Corinne's (somewhat) Weekly Photo

28 jan 2012 happiness in alaska

2012-01-29T21:41:00.000-09:00

The good people of Kaktovik might have been disappointed in the weather this weekend in Talkeetna but I was perfectly satisfied that the thermometer only got 7 degrees colder than this.

22 jan 2012 pushing for fun

2012-01-23T19:57:00.004-09:00

Paul and I have been riding packed snowy trails with our mountain bikes the past 2 or 3 winters. This winter I have a long-term loan of a fat tire bike. I wanted Paul to experience a 'snow bike' so I bought him a rental of one for Christmas. Yesterday we cashed in the gift certificate and loaded the Salsa Mukluks into the truck.

A week or so ago someone had mentioned that the new singletrack trails at Kincaid were in great riding condition. We hadn't had any snow all week so I thought it would be fun to take a new bike on a new trail. At the bike shop they said that parts of the trail were 'soft' and 'challenging' but they thought the parts that we would ride had seen regular use.

I won't go into the blow-by-blow of our ride. Let's just say that I was reminded of a phrase I heard when I first started mountain biking. If you aren't walking, you aren't mountain biking. Yesterday that became If you aren't pushing a fat bike, you aren't snow biking. The softest area was the farthest from the parking lot so as we completed the loop and headed back to the trailhead, the riding got better and better.

In the end, we rode a beautiful network of trails on a beautiful winter day. My snow biking skills improved and we got a great workout. Paul may not be ready to buy a snowbike but I'm ready to take the mukluk out again and see if I can make some of those hills that I couldn't before.

13 jan 12 mount snowmore

2012-01-14T21:09:00.007-09:00

Towns around Prince William Sound are making the national news for the amount of snowfall they've received this winter. Here in Anchorage, we're on our way to setting records, too. As of today, snowfall is more than twice the normal amount for this date (89"). Almost 2' of that fell in the last two weeks. Those are the official numbers that are measured at the airport, which is about 8 miles west as the raven flies from our house. The airport is by the inlet; we are on the hillside of the Chugach Mountains and typically get more snow here than there. Paul is getting a little tired of firing up the snowblower and is having trouble getting the snow up and over the berms around our driveway and walkways. He's named the pile in the corner of the driveway and below the deck: Mount Snowmore.

Here are a few photos of our yard from June and from yesterday.
The vegetable garden ~

Paul's Torii gate

Paul's pagoda

8 jan 12 wood for the stove

2012-01-14T20:48:00.003-09:00

Out biweekly trips to Talkeetna have found us snug and warm in our cabin while the thermometer struggles to top zero and the snow piles up outside.

1 jan 12 more snowy singletrack meditation

2012-01-01T16:41:00.005-09:00

2012 begins snowy and cold in Anchorage this year. I resisted the urge to break one resolution on the first day and didn't let the cold stop me from joining a few Divas for a New Year's Day ride. I was glad I started the year with a two hour bike ride on snowy singletrack. I'm pleasantly tired this evening and feel less intimidated by the cold, which is good because winter isn't even half over. And with views like this, who wouldn't rather be outside than inside watching football?

dec 11 wintry images

2011-12-30T10:40:00.007-09:00

This morning is supposed to be about catching up on photos -- printing those of my little nephews that my step-mom has sent; printing photos of other family members and friends from the past year; downloading photos from the last 2 weeks from 2 cameras; editing photos from the Divas trip to Eklutna in September; and editing everything since then. But I've run out of photo paper about halfway through and the number of photos to be edited is a little daunting.

It's the season for not only cleaning up the physical and digital space but also to sweep through the mental space to see what needs to stay, what needs to go, what needs to change. And I can't decide if my resolution for the new year should be to take a photo a day, keep up on the blog better (think I've tried that one before), lay the blog down, or just not get too hung up on any of it.

I'm going to contemplate all of that while tromping about this snowy world on snowshoes later today. In the meantime, I'll post a few photos from this month and feel a little satisfaction in getting a few photos printed, a few edited, and a few posted.

A spectacular sunset just after a snowfall between wind storms a couple of weeks ago

Snow biking on my birthday last week. Thanks to my friend Rose for loaning me her mukluk while her shoulder heals. A Happy Birthday indeed!

An early afternoon ski with Paul on Christmas Day in Talkeetna

3 dec 11 singletrack mindfulness

2011-12-05T21:08:00.004-09:00

Around lunch time on Saturday a friend called with some bad news that affected his family. Someone we knew had made an impulsive decision that was meant to be helpful to a member of his family without thinking about legal ramifications and long-term consequences.

Paul and I had planned to go for a bike ride, and we hit the singletrack about the time I was struggling with my attempts to not judge a couple of the people involved in the situation. There's nothing like pedaling down a snowy trench to keep me focused on the present moment. If I want to stay upright on the trail, my mind has to be tuning into my body and the feel of the bike. If my brain is whirring on problems far from the trail, I'm going to be dabbing or drifting into the soft snow. Riding singletrack, especially in the winter, is an excellent practice in mindfulness.

Going with the flow on a mukluk holiday. Thanks, Rose!

16 oct 11 angry busts (with captions & update!)

2011-11-21T20:27:00.003-09:00

This photo just seems to be begging for a contest to write a caption. These two sour faces were displayed at an antiques market that winds through the piazzas and narrow streets of Lucca every 3rd Sunday. Perusing Italian antiques broadens the cultural experience of being in an old, old country.

So anyway, if you want to suggest a caption, comment please!

More of my photos from Lucca, a beautiful walled city in Tuscany, are posted on Picasa.

oct 11 lost under the tuscan sun

2011-11-12T18:46:00.017-09:00

Sommocolonia

In the Garfagnana region of Tuscany, we found that the saying about a man with two watches also applies to trail maps; to paraphrase - "a man with one map always knows where he is; a man with two is never sure." Paul had bought a map for the area around the town of Barga on our last trip there 6 years ago, and this time we picked up a map of the roads, trails, and sites in the region from the Barga tourist office. Unfortunately, the two maps don't always agree and sometimes neither one is right. But the consequences of getting lost here are somewhat minor - no lunch and, even worse, no gelato in the middle of the afternoon!

Paul, his sister Mary and her husband Gerry and I had hiked to Barga our first day, following one of the many trails maintained by the Italian Alpine Club. That route was well-marked with red-and-white striped blazes and directional signs with the estimated time to the next destination. One of our maps and some arrows on the street just down the hill from our rental house made us think that we could pick up another trail just down the road that would lead to Sommocolonia, the picturesque village farther up the hill. We knew that we could get the trail at the end of the road further up the hill but we wanted to make a loop out of it. We did make a loop, but it took 3 times as long and we didn't reach Sommocolonia.

Paul and Mary check the maps; Gerry admits we don't know

After 20 minutes of walking through woods and around farms and vineyards, we came to a wide paved road, somewhat unusual in this part of Tuscany. We couldn't figure out where we were from the maps so we decided to walk up the steep road to find some landmarks or maybe a person to ask. After a kilometer we reached a sports center and talked to a man in the restaurant. First he said we couldn't get to Sommocolonia from there, but then he said we could but it would be 10 - 15 kilometers. That estimate seemed odd given that it was only supposed to be an hour's walk from the house, but the day was pleasant so we pressed on with his hand-written directions.

Gerry shook apple trees to provision our trek.

We got off track once when a dry streambed looked like the shortcut he mentioned, but were soon back on the road. We were starting to think about our time limit for turning around, when a car came along (the first in an hour). The two women spoke broken English with Scottish brogues and confirmed the man's directions and landmarks ahead. Twenty minutes later we reached the old car and yellow gate and thought we really were going to reach Sommocolonia that day. Less then a kilometer later, however, the trail forked and we were uncertain which way to go. We could see a hilltop village but it didn't look like the picture of Sommocolonia on the tourist map. It was also on the other side of a deep valley, several kilometers away yet. The time was already 4:00, with sunset just after 6:00. We'd been hiking for over 3 hours so we decided to go back the way we had come instead of venturing further on unknown trails.

The old car and yellow gate (to the left) that marked the route

We also decided not to take the first section of trail that we'd started on but to continue down the road a little further because the map indicated that we could turn off to the village near the house. Maybe gelato was not totally out of the question for the day. Sadly, the map was wrong. We found out that we had spent most of the afetrnoon hiking up and down a private road for a huge resort, and that the only entrance, other than the trail we'd arrivd on, was at the very bottom of the Serchio valley. We searched for footpaths over to the village, parts of which we could see, but nothing seemed to cross the deep ravine between the resort and the village. So down we went to the valley bottom, and then climbed several hundred feet back up to the house.

The sunset just as we returned to the house from our first attempt to hike to Sommocolonia

Two days later we tried to reach Sommocolonia again. This time we hiked up to the end of our road where the trail started. In an hour we were entering the village on a cobble walk. Sommocolonia has a small war museum and memorial to soldiers who died during a nearby battle during World War II. The museum was closed and the town was very quiet on a fall weekday. There was no cafe serving coffee or gelato.

Two trails met at Sommocolonia. We could have hiked to Barga or continued further into the mountains to a pass.

The view from Sommocolonia.

We hiked down to Cartagnana, another small quiet village, and out the other side through some vineyards. We managed to get lost one more time when we missed a turn in the trail. Two dogs that joined us at one of the farms tried to lead us the right way, but when we chose the wrong, they stayed with us. Our mistake became obvious as the trail became a footpath and then disappeared just before dropping into a ravine. We climbed back up and found that the trail passed close to a house and soon returned us to the trail we'd taken to Sommocolonia. The entire outing took less than 3 hours and we returned to the house while the sun was still high and warm in the sky.

Gerry and Mary ready to dine on caprese salad, olives, rustic bread, and prosciutto.

