Adventure 525: Standish Cabin/Poustinia Retreat

Little Red Poustinia

In their song, Trucking, the Grateful Dead say, "Sometimes the light's all shining on me; sometimes I can barely see." Well, from the Standish cabin the view is all I can see, and Oh, how the light shines. We've been lucky enough to begin this year's adventure here. Where is here, you say? An hour or so straight East from Big Timber, Montana. Yellowstone National Park beckons from the South. The Standish cabin fronts a large section of the Bolder River. The constant rush of the water over the boulders competes with the gentle currents of mountain breeze that blows just enough to deter the bugs. Paradise, of you will. Judy and I are housed in the Poustinia, a one room sleeping cabin complete with a full bath, a coffee maker, a frig, and a small deck just above the river. Formally a tool shed, the Poustinia is truly a place for contemplation. During our stay, we've been experiencing Montana mountain life as led by John Standish. We've experienced pounding a metal leaf at the blacksmith station. We've experienced driving a four wheel RTV over quite rugged rocks. Most of all, we've experienced these two lovely people, John and Diane Standish,  who have spent each hour of each day loving on us. We feel the warmth of their safe acceptance enveloping us. I'm not sure life can get much better. We're here as the guest of our good friend, Liz Ulmen, who just happens to be the younger sister of John. We feel honored. I was doing my Tai Chi form this morning, gazing mindlessly down the sunlight valley when, invaded by my "monkey mind", it occurred to me that everywhere John, Liz, and Diane look there must be memories. John and Liz spent their youth here. As young married couples, they raised their families here. And now, in the grateful light of retirement, they're all looking forward to passing the aura of this place to their grand children. Judy and I have spent our lives trying to focus on things truly important. I can think of nothing more important that passing the love of place and the sense of belonging to our future. Needless to say, life is good here at the Standish Cabin, especially the last few "todays".

The Standish cabin.

Down valley view.

Up river view.

John in his happy place.

Monkey see, monkey sort of do.

Miss monkey.

Miss monkey showing off her finished product.

My leaf.

Happy 73rd for Judy.

Latest wire sculpture 1.

Latest wire sculpture 2.

Four wheeling.

Big rock creek area.

Liz Knieval.

Bray's lake, our lunch spot.

Our adventure leaders, John and Diane.

They even let septuagenarians drive these things. 

John and I collaborated: his iron cross; my wire Jesus.

Adventure 524: From Priest to the St. Joe

Rosaila Bay; Eight Mile Island

We've been blessed in recent summers to be able to enjoy Priest Lake at my cousin's cabin in Rosalia Bay. This year, one of the best, had us together at some point of the week with nearly every member of our family showing up for a little while. The weather smiled, the huckleberries thrived, and the water beckoned. There was a wildly successful salvaging operation that recovered both the deck umbrella and its metal base, both of which had tumbled unnoticed (last season) into the lake. Several of our lakers spent time on the stand up paddle boards. We made the tye-dye t-shirts. We ate several meals of "thin gruel". Everyone took a turn preparing and serving; it was all good. We gathered over three gallons of huckleberries, which are very prolific this season. We had so many that Liz Ulmen made a large huckleberry pie instead of the usual cobbler (Which we had, too). In all the week was refreshing, and we're ever grateful to Douglas for his sharing. On Sunday, the kids went back home and Judy took Sawyer to the airport. From the lake, the old folks followed with yet another adventure down along the shadowy St. Joe. Liz and I pull our RVs the five hours from Priest to the Joe, where we found a perfect spot for our five member crew (Ed, Deb Drouin, Liz Ulmen, Me and my Bunny) in the forest service campground called Turner Flats. The St Joe is an awe inspiring river rushing from the peak of Gold Creek down to St, Maries, Idaho, is an area few places on earth can match in majesty. Ancient pines trees fill the steep hillsides in a thick blanket. Eager fisherman catch and release trout in the world class river, and the rest of us camp, enjoying fresh air, fresh smell, plentiful bird calls, buzzing insects, the sound of the rushing river, and a breeze that falls out of the mountains in the morning and rushes uphill in the evening. It's truly a magical place. Over the years we've stayed in sites all along the Joe. This year we spent four nights. We rode bikes, played dominoes, ate more "thing gruel' than we needed read, napped, poked the fire, and even did a little hike. We also ranted a little bit of our displeasure at the state of or country, which echoed a little hollow, much like a feeble excuse a young school boy might fabricate. We are indeed privileged, and regardless of whether we earned our lot through industry, grace or fate, we cannot deny our good fortune. So we choose to enjoy and support each other and the people we love. There are less noble pursuits. The bottom line is: Life is good, especially today, and we're most assuredly grateful to spend some time in the woods of North Idaho.

