Adventure 497: Judy's Heartland Birthday Jaunt

Send off Breakfast

Ever grateful despite the deceitful, despotic despair we endure in America, we left for the friendly, anonymous fresh air of Canada. We were led by our heart: The Netflix series Heartland to be exact. The show is such a tonic, not the least for its family feel, but mostly for its successful management of happy endings, regardless of the dramatic pickle. It's so unimaginably, positively miraculous that it's perfect balm for the wounds inflicted upon us by our own "too unreal world". Armed with hopeful expectation, we fed ourselves with a hearty favorite: Mario Batali's prima vera recipe and we we off to the great North. The drive, an eight hour jaunt was fresh, new, and beautiful. We got to the farm late afternoon, and found our little "blacksmith" cottage to be exquisite. There was light from an abundance of windows, a case full of books, no T.V, no WiFi, and we spent the next two days deliciously unhooked from the media. We explored the small towns in the area, especially the set "Maggies", a restaurant and tack shop in downtown High River, which is not in service except as  backdrop for the series. We tried to get to the ranch, but were turned back because they were filming. The sign red: No Public Access. Undaunted, we packed up early the third day for an idyllic drive across Highway 40, which bisects the Canadian Rockies. No photo, memory, or description can match the majesty. Everyone should go. We stopped at Peter Lougheed Provincial Park for a six mile hike around upper Lake Kananiskis. Later that day we made it to Radium Hot springs to another Airbnb we called Rosa's. It was a drab, unkept condo that disappointed us, especially after our idyllic stay at the farm. Nonetheless, we enjoyed a great dinner and a long soak in the very nice hot pool at Radium Hot Springs. We had planned on spending two nights in Radium, but we awoke to dismal fog, cool temperature, and no great desire to stay. So we came home a day early. In all, our time in Canada was splendid, restful, and a nice birthday getaway for my Bunny (And her chauffeur: me). Naturally, we came away thinking that life is good, especially the last couple of days.

 The former blacksmith shop on the MacKillop family farm outside High River, Alberta

 Extremely bright, comfortable, and airy.

 A view of the blacksmith building from the creek.

Lloyd MacKillop, the ranch owner who grew up on this farm, rescued this one room school house, and had it moved to this spot on his ranch. It would have been bulldozed otherwise.

 The interior of the school house had two full length blackboards, a full bank of light giving windows, a potbelly stove, a wood burning cook stove, gas lanterns, and a cloak room. It was built in 1890.

 Judy playing one of the pianos sprinkled around the downtown core of Okotoks, Alberta.

 Maggies serves as a set for the T.V. series "Heartland".

 We enjoyed a "Jennie Low" shrimp dinner our last night on the farm.

 We were sad to go.

This guy and his buddies bid us farewell.

 Selfie of the day: Still fresh after our 6.1 mile hike around upper lake Kananiskis.

 Astonishing!

We took our lunch in the club house of the Kananiskis golf course.

The best part of our stay was a dip in the hot springs. Nice pool.

Adventure 496: Camping With Our Granddaughters: Heyburn Revisited

Another Adventure!

In what's become a tradition, our grand daughters, Emily and Sarah, are spending some time with us before school starts. To start our week together we took the trailer down to our favorite  local campsite, Hawley's Landing in Heyburn State Park. It was a bitter sweet time due to the weather, which found the local air quality to be the worst in America. For the last five summers at least, our August air has been filled with lung choking smoke caused by wild fires. Some of the smoke has traveled on the air stream from as far away as central California, but most comes from fires much closer. Nearly one hundred thousand acres of forest and grass are on fire in our area. There are at least six hot spots currently unconfined. Most have started due to lightning strikes, but unfortunately others have been caused by careless humans. Nonetheless, the air was so smoky, we were forced inside. No worries. We played games, watched movies, and otherwise enjoyed ourselves. Monday afternoon, a strong wind blew in from the Northeast. By the next morning, a dangerous particulate level of 460 was down to a more breathable 98. This allowed us to ride our bikes. Inspired by the lure of ice cream, the girls managed a personal record for them of 21 miles, and what's more impressive, they managed to average a little over ten miles per hour. It was fun! Our only regret is that fire danger prevented us from having Smores. Oh, well. While we have them this week, we'll take them school shopping, visit the local museums, play some cribbage, and otherwise hang out. I can remember thinking having children was a good idea. It's even more evident when we get to spoil the grand kids. That alone makes life good, especially today.

 The girls helped set up the trailer by putting the "feet" down.

 Emily also learned how to hook the power and water up.

 An avid reader, Emily found a comfortable spot to settle in.

 Sarah even got to take a nap.

 This strong wind out of the Northeast moved most of the smoke out by morning.

 Art shot of the day: Waterhose pretzel. 

 Selfie of the day.

 The girls are learning to be "Wiley Cagers"

 The "girls" at the top of the Chatcolet bridge.

