending to sail her on Lake Ontario. However, the rigors and the shear fatigue of an every other night internship, 36 hours on and 12 hours off for a whole year, precluded our preparing her for the water: sanding , caulking, painting, varnishing, mending her sails; so she languished in a boat yard on the Genese River. Eventually we took her to Boston, sold her there, never sailing her again. Letting her deteriorate was really like having her wrecked upon a reef; at least, that is how it still feels to me.

Bec, you were born at Strong Memorial Hospital, delivered by Dr. Joe Schibetta, attended in the delivery suite by yours truely, and brought home to 65 Valley Street, a two story townhouse in name only. The white door entrance on the right leads to a stairway up to the 2nd floor; notice the concrete stairs on the right side of the duplex leading to the kitchen. I had purchased a rocking chair for your mother in which to nurse you. That first night you cried and cried, and we new parents fussed and fussed all night. Eventually you settled in, grandparents came and went. We packed our belongings as two months from your birth, we would be in Boston and yet another starting all over again. By the way, there is another duplex to the right of 65 Valley, John something or another, won a Pulitzer Prize for reporting on the prisoner riot in Attica Prison in upstate NY, all this occurring while we lived in Rochester NY.

There are more vignettes for later blogs.

The Seaway Trail

2008-06-01T15:01:00.000-07:00

A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, our story begins. No this is not StarTrek, space the final frontier, rather, my going down memory lane. Kathy and I did not start out on Lake Road, just East of County Line Road near Geneva-On-The-Lake Ohio, but this is where my earliest memories of being "at the Lake" took place. The lake is Lake Erie, the house Grampa Vencl built. A tent was pitched under the shag bark hickory tree in the foreground, and under it we slept while the foundation of cement was poured and a concrete block house rose to its full two stories. Near completion, I remember our family driving in my dad's blue 1941 four door Ford with a load of tar paper roles (Dad was a sales person for Industrial Roofing & Sheet metal) and just before Painsville Ohio, the car's axle broke. Dad called Uncle Fred (my Mom's youngest brother), and he eventually came, picked us up, and drove us to Grandpa & Grandma. The Ford was repaired the next day and Dad arrived with the roofing tar paper so that the house was enclosed. I was 4 years old. When I was 5 years of age, Dad bought mom a 1947 maroon four door Chrysler with "automatic shift" and we took that to Grandma & Grandpa's house on the lake. Look carefully and you will see a single car garage where Grandpa welded shut a hole in the gas tank of the home made tractor of the Hallupka's of Pittsburg Pa. Joining the garage and house is a breezeway where a roasting pan contained hossenfeffer, rabbit that Grandpa had shot with his 12 gauge shotgun (modified stock to accommodate winter clothing), and Grandma had marinating in a sour cream mixture. I remember eating the hossenfeffer, picking the occasional buckshot out of my teeth. You will notice the front door. Just inside, to the immediate left was a round 6 inch cathoray tube television with a magnifying glass to amplify the picture. Programing began at 4 PM. Upstairs was unfinished and each extended family had a bed of their own to sleep. Grandma & Grandpa slept in the bedroom just off the kitchen and living room, next to the North facing screened porch.

Our journey along the St. Lawrence Seaway Trail actually starts just East of Toledo Ohio on the South shore of Lake Erie. We followed the Erie Circle Route and Ohio Coastal Trail, using National Routes 2 and sometimes 6 to Cleveland, arching South somewhat to 422 to route 44, Ravena Road, North to Punderson State Park; our first night camping. In the morning, in search of a coffee shop for breakfast, we pass through Chardon, finding nothing on the route, then Painsville, again nothing and then National Route 20. There are no good landmarks for me as we drove East. It has been 58 years since I last visited Grandpa & Grandma "at the lake." They had long since moved away into the last home Grandpa built on Willard drive in Geauga County. I did find County Line Road, then Lake Road and Grandpa & Grandma's house. A passing jogger had a quizzical look on her face as we stopped and took our picture.

Kathy and I drove along Lake Road as it hug the contours of Lake Erie's shoreline until we reached Ashtabula and a no name diner for a late morning breakfast, coffee and conversation; cash only. Along the coast, a detail map will show "Lake Road" goes from County Line Road in Ohio, through Erie Pennsylvania, to Buffalo New York. Our stop in Erie Pa., at the entrance to Presque Isle our campsite was on the sandy shore, was cold because of a 20 knot wind off the Lake. We slept well since we had our propane furnace on which warms Rudy very well. On Presque Isle the next day, we took pictures of lighthouses, of floating summer cottages, one needed a boat to reach; and, I saw the Great Lakes bulk self unloading carrier "Cuyahoga" unloading sand. I had first seen the "Cuyahoga" earlier in May as I was crossing the Blue Water Bridge in Port Huron as she was passing under the double arched bridges, as I was heading to Canada to retrieve Bounty.

Along the South coast was Dunkirk, a magnificently maintained lighthouse which we climbed to the top with its 3rd order Frensel lens. Then onto Buffalo, its rust belt of Hamburg and closed and shuttered Bethlehem Steel Co. Tom Erke, a friend from Orange High School, his first job was in the public relations department of Bethlehem Steel Co., explaining "Orange Steam" to the local community, coming from the smoke stacks.

If you discount the 25 cent magnifying viewer, and the sky scape in the background, you will see a picture of Kathy and Rich, standing almost at the very spot that my Dad and Mom stood on their honeymoon trip to Niagara Falls 8 decades ago. Scenes change, people change, and yet, things stay the same. The Seaway Trail took us along the Niagara river to Lake Ontario, Old Fort Niagara, which we will catch the next day as we head for 4 Mile Creek NY State Campground. We camp on the Lake Ontario shore, we can see the skyline of Toronto and Hamilton Ontario across the Lake.

We reversed course a bit, heading into Youngstown NY, coffee, breakfast and Internet, abruptly terminated by spilt coffee onto my Apple G4 laptop computer. I drain, literally drain the coffee from my computer, took out the battery, and we set the computer to dry out over the next 48 hours, which it did, and restarted without a hitch. Old Fort Niagara was followed by a Congressional Earmark highway (starting nowhere and ending no where) into Rochester NY. Rochester has a lighthouse which we found as well as 65 Valley Street along the Genese River where Rebecca you were conceived and brought home in 1973. I an Intern and first year Pediatric Resident at Strong Memorial Hospital. Options for lunch include "Sticky Lips" and "Bay Side". Our coastal journey East includes many lighthouses, some private we can see only at a distance, others ,we can climb and view directly, others, accessible only as in the days of yore, by boat.

Original source writings confirm the loneliness and isolation of the lighthouse keeper and his family; nine and a half months of the year, for $400 per year pay. Please tell me how bad people have it now.

The Antique Boat Museum in Clayton NY is a highlight for me as I search for Bounty amongst the various buildings. Christ-Craft boats in their many shapes and era's abound, but no Bounty. It will not be until we leave the St. Lawrence Seaway Trail at the Eisenhower Locks and turn South into the Adirondack National Park that I get a hint of the merger of Thompson Boats of Courtland NY with Christ-Craft, for a brief time in 1960 to @ 1962, that I discover Bounty's possible origins. More anon about Bounty.

From a campsite in Old Forge Adirondack where a near strike lightning thunder bolt awaken us as well as the general community we are told the next day, we have visited the Adirondack Natural History Museum to learn about the early formation of our Earth, Glaciation, shallow rooted black spruce trees seen before by us on the Taylor Highway near the Artic Circle in Alaska. Further South to Rome NY, the now shutter and rusted Reever Ware Copper Clad cookware factory, all now made in China. Chamber of Commerce efforts at attracting business and employment to no avail. At a local diner, we hear of people at first moving away, and then returning because of missing family ties: "its hard to be in Northern California for Christmas when your family is in Upstate NY."