 Liz and Sawyer loved the twenty feet  to recover the umbrella. The "Liz Mobile".

 Cleaning the umbrella; taking a turn in the kitchen.

Jumping, paddling,  and sitting: the lake good life.

 Tye Dye fun.

 Yo, Momma and Papa.

 Huckleberry pie: Yum!

 Thin gruel: Low Country Boil.

 Then the St. Joe with friends that are also family.

Thin gruel: Ribeye shish-k-bobs.

Electric biker babes.

 Reading.

 jibber-jabber.

 Deep thought.

 Cool tent sight.

 Brownies, cherries, and red wine, Oh, so fine.

 The crew.

 One of the views.

Adventure 523: Another Blessed Priest Lake Visit

All paths lead to the lake.

As a preparation for our family visit in July, we took Frac up to Noraville. It served a couple other functions as well. First, it's a little respite for our friend, Liz, after the memorial for her late husband, which was held as a garden party on his birthday. About two hundred people showed up to celebrate; the event was wildly successful. Secondly, it's giving Liz not only a chance to enjoy the lake, but it's also been a chance for her to get to "know" her new camper van, the "Liz Mobile". We've enjoyed three days up here, and if not for other commitments, we'd stay longer. In the middle, Judy and I made a quick trip to Spokane to enjoy a Father's Day barbecue with George at the Vet's home. It was typically American fare: burgers, dogs, potato salad, chips, baked beans, lemonade, and cookies. Yum. We suffered through some thin gruel here at the lake as well, and thanks to the generosity of my cousin Douglas, we can utter these few words, "Life is good, especially today".

 Frac living large in North Idaho.

 The view from the bedroom window.

 The Liz Mobile.

 Good parking spot.

 George enjoying the Father's Day BBQ.

 Liz and Judy relaxing.

 Judy tearing the ginger flower petals.

A little of Dave's ashes and the torn petals from the lei.

 Enjoy the lake once again, Davey Boy.

 We wish you were here.

Adventure 522: The Tale of the Tape

Good morning, good bye, Challis

We traveled just under 2900 miles to rescue Frac from a life of degradation in the city of sin. While the weather was marginal, we enjoyed a fine trip. Amazingly, not two days in to the rescue, I was sleeping like a baby. Memorable events aside from good rest was the splendor of the Valley of Fire and the splash through the heavy rain in the Salt Lake Corridor. We traveled in heavy traffic through construction and dark skies from the turnoff to Park City all the way past Ogden. In my rookie years, I'd have been more nervous than a cat on hot tin roof, but now I'm dangerously overconfident in my abilities. What I've learned about pulling a travel trailer: No sudden moves; stay in my lane; anticipate; keep a steady watch on the mirrors; relax into the trust of traveling mercies. After all, it's merely an illusion that I'm in control of anything. Drats! I hate that part. We made the round trip in just under two weeks. We're refreshed, but both Judy and I are unpleasantly surprised at how stressed we feel now that we're home. Judy is behind in the garden. I've returned to fitful sleep. So it goes. Judy will dig until satisfied, and I will continue to work on Davey Boy. Life is good for us, especially today.

But it begs the question: What do we owe, and to whom? We were listening to a pod cast on the road. The theme was injustice and the program was narrated by an incredibly articulate set of African Americans. I remember most the discussion concerning tacit racism that people of my ilk persist in promoting despite our claim that we're not racist, not prejudice, and that our liberal sensibilities are offended at the suggestion. Yet, we have no friend of color. We live in sanitized areas. We live untested lives. I know I do. I live in an area where most everyone looks like me. And I have to tell you, through no fault or credit of mine, I'm one of those retired white males currently sitting in the catbird seat. The question that struck me the most was this: What are the white liberals willing to sacrifice to increase equality in this country? My short answer, not much. Some charity donations, a little community service, but nothing really that would affect my own comfortable standing. I should feel guilty, but I don't. I feel I've done much to earn my position, although I'll certainly defer to good fortune, grace, luck, or the quiji board. I take care of my own, and I enjoy life. But there is no question that people in my position are part of the problem, part of the culture, part of the conundrum. It deserves thought. If any of you who look a little like me have any suggestions, I'm all ears.

In the meantime, I'll accept the grace that comes.

 I've dedicated a personal improvement project to my late friend, Davey Boy.

 Wildly successful! Fresh water flowing.

 And now a working galley. Leaky windows next!!