 10.5 miles one way just to get ice cream.

 Sarah, recovering from her ride.

George update: We went over to play dominoes last night. George was as sharp as he's been. He kept up with the game and even kept score. 

Adventure 495: Hawley's Landing Once Again

29 and counting.

We've been fortunate to have amassed over twenty thousand miles worth of adventures. We've seen much of America, some places more than once. Our all time favorite campsite is Dead Horse Point State Park just twenty-five miles North of Moab, Utah. It's a spectacular precipice so named because cowboys of old used the high point to capture wild horses who, if they declined capture, had only the choice of leaping to certain death into the muddy waters of the Colorado River some thousand feet below. We like it not only for its austere beauty as witnessed by the ever changing light on the craggy red rocks, but also because it reminds of the precious life we're blessed to live. It's a low water area where conservation is paramount to survival. None who inhabit the place take anything for granted. In contrast, our second favorite campground is Hawley's Landing in Heyburn State Park, which sits nestled along the shores of Lake Chatcolet, a shallow estuary at the end of Lake Coeur d'Alene. There, water is as abundant as towering pines, and the paths into the nearby mountains offer as much mystery as the arid desert rocks of Utah. We return to Hawley's Landing site often, mostly because it's just an hour from our home, but also because in that short span of time we can find ourselves mysteriously far from the maddening swirls of daily life. Even that is a misrepresentation because currently we find ourselves driven mad only to the degree that we pay attention to current events. Our lives, the lives of our family, the lives of our children, and the lives of our friends are largely lived in relative comfort. We are free, for the most part, to enjoy each day as it comes. That doesn't mean we live without challenge. This past weekend, Judy and I celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary with our very good friends, the Ulmens. We set up our trailers in neighboring sites, shared meals, love, exercise, laughter, and as much joy as we could since we're all riding the "elephant" of Dave's lung cancer. He's responding well to treatment, responding well to his mortality, and making the most of each day. We're doing what friends and loved ones do: we're standing there with him. Everyone faces challenge, and circumstance, as most of us know, can change in a blink. It's like Tim Robbin's character (Andy Dufresne) said in Shawshank Redemption, "I guess it comes to a simple choice really. Get busy living or get busy dying". My Bunny and I choose "living" because regardless of the vagaries of fate, life is good, especially today.

 One of three campgrounds in Heyburn State Park, we're most fond of Hawley's Landing. Every site is nestled among fragrant pines. We had a view of the lake from our bedroom window.

 Dave and Liz took the site next door. Further up the hill, their trees spilled out from the other side.

 We usually follow the speedy Umen's.

 Sometimes they wait for us.

 Art shot of the day: Whoever owns this little patch of ground by the lake has numerous sculptures adorning the space. This driftwood deer is the latest addition.

Magnificent!

 Here comes my Bunny!

 Dave and Liz supplied the Champagne.

 And they cooked the "Low Country Boil".

 I brought out the good bourbon for the post dinner cribbage game.

 I made Cherry Tomato Pasta for dinner the next night.

And together we prayed for peace and justice. In 1988, Wendell Berry wrote an essay on Racism and the Economy in which he said, "The great enemy of freedom is the alignment of political power with wealth." I also pray that we wake up to the fact as Bob Marley preached, "There will be no peace without justice."

Adventure 494: The Story of George

Birthday Boys

George turned 88 yesterday. We had a party of ten at his party (Also, son Tom's birthday). The group included his three remaining children, Vina, grandson Steve and his crew (Bonnie, Emily, Sarah). He seemed happy and healthy. If it weren't for his advancing dementia, he'd be a marvel at his age. The good part for us is that it gets me, Tom and Judy together, no mean feat considering Judy lives in Japan. The interesting thing in our discussions is the the relationship we have with our father. At best he was absent during our formative years, and I've often (Too bitterly, I suppose) referred to him as a mere sperm donor. Nonetheless, he is the "father" and there's something sacred about that position. And as my sister Judy says, "I'm here mostly for selfish reasons. I don't want to think that I didn't try hard enough to have a relationship with my father." We've discovered that he's given each of us a little something of himself, but none of us got a full commitment. For her part, Judy was a toddler when our father and mother split, so George, in truth, has had very little contact with her. But like me, she believes that we either have a relationship with our parents, or we want one. She wistfully recalls her wish to have her three boys develop a bond with their grandfather. Twenty-five years ago, when her own boys were rambunctious toddlers, she brought them to the United States for the first time. She had this idea that she would spend time with George and Margaret. It was the romantic notion that maybe George would act like a grandfather. It wasn't to be. Somewhere halfway through the week there was a falling out, which ended up with Judy, her husband and her boys leaving earlier. She didn't speak with George for a decade after that. Myself, I have a jumble of mixed feelings that revolve around tradition, duty, a little romance, and that same notion that I don't want to come to the end of the road feeling like I didn't try. It's both enlightening and taxing to share perspectives with my siblings. It bubbles up old wounds like the puss that festers from infection. Maybe the purge is good, but mostly it conjures emotions that shimmy the back of my spine in a sort of tension reminiscent of tightening the rubber band on a balsa wood airplane. The good news, like I said, is that it gives us siblings a chance to connect, which now that our mother is gone, seems harder to do. This is just to say that in that vein, life is good especially today.