We head West towards the 11 Finger Lakes. Cayuga Lake, the Southern shore of which is Ithica NY and Cornell University we reach Taughanock Falls NY State Park. The NY Western County Road 89 passes the NY Chiropractic College, the College of Massage, the College of Nutition, the College of Acupuncture. If we are known by the company we keep, Cornell's reputation is in jeopardy. Kathy and I trek the Falls trail, 3 1/2 miles and 500 feet up and down before heading to Allegheny State Park, via Watkins Glen, Tobia's breakfast restaurant and more county roads, byways, and rural Eastern America.

We stop in Randolf NY, for the Amish artifacts and find late 19th and early 20th century architecture store fronts, varied, colorful, unique, cobbled together in small town, rural USA. More cobblestone facings. Our destination is Jamestown NY, birthplace of Lucile Ball (I Love Lucy), a museum for she and her husband, Desi Arnez. 2 hours later, we are on the road again, county road 959, then 956, and back onto National Route 6 headed West, through Pymatuning State Park, Chardon Ohio, onto Interstate 90 through Cleveland Ohio, back onto route 2, and camping at East Harbor State Park, next to Marblehead Lighthouse, overlooking Cedar Point on Sandusky Bay. The next day, and after a lighthouse tour, we head for home, through Toledo. We stop in Ann Arbor at Whole Foods, me holding a McDonald's Chocolate Milkshake cup while wearing my MSU Spartans 2000 Basketball National Champion's tee shirt. I got "looks" but no comments; an occasional smile. We did sign a petition to place the issue of stem cell research onto the November 4th 2008 ballot.

Our meals were generally at mom and pop diners and eatery's, one extravagant meal at the Boat Yard in Ithica NY, two stops at McDonalds for the whole trip. Many dinners were in Rudy, PB&J on Rye bread from Great Harvest here off Okemos Road in Michigan. Two quarts of 1% milk and V-8 juice.

All in all, a great 10 day trip, comfortable sleeping, lots of seeing rural Americana, rusted industries, yard and trailer trash, farm land and all. Plenty of trees. No foreclosure signs. The sights we saw did not suggest that these people saw their home's equity as a piggy bank in the quest for a economically unsustainable life style.

We can wonder why Hillary connected with these USA citizen.

Bounty

2008-05-12T08:10:00.000-07:00

It is raining. It has been raining since early last evening, foretold by a drop in the barometer yesterday morning. The barometer has been rising all this morning. I expect the rain to stop before I go on my walk later on today. With the silence of the cottage, I can hear the tap tap tapping of water droplets off the roof onto the sheet metal covered pump house. Last night I went to sleep with the sounds of dripping onto the back deck, and awakened this morning to the same cadence.

My journey to the cottage so early in the season was to get Bounty after she had been restored by John Kilpatrick. His shop is just North of Owen Sound on the coastal road Grey #1. I had left Bounty to have her windscreen, front bench seats repaired and have her sanded and repainted. After meeting John, he spoke of how Bounty would look with her bright work restored and her floorboards carpeted. At least that is what I remember from my early September conversation. He hadn't asked for upfront money, just an address and phone number where he could reach me. He had said he had no room in his heated building so that he would have to get Bounty finished before the weather became cold. I had been following the weather in Canada during the Fall, since I believed his target date was early November. I expected that he would call me and ask me to get Bounty and store her in her own boathouse. I didn't get a call from him all Fall. In early January, I got a call from his wife, with her immediately recognizable Scottish baroque. She said that John had just started working on Bounty and wanted some money. I sent what was requested. Kathy and I went on our Southern Hemisphere adventure and at our return, there was another phone call. The work is progressing, requesting more money. By the end of April, I was becoming a bit anxious, would Bounty be ready for this summer? I called, speaking first to his wife, then I got to speak with John. "I think you will like how she came out" He went through details of some of the things that he had done. I told him that I was planning on coming to pick Bounty up Thursday and for his wife to call with the amount of the final payment. She called Monday. Three calls, each request the same: "... a couple of thousand." That was it. My receipt, a corner piece of blue line notebook paper, a few items listed. "I didn't put everything on it, but this will do."

The trip to Owen Sound was sunny and 51 degrees F. I was a bit hesitant as I drove, wondering if I could find his establishment since I was coming from an opposite direction; but I did, easily on the first try. I pulled into the long driveway and there, standing by herself in the sunlight she sat: bright work shining, lettering bold in "Olde English", she was ready. I got out of Big Red and walked around Bounty, almost afraid of touching her, disturbing her perfection. She had not just been restored, she had been enhanced. In all my years of sanding, repairing, painting and varnishing her, she did not look as good as she does now. My eyes scanned from stem to stern and back again, the details of finish work, new items added, reinforced windscreen, bow seat, back bench filled me with an emotional warmth, welling up in me that I almost cried right then and there. First John, and then his wife came out of their house and we went over what he had done. He had found a spot for her in his heated shop, took her apart, set her upside down and began the restoration process.

Bounty's trailer did not have a front roller. So over the past 48 years, she has drooped her bow creating a hump in the keel from where the last roller is positioned. While upside down, John put a jack on that hump, and over the next months, the hump was removed and a straight keel restored. Between the decking and hull is an aluminum strip, both cosmetic and functional as a fender. Over the years, water accumulated, apparently not drying out completely, allowing rot to begin. The stem, running from the joining of the deck and hull in the very bow, down to the keel, had separated from the hull and allowed water to penetrate, also causing mischief. The hull itself was intact and free of rot. I already knew this since I have worked on the hull both inside and out over the years. The masonry floorboards were replaced by 3/8 inch marine plywood, the internal ribs were covered with marine plywood as well. The stern seat was rebuilt, covered and strengthened. Polished trim was added in areas where dock lines and ski-tow lines rub on the bright work. "You will notice that she will be a lot stiffer now and won't twist and sound loose." I am looking forward to the new ride, her feel in the water.

The same trepidations I had had about taking Bounty to John Kilpatrick's shop, ie, being caught by the Ontario Provincial Police for all the boat registration and trailer violations, antique tires, etc. delineated before in a Fall email and blog, nagged at me as I drove slowly to the cottage. All's well that ends well. It only took me an hour to get Bounty into the boathouse what with all the lining up and checking and rechecking I did to be sure I didn't scrap anything pushing her in.

In thinking about Bounty's restoration, I realize that having the expertise to work on wood boats includes seeing what needs to be righted, and having a vision of the outcome; spending the time necessary to achieve that outcome, re-bending the keel, waiting between coats of varnish to let each one dry, sand, clean, and re-varnish. I touched her bright work, it is smooth and feels thick, almost like a liquid. Visually, she is a museum piece, now only better.

RJ called a few minutes ago and asked if I had put Bounty into the water yet. I have not. I would have to pull her out after a day's run, meaning, I would have to get into the water to align her stern on the trailer supports. Lake Huron water is still mighty cold. I'll wait until Kathy comes up with me in early June, so she can crank the winch while I am in the water if I take her out. I have new chain, swivels and couplings for the standing anchor which I want to attach before leaving Bounty overnight on her mooring. Even in June, I'll need a wet suit to dive on the standing anchor and attach the underwater stuff.

The two pictures include John Kilpatrick plus Bounty. The first picture, in the background is his wife.

To say that I am very happy with the outcome, impressed with the process, and glad to have met such wonderful people, is an understatement.

Well my chickadees, it has stopped raining, the barometer is up in the fair weather area, there is enough blue sky to make a sailor's pants, it is time to get out of doors.