I've posted more photos of our wanderings in the Garfagnana on Picasa.

18 nov 11 for the 99%

2011-11-12T18:45:00.007-09:00

We saw James McMurtry in concert at The Latitude 62 last night in Talkeetna. He wrote this song in 2004. Sadly, it's still relevant for a lot of people in our country today. You can read all the lyrics at his website, even download the song for free if you show a little love for the Occupy movement.

We Can't Make It Here Anymore*

Some have maxed out all their credit cards
Some are working two jobs and living in cars
Minimum wage won't pay for a roof, won't pay for a drink
If you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. CEO
See how far 5.15 an hour will go
Take a part time job at one of your stores
Bet you can't make it here anymore

High school girl with a bourgeois dream
Just like the pictures in the magazine
She found on the floor of the laundromat
A woman with kids can forget all that
If she comes up pregnant what'll she do
Forget the career, forget about school
Can she live on faith? live on hope?
High on Jesus or hooked on dope
When it's way too late to just say no
You can't make it here anymore

Now I'm stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store
Just like the ones we made before
'Cept this one came from Singapore
I guess we can't make it here anymore

Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin
Or the shape of their eyes or the shape I'm in
Should I hate 'em for having our jobs today
No I hate the men sent the jobs away
I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams
All lily white and squeaky clean
They've never known want, they'll never know need
Their sh@# don't stink and their kids won't bleed
Their kids won't bleed in the da$% little war
And we can't make it here anymore

Will work for food
Will die for oil
Will kill for power and to us the spoils
The billionaires get to pay less tax
The working poor get to fall through the cracks
Let 'em eat jellybeans let 'em eat cake
Let 'em eat sh$%, whatever it takes
They can join the Air Force, or join the Corps
If they can't make it here anymore

And that's how it is
That's what we got
If the president wants to admit it or not
You can read it in the paper
Read it on the wall
Hear it on the wind
If you're listening at all
Get out of that limo
Look us in the eye
Call us on the cell phone
Tell us all why

In Dayton, Ohio
Or Portland, Maine
Or a cotton gin out on the great high plains
That's done closed down along with the school
And the hospital and the swimming pool
Dust devils dance in the noonday heat
There's rats in the alley
And trash in the street
Gang graffiti on a boxcar door
We can't make it here anymore

This song took me back to my hometown. I grew up in a small factory town. The Smith-Corona typewriter factory was by far the largest building on Main Street. My grandfather and an uncle made their careers there. My mom worked there part-time as a young woman. My neighbor was the plant nurse. When I was in elementary school my grandparents spent a year in Singapore to help open a factory there. A few years later, another factory opened in Mexico. The factory on Main Street closed while I finished high school and sat empty for years until the site pollution could be dealt with. All the kids in town spent the hot humid summer days at the town pool. Many of my friends were life guards as their first jobs.

Thanksgiving is only a few days away. I'm grateful to still have a good job for an organization that strives to make a difference in the world. May I remember that not everyone in our country is so lucky these days to be bringing home a paycheck that covers the bills.

*Music and lyrics © 2004 by James McMurtry

9-11 sep 11 bon voyage PWS

2011-10-01T22:07:00.008-08:00

Our final weekend in Prince William Sound brought a little sun, a little sailing, a little hiking, a little rain, a little fog, a little fish, and lots of blueberries. We're already planning next summer's voyages.

This album now shows the highlights of our entire summer sailing Blossom in Prince William Sound:

sep 11 golden Alaska

2011-09-17T08:56:00.002-08:00

So quickly the sunlight of long summer days is replaced by the golden glow of leaves ...

27 aug 11 hunting season

2011-09-03T17:28:00.006-08:00

Fall in Alaska brings many into the woods in hunt of the elusive bolete. Last weekend we came away empty-handed from an evening walk in the park nearby. So the next day we bicycled to the far side of the park to an area that gets less visitation. We managed to fill Paul's bike rack bag with orange and birch boletes.

Paul is convinced that the increased popularity of harvesting mushrooms in the last few years makes it more difficult to find boletes in the parks and that the best hunting may be in neighborhoods. He may be right. We found 4 beautiful king boletes in our neighbor's yard and the two birch trees outside our kitchen window have provided four nice birch boletes so far.

23 aug 11 north granite bay

2011-08-29T21:49:00.003-08:00

A small craft advisory delayed our departure to Whittier and then kept us in the harbor for a day while we waited for the winds to die. The irony of this situation always occurs us – the wind is too strong for our sailboat, yet once the storm passes, we might not see more than a breeze and not sail at all. As always, we hoped that the wind would decrease from 25 mph and settle somewhere between 10 and 15 mph long enough to get us where we wanted to go.

Unfortunately for us, the wind settled at 10 from the East, the direction we have to go to leave Passage Canal and access Prince William Sound. Unless we wanted to spend hours tacking upwind, the motor would be required to get to an anchorage before dark. As we left the Canal, the wind had a northerly component and we raised the sales. The storm remained in the waves, however, and as we moved out into Wells Passage, the chop increased and it was too rough to keep wind in the sails. So we dropped the sails after a while and motored up Port Wells to North Granite Bay.

We hadn’t been to Granite Bay State Marine Park before. The clouds were low but we could appreciate the steep granite walls all around the bay. We’d been mentally prepared for a rainy weekend and thought this anchorage looked as good as any other to hang out, read, play games, and sleep late for a couple of days.

When the skies cleared the next day, we decided that it was also a good place to hike and explore by land and hang out in the sun. We also picked a couple of quarts of blueberries, and I kayaked around the island at the bay’s head. We had a beautiful day-and-a-half exploring the head of North Granite Bay.

The relaxation may have helped us to weather the mechanical storm that battered our return to Whittier. A few minutes after we started motoring away from our anchorage, the motor stalled and wouldn’t restart. We didn’t leave Granite Bay for another two hours while we considered every part of the fuel delivery. We dropped the anchor again and ate lunch half way through the process. Paul replaced the fuel filter eventually, a difficult task with the mount of the motor, and the motor started up again.

Another irony with sailing – the winds were good for a broad reach out of Port Wells but we didn’t dare turn off the motor. Paul did raise the jib to reduce the bouncing from the chop.

We were an hour out of Whittier when the motor stalled again and wouldn’t restart. Now Paul suspected water in the gas. He replaced the fuel filter again and stuck the fuel hose in the spare tank of gas. It took about an hour of starting and restarting the engine to run all the old fuel through. Then the motor ran strong back to the harbor. During that hour without a motor, an east breeze kept us in deep water in Passage Canal and we even raised the jib for when we could think about anything but the motor.

We’ve come a long way with this boat, especially this motor. No panicking this year (though strong language still has a role) when the motor stalls. No marital discord sparked by the frustration. Just calm problem solving and patience to find the problem. As the previous owner predicted, owning a boat has moved us beyond being a family to being a crew.

Here's the only other hiker/berry picker that we saw

12 aug 2011 biking smile

2011-08-15T21:26:00.006-08:00

If only the cars got the same sign at their stop sign

A state advisory council that I used to be on had a 20 year reunion lunch at Kincaid Park on Friday. I was only working half a day so I decided to bike across town to the reunion. I could only weave a small portion of the Campbell Creek Creek greenbelt into the route so I hoped to link neighborhoods together and avoid the major arteries as much as possible.

Unfortunately, the Seward Highway forces bikers on to major roads to cross it here on the south side. As I pedaled along Dimond Boulevard, I remembered Thich Nhat Hanh's advice for walking meditation - smile slightly. I thought I'd try to be 'mindful' on my bike (could save my life) and I'd try to hold a smile (could reduce my stress on the busier streets). A couple of minutes into my biking meditation, a truck decided that he could wait for all the cars to pass before turning left but not for me. I didn't exactly grin at him, but my response was a little more low key than usual. I was similarly cut off another two or three times in the 25-mile round-trip, and each time I tried to channel TNH for a calm response.

During the garden tour, we happened upon a little greenbelt dedicated to Kathleen Joy Lowry and I was happy to incorporate that into the route. The gravel path follows a grassy drainage ditch between two neighborhoods and passes a small lily-covered pond with a covered observation deck. I pedaled through several neighborhoods that I'd never been in before.

a break at the deck in the Lowry greenbelt

The highlights of the trip were the usual for Anchorage town rides. A sunny summer day that seemed like heaven after a few days of August rains. A moose that just had to cross under Minnesota and would not be deterred. Smiling people walking and biking along the greenbelt paths. Nice, considerate, alert drivers who waited for me at cross walks. Despite the impatient drivers, I couldn't have picked a better way to spend half the day.

I felt marginally safer behind a clump of cow parsnip and a sign

31 jul 2011 bloomin' anchorage

2011-08-02T20:43:00.003-08:00

Our tradition of biking the Anchorage Garden Tour on the last Sunday of July wasn't deterred this year by a little rain. Pam and Roger joined us for a third tour, and Rose was properly baptized by Mother Nature on her inaugural tour. The quality of the gardens was especially high this year, and the biking was as rewarding as ever. Five of the gardens were somewhat clustered near us on the south side of town. One outlier in Spenard had us hustling north to catch the last -- and best? -- before the close at 5:00. Instinct and Rose's prior residence in Spenard helped us to navigate several neighborhoods so we could avoid the larger roads most of the way. We ended the tour with a picnic in Spenard on a dry patch of grass under a spruce tree.

jul 2011 clear sailing

2011-07-29T16:35:00.009-08:00

Our July 2011 week in Prince William Sound was almost the exact opposite weather-wise as the same July week we spent there in 2010. Last year we had one sunny day of weather. This year, we had one rainy afternoon and night.

The itinerary turned out to be much the same. We hadn't intended to anchor in Surprise Cove, but an east wind on our first afternoon out altered our plans. That was the right decision because it was the only real sailing we did all week. We even neared Blossom's hull speed (6.3 knots) on a broad reach into Cochrane Bay.