 Having my siblings visit was another excuse to fire up the pizza oven.

 George, a man with a sweet tooth, digs into his birthday banana split.

Tim, George, Judy, Tom

Adventure 493: The Sleepy Saint Joe--Sheer Deprivation and Thin Gruel

Frac nestled in at the "Joe".

For the fourth time in our lives, we spent time with Ed and Deb Drouin camping on the St. Joe River, a piece of God's wonder nestled in the mountains between St. Regis, Montana and Avery, Idaho. Renowned as a fly fishing mecca, the rippling waters of the Joe flow in a  maze of twists, turns and wide slow flutters. Along the way, the water has carved "holes" that the cut throat trout like to hide in. On any given day, a spattering of hip-wading fishermen can be seen delicately whipping their thin lines so that the tiny fly on the tip lands lightly and then flows with the current to just above a waiting trout hole. All fishing is catch and release, so the fisherman treat the area and the fish with great respect. We're not fishermen. We go to hike, lounge around camp, take siestas, enjoy each other, eat well, and most importantly, watch the light as it changes the green of the tall trees on either side of the gorge. We were lucky enough this time to return to our favorite sight at Conrad Crossing, a designated camping area located at mile seventy-five (Counting from St. Maries). We prefer the camp ground because it has a well maintained bathroom, fresh water from a pump, and nearly complete privacy. The only caveat it that in order to occupy this particular site, a camper has to be willing to let rafters launch from the site. We don't mind at all, even if there were rafters, which is less likely this time of the year because the water is low. So, here's our day, repeated three times. Deb and Ed arrived at our house Sunday morning about 9. We loaded their stuff: a huge tent (Taj Mahal), two full foam mattresses, a furniture blanket, sleeping bags, pillows, lantern, two coolers, a travel suitcase, a large purple athletic bag, tow large reclining folding chairs, and a box of dry goods. We added that extra thousand pounds into Frac, and the four of us headed on the freeway to St. Regis, Montana. The trip takes about two and a half hours. We got gas, where Deb bought an extra package of Smores fixing, and we were off up Gold Pass, which on the Montana side is fifteen miles of washboard dirt road that winds itself up, over, around, and drops into the St. Joe drainage. We bubbled with excitement, hoping that our site was open. It was: Hooray! We set up camp. By the time we finished, it was cocktail hour, so we sat by the river sipping our gin and tonics. First night dinner was a low country boil that we did over the fire. Tradition holds that we eat breakfast in the trailer, so the next morning we enjoyed huckleberry pancakes and bacon. Ed gets up early to start the fire. Judy gets up early to make the coffee, which she hand delivers. We're usually ready to hike by ten. Back from the hike, we do various things: Judy knits; Deb and Ed take siestas, I sit in a  folding chair in the creek and paint water colors, or this year, I created some rock art. Cocktail hour begins around four. Second night's dinner was London Broil, which Deb cooked over the fire. We sipped Bourbon after dinner. Second morning breakfast was egg in a nest, but the nest was a large onion infused bagel. We also had fruit salad  and sausage. We walked further the second day: almost five miles. The same patterns occurred in the afternoon, except that I received some unsettling family news, so I tried to drive to where I could get cell reception. Third night dinner was the classic dogs and beans, and finally, our last morning we enjoyed a vegetable scramble with fresh "Judy" bread smothered with huck-raz jam. We took our last walk, and headed back out of the mountains. We arrived home about four after a late lunch at Roger's Ice Creamery in Coeurd'Alene. Deb and Ed packed their stuff. Judy and I washed Frac. and we tucked her away until the next adventure. In all, we had four days and three nights living where life was good. We're thankful.

 The "Taj Mahal".

 The afternoon session.

 We all took a turn at rake therapy.

 Boiling the water for the "Low Country Boil" (Tin foil didn't really help prevent the blackening of the pan).

 The view down river from the camp site.

The morning coffee session.

 The Drouin's awaiting breakfast.

 Huckleberry pancakes with bacon.

 Deb giving us her "Heidi" pose.

 My Bunny.

 A fat cookie for a treat at the turn around spot.

 Water coloring.

 Rock art: the St. Joe water snake.

 Deb working the grill.

 London Broil, fresh beans, tortellini salad.

 Some of our hikes included shade.

 Day two cookie break.

 St. Joe selfie: Me and my Bunny sitting with our feet in the water.

 Dogs and beans

 Bourbon.

 Smore: Kel Babe style.

 A tongue for the snake.

   Good bye Joe.