We're back

2008-04-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

It's hard to change things we do by rote. It's hard to think about things with which we are so familiar.

It takes a tsunami, Japanese for a cataclysmic wrenching of the earth which produces a monumental and destructive wall of water, to get our attention and to set the stage for change.

The tsunami in health care is a generation of "baby boomers". Current generations in care or about to be in care are: The Silent Generation: born 1925 to 1942 and 63 million strong; Baby Boomers: born 1943 to 1961 and 77 million. The fore mentioned will/are cared for by Generation "X"; born 1962 to 1981, 44 million strong and Generation "Y"; born 1982 to 1998, 70 million. Baby Boomer characteristics: outlook - optimistic; work ethic - driven; view of authority - challenge; view of leadership - pay your dues; relationships - personal gratification; work/leisure balance - control freaks. Generation "X" characteristics: outlook - skeptical; work ethic - free agent; view of authority - unimpressed; view of leadership - competence; relationships - reluctant to commit; work/leisure balance - want it now. How the above translates into the education/training of a health care work force is all in the mix in the dialogue on health care reform. Distilled down to a sound bite at a recent health care conference: The health care industry is facing a high demand for health care, but a reduced and part time work force.

Almost 30 years ago, there were academic and government studies (including those of the Government Accounting Office- the watchdog and advisor to Congress) that showed there were going to be too many physicians and that Congress needed to act to restrict the number of medical schools and eliminate the immigration of Foreign Medical Graduates. Congress dutifully enacted such enabling legislation. A funny thing happened on the way to the fruition of that legislation. By 2017, there will not be enough doctors (short by 250,000), enough nurses, respiratory therapists, pharmacists, health aides, etc., etc., etc. How did this happen that there was such a miscalculation? Very easy it seems. One only has to have the power to control information, to convene a group of like-minded academics, who have a particular agenda (ala Hillary Clinton's efforts into health care reform, or the GAO taking surrogate markers for physicians practicing "defensive" medicine and telling Congress and the American public that such practice behavior represents less than 3% of the health care dollar), sprinkle in some media bias (money grubbing doctors, ie, numerically more Ear, Nose and Throat doctors leads to more tonsillectomies and ear tubes inserted) that the supply of doctors needed to be reduced, AND, used data of past performance of doctors, to project future needs.

Well my friends, if you cherry-pick your data, you can have it say anything you want, garbage in/ garbage out. If you don't have a mechanism in place to revise your assumptions as you go along, then you get institutionalization of ideas (read: politically correct), freeze health at an antiquated level, and the justification for such rigidity: "evidenced based medicine", no longer funding research that might produce a contrary opinion. An aside: CardioPulmonary Resuscitation for adults has been fixated and institutionalized as requiring a precise ratio of chest compressions and mouth breaths. 25 years ago, a large study in Seattle Washington demonstrated that ONLY chest compressions by a witnessing bystander lead to a desired patient outcome, walking out the hospital door retaining all previous faculties. Just last week, a news flash from a conference of the American Heart Association: mouth breathing and chest compressions are no better than chest compression alone. It seems the driving force for going back to the older data was the fact that most witnessing bystanders do not do mouth breathing and chest compressions, instead, they tend to either do just chest compressions, or worse still do NOTHING at all. Those witnessing bystanders who do just chest compressions, have the same outcome as waiting for EMT's who do both mouth to mouth resuscitation and coordinated chest compressions. 25 years of witnessed sudden cardiac event, and reluctant witnessing bystanders. Who would be alive and well today if the original data lead to revision of community education with a less disagreeable and simplified rescue process instituted?

Social contracts and priorities are contributing to the anticipated shortfall in health care workers. To encourage diversity in our physician work force, women and minorities have been courted to apply to medical school. What wasn't counted upon, those who graduate from medical school and finish residencies, that women would work 0.5 of a full time equivalent, instead of the the 0.9 FTE originally calculated as had been in the past. To recruit and retain minorities, medical schools have to provide an extended curriculum, and now, residencies are being asked to provide an extended residency experience. Instead of 3 years of Family Practice training, residency programs are being asked to extend up to 6 years of training. Many of current residents believe that more time away from training, will make for a better life style; they do not want to extend the time in residency though. The reality though is that some of the changes needed will be to address a more gradual educational experience, as well as to accommodate future physicians focusing on their life style, a more intermittent training schedule. Of the many unknowns with these changes, is what will be the loss of knowledge, skills, and professionalism during the time the person is out of the educational system. What changes in medical school curriculum and residency training are needed to bring people up to speed after their absence? When does the clock start ticking on their undergraduate and medical school loans? The medical educational system is based upon "bedside teaching": mentor and student side-by-side with the patient, using inquiry, examination, discussion, and implementation. There is role-modeling of professionalism: principle of patient welfare, principle of patient autonomy (Physician as an advisor), principle of social justice. Professionalism was the number one physician characteristic that health care consumers wanted in their physician. Even when on the consumer list of questions, physician life style was not a patient priority.

Oh by the way, these are not just the musings of a retired physician looking back at the good old days, rather, the conference I attended yesterday: MSU, "Health Care Policy and Issues:" Healthcare Legislative and Advocacy Training, Health Care Reform 2008, Physician Supply, Fiscal and Health Care Challenges (GAO), Physicians and Public Health, Health Information in the 21st Century. On April 15th I will be presenting my experiences of serving an indigent population at "Care Free" to the Ingham County Medical Society General Membership Meeting. And, May 2 - 4th, I am a Delegate at the Michigan State Medical Society House of Delegates, my committee assignment: Legislative Actions.

The cataclysmic event has already occurred with the birth of the Baby Boomers. The tsunami is already at the shore. Generation "X" are the immediate pending caregivers. Even graduating more physicians as well as other health care providers, the large number of care givers wanting a "balanced life style and work experience" means that there would need to be a doubling of the medical school graduates, just to maintain the present already expected physician shortfall.

What about physician extenders you ask? Nurse Practitioners? Physician Assistants? At the conference a representative from Michigan Public Health suggested, "why not do like China did during the "Cultural Revolution" and train "barefoot doctors"? People who would deliver traditional Chinese medicine (does anyone know what traditional Chinese medicine is?) In spite of nursing schools going to state legislators to expand the scope of practice for nurse practitioners so that they can provide care without a connection to a physician, the nursing schools stating that nurse practitioners would deliver care to the under served, rural and inner city, the location of the current 3 decades of graduates of Wayne State, Univ of Mich, MSU College of Nursing, all practice in Suburban locations, where the hours are fixed, the income guaranteed, and no/limited night call. Physician Assistant providers came about after the Vietnam War, when military corpsman, who had an enormous amount of clinical experience, but no formal educational training, left the military but wanted to continue in health care. Hence, the inauguration of 3 year Physician Assistant's education programs. One of the participants in the conference, director of training for Grand Valley State University Physician Assistants program, stated that the current incoming students, have NO clinical experience. Even after 3 years of formal PA training, those physicians who hire graduating PAs, will need to provide significantly more mentoring and supervision than they currently do, before a PA can work in a clinical situation.

How all of this will play out in the future is unknown. But, platitudes, and politically correct statements as you currently hear, are not sufficiently informative to effect meaningful change. In my view, in addition to expanding the health care work force, patients and families will be more accountable and provide for their own health care, and as a nation, re-investment into public health and preventative health practices are a viable strategy.