The next day we motored to Long Bay in Culross Passage. Last year we had the bay to ourselves but we'd heard that the salmon were running and other boats would be there this time. And that was true, though numbers declined each night. Eight boats Saturday, 3 on Sunday, just 2 of us on Monday night. Paul cast for silver, sockeye, chum, and pink salmon at the head of the lagoon and caught a huge pink that fed us dinner and lunch. We assembled our kayaks on the beach and explored the lagoon one day and the bay the next. We also hiked up to the Shrode Lake cabin.

The wind had us changing our float plan again on Tuesday. We had intended to head south out of Culross Passage to visit Port Nellie Juan for the first time. But a strong westerly breeze in Long Bay indicated that the forecast was correct about a decent westerly blowing. So we headed north out of Culross to hit the wind sooner and sail it over to Perry Island, where we hadn't been yet either. We were disappointed to see the wind die as we left the passage.

But we weren't disappointed after an hour-long motor to West Twin Bay. We anchored behind the spit near the head of the bay. The clarity of the water and light and the warm sunny weather made the bay look almost tropical. Paul even jumped into the water before our shower on Wednesday evening. West Twin had the added amenity of few bugs so we were able to spend much time relaxing in the cockpit, sipping cocktails and enjoying the bay, which we had all to ourselves.

Bhikkhu's first kayak trip

To see more photos of this trip and earlier ones this summer in Prince William Sound, click the photo:

Sailing Prince William Sound 2011

8 jul 11 under the highway

2011-07-09T08:32:00.005-08:00

If you live in Anchorage and follow how the voters react to Parks and Trails bonds, or follow the current Assembly and Mayor's support (i.e. lack of) for parks, you can be amazed that we have the trail and park system that we do. The recreational opportunities within the city are great.

Yesterday Jo-Ann, Bev, and I encountered one of the gaps in the system - the intersection of the Seward Highway and the Campbell Creek Greenbelt Trail. The trail runs for several miles on either side of the highway. At the highway, it's a rocky footpath under four road bridges. When they built the trail, even though it wouldn't go under the highway, the planners thoughtfully put a foot bridge over the creek so that those who would be ducking under the bridges could get to the other side of the creek where the trail resumes.

We stopped on that foot bridge in both directions for a break. As we watched for salmon in the stream, multiple bikers passed us. People are not only using the trail for recreation, like we were, but they're commuting to work and school. The Campbell Creek trail ends at the east side at two universities and two hospitals. Yesterday we saw moose feeding along the stream and sockeye migrating.

I suggested that someone should set up a motion-activated camera under the bridges, similar to what Fish and Game does to see how many bears use streamside paths in the city. The Department of Transportation could see how many people depend upon this route to commute. How many more would use it if they didn't have to climb under four highway bridges?

6 jul 11 beautiful infrastructure

2011-07-07T21:13:00.005-08:00

Not even a powerline up the middle of it can mar the beauty of this valley on a sunny summer evening ....

Alaska Dirt Divas rode Powerline Trail last evening.

late june garden

2011-06-30T12:29:00.013-08:00

My brother has been sending photos of his beautiful vegetable garden in Wisconsin. Cool temperatures and a late planting have meant a slow start to my garden, so I've been less than eager to reciprocate with photos. But here at the end of June, the plants are putting on some weight and I'm not embarrassed to share.

This is my main vegetable garden area. The entire form, from materials to size to layout, has evolved in the 12 years we've lived here. Unfortunately the trees in the yard have grown so this site isn't as sunny as it used to be. As a tree hugger, however, I am stuck with the spruce and birch. So this year I looked for some other places to plant veggies on our lot.

I usually have potted herbs by the back door. I included a gorgeous red lettuce in the wine barrel this year.

In addition to the two wine barrels that I've had for years on the deck, this year I set up 6 plastic pots of similar size. They were free at the annual pot recycling event that the botanical garden hosts. The pots are planted with veggies and edible flowers. A tripod in each will hopefully support scarlet runner beans, canary bird vine, sweet peas, or nasturtium. I've also got tomatoes and basil in pots with wall-o-waters around them.

The southside of our house has a long narrow bed that hasn't had much more than daffodils and tulips. Last year I was inspired by the poor returns in my vegetable garden and the edible designs at the Alaska Botanical Garden to add vegetables and flowers to fill in after the bulbs end in early June. I've added sunflowers, shiso, amaranth, broccoli, parsley, chinese cabbage, borage, calendula, and assorted other edible plants.

Two years ago we had to replace our septic tank, which was located near the back of the house under my largest perennial bed. They dug up two large boulders which became part of the landscaping. We saw a dry creek bed on the garden tour that year and Paul created one for us. I had dug up over 200 plants and almost all made the transition to the new bed and seem more lush with the additional topsoil and compost. Paul's torii gate Balance is in the upper left at our back patio.

17-20 june 11 sunny sound

2011-06-25T22:22:00.009-08:00

I couldn't believe I was wearing shorts as we motored into Harriman Fjord. The water is ringed by glaciers whose icebergs are floating everywhere. The first two days of our long weekend were downright hot (by Alaskan standards). Even after the clouds returned, little rain fell and we enjoyed a dry weekend on Blossom. Two downsides to the calm weather -- no sailing and no breeze to knock down the no-see-ums.

Despite the millions of little buggers trying to steer me otherwise, it was an easy time to take Guillame Apollonaire's advice: Now and then it's good to pause in our pursuit of happiness, and just be happy.

Hobo Bay

Packing B up to the ridge

Blossom anchored at the base of Serpentine Glacier

Paul guides us out of Hummer Bay (where the tse-tses were unrelenting)

12 jun 11 gala in the garden

2011-06-25T21:31:00.003-08:00

Paul made his artistic debut at the Alaska Botanical Garden's annual Gala and Art Show. His cedar-and-red torii gates were quite striking on the sunny Thursday evening that the Gala was held. The one he named Tranquility sold that evening, and Paul donated all of the proceeds to the garden. (The other one - Balance - is now in our garden.)

The art was up through the weekend for the Garden Faire. We biked to the garden on Sunday to see if the other torii gate had sold and to check out the vendors. All of the plants, crafts, and art were very tempting, but I only bought two strawberry plants and a few thoughtful Alder Patch cards, which was about all I could fit into my pack.

4 june 11 upwind in port wells

2011-06-10T17:26:00.006-08:00

When I emailed our float plan to my family, my brother in Wisconsin replied "I envy you. We have a high in the upper 50's today with strong winds. It feels chilly; not boating weather." Hah! I said. That's a good day in Prince William Sound. I hoped it would reach 50. It didn't for 3 days, but that's beyond today's blog.

Despite the chill and rain, we hoisted the sails and headed up Port Wells to Esther Passage. Paul was at the helm for most of the sail because the wind held during his 1-hour shift. We have resolved to try to sail any breeze that comes up, so despite the weather, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to make some distance under sail and without the motor.

Eventually the wind died down and we furled the sails and started the motor. Minutes later, a pod of dall porpoises started swimming alongside us, and then crossing in front of us. Technically I think it was my shift at the helm, but I grabbed my camera and scooted up to the mast to photograph their antics. They are very hard to photograph, but you can see two in this photo - one on either side of the furled jib.

And while we were out in the rain, Bhikkhu was doing what all good first mates do, especially when the boat has two captains - he was checking the charts and guide and keeping us on course.

29 may 11 wild quaker

2011-05-31T12:45:00.004-08:00

I was probably the only Quaker in the world who crossed a salmon stream and encountered moose and wild rabbits on my way to Meeting for Worship on Sunday morning.

23 may 11 prince william sound

2011-05-28T22:43:00.003-08:00

Another season in Prince William Sound has begun. We hauled Blossom to Whittier on a Saturday. We spent the afternoon getting the mast raised, rigging sails, installing the bimini, and moving everything back in. By the time we launched, it was evening and we still had some shoreside duties left to do so we decided to stay in the harbor overnight. One task was to remedy a dumb mistake that we won't likely make again (hopefully). When they raised the mast, we didn't check the location of all the halyards and missed that the end of the jib halyard was at the top of the furler. Late Saturday night, when the tide was low, we motored over to a pier where Paul could climb up a ladder and reach the halyard.

On Sunday morning we inflated the dinghy, paid our fees to the harbor master, and finished rigging the sails. We motored in the rain and calm out to Surprise Cove for a night. A rare treat to share the cove with only one other boat. On Monday morning the sky was clearing as we hiked up to North Lake. By the time we headed back to Whittier in the afternoon, it was balmy by PWS standards.

Not a long or far trip, but a good shakedown cruise to work out the kinks in Blossom and us.

17 may 11 happy commuter

2011-05-17T18:41:00.007-08:00

I'm reading Geography of Bliss by NPR reporter Eric Wiener. He wanted to take a hiatus from reporting on conflict and despair to write about happiness and, hopefully, to find the happiest places on the planet. He started at the World Database of Happiness in Rotterdam. There he learned many correlations about humans and happiness. One is that people tend to be unhappier when they commute.

When I read that last night, I thought "not if they're on a bike." This morning I proved myself right. Not smiling was difficult while sharing the paths with moose and rabbits and listening to songbirds singing loudly to find this year's mate. Most of the other commuters on the trails were smiling, too, and responded warmly to my "good morning" greeting. The buds on the trees and shrubs were just about to open.

I found my little geography of happiness right here in Anchortown on the way to work.

11 may 15 2 months in a post

2011-05-14T20:57:00.009-08:00

This may be the longest that I haven't updated the blog in the last 5 years that I've been doing it. I keep wanting to simplify my life but saying 'no' can be a problem for me. It's been a busy 2 months with existing responsibilities, new obligations, and some fun. I'll focus on the fun to catch up on the transition from late winter to spring. I start with Bhikkhu because he is fun and the last two weeks have been busy with vet visits to make him healthy, too.