We have to remember the lessons of the past, that we have to have in place mechanisms to alter our course of action when new information becomes available. Just like the current sensationalism of "obesity": The data says, those who are over weight, BMI 26-30 live the longest; those with "normal" and desired BMI 19.5 to 25 live the SAME length of life as those with BMI 31-35. The new data says, no matter what your BMI, no matter what your medical complications are, diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, no matter what your family history, the best predictor of longevity, is what is your level of physical fitness. Escalating levels of fitness (as measured by METs an exercise calibrated test), lead to escalations in survival. Therefore, instead of channeling our energies into getting McDonalds to change their French Fries, maybe we should promote more walkable city planning (like Meridian Township Planning Commission attempts to do). Much less sexy, a lot less media hype and TV sound bites, but probably more in keeping with the data.

Southern Cross: Doin' it big in Sydney

2008-03-28T14:21:00.000-07:00

This last weekend is bitter-sweet. We are all together. Lunch in a courtyard restaurant, dinner overlooking Sydney Harbor, its Bridge and Opera House, an evening's entertainment at the Opera House: Shakespeare's "As You Like It"; Sunday, more dinning and talking, then onto the Cricket pitch for a 9 hour cricket match between India and Australia.

Roxie's morning walk is extended to a brewed coffee run: two coffee late', one tall long black. Scones do not exist, a variety of doughy heavy morning pastries exist, just not something in between French light and airy, and heavy hockey puck. Phone calls between Andrew and Leah, Andrew in the midst of working on Saturday. We will meet for dinner, overlooking Sydney Harbor: reservations for 5:30, enough time for a leisurely meal, and a quick walk to the Opera House.

The last night in Sydney, the Australian Company will tour other cities. Their diction and presentation are mostly understandable, and, probably for the first time in my life, I can get the gist of the story; not the first time I had heard it, just the first time I understood it. An early wrap to a late Saturday evening, we head back to Newtown; waiting in line to purchase train tickets, provided an uncomfortable experience of a bare-chested loud out of control young man and a pleading girlfriend. After obtaining train tickets, they were not taken as we entered the train styles, nor needed to exit when we reached Newtown as the exit doors were all wide open.

Sunday, after a late morning Roxie and coffee walk, met Andrew, caught a few brews, we bussed to the cricket pitch. From early afternoon until after 10:30 PM, we bake in the sun, drank beer, ate what we brought in our picnic basket, and watched cricket. We were treated to a streaker, who made world wide news clips, although he ran straight towards us, I didn't have our camera poised at ready; hence, no pics. We were also treated to an exhibition of the "best batsman" in the sport. Indeed, a remarkable performance. Single-hand edly, he won the game for India.

My knees aching, I waddled down the stadium stairs, and we began our walk to find a ride home. Since the game was in doubt until the very last, a nearly full stadium emptied out altogether. Long lines awaited buses. Might there be a cab available some place? The cab lines were long and snaking into the night air. Dad charged into the street and hailed an empty cab. We pile in, the cabbie is animated and cricket involved. Andrew got out part way through our trip home. We said our goodbyes to him, as if we were going to see him in the morning, but of course we wouldn't.

Monday afternoon, we will leave after walking Roxie, packing and rearranging clothes and presents, grabbing a cab to the airport. On the 747-400, we are seated at the "back of the bus". Push off, lumbering down the runway, we are airborne. Into the afternoon light we settle in: drinks, dinner, movie. I am looking out the window. First there is wave chop on the Tasman Sea. As we rise higher, the cloudless sky fades in light, we headed East, the sun racing West. Now it is night. The stars are brilliant, and there, there out my window, is the Southern Cross.

Southern Cross: Hunter Valley

2008-03-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

As night turns into day, through the morning stillness, I awaken to the rumble of the distant train. Time to get up. Leah has Roxie on a leash and is already going out the front door for their walk. Kathy says, "one more minute..." ala Marcus's plea prior to doing what he knows comes next, and he doesn't want to do.

We are off to our overnight trip to Hunter Valley, on a wine country tour. The first step is out the door. The next and following steps are to the Newtown train station and our ride to Circular Quay. There we will pick up our two hour bus ride to Hunter Valley. Our tour ticket has Hunter Gardens as our first stop. Drop off at 11 AM and pick up at 4:30 PM. Rain and drizzle, rain and drizzle all day long. "The gardens are past their bloom. You should have been here in October and November. The roses were all out... It was really pouring rain just a minute ago..." so said the ticket taker at the entrance. There is nobody else around. After a brief tour of the garden center sales area, a slack in the rain fall, we head out to see whatever there is to see. This is a time for a positive attitude.

On over 65 acres is one garden after another, tied together by trails and cupola rest areas, waterfalls, bridges: formal, rose, Japanese, and many other carefully manicured complete gardens beautifully leading to the next and the next.

Storybook garden has life sized figures, clustered together, along with its book chapter reading. The statuary and theme setting, depicting stories from English moralistic and politically motivated nursery tales. This journey through the Storybook garden reminded me of a time during English monarchy rule, between the time of the Magna Carter and late 19th Century, when speech was not free, one could not directly criticize the crown, noblemen, church bishops and church hierarchy. Only through allegory, nursery tales, did one dare to challenge authority. "Humpty dumpty sat on a wall... Mary Mary quite contrary... Wee Little Winkee in his night gown..." Nursery rhymes were one vehicle of political expression. And so we told these nursery rhymes to our children, one generation after another, loosing much meaning during the reiteration.

Our tale of Hunter Gardens, down pour and all, blossom beauty long past, low clouds hiding this Valley's gentle rolling nature, is worth seeing, is worth traveling by bus from Sydney to see. These Gardens opened my mind to the many possibilities of shaping the soil and shrubs and flowers into an expression of one's self, one's tradition, one's sense of perspective.

The wine country tour the next day was pleasant, sunny and mild. We continue to learn at most every stop, about grapes, and soil, and wine making. Interspersed were stories of families and heritage, hardship and triumph. We saw yet another dimension of Australian life.

The bus trip back to Sydney was again, uneventful, yet, informative about the topography of Australia's Eastern coast, the haphazardly derived and jumble of streets that lead into Australia's largest city, and the everyday business of people in this part of the world.

Leah awaits our return.

Southern Cross: Out and About in Sydney

2008-03-12T14:54:00.001-07:00

I have my ship and all her flags are flyin'. The "sails' of the Sydney Opera House dominate the landscape as the Sydeny Harbor Bridge dominates the Harbor. We see both from many perspectives as we bus tour.

First we got the Red Bus for the Red tour covering the city and environs. Leah got us to Circular Quay as our jumping on/off point. Historical sites, first prisoner's then colonists land at the Rocks. Mid-19th Century and early 20th Century immigrants come from the UK Scotland, Ireland to begin a new life. Prisoner's are let out to the colonists to work, prisoners cut the stone to make government buildings, buildings being laid out according to a plan, frequently changed, but all construction and names baring the resemblance of the mother country. Swampy land is filled in to make dockage and so the town becomes a city.

The Red tour takes us to the Central Business District (abbreviated and referred to as CBD). There is a "China town" complete with signage and newspapers. The old wharf district is being rehabilitated into toney "lofts."

The Red tour had just returned to Circular Quay when the Blue tour was about to depart. Our one day ticket allowed both tours. The Blue tour heads to the outer environs, where the very wealthy live and there are multiple beach areas along the coast. Pictures were taken of the harbor from some stopping points, vantage points, sharing wealthy houses' vistas. The tour for this part felt more like touring Hollywood and the "Star's" house tours. Daily, there are buses every half hour, stopping, dropping tourists off, picture taking, getting back onto the bus and 25 minutes later, another bus, occupants repeating the same ritual. Bondi beach and others are semi crescent in shape, sandy, and bordered on both sides with large rock outcroppings. There are some people on the beach. I did not see any swimmers. I also did not see any "Stinger suits" being worn. Leah said that several of the beaches had jellyfish nets providing "protected" swimming.

There are vistas, perched high on the seaside hills, with a view South and the open water towards Tasmania.

Our Blue Bus stopped two blocks from Circular Quay, the end of the tour, to change drivers. It seems that our driver for 95% of the tour was due a lunch break; so this was the spot to stop and change drivers. Mind you, when our 95% driver changed drivers at the start of the tour, it was at the Circular Quay. Hmmmm. I guess this was all in accordance with the "work rules." Leah acknowledged, and it was quite visible to me, that work rules are to limit a person's work.

I saw something else regarding work rules. Near Leah's house, the utility company was changing a utility pole. There were 4 trucks and 13 men. One man was up on the pole working amongst the power lines, the other 12 were watching him, they eating pastry and drinking coffee/tea. Leah thought the men on the ground were on their scheduled 1/2 hour morning break. I wondered why the man up on the pole was still working while the 12 others were on break. In another example of how work rules visibly effect the work people do, I also saw a road crew patching pot holes with repair asphalt. There were 5 men: one sitting in the cab of the truck, one supervisor in his fluorescent vest, two leaning on their long-handled shoves, and one person shoveling repair asphalt from the truck's flatbed, dumping a shovelful into the pothole, tapping it down, then going back to the truck for more asphalt to patch another pot hole.

Leah says she is glad that the men have a job and can feed their families. She may be right. Sydney is eminently livable, and most things get done that need to be done.

Southern Cross: Right Hand Motor Vehicles

2008-03-10T20:06:00.000-07:00

Before leaving the Whitsundays, there needs to be a word about an incident with an explanation.

As we all know, the Australians drive on the wrong side of the road, as do the Brits, Japanese, New Zealanders, South Africans and Hong Kong-ese. To accommodate this wrong headed driving, the Australian driver's license acquisition process is multi-step requiring years of supervision, solitary driving, and finally able to take others for a ride. The US and the rest of the world do not have such an elaborate process since left handed driving comes so naturally.

My first encounter with right handed driving and roadways came in Scotland, going to the Firth of Fourth and Ben Lomen in the early 1980's. Everything went as planned.

In the Whitsunday's, we rented a car to drive around and see the area. As I have knee problems, to get into the car we rented, I needed to move the driver's seat as far back as possible. After being seated, adjusting the mirrors to be sure I did not have a blind spot behind me, Kathy got in fully confident regarding my driving abilities which I assured her were flawless. I neglected to realize that with the seat so far back, the hood of the car disappeared from my view so that I could not judge the width of the car; hence, I could not see the front of the left side. When I carefully drove from the parking space within the courtyard of our hotel, I did not turn sufficiently and I nudged the blue ceramic flower pot and tree within, cracking it into multiple pieces. Kathy mentioned to me that I was about to hit the flowerpot she could plainly see, but it was too late, the deed was done. I have received some grief from her off and on since that time and it seems that the incident is a favorite of hers, mentioning it quite indiscriminately I believe. Possibly either with the incident in mind or my own trepidations, when Kathy wanted to drive on the road back from Dingo Beach, remember the narrow windy gravel roads, to see what right hand driving was like, I returned the favor of giving her grief.

Anyways, upon our return, I told the hotel booking people about the flowerpot. The following day, I told the owner of the hotel about my encounters with the flowerpot, and both people said: "no worries mate." However, on the day we were to leave, there was a knock on the door, and the cleaning woman said that we had some business to take care of before we left. The business, was to pay for the flowerpot; half of its retail value: $45.00, which I did.

So, the moral of the story for me was, not only do Australians drive on the wrong side of the street, but they build their cars to do so. One has to accommodate to both the rules of the road as well as the cars made for those rules. Lesson learned.

Southern Cross: Whitsundays

2008-03-08T20:45:00.001-08:00

Sailing a reach before a followin' sea, she was makin' for the trades on the outside and a down hill run to Papeete Bay. Off the wind on this heading, lie the Marquesas. We got eighty feet of waterline, nicely making way.

Leah, Kathy and I set sail, figuratively, for the Whitsundays, in spite of warnings of bad weather, last minute changes, and trepidation about becoming seasick.

The week before we were to sail and snorkel on the Great Barrier Reef, the mariner's adage "beware the lee shore" proved as true today as in the days of olde. Gale force winds 60 knots instead of the 25 knots forecasted blew and the seas whipped high, wrenching boats from their moorings and onto the rocks of the lee shore. The day we were to fly to Proserpidine, the single asphalt paved runway airport in this 73 island National Park, the company for the "Old Pearl" called to say that others in the group to sail with us canceled and it was no longer economically worth their while to go out for our 3 days and 3 nights. Quick calls by Leah to Trevor, her booking agent, and we got 3 days and 2 nights on "Waltzing Matilda", announced as we were boarding our plane to the Whitsundays. The sudden change in plans was not unexpected since Leah was told that many areas of Queensland were disaster areas. Roads were awash with swollen rivers.

Captain Cook named the various capes, coves, islands and rivers according to the days of the week and a selected crew member: Whit and Sunday. The Whitsundays National Park is located between the Tropic of Capricorn and the Equator; similar in the Southern latitudes as the Caribbean Islands are in the Northern latitudes.

This region of Queensland's economy is tourist, sugar cane and Brahma bulls dominating the agribusiness. A narrow gauge railroad courses through the country side: the "cane train." The major "National Road 1" north from Brisbane is of a two lane, no shoulder, country variety. As we were riding from the airport to our nearly deserted sea side hotel in Airlie Beach, we crossed many bridges with upright graduated meter sticks on either side, giving drivers an idea how deep was the water before making a decision to cross the water flowing over the bridge. We saw snorkel equipped SUV's and trucks throughout our Queensland travels. Disaster for some, a common occurrence to all, flooding with sudden and heavy rain fall was to be coped with, endured, eventually, overcome. This of course is not without peril. The week before, a Range Rover was swept off the bridge and the driver drowned. The day before we arrived, the roads and bridges we were traveling had been flooded.

We brought five days of sunshine with us; one day of 20 knot winds to drive our 40 ton sailing craft at seven knots/hour; cloudy particle laden waters from the land run off made reef and coral viewing poor; the dazzling white pure quartz beach of Whitehaven Beach was littered with forest, and cane field debris.

We boarded Waltzing Matilda, hoisting main sail and mizzen, unfurling the jib, and headed for the gap between Hook Island and Whitsunday Island. Our ship's company was energetic and fun, hailing from the UK, Netherlands, France, North and South Ireland, USA. Two sets of honeymooners were aboard. The cook, deck hand, entertainment cruise director was named Paul. Wayne the skipper had been at this trade for several decades. When in the water, whether from the beach or boat, we all wore Lycra "stinger suits". Jellyfish, the kind most dangerous, in coastal waters year around, the ones causing heart attacks, terrible food poisoning symptoms, are only 2 inches in diameter, are a clear blueish hue, and you could only spot them when they were less than 4 inches away from your face mask. We traveled to many locations where fringe coral grew in the sunlight; coral that had attached itself to the sunny side of the rocks and formed their colonies. The variety of coral in the fringe reefs was the same variety as on the Great Barrier Reef.