The end of March featured the glorious weather that we come to expect of that month. We took advantage of warm temperatures and soft snow to explore some trails that we normally bike in the winter.

Taking a bone from a scruffy white dog is not like taking candy from a baby... Paul found this for Bhikkhu during a spring ski at the end of March in Talkeetna.

On Aprils Fools Day we skied out to friends' cabin at Dalteli Lake with three other couples. Roger snowmachined our stuff in and left us a message in the snow at one of the intersections. We stayed for two nights, skiing to another lake on the full day, to visit other Talkeetna friends.

Alaska Airlines treated passengers to a fantastic view of Denali in early April. I was on my way back from a small conference at Chena Hot Springs, east of Fairbanks. The springs are nice but the best part may have been the fresh salads, including tomatoes and basil, that they grow in the greenhouse. The Ice Palace is also a trippy (and cold) experience. If you haven't been to Chena in the past decade, it's worth a trip.

By late April, the daffodils on the south side of the house were beginning to bloom. The snow was slower to leave the rest of the yard. In fact, there's still a small patch on the north side under a birch tree.

May has been beautiful, too. Here is sunset around 10:00 on May 2nd. It barely gets dark at night now.

Last weekend we went to Talkeetna for our annual episode of voyeurism of mating birds. We didn't set any personal records at Birdathon, but we had fun hiking and biking.

I can't promise anything, but I do hope to get better about updating the blog. We've got a new computer which has made photo uploading and editing a little faster.

13 mar 11 Internet-free Sabbath

2011-03-13T22:13:00.004-08:00

Back in November I decided that Sundays would be Internet-free, meaning that I wouldn't log on to the Internet. I've been trying not to get sucked into surfing and wondering where the hours have gone. I thought that applying the idea of the sabbath might help -- one day a week I'd minimize my use of technology and try to keep the focus on family, friends, and nature.

Lack of internet one day a week has not been as hard as I thought it might be. The hardest part is not checking email. Once I shut down on Saturday, I typically won't have a chance to log into personal email until Monday evening. So I'm really going 48 hours without email (gasp!). If I need to do any personal research on the weekend, I try to do it on Saturday. Otherwise it waits until Monday evening. I've found that Wikipedia is just as ready to answer my questions on Monday as it used to be on Sunday. And sometimes the question just doesn't seem that important if I have to wait.

I managed to stay offline on Sundays until last month. I returned from Hawaii on a Sunday morning and that evening I decided I'd sleep better if I had some idea of what to expect at work the next day. So I did a quick scan of emails and my calendar. Good for another month.

So you may have noticed that this post is dated on a Sunday. I hosted a planning meeting for the Alaska Dirt Divas this evening and we needed to check our website for some information. So I logged on instead of trying to say something sanctimonious about not getting online on Sunday. After Rose and Jo-Ann left, I found myself with several hours until having to pick Paul up at the airport. Nothing on TV interested me and I'm too tired to read the book I've got going. So I downloaded and edited the photos from my bike rides on Friday and today and decided that blogging doesn't require too much brain power and I could get caught up.

I'm going to continue to approach my Internet-free Sabbath like I would a diet -- don't stress over falling off the wagon -- enjoy the moment and try again.

Biking with my friends is definitely much more fun than sitting in front of a computer screen and healthier in so many ways.

13 feb 11 winter walkies

2011-03-01T21:51:00.003-09:00

When the somewhat weekly starts to slip to almost monthly, there's nothing like a dog photo to fill in the gap. This is what B and I did the afternoon that I returned from Hawaii.

feb 11 another tour of paradise

2011-02-21T20:36:00.010-09:00

Re-entry after 10 days on the Big Island was tough last week. The return to winter weather didn't bother me; the cold actually felt lessened by being hot for a week. The difficulty was the return to work and life responsibilities beyond the basics. I had easily become satisfied with no greater stress than deciding where to hike, bike or snorkel, doing laundry, and making meals. One of the highlights of the trip was a concert by Grammy-winning slack key guitarist Jeff Peterson. I played two of his CDs over and over again last week to keep my aloha grooving.

Like last year, this trip incorporated biking, hiking, and snorkeling with our gracious hosts Pam and Roger. We rented mountain bikes the first weekend. On Saturday we biked to the end of the road in Puna where the lava flow has taken out more houses and one of the beaches that we hiked to last year. Paul and I split a mahi-mahi burger at the Kalapana cafe. Then we pedaled back to the car, which was conveniently parked at the Ahalanui hot ponds for post-ride soaking.

The four of us drove to the Kona side for a couple of days of snorkeling. Like last year, the surf was high and our options for the water were limited on the first day. After Pam and Roger went to visit some other friends, Paul and I hiked to the Captain Cook Monument in Kealekekua Bay for a fun afternoon of exploring the lava point and snorkeling. We were grateful for the clouds when we hiked back out.

We hiked to these idyllic beaches the next day. The far beach had decent snorkeling and a great lunch spot in the shade of an ironwood tree.

Back on the Puna side, we completed the trip with two long dips in our favorite snorkeling spot - Kapoho tide pools. I bought a waterproof, pocket-size camera for the trip and had too much fun photographing and filming the fish and coral (and Paul). On our next trip, I'd like to hang out at Kapoho for several days - snorkeling when the tide is high and watching the ocean (or napping or reading) when the tide is low.

I came home a few days before Paul did so that Pam and Roger could put him to work on the house. I hear that he did a wonderful job trimming their front door with ohia logs. I can't wait to see photos. He arrived with a plumaria lei for Bhikkhu.

19 jan 11 booking blossom

2011-01-22T08:40:00.003-09:00

On Wednesday I thought it was just another spam comment on the blog, but something caught my brain as I scanned the message. Then I really read it. A graphic artist wanted to use a photo from my July Blossom post for the cover of a kid's book, written by a kid and his dad. They are self-publishing the story. I'm glad that they have an image of a sailboat off an island in Maine for a book about the same. I look forward to reading it.

14 jan 11 where's the fun?

2011-01-18T08:29:00.008-09:00

This year, the winter temperatures have been lower than normal, except for an unwelcome warm spell at New Year's. In the last week, the high temperatures in Anchorage have been below the normal low. December was similar. Paul and I have had some trouble motivating to get outside in this weather. Luckily this is one of the big upsides to having a dog - he needs to go outside multiple times a day and he needs a daily walk. Often a short walk with him has turned into a longer one as we realize that we're warm enough and don't need to head home too quickly.

With the lack of long outings, I've been feeling like a blob and disappointed that my resolution to improve my fitness is probably not advancing much. We seldom get snow when it's so cold, so there's no fresh powder calling out for skis or snowshoes. The ski club has done a good job trying to convert the ice on the trails back to snow, and I appreciate the effort, but a turn around the park currently is really more about the workout than having winter fun. I need the promise of some fun to get motivated to get outside in this cold.

A bright spot is that everything that melted during the New Year thaw is now ice. This isn't so great if you're trying to walk on our driveway or many parking lots in town, but these conditions provide an opportunity to explore the waterways. I read a few local bike blogs and realized that the fun was on the other side of town on the coast.

On Friday I made my first tracks on the iced mudflats on the Anchorage coast. I've always wanted to ride there but wasn't sure where to start. I called Rose to see if she was free that afternoon and if she could show me the way. I installed studded tires on my mountain bike and pulled on a bunch of synthetic and wool layers.

The thermometer read 3 at my house when I left. The Weather Service indicated that places along the coast might be a few degrees warmer and I hoped the predicted north breeze wouldn't be blowing. At the parking area, it felt warmer than my neighborhood, but when we reached the open flats, the breeze met us.

We rode north into the wind for several miles, pedaling through small draws for creek outflows, over clear smooth ice, and around tufts of grass. In places, our tires broke through the thin white ice and dropped to the frozen layer just below. After a few miles, noses were frozen and we turned back to the south. In the distance, two foxes stopped to watch us when Rose howled to them. We were in a wilderness a quarter mile away from south Anchorage. All was quiet except for the sound of the studs gripping into the ice and the occasional break through to the lower frozen levels.

Not only did I find some winter fun, but I was reminded why I love winter and Alaska.

Dressing for success: fleece balaclava, 2 heavy layers under synthetic down, wool liners in lobster gloves, long johns, ski pants, insulated skirt, 2 pairs wool socks, and stormtrooper sorels. Plus sunglasses because the sun is at a very long angle these days.

highlights 2010

2011-01-01T18:38:00.018-09:00

Over dinner on New Year's Eve, we remembered some of the fun and travels of 2010. Again, we are grateful for the good fortune that continues in our lives: good friends, great family, stable jobs, good health, and being with each other.

Here are some of the highlights of each month of 2010:

January: Good skiing when the snow was fresh and great mountain biking on packed trails in the local parks. Never a dull moment in Anchor-town.

February: An active trip of hiking, biking, and snorkeling with good friends in Hawaii.

March: We skied out to Dalteli, a small lake in the Alaska Range foothills with a group of friends.

April: A warm sun made spring skiing solar powered and brought a smile to everyone's face. Even the ptarmigan got friendly.

May: With the return of the green came more biking and hiking, and gardening. This little footpath became a regular route on evening walks in Bicentennial Park.

June: When we weren't on the boat in Prince William Sound, we rode the singletrack trails in Bicentennial Park.

July: We spent most weekends and an entire week on the sailboat in Prince William Sound. One of the highlights of our time in the Sound were hikes through bogs with abundant shooting stars.

August: A silver-lining of the wet summer were the mushrooms. We spent many evenings harvesting boletes in the parks. This red bolete dramatically and quickly exhibited a change in coloration to blue when cut, which signifies a poisonous bolete.