As one of the goals for this excursion to "down under" was viewing the Southern Cross constellation. Trying to identify it in a sky scape with which I am unfamiliar, took some time. The Southern Cross is completely visible in the Southern Hemisphere after 34 degrees South, low in the Southern sky and to the East. The stars that make up the constellation, three are bright blue white, one brilliant being a double star, the top of the cross is a red giant star, and there are several faint stars. So, when you are viewing the Southern Cross for the first time, what you many be seeing, you may not recognize. The ship's lights and city lights tend to obscure the faint stars and, if the cross is cockeyed in the sky, it is really hard to imagine a cross from what you are seeing. On our first night aboard Waltzing Matilda, anchored at full tide and therefore no rocking or rolling of the boat before the flood tide switched to ebb tide, a still night, a full moon rising, I asked our skipper to point out the Southern Cross. I saw it, kind of. With my binoculars, I saw the giant red star, and then the faint ones. Finally, I could concentrate on which stars to see, and then, I could see the Southern Cross for the first time. Two goals met: Leah on deck and the Southern Cross.

The ship's company spent most of the daylight hours topsides since below deck, there was little ventilation, and the heat of day and cook stove permeated below decks. At night, sleeping on deck was next to impossible since the night "dew" soaked the decks, anything and anyone not under the Bimini top. Sleeping on the cabin top subjected you to the starboard to port roll from the tides change from flood to ebb, threatening to pitch one off the boat, or at least crashing you down onto the side decks and against the steel stanchions holding the lifelines. So, below decks we sweltered, fitfully, and nearly naked, we slept, 16 of us.

The water temperature was warm and refreshing. Relief from baking in the sun was instant. The water color was a greenish blue, sharp demarcations between the tidal currents and ocean. More flying fish and dolphins. The vistas were spectacular: extinct volcanoes with steep walls and scraggly shrub coverings jutted from the sea. These volcanoes reflected an earlier earth's time when the seas were lower during an ice age. Global warming, begun 5,000 years ago, melted glaciers that flooded the plains that once connected islands, they appearing as if irregularly plucked down upon the seascape. We are on the Western side of the Rim of Fire, New Zealand represents the Eastern side. Tectonic plate movement below the earth's crust, dictates what we see on the surface.

The Whitsunday tourist destinations are the beaches of the mainland and islands, a launch point for snorkeling and scuba diving the Great Barrier Reef plus the sailing in relatively protected waters. (Hence, quite a shock when the Beaufort scale 11 storm came through causing so much destruction to boaters). The most Northern portion of the Whitsundays is Queens Beach in Bowden Queensland. Leah had left for Sydney the previous day. Kathy and I rented a car to drive to the Northern tip of the Whitsundays. The picture is of Kathy standing on the most Northern portion of Queens Beach near the outlet of a tidal river. A look South, there is 5 kilometers of deserted beach, a small portion of which is developed close to the town. The road along the beach has park on the sea side and individual houses on the other. Jutting out into the sea, are large rock outcropping makes little bays, picturesque, photogenic, all with the now common vinegar bottle hung in a prominent beach side location to be used as emergency jellyfish stinger first aide. We drove into Bowden and onto Flagstaff point, another elevated rock outcropping, with its 360 degree view of the harbors, shores, wharfs and sea islands. The lookout had a restaurant where our Seafood lunch for $29 for one person was tasty although Kathy could have done without the Prawns coming with head and tail, eyes looking at her. The presentation was otherwise excellent as were most meals in Australia, accompanied by a mixed greens salad and simple dressing.

From Bowden we retraced our route along National Highway 1, turning again for the coast towards Dingo Beach, an even narrower windier road, major portions of which were gravel, no bridges but "water ways", meaning concrete dips in the road where the creek water flowed over the road instead of under it, and this time two meter graduated markers. I wondered what kind of vehicle would try crossing a raging torrent 6 feet deep. I hadn't seen any such vehicle so far. We were told by the Budget Car rental lady that there was nothing at Dingo Beach. She was not really correct. There is nothing worth while driving the 27 kilometers one way to Dingo Beach for is more accurate. Once there though, we took in the sights: a long sandy deserted beach; a single outrigger sailing canoe; scattered dwellings all in various states of disrepair; a bar restaurant variety store "pokies" combination, but no fuel.

Our return to Airlie Beach and hotel was uneventful, fortunately, as I didn't relish trying to ford a creek after a flash flood. After a day's driving, beach walking, rock hiking, Kathy and I were ready for a convenient meal, something from across the street from our hotel. We sat outside at BV's Seafood and Grill, what appeared as a fast food style place. The special was red snapper, asparagus, chips and salad. What was delivered was a perfectly scrumptious meal, relaxed atmosphere, and a nice selection of Australian wines. What a great experience. We went to bed, awaken late the next morning and hung out at the "Lagoon", a multi-depth pool with adjoining "kiddies" section, a bridge, plus being life guarded. Very attractive in layout, warm water, and not crowded. A good place to while away the day. The following day, Wednesday, was spent in preparation for our departure from the Whitsundays to rejoin Leah in Sydney.

Southern Cross: Sydney AU Arrival

2008-03-07T20:29:00.000-08:00

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time you understand now why you came this way. And so I came to see Leah, here in Sydney Australia, half way around the world both longitudinally and by latitude. Our ship entered Sydney harbor in early morning darkness, the "sails" of the Opera House contrasting white; the Sydney Harbor Bridge illuminated by linear blue and white lights as we sailed underneath. Darkness melted away into light as we docked in Darlington Harbor. After our last aboard meal at the Lido deck buffet, Kathy and I waited in our cabin, expectantly awaiting our "Red # 2" to be called. Finally, after numbered 1 through 4 black, white, blue, yellow, red #1, then our turn. Baggage already ashore waiting. A short walk along Main deck #5, gangway to shore and voila, we are landed! Once on terra ferma, we call Leah. She is a short train ride away, coming our way. Time passes as Circular Quay and Quay #8 are once believed to be one, but were not. More phone calls back and forth. At last, "Hi Kathy, Hi Dad!" Hugs and prolonged embrace. For a taxi, we get in a line snaking half-way around the building. Luggage loaded we taxied down one-way tree lined alleys wide enough for horse and carriage amongst one and two story houses abutting one another.

153 Union Street is iron gated and rises 5 uneven steps to a concrete porch, windows and doors iron barred. Double doors open to a "shotgun" house: a side hall leads to: bedroom, bedroom, kitchen, living room, bath and laundry room, opening out to a backyard and a no longer functioning brick outhouse. In the backyard, I could see the tin and tile roofs of surrounding houses plus the many character chimney tops reminiscent of those I saw on our train ride out of London England.

Roxie greeted us, a mixed golden retriever with a embracing personality, friendly, pettable right from the start; all good omens. More phone calls, this time to Andrew: we will meet him in the "Rocks". And so our adventure with Leah in Australia begins.

This is Saturday, there is a street fair in the Rocks, the oldest part of Sydney. In the beginning, 7 ships from England landed with its cargo of prisoners who had endured 8 months below decks. Today, trinkets and goodies, some hand made, others from China overflow stall counters. The cover is to protect us from the sun and its high UV index. Tomorrow, Sunday, the stalls and cover will be gone. I follow Leah's and Kathy's trail as they browse, they chatting with one another about how this would look; wouldn't that look good on....; I really need to have this, "how much for this?" Having coursed the outside stalls, we plunge into the jostle of the center concourse on our return. We are to meet Andrew at the entrance of the fair, essentially, from which we began. As I dawdle behind, I listen to people speak, their accents, a mixture of native speakers, tourists from cruise boats, and truly foreign language speakers, all murmuring and gesturing with similar intent and involvement as my two companions.
Andrew spots Leah, and finally we meet him. "It is very nice to meet you, Leah has told us about you." A blond haired blue-eyed man, a firm handshake, bit of an Aussie accent, direct conversation, and a fast paced walk.

We stand for picture taking in front of the memorial to the early colonists who were to build a city and eventually a nation in this parched land, to include convict labor. Nobody had it easy, nor was any of this "free."