September: The annual backcountry bike trip with the Alaska Dirt Divas to the Serenity Cabin near Eklutna Lake in Chugach State Park. Blue skies, stunning fall colors, and fun friends.

October: Mountain biking with the Alaska Dirt Divas on the White Rim Trail, in Canyonlands National Park, Utah - an adventure with good friends

November: Spending Thanksgiving with my mom, step-dad, brother, and sister-in-law in central New York. My brother and I wandered the farm's woodlands, just the two of us, and appreciated the big trees.
December: Santa found us in Talkeetna, bringing us more than we deserved and helping to remind us how blessed we are with friends, family, and a happy pack.

A post about the highlights of the year begs a mention of the sadnesses of our year as we lost family, friends, and acquaintances who have touched our lives and hearts. In August a plane carrying three young maintenance workers from Katmai National Park disappeared in bad weather on the coast. Paul knew one of the young men and they worked with some of our friends at Katmai. In September Sandy Kogl, a good friend of good friends in Talkeetna, died after a gracious struggle with ALS. In October Paul's aunt Norine succumbed to a rare form of lung cancer caused by her exposure to asbestos as an infant. We saw Norine each Christmas that we spent with Paul's parents and we traveled to Italy twice with Norine. Norine and Sandy were both just 68.

christmas 10

2010-12-27T22:00:00.002-09:00

We spent a quiet Christmas in Talkeetna. Many of our friends were out of town, which meant we were able to stay at a house with running water (including hot!), electricity, and a thermostat. The comforts were much appreciated for the long cold weekend. We did miss our cozy cabin, but we were a short walk away and brought a few of its comforts over. We dined with friends on Christmas Eve and night.

With the cold and short daylight hours, our outdoor activities were subdued, too. Paul and I snowshoed on Saturday and decided that the route was solid enough from previous snowshoers, cold temperatures, and recent wind for the bhikkhu to join us on Sunday. The three of us toured the dismal swamp and numbered lakes 1 through 3. We met up with a friend and his dog for the latter half of the loop. I had hoped to photograph George's frosty beard, but my camera battery died in the cold.

I hope that your Christmas was filled with friends, comforts, and time outside with those you love in a place you love.

merry merry to you!

2010-12-27T21:52:00.004-09:00

you can click on our Christmas card to see it larger.

thanksgiving 10 family history

2010-12-10T15:33:00.007-09:00

Many of us in Alaska have left family far behind in the lower 48. Some people come here to forget their family and start over. Even for those of us with happy childhoods and loving parents, at times living in Alaska makes it seem like we're the beginning of the line, defining a new path in the north.

When I visit my mom in upstate New York, however, I am immersed in family, heritage, and a history rooted in place. My mom and stepfather live in two old farmhouses in upstate New York. One they bought just as I finished college, and they moved from the Finger Lakes area, where I spent most of my youth, to the northern edge of the Adirondack park. I haven't seen that house in years because early in this decade, my mom and her siblings inherited the family homestead in Verona with a house built circa 1815. My mom eventually became the sole owner of what we have always called "the Farm."

My mom's Uncle Ed acquired the Farm in the 1950s and slowly worked on it for decades. He added electricity and plumbing and a 'modern' kitchen in the 1970s. He had hoped to live there with his mother, my great-grandmother, but she died before they could move there. Finally in the early 1980s Ed and his sister Hazel moved in. Aunt Hazel was an outgoing, stylish woman who played a mean game of cards called Spite and Malice (which as a child I thought was Spike and Alice). Unfortunately her brother wouldn't let her paint or hang pictures, and the only room in the house that didn't look like a furniture store was her bedroom.

Visiting the Farm as a kid was always a treat because it had barns with sleighs, spinning wheels in the high attic, and another attic packed with stuff. A kid could hope there was some sort of treasure there somewhere. Now visiting the Farm is a treat because my mom has turned a handsome old house into a home. My step-father Jack installed a wood stove in one of the fireplaces, making the house cozier than it ever was before. They have painted several rooms in bright warm colors. On this recent trip, my brother and I got to give opinions on which green to paint the living room.

Jack has also created trails throughout the woods and dug two ponds. Some of the land is still cultivated by farmers who rent the land from my parents. The harvested soybean and corn fields attract deer and wild turkeys, which in turn bring coyotes. After Thanksgiving dinner, we walked through the woods and circled the fields. Jack showed us where the bucks paw the ground to mark their territory.

My family has also marked this land as ours, with houses, barns, fields, and a family cemetery. These things are only slightly more permanent than the deers' marks, but much more noticeable to other humans. They say that a family has lived here and cared for this place.

19-21 nov 10 pennsylvania color

2010-12-08T10:40:00.004-09:00

A week before Thanksgiving I flew back East. My first stop was the Philadelphia area to attend a workshop at Pendle Hill, a Quaker center. Clerking is a form of facilitation that is part of the Quaker decision making process. I've wanted to take this workshop for two years to not only become more effective at our Anchorage Quaker Meeting but also in my work, where I facilitate a lot of meetings. Wouldn't it be nice to feel centered, confident, and joyful in all of those meetings?

I left a gray/brown and white world in Anchorage. We already had more than a foot of snow on the ground at home. In Pennsylvania, fall hadn't quite ended. I felt like I'd stepped back in time. The Pendle Hill campus is about 23 acres and I circled it daily on the perimeter trail, basking in the glow of the remaining leaves on the gingko and maple trees.

The trees that brought me to a halt were the Japanese maples. I collected a dozen flaming leaves over the weekend and scattered them on the desk in my room. I even enclosed a few in a card home to Paul. There is nothing like this in the Alaska fall scene. After the workshop ended on Sunday, I walked to the Swarthmore Campus in the next village over. From the train* I had noticed a large woods next to campus and Pendle Hill provided trail maps. I walked along Crum Creek, dodging wet labrador retrievers and runners. I crossed under the railroad bridge and toured the holly collection of Scott Arboretum. Then I walked through the campus, which reminded me of my alma mater Cornell. When I noticed that the sun was getting low, I headed back into the woods for a last quiet evening at Pendle Hill.

*if I'd taken any train photos, I'd post an entry about how wonderful it was to use real public transportation (something else we don't have in Alaska). Amtrak took me north to Utica, NY, to spend Thanksgiving with family.

oct 10 best of white rim

2010-11-08T21:59:00.010-09:00

It's only been two weeks since the bike ride on the White Rim Trail and already work, duties, winter, and the next trip are crowding in on the savoring of my time pedaling through the high desert and canyonlands. Before I forget everything, I thought I'd record some of my favorite bits.

Sleeping until a late sunrise every morning. Some mornings I didn't rise until I heard Brin call out "Hot Coffee"

The incredible scenery ... pictures will describe better than I can

The biking ... sometimes easy, sometimes technical, sometimes challenging, sometimes impossible. Staying true to the mountain biking motto,"If you aren't walking, you aren't mountain biking."

Somebody else cooked and washed the dishes!

The sense of accomplishment. A storm in September resulted in a landslide that wiped out the switchbacks out of the canyon at the very end of trail. Instead of changing or canceling our trip, we opted to be the first to try a hike-and-bike out of the canyon. Of course, that was fairly easy because the guides carried the bikes on the steepest climbs!

Sharing this wonderful experience with good friends.

You can see more photos and read more stories at
http://picasaweb.google.com/alaskadirtdivas
http://www.alaskadirtdivas.blogspot.com
http://akbikegirl.blogspot.com/search/label/White%20Rim

23 oct 10 white rim intro

2010-11-08T21:45:00.006-09:00

After a night of wind gusts that ripped the tent stakes out of the ground and scattered fine red dust through my tent, the rain began at daybreak and I wondered what I had signed up for. After a record-setting rainy, cloudy summer in Alaska, had I really flown to Utah for a guided mountain bike trip in a fall monsoon? I knew we would have to leave the camp site that day and feared we'd pedal 20 miles in winds that would blow us off the White Rim into the Colorado River canyon below.

Soon the rain ended, though, and the guides Brin and Ben cooked a hot breakfast. After a mug of strong coffee and hot french toast, the day looked a little better. The hail storm that followed was brief, and the clouds started parting to blue sky. By noon we were back on the trail for our 2nd day on the White Rim in the Island in the Sky region of Canyonlands National Park.

10 oct 10 riding into winter

2010-10-18T20:20:00.002-08:00

I'm 'in training' for a backcountry bike trip to Utah next week, so I've been trying to put on the miles that I didn't get in over the summer due to a number of excuses (boat, rain, sprained thumb). For the most part, this fall has been beautiful and I've been lucky with the weather. But last week did pit my competing desires to 'be in better shape' versus to 'stay warm and dry' against each other.

Cold temperatures at night had made the lower elevation trails a little gooey, so last Sunday, I suggested to Paul that we ride higher where maybe the temperatures were a little more even. We did find that the surface of the Powerline Pass trail was indeed mostly frozen. We were surprised to find that the upper part of the valley was also covered in snow. We weren't entirely thrilled to be riding in snow in October, but it was fun to see the upper valley in snow and ice.

On Monday, I biked to work in sleet and cold. And on Tuesday, the thermometer was set at 25 when I pedaled down the driveway. It's beginning to feel like winter.

2 oct 10 harvest

2010-10-07T13:57:00.007-08:00

In many ways, this was a disappointing summer for gardening. The sun and heat of late May transitioned to one of the rainiest, cloudiest summers on record. Our vegetable garden site has become shadier over the years as the birch trees around the perimeter of our backyard have grown. And I've been busy with other activities and not spending the time I should to feed the plants and the soil and to hunt the slugs. The latter loved this summer -- between the constant moisture and my lack of vigilance, they had a long party.

At one point in August I almost gave up on getting much out of the garden. I was even buying lettuce at the farmer's market because my leafy greens weren't large enough to harvest yet and I'd already thinned as much as I could for baby green salads.

But being a gardener is partly about being an optimist, and I stuck it out. I visited the Alaska Botanical Gardens and took inspiration for next year in their edible landscape plantings. I read The Conscious Gardener by Alaskan Ellen Van deVisse, and tried to pick more slugs while not thinking of them with vengeance. I also took note of what veggies had done well -- red cabbages for the fall and winter, a beautiful red sorrel that dresses up every salad, and abundant nasturtiums.

But the real surprise and joy are the apples. I received this tree at least five years ago in a tree adoption lottery used to be held in Anchorage every spring. The little tree produced a few apples the first couple of years, then maybe a dozen, and two dozen last year. This spring on the Veggie Roll I learned that I should remove some of the spring buds to get bigger apples. I finally got around to doing that in late June and was surprised at the number of buds. Surely they wouldn't all develop into fruit. But they did. The final tally -- 103 apples!

Most of these fit within the hole formed by touching my thumb to my middle finger. They're beautiful sitting in a red bamboo bowl on the counter. The slightly tart flavor will be perfect for applesauce, one of the tastes of fall from my upstate New York childhood. These little red-golden globes may be the shiny lining in the garden in this wet summer.

23-26 sep 10 Eklutna Camaraderie

2010-10-07T13:56:00.005-08:00

Once again after a summer of disappointing weather, the Alaska Dirt Divas were treated to a sunny, golden weekend at the Serenity Falls Cabin. Our gamble two years ago to push the weekend later in September has become the tradition and we haven't been sorry yet. We added a night this year to include the Equinox and Full Moon in our long weekend.

Three nights gave us time to explore the canyon by foot one day and relax in the sun another. As always, more food than we could eat, though we tried. Morning workouts by Stacey were a justification for the gorging for some of us. Maggie's tai chi was a welcome stretch and relaxation for some of us who did Stacey's workout.

Rose showed me how to balance rocks. We stacked rocks into cairns on a dry stretch of river bottom one afternoon. She is able to stack off center yet keep the weight balanced through a center plumb line. I was just happy to achieve a little balance in the autumn sun with good friends.

Here are more photos from the weekend:

19 sep 10 end of summer

2010-09-19T21:16:00.005-08:00

The last month has been a busy time of playing with family, harvesting the garden, and enjoying the best weather we've had in months. Here are some photos from the last few weeks. I hope to get through the backlog soon.

Paul, my dad, and I bicycled from Indian to Girdwood and most of the way back on one dry day during my parents' visit. My stepmom Kay drove the support wagon, babysat the pup, and met us in Girdwood for lunch.

We skipped two weekends in Prince William Sound because of forecast downpours and small craft advisories. Then came the weekend after Labor Day ....

Airing out the sails at anchor in Pirate Cove, with College Fjord as the backdrop.

Blossom anchored in Bettles Bay Lagoon. We found a ridge full of blueberries above the lagoon.

We enjoyed a couple of hikes "in the heather" above Port Wells.

26 aug 10 rainy days, mondays, bad haircuts

2010-08-27T16:20:00.004-08:00

Zen lesson for the day: Don't let 'em get you down

and a fashion tip: if a bandana makes you feel better, wear it

20 aug 10 birds of all feathers

2010-08-20T21:45:00.005-08:00

Summer has been making an appearance as this week ends. This morning the sun was out, the clouds were gone, and the birds were more active than I've seen in two months. The residents - nuthatches, chickadees, and junkies - were on the deck eating the birch seeds that recent strong winds dropped there. Robins were flying in groups between the birch and spruce trees, which is sadly a sign that they're getting ready to head south.

Mid-morning I was working at the desk in the loft when I heard a loud thump on a living room window. Last week a young robin died there and I was hoping that I could help another bird make it to the migration. On the deck a young female blackpoll warbler sat in a daze. I held her in my hands to keep her warm. I couldn't see any visible signs of injury. After a little while I placed her on the picnic table to see if she'd fly off. She didn't. So I made her a little nest of napkins and towels in a yogurt container and left her on the table. I looked out often, hopeful that she had flown off. Eventually I went back to work and hoped for the best.

Not too much later I saw two neighborhood dogs sniffing at the table. I ran downstairs and chased them off. The little warbler was still in the container. As I pulled back the napkin that was partially over the container, she flew off.

The predators were as active as the birds. A little later I noticed a flash of white outside. The neighbor's cat was stalking a young robin. I cranked open the window and both of them scattered.

Despite the drama of prey and predator, life and death, the reminder that we are in the season of birth and growth, the height of life, was refreshing after these weeks of rain.

11 aug 10 soggy zen

2010-08-17T19:32:00.009-08:00

I feel like I haven't done anything but whine about the weather since we returned from a soggy week in Prince William Sound to the soggy summer in Anchorage on Saturday evening.* So I won't dwell on the dominant weather that we had in the Sound last week.

I'm trying to focus on how this is the first summer in a long time that I actually sit around reading. Earlier this summer I complained to a friend back East about the flurry of summer reading lists that pop up everywhere in June and how Alaskans were too busy making the most of every minute of sunshine to sit around reading. Winter is for reading. My remarks were possibly a bit insensitive because she was laid up with a broken ankle. I hoped that she was enjoying the opportunity to read and relax during the warm days. I wanted to know what she was reading for my own winter book list.

Then came our time in Prince William Sound - a week last month and a week this month. The weather was less than inspiring for exploring by either boat or foot most of the time, but perfect for snuggling in with a hot beverage and a good novel. This approach to a vacation, unusual for me, certainly leads to a relaxed state.

Paul commented on how the week had a Zen quality -- from the quiet mornings of reading (including a book on Zen) and doing Sudoku and crosswords to the chance to mindfully carry out chores and meal preparations. Even the landscape looked like an Asian painting with mists defining successive ridges and mountains.

Once again it seems that the trick is to bring that calm, relaxed state of the retreat back to the everyday world.

* And it's official - the National Weather Service says that we're setting records for cool, wet, and cloudy. And it has rained every day since this article was in the paper.

** I've added some more photos with captions to the gallery.

31 july 10 fungus among us

2010-07-31T21:02:00.005-08:00

King Boletus, come meet us

What is it about large mushrooms that inspire song and poetry?

We went on a woodland stroll this evening in search of boletes. Paul found one in our neighborhood last night and started to get that crazy glint in his eye. Our one hour walk this evening turned into two. We have much to show for it, probably more than will fit into one batch of drying in the convection oven.

When the moon hits your eye like a big bolete pie
That's amore ...

Old King Boletus
Old Bichon happy in woods
Meet just once in life

july 2010 blossom

2010-07-29T17:18:00.033-08:00

In September 1998 Paul and I sailed together for the first time; it was the first time Paul had ever sailed. We went to Maine to visit my brother Ron. Our plan had been to rent kayaks and paddle part of the Maine Island Trail. We had rented a shelter on Isle of Haute in Acadia National Park for a few nights. But because Ron hadn't kayaked before, no one would rent to us. Ron, who is a boat designer, was working for a boat builder at the time, and his boss offered to loan us an open wooden sail boat that he had built. We'd still be camping every night, and if the wind didn't blow, the boat was fitted with oars. His daughter had named the little blue boat Blossom.

Ron and Paul did row quite a bit but we also sailed. Somehow Ron anchored Blossom off-shore each night and got us and the camping gear to the islands without a dinghy. The weather was mostly good, we ate fresh mussels, hiked on Isle of Haute, and had a great time. Not only did Paul get the sailing bug that week, but we bought two folding kayaks and found out that the National Park Service wanted to send him to Alaska to work for Katmai and Lake Clark National Parks. Our lives were changed forever in the span of a few days.

Our Jeanneau Tonic 23 is much more modern in design than that little wooden gaffrig sailboat, but those happy memories and maybe the blue bottom hull of our boat have caused us to call our sailboat Blossom almost from the time we bought her. We haven't told anyone, but that's the name we've been leaning toward. And we've finally toasted her with Paul's homemade mead (the last bottle from our wedding 16 years ago!) and made it official -- here's Blossom II.
Our Blossom with all the wet gear hanging out on the first sunny day

July was the first real sailing and gunkholing month on our Blossom. Over a long Fourth of July weekend, we anchored in Surprise Cove, hiked on a state park trail, and finally saw Blackstone Bay. We've kayaked in Prince William Sound many times and have never seen whales. We probably saw a dozen humpbacks in Cochrane and Blackstone Bays that weekend. We scooted back into Whittier for a night in the harbor when a small craft advisory was forecast for our last day. Sleeping at dock and maneuvering about the harbor the next day in sustained 14 mph winds with 40 mph gusts were excellent boat handling practice!

On the 17th we drove to Whittier with food, libations, books, and other supplies for a week's sojourn. We spent another night at Surprise Cove and then two rainy nights tucked back into Three Finger Cove. Two harbor seals had greeted us there. On the first night, I was awake in the middle of the night and heard an odd bubbling sound water off the bow. I jumped out, grabbed the binoculars, and peered out into the dark. I could just see some tremendous splashing near the shore. In the morning and all the next day, the seals were gone. I feared that orcas had attacked them. When we left the cove the next day, dozens of seals were hauled out on rocks near the cove entrance. I hope that our seals were just visiting with the family.

We left Three Finger Cove and spent the afternoon motoring up out of Cochrane Bay and down Culross Passage to within a couple of miles of where we had started that day. The sun came out for the first time in four days while we were anchored in Long Bay. We hung all the wet towels and rain gear on the boom, back stay, and life lines. Paul hoisted a sun shower from the main halyard and we bathed in the cockpit.