Our next agenda would be lunch and beer; a walk along Circular Quay, hub of ferries traveling throughout Sydney Harbor, the "Majestic" cruise boat that we had chased around Milford Sound NZ and lost sight of in the fog and diverging courses. To the West, is the Sydney Opera House complex where we will see Shakespeare's "As You Like It" upon our return from the Hunter Valley later on in our stay. Past the Opera House are the Botanical Gardens and our destination at the Domain, an open air short film festival. Our walk through the Botanical Gardens is a prelude to Kathy and my tour of the Hunter Valley Gardens. We laid out our ground cloth in a shady part of the grass. There were already thousands of people spread out on the grass and more coming; maybe 50 or 60 thousand eventually. Thirteen 7 minute short films began at dusk and took us into the chill of the evening, intermittently punctuated by the winged Foxbats migrating to their evening roost. It seems that they are pests now, having grown in large numbers and, by their weight, breaking tree branches in the Park.

The postscript to the films was our walk, through London based named parks, Hyde Park, and surrounding Churches, to the trains for our ride back to Newtown. A CD of the films was enclosed with the Sunday morning Sydney Times. Andrew got a paper and its CD for us, which we can share. So ended our first day in Sydney; many memories created, snapshots of which enter my thoughts now as well as the emotions of arrival. I am here at last.

Southern Cross

2008-03-05T11:16:00.000-08:00

Got out of town on a boat goin' to the southern islands. So begins my quest for a view of the constellation Southern Cross after hearing the song by Crosby, Stills and Nash.

Barely escaping a trip altering snow storm in East Lansing, our three days in San Francisco were uneventful until the day we left for LAX and our flight to Auckland to board the MS Statendam. Rain storms, high winds delayed our SFO takeoff by 4 hours so that as we were landing at LAX, our Quantas flight was heading down an opposite runway sans 30 scheduled passengers including Kathy and myself. A very unhelpful ground staff introduced us to the notion that "service is not our priority" encountered throughout the rest of the 4 week trip. However, Dutch ship service is exemplary good. After a scramble through two international airports (Los Angeles and Melbourne AU), last minute boarding from "standby" status, we made our ship's berth in Auckland NZ having to coax our cabbie to drive to the correct wharf in spite of his protests that the object I was looking at was indeed the MS Statendam and not the Hilton Hotel that somewhat resembled a boat. Cabbie did not want to enter a gated wharf area because it would cost him money to leave after dropping us off, although he was certain that we were in the wrong place and he didn't know where cruise ships landed except the harbour excursion ships that he initially drove us to and that was all he knew about. Boarding at 8:30 PM without luggage, for a gangway removal at 11:29 and undocking at 11:59PM, we made our way to our upgraded cabin (from the most forward bow cabin on deck 4, to 2/3's way aft on deck 5). Arrangements with the Purser's office had our clothes cleaned every night, a tux for me and evening attire for Kathy all free of charge. We left NZ's largest city (1 million) to see the country's remaining population of 3 million spread out over North and South Islands.

Our journey along the North Island's East coast began with calm weather through the night and into most of the next day. We saw White Island, the most active volcano in the Southern Hemisphere. As we approached the island, flying fish made long excursions on both sides of the bow. Dolphins in two pods streaked across our ship's bow moments later. The volcano cauldron spewed puffs of sulfuric acid smoke. We stopped for photo op, turned around, heading for Turanga, our first port of call. The subsequent weather came from the North East at gale force, force 10 on the Beaufort scale, 50 knot winds generating 30 foot seas. The next morning I went on deck 6 to do my walk, the waves were bashing the lifeboats stationed on deck 7 above me. At moments, deck 6 was awash. There must be a camera trained on deck 6 since immediately as I stepped onto the deck in the semi protective area of the stern, there was an announcement on the ship's public address system that no one should be on any outside deck. What was being said seemed reasonable so I wrestled the door open and scrambled back inside. The day and night were spent holding onto handrails as we lurched fore and aft, rolled starboard and port as well as braced ourselves from the heeling boat, and made our way around the ship. I saw no women in high heel shoes going to dinner, apparently finding the captain's recommendation against high heel wearing, also reasonable.

Turunga was our introduction into the Maori hunting and gathering culture that came first to the North Island of NZ 300 to 400 years ago: meeting elders in the Maori Meeting House, and dining with Maori families for lunch. We learned of their island hopping trips across oceans; sailing canoes lashed together to make the ocean journeys; hollowing out giant trees to make multi-person war canoes; hierarchical social structure and tribal elder rule making. At a Maori school, Maori culture was brought to us in song and dance; telling tales of clashes with other tribes, conquest, subjugation, and subsequent expulsion from hunting grounds. Emphasis was placed upon the rituals when tribes encounter other tribes. Warriors would confront the approaching foreigner with fierce facial expressions, tongues extended maximally, along with menacing gestures. Who would yield?and, if not, they would fight. Hunting territory was sought and defended in the same manner as the Pacific Islanders (from which the Maori and Hawaiians are descendants) acquired and defended resource islands. People's names are a reflection of where they are from: Mountain, River, Sea-canoe on which their ancestors traveled, Chief of the sea-canoe, revered ancestor, tribe, sub-tribe, and a given name, in that order. There were no "family" names per se. Tarunga was where we received our luggage.

At our next port of call we saw vineyards with wine making (Sauvignon blanc) a recent addition to NZ agriculture. The oldest vines were 20 years old. Wine making was introduced as the timber industry has matured and sheep herding/sheering/wool agribusiness has been in decline for decades.

We continued our Maori cultural experience in Wellington at the National Museum on the date a "rights" treaty was signed by Maori tribal leaders and representatives of the Crown. Artifacts of the early era, representation of sailing canoes, war canoes, meeting houses, weapons. Artifacts of the first European settlers, their books, a piano (see the movie with Jody Foster "Piano"), stories of the first women's High School.

Captain Cook explored both the North Island and South Island in 1769 and 1770 claiming them for the Crown of England. By the 1820's Scottish immigrants arrived in numbers at both islands imprinting the land and culture: mostly sheep farmers with a hard work ethic, sober, thrifty, a belief in universal education as well as a strong political belief in the separation of church and state. The Church of England nor the English Crown were well regarded by the Scottish immigrants.

From Wellington we crossed the Straits of Cook, that tempestuous channel between the North and South Islands. Down Marlborough Sound we docked at Picton for our next wine tour. Hours later, as the sun began its Western fall, we head north again to head east and then south. Along the route is Ship's Cove, site of a 4 month stay by Capt'n Cook to beach his boat and scrap its bottom, to meet with indigenous people and talk with them through his Pacific Island interpreter (who was attacked by the Maori as he was not from their tribe), and for the Naturalist aboard Endeavor, to document the flora and fauna. Fortuitously, there was documentation of such, since by the time the European settlers had arrived early in the 19th Century, 57 species of birds initially documented, some flightless and preyed upon by a large eagle, had disappeared, hunted to extinction by the indigenous Maori people. On our next port of call, Napier, our Maori guide lead us to the canyons, caves and rock outcroppings where Maori petroglyphs (rock drawings made from bird fat and charcoal drawn on broad rocks) exist along with large collections of bones of the lost birds. The Maori guide said that scientists have not been able to interpret the drawings. The drawings appear at some sites where very large birds were driven into blind forested canyons and then the trees were set ablaze. The resulting cooked meat was then eaten as suggested by bones scraped by stone tools.

The quintessential remaining late 19th century Scottish town of Dunedin on the South Island reflected an age of gold mining, importing and exporting, and the legacy schools and colleges are still in existence, drawing students from both islands.