Clean and dry, we sailed out of Long Bay and then down Culross Passage to Picturesque Cove for a night. The next day we motored through the gap between Culross Island and Applegate Island and then up the east side of Culross. We had hoped for a little wind from the greater Sound for sailing that day, but the north breeze wasn't enough to be worth tacking back and forth up wind. We tried to visit Lake Bay that day but the commercial fishermen had it blocked off to catch pinks returning to the hatchery. So we returned to the north end of Culross Passage and anchored in Carrs Cove.

The wind and sun returned on Friday and we sailed out of Culross Passage and north into Port Wells. For an hour we just enjoyed the east wind on a broad reach toward the glaciers. Late in the afternoon we anchored in Ziegler Cove in the state marine park of that name. The swells in the cove rocked us to sleep after we explored the long gravel beach and boggy uplands separating the cove from Port Wells. On Saturday, those same east winds pushed us back to Whittier. With the whisker pole holding the jib out, we hit our fastest speed yet, under sail or motor, of 7 knots.

To see more photos of our Prince William Sound trips, click Play or the photo itself:

17 jul 10 becoming a crew

2010-07-17T08:10:00.004-08:00

The 'somewhat weekly' has moved into summer schedule of 'somewhat monthly.' We are headed to Prince William Sound for more wilderness and sailing fun.

When we were deciding whether or not to buy the boat, the former owner gave a little speech about how sailing and boating had transformed his family: we used to be just a family, now we're a crew. We sometimes joke about that little speech -- you really could almost hear the music cued behind it. Yet the sailboat does seem to be bringing a new level of cooperation to our marriage.

So co-captains Paul and Corinne with first mate Gilligan (B's boat name) are off to keep honing our crew skills.

21 jun 10 sailing into solstice

2010-06-25T17:44:00.010-08:00

Light wind sailing in Prince William Sound

With the end of June only a few days away, I start to feel like the summer is slipping away. I try to remind myself to live in the moment, but it's so difficult not to pace this season in Alaska by its number of weekends (14 with Memorial and Labor Day). This is the 5th weekend (and it's rainy and gray). If we're lucky, we get a few warm weekends in May and September to stretch the summer vibe. I also usually mark the summer's passage by the number of camping and kayaking trips. This summer, it's the number of sailing trips. And due to boat repairs, family reunions, work, and more boat repairs, we've only had the boat in the water one weekend so far this season.

Thinking about what we did that weekend (4 days over Solstice), I realize that we are making progress. Our goals for the sailboat this summer are threefold -- get to know it, fix the problems it has (sometimes these seem to be multiplying), and get more comfortable with boat handling. We're doing pretty well with all three despite the limited time on the boat.

The first two goals go hand-in-hand and are the most frustrating. Seems the more we get to know the boat, the more we find things that need to be repaired. The bilge is very clean now that we've discovered the windows leak, the water tank leaks (especially if the mystery O-ring is fitted into the hose), and two stanchion bases leak. Thankfully, Paul is very good at repairing just about anything and has a good supply of tools and hardware on board. (Though sometimes those things are on board to fix the problem we found the weekend before.) In addition to those leaks, in the last two weeks, we've had problems with the motor, the windlass (just the power option), and the trailer hitch. At this point, (knock on fiberglass), it doesn't seem like there's much left to be broken. Paul already re-wired and re-plumbed it.

In the third goal - the most fun - we both became much more comfortable motoring around the harbor, docking, and launching/taking out. We anchored for the first time for snacks and a shore walk in Shotgun Cove, about 7 miles out of Whittier. We used commercial and shrimp buoys at the mouth of the cove to practice handling and to get a better feel for how tight a radius the boat turns in all directions. We are relieved to find that dropping the rudder more than a foot actually gives us reverse to starboard (we don't know how the previous owners did it with the rudder raised to the trailering position even in the water).

I could whine more about broken things but it's probably wiser to remember how beautiful the weekend was, how peaceful it was sailing in Passage Canal, how quiet Shotgun Cove was on a Sunday evening, how nice the various people we met in the harbor were, and how much we like being on the boat.

our first anchorage -- Shotgun Cove

Click here to see more sailing photos

13 jun 10 dog days of summer

2010-06-25T17:33:00.002-08:00

Another gratuitous photo of my pooch, just before I got brave and cut his hair myself. It's been almost two weeks (the difference between a good vs bad hair cut) and he's almost ready to let me post another photo.

31 may 10 and it's summer

2010-06-01T21:40:00.007-08:00

You know it's summer in Alaska when ...

I'm never quite sure when to say that summer begins here. If you're Paul, you stick strictly to the idea that equinoxes and solstices bookend each season. I tend to think of those dates as the halfway marks. But when spring is really only a couple of weeks long, how can you call that a season? Or is Memorial Day the true kickoff, with a long weekend, holiday events, and the start of outdoor gardening?

I don't know when it truly starts, but this past weekend, I knew it was summer in Anchortown. I wore shorts all weekend and it was 60 degrees on Sunday morning at 7:00! I swapped out the flannel sheets with the 'cool-feel' summer sheets. All the leaves are full-fledged and green now and the elderberries are starting to bloom. And the surest sign -- the mosquitoes are so thick in the lower elevations of Bicentennial Park that I couldn't let the dog stop to do much of anything that wasn't vital.

Paul is reunioning back East with the Buttons so I devoted the weekend primarily to gardening. On Saturday, I rebuilt two raised beds for vegetables and planted all my seeds and seedlings (except the last few that I bought that morning at the farmer's market). On Sunday I pedaled around town on the Veggie Roll, a tour of vegetable gardens organized by Bicycle Commuters of Anchorage. We saw some creative and productive gardens where people are trying really hard to grow most of their produce right here in the big city. On Monday I turned to the flower beds. I weeded, watered, and mulched with leaves and wood shavings from Paul's 2009 winter project. I still need to weed and mulch the raspberry patch, but by Monday evening, I had accomplished all the big tasks on the garden to-do list.

Yes, it's summer in Alaska ... go-go-go while the sun shines.

B taking a little break on Sunday evening in Bicentennial Park

27 may 10 spring cleaning

2010-05-27T21:49:00.004-08:00

clean, shiny sailboat (attached to the very dirty truck) ready to motor from our street to Whittier

little dog fresh (soggy?) from a bath

21 may10 bike to work

2010-05-23T09:10:00.010-08:00

Habitat through Habitat

If every day was like this Friday, I'd bike to work everyday.

After a week of clouds and wind, the end of the week dawned clear and bright green. Paul and I pedaled away from the house around 8:00. Less than half an hour later we were at the Bacon Station, one of the energizer stations set up around town for this official Bike to Work Day. We chatted with Anne, the municipality's BtW coordinator, about the event. I met Dawn from Bicycle Commuters of Anchorage ; she is planning a garden tour on Memorial Day weekend and I told her I'm in.

Paul enjoyed the bacon

Two strips of bacon and a smoothie didn't fully fuel my commute, so I stopped at a coffee shop downtown and picked up some pastries for myself and my co-workers. I finally rolled into the office around 9:15.

This isn't a Friday that I normally work; I had decided to bike in for a little camaraderie with the rest of the bicycle commuters, especially those at my office. So after doing some low-key work, like filing and asking people about their commutes (I am the office BtW coordinator after all), I put my helmet back on and rolled over to the museum to meet Rose for lunch.

After locking up our bikes, we toured the grounds which have only recently been opened. We circled the new sculpture, Habitat. Like most city artwork, it has its fans and its dis-fans. I decided I liked it. The photos in the paper don't do it justice, nor does driving past in on 6th Avenue.

Rose wanted to climb on everything, including the don't climb sign.

We had a leisurely lunch at Muse, the new restaurant in the museum. The Marx Brothers did not disappoint with a roasted beet salad, Bristol Bay seafood chowder, and a porkloin empanada. We lingered over cappuccinos to fuel our commutes home.

Then Rose led me through the Fairview, Airport Heights, and Nunaka Valley neighborhoods and Russian Jack Park to Baxter Road on the east side of town. Near Tudor we parted. I pedaled up the hill on Campbell Airstrip Road to the Bivouac trailhead, then on the dirt trail through Bicentennial Park to my neighborhood. I finally rolled into the garage around 4:00.

Crossing over Campbell Creek, where snow is still clinging to the banks and the grasses are waiting to green up.

8 may 10 simple pleasures

2010-05-10T21:44:00.004-08:00

What could be finer than tromping around in the woods on a warm spring day with the excuse of looking for birds? That's what we did for many of the hours between 6:00pm Friday and 6:00pm Saturday during the Talkeetna Birdathon. Paul and I also biked about 20 miles to some area ponds, lakes, streams, and rivers. Bhikkhu didn't think much of staying in the crate Paul attached to his bike rack, so the pup napped in the cabin on Saturday afternoon.

Our total bird species observed and identified was down from previous years. Was it us or them? Who knows. Who cares. We added two species to our life list - blue-winged teal and surf scoters (actually seen on Sunday). A trio of trumpeter swans put on quite a concert while we were at Lakes 4 (photo above) and 5 on Saturday morning; they flew between the two while we were hiking between the two.

All that was topped off with a bonfire by the Susitna River and a swapping of bird stories with other twitchers.

3 may 10 spring is in the air

2010-05-03T21:28:00.005-08:00

Spring visited today and Alaskans started acting crazy. The temperature hit 60 degrees somewhere in town so people were out in shorts and t-shirts. I even saw a woman in a strappy little sundress down by Westchester. I biked home, sharing the trails with every runner, dog walker, and baby stroller in the city. In my neighborhood, several men were engaged in a strange rite of spring: shoveling snow from one part of their yard to another part, where there was no or less snow. Paul even engaged in this act yesterday to free my raised vegetable beds from several inches of snow.