Further South, rounding the National Park of the South Island, we headed into the Tasman Sea and the Fjords of Milford Sound. Milford Sound was the base of the whaling and sealing industry, a 19th century instance of hunting sea mammals almost to extinction. Today, Milford Sound is a series fog shrouded watery canyons, cascading waterfalls, and peaks reaching vertically for thousands of feet. Our piloted vessel toured three major Fjords before emerging back into the swells of the Tasman Sea, and soon to become the "Roaring 40's" (45 degree latitude South). We trailed the larger Celebrity cruise ship "Majestic" but soon lost her stern as she heads for Sydney and we towards Burnie in Tasmania. The fog clears with the building winds and mounting seas reaching Beaufort scale 11, 65 knot winds and 20 foot seas. For two days and nights we drive at reduced speed, pausing for several hours while the Starboard engine was taken off line and "tested". Resuming the Starboard engine was coincidental with the calming of the winds and seas such that by the 3rd day at sea and our entrance to Burnie AU, was uneventful.

At Burnie, our shore excursion guide told us this town was a good place to retire, as he must have already done. After traveling by bus the North coast of Tasmania, we headed inland for a tour of the limestone caves with their iron stained stalagmites and stalactites in pedestal, pencil, and ribbon shapes. Turning off the lights, we were treated to the "glow worms", insect larvae that fluoresce in the dark. As part of our shore experience, we visited a "wild life reserve" extemporaneously coming into existence as the sheep industry faltered and various animals, no longer able to fend for themselves in the wild, found a new home and lifestyle.

From Burnie overnight we shipped to Melbourne, Kathy and my second visit on this vacation, this second visit intentional, the first visit as a waypoint on our trip to Auckland, at the beginning of our vacation. Melbourne has its own wild life preserves as well as koala (not bear) in the wild. Picture taking took up the majority of time before reboarding and our night run to Sydney and our Leah greeting.

phone calls

2008-01-14T18:13:00.000-08:00

I've had a lot of phone calls today from my good friends, at least that is what they say I am, John McCain, Mitt Romney, Mike Huckabee, Ron Paul. They all wanted to let me know what good guys they are and how they wanted to protect my Constitutional freedoms like keeping a hand gun (NRA). They wanted me to know that they believe in family values and the right to life. Many had endorsements from the Right -to-Life organizations. They wanted me to know that they were concerned about how the government is keeping too much of my hard earned tax dollars and they are against raising taxes and wanted to make President Bush's tax cuts permanent . They all seemed genuinely concerned about the economy and in particular, here in Michigan, what with all of our Michigan manufacturing jobs going off shore. Some were going to bring those overseas jobs back here to Michigan.

Another thing I didn't know was what scoundrals some of these guys were. Why I didn't know that Romney had flip-flopped on the abortion issue, or was fiscally irresponsible while he was governor of Massachussetts. I didn't know that McCain voted for NAFTA or some such thing as that. I didn't know a lot of things that these guys had done or not done. But they told me anyway, even when I was still saying "hello? hello?"

Yes, I got a lot of phone calls today, informing me how to vote tomorrow. I want to thank each and every one of them for taking the time to come into my home via telephone, and showing me how much they cared for me, as an individual, at least that is what they said to me.

Well, I guess I will go out and vote tomorrow, for all of them, since they seem like such fine people and have my welfare in mind. Only, I'm a little confused...

Perspective on the Election in November: from January

2008-01-11T13:50:00.000-08:00

Manipulation of elections is neither new nor without peril. To get the GOP to dissipate their considerable resources on multiple candidates in the primaries Democrats have been encouraged to cross over and vote for Romney in the Michigan Republican Primary. Not voting for Hillary, as she is one of the few still on the ballot, Obama and Edwards dropped off the ballot, may diminish her momentum going into South Carolina, Nevada and then on Feb 5th, Florida, Texas, California and New York. Nevertheless, crossing over is a strategy worth considering.

The issues that are relevant to American voters in November 2008 may not be the issues relevant in November 2007: getting out of Iraq was the number one issue; maybe immigration was a distant second. January 2008, especially since the New Hampshire primaries, changed those priorities to the economy as numo uno. What I have observed over the last 30 years, that the economy trumps all other issues, sweeping incumbants out.

A historical look at well meaning and well spoken candidates, populism and oratorial splendor do not make for effective presidents. One only has to look at populist Jimmy Carter saddled with StagFlation being trounced by Ronald Reagan after one term in office. Jack Kennedy, Harvard educated, elected during a recession, eloquently lead us into Vietnam. Experience matters in getting things done on a Federal level.

Exit poles from New Hampshirites showed that the economy is the major issue. Exiting Iraq, immigration, health care reform, the war on Terrorism, foreign policy directions, tax breaks for the rich (the estate tax, capital gains tax, taxes on stock dividends), are secondary battlegrounds and may or may not play a role after the November 2008 presidential elections except as these issues are used as a club to batter individual candidates during the run-up to November.

Republicans want to see Obama as the Democratic nomanie as he is very weak on the economy and foreign affairs and is beatable if matched up with McCain or Guliani.

Its the economy. Ronald Reagan's landslide victory over Jimmy Carter (carrying Jim Dunn to one term in Congress) was precisely because of the economy: StagFlation, stagnant economic growth with escalating inflation. The interest rate on our Gilcrest home mortgage was 9.2% was typical. Unemployment nationally was 7+%, in Michigan > 8%, and in Detroit 15%. Union members voted overwhelmingly for Reagan. 12 years later, Bill Clinton won over a sitting, victorious in war president (never happened before) because of "R"ecession; hence: "Its the economy, stupid" slogan of that time.

The "R" word is now circulating in financial circles. Consumer Confidence, as measured by the U of Mich Index has plumeted. Unemployment nationally has crept above 5%. Republican leadership know that a Hillary victory would lead to a "Tax and Spend" Congress, just as Bill did; that the Evangelical Christians would stay away from the voting poles if there were ProChoice candidates, exacerbating the Congressional clout of the Democrats.

One of the reasons the Federal Reserve is talking about a steep interest rate cut is to forstall a recession. Avoiding a recession is paramount to getting a Republican elected. Nevermind that lower interest rates will ignite inflation (as most of the Regional Govenors have said.) Brinkmanship economics.

I believe that the Iraq War will not be on the voting American's mind by November. General Petreaus will have reduced the US Military presence in Iraq by June 2008; declared a victory which should last at least until November; and McCain will come out smelling like a rose having supported the "surge." "I make the right decisions even when they were unpopular at the time." "I have experience in world affairs........." Obama has no arguement to counter that position. He has not demonstrated, that is, done anything in foreign affairs except talk. Until very recently, he has not talked about nor has he enacted legislation regarding the economy. As I said, Obama is vulnerable on the economy and foreign affairs.

The Federal Reserve is about to ignite inflation, risking the economy to get a Republican president elected. No president, Democrat or Republican, will be spared the economic ravages after November. The only hope is that with a change in leadership, a recession occuring in the early part of a president's term of office, there will be a flurry of legislation (read the first 100 days ala FDR in 1933), and wait for the economy to rebound prior to the next presidential election. If the economy does not become robust, and if Obama has been busy writing legislation, supporting Hillary but staking out his own territory, he might challenge her in the primaries 4 year hence. He will have to do something visible, not necessarily dramatic, just addressing current issues and appear to have a competent understanding of the economy and foreign affairs. The basketball anology is: practice and make your foul shots, be an assist leader, no turnovers, while remain a team player. Later, he will get more playing time.

If I were Hillary, I would have Obama as my Vice President, essentially shelving him for 8 years instead of having to compete with him during the next primaries.