Another sure sign of spring and renewing life is the return of the gulls. The mew gulls invaded downtown almost two weeks ago. They've been circling roof tops and harassing other birds, maybe to get into practice for protecting their nests and young. They nest on the roofs downtown. When the chicks hatch in mid-June, the adults constantly circle and dive bomb anything or anyone that comes near them. This is a source of annoyance and entertainment at my office, depending upon who they're targeting. Yesterday I saw two gulls copulating on the clinic roof across the alley. Is there an act that says Spring more than the creation of new life?

On Saturday evening we had equal amounts of sun though not as warm as today. Paul and I joined a couple of dozen people at the Campbell Creek Estuary. The Great Land Trust is working to buy this property and transfer it to the city for municipal parkland. It's gorgeous! Birders will love it. We saw sandhill cranes, a peregrine falcon, pintail ducks, and a bald eagle's nest. If you'd like to protect Anchorage's coastline from development, go the trust's website and make a donation ... and tell the mayor how important this is. Thanks!

30 apr 10 climbing hills with strength

2010-04-30T22:37:00.011-08:00

On Friday my road bike made the commute home from work for the first time this year. I felt strong until I hit the hills in the last few miles. As I often do on those long hills, I remembered a co-worker of mine from Colorado. I sat next to him at my first job out of college. He was about 8 years older than me, good-looking (though married), and very nice and supportive. At our desks he introduced me to jazz through a public radio station in Denver. He was a road biker and once gave me some tips when we rode together on Bike to Work Day.

Eight years later when Paul and I returned from our first sojourn in Alaska, I worked for Chris at a small satellite office the firm had opened. I was depressed about leaving Alaska, and Paul and I were living separately during the week because our house was still rented and we had jobs 80 miles apart. Along with my family, Chris was a rock in those first months, someone to remind me that I'd had a life there that I had enjoyed even though so much of it felt foreign at the time.

Two years later we moved back to Alaska. I thought about Chris a little over the next five years, but mostly when I received newsletters from my old company or when Bob the president of the firm visited Alaska. I was shocked when Bob called me late one December and said that Chris had died of a massive heart attack right at Christmas. Ever since, I've thought of him and his family often, wondering how someone can be here one day, happy and healthy, and gone the next.

As I pedaled up Abbott Road on Friday, I remembered Chris' hill-climbing advice: "10 revolutions pushing the pedals down, 10 revolutions pulling up, and 10 standing up ... then do it again until you reach the top of the hill."

As I followed Chris' advice up the last hill to home, I wondered if he's somewhere looking down on me, seeing me take his advice. Does he exist somewhere, knowing that the advice he gave me almost 20 years ago still guides me when I hit a long hill on my bike? I wasn't really contemplating the after life as much as I was thinking about the small legacies that we can each leave in this life. Almost any encounter with another person is an opportunity to do or say something that could help them in life, whether it's getting up a literal or figurative hill.

Recently I was talking with a friend who is undergoing an incredibly difficult time. One of the hardships of her life is a family who doesn't sympathize with her very real health issues, and consequently, they add to her stress. The medical community hasn't always been compassionate either and don't get me started on her health and disability insurance providers. So in this conversation when she expressed more despair than she's ever confided before, she surprised me by saying how this experience has made her want to be more compassionate to others in need. Bitterness would be the more likely sentiment from many of us, but she was excusing her siblings and seeking how she could treat others as she wanted to be treated. I was chastened for my inability to forgive others for small slights and wondered if I could be so graceful and generous if I were in a similar situation.

These are just two examples of the many words and deeds that have hopefully helped me to be a better person every day. I'll be looking and listening for more and hoping that I'm passing along some of this wisdom.

* The photo is of my friend Rose on an afternoon ski in the mountains a couple of weeks ago. Our two hour skied turned into four because the day and conditions were too perfect to go back down to the parking lot.

4 apr 10 practice resurrection

2010-04-04T19:54:00.005-08:00

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.

Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry
Collected Poems, 1957-1982

27 mar 2010 dalteli

2010-04-02T21:16:00.009-08:00

My Alaska* is brilliant blue skies, snowy mountains, and good friends. We were blessed with all that plus great food and good skiing last weekend. Our friends Pam and Roger invited a houseful of people to their cabin on Dalteli Lake. Paul and I hadn't been there in several years and were excited to be in the shadow of Denali again. The cabin, which Roger built and lived in for 5 years, is on the southern boundary of Denali State Park, five miles off the Parks Highway. On Friday we met them at a parking area and loaded our gear onto the sled of their snow machine. Pam hauled the gear to the cabin while the rest of us skied in.

The terrain is mostly flat so the skiing is easy. Pam even set a ski track with a special sled that one of their neighbors made. Despite the ease, it took us almost two hours to ski in because we stopped so often to enjoy the sun and photograph the beautiful day.

On Saturday, Roger led us on a tour north to the Tokositna River valley. We circled back along the giant muskeg on the north end of Swan Lake. The skiing was a little more difficult than the day before, and the weather not as sunny, but our slow speed was more due to totally enjoying the day than rough going. The cabin is on a plateau so the most challenging skiing was getting down the steep, crusty hillside. Some took their skis off to get off the plateau, and we all walked back up near the end of the outing.

I've posted a few more photos on my Picasa gallery.

*Another Alaskan, she-who-must-not-be-named, is going to host a TV show about Alaska. I won't be watching to see what she chooses to highlight, but I suspect that it will be similar to the episode that my friend Rose envisions. Only not so funny and sadly, too real. The gist of the story that Rose relays is true - the state shot collared wolves that the National Park Service was studying, after they had promised they wouldn't.

24 mar 2010 peace testimony

2010-03-24T21:54:00.008-08:00

It's been one of those weeks with a convergence of work and volunteer commitments. The volunteer stuff leads to fun though ... kicking off our women's mountain biking club season, planning a Quaker retreat in Talkeetna, and supporting the Great Land Trust as it helps protect important places in south-central Alaska. I can't say that my job duties this week -- annual budgeting, proposal writing, and attending an assembly meeting -- are fun. On top of being sick this last weekend (which means sitting around looking at how dirty the house is), life seems a little too fast and messy. This is one of those weeks when it's tempting to just hunker down until things slow down.

Despite my inclinations, I didn't do that this evening. I decided to leave duties aside and join some other Quakers to discuss our faith's peace testimony. I could say I was supporting the Friend that has been organizing these talks, but really I was hoping for an evening where I could put all tasks and responsibilities out of mind. The evening was a chance to examine my own attempts at peace in my life and an inspiration to hear how others have approached much tougher situations. Three men were of draft age near the end of the Vietnam war. They took different paths of conscientious objection, illustrating that each of us has to follow our convictions in our own.

I'm glad I didn't stay home to do laundry, write emails, or type up minutes. Sometimes a serious discussion is an escape from ordinary life.

14 mar 2010 Talkeetna lakes skiing

2010-03-20T13:15:00.003-08:00

We toured the Numbered Lakes Natural Area and beyond last Saturday and Sunday.

7 mar 10 snow and sun return

2010-03-07T21:02:00.007-09:00

It's a happy weekend in Anchor-town. Over 4" of snow Thursday evening through Saturday and blue-bird skies on Sunday.

Despite the fresh snow, we both decided to go biking on Saturday -- Paul because he's still being careful with his ankle and me because that's what my friends wanted to do. Paul and I biked similar routes, just not together. Rose, Jo-Ann, Wendy, and I circled Far North Bicentennial Park (FNBP) mostly on singletrack trails packed by the fat bikes. The skies almost cleared when we started out but the snow was falling heavily when we finished late in the afternoon. I've posted a few more photos of my ride, including my most spectacular crash of that day, on the Alaska Dirt Divas site.

Paul would have gone for another bike ride today but I hated to pass up the opportunity to ski on this new snow. We just haven't had that much snow this year or been skiing much. His ankle felt good so we skied the little-used skijor trails on the east side of FNBP. The fat bikes have been out there as much as the skiers and dogs. We saw a few people and as many dogs but mostly had the trails to ourselves. The sun was blasting and is definitely emitting heat again.

I'm so glad for the new snow and the snow. This is one of the best times of year to be here.

28 feb 2010 different is good

2010-03-01T21:43:00.008-09:00

Paul and I have long suspected that we're not like other people. Not that we're smarter, or better, or anything. Just that our priorities and how we spend our time is a little different than our neighbors ... or maybe most of middle class America. We seem to be like many of our friends, not surprising, and given the places we work, like many of our co-workers. Recently we've been reminded that our lives are a little different from the norm.

About five weeks ago we arranged to meet some friends from Talkeetna to catch a matinee of Avatar. They wanted to come to Anchorage to compress some movie going into one weekend. Avatar had been here for over a month. On a beautiful, sunny February Saturday, we didn't imagine that many people would elect to spend the afternoon in a dark theater. We'd managed to fit in a bike ride early in the afternoon. So we were very surprised that the humongous parking lot at the theater was full. When we finally hiked over from the parking spot we found, we were shocked that the film was sold out. But we weren't disappointed. The film hadn't been high on our list to see. So we drove back home and Bhikkhu got a nice walk on a sunny afternoon.

Yesterday was my first chance to ski in weeks, and I was excited to ski on the 6" of snow we received a few days earlier. Paul is recovering from a sprained ankle so I headed alone to the municipal park nearby. We classical nordic ski. Based on the nordic ski club's trail priorities and the people usually passing us on the wide groomed trails, sometimes it seems like most of Anchorage skate skis. Yesterday the parking lot was full and I expected to share the trails and the best snow in weeks with a few of the 250,000 people in Anchorage. After I left the skate ski highway, however, I skied alone for the better part of an hour on a narrower classic only trail. I glided along through silent woods where fewer than a dozen people had skied in the past few days. Our decision to stick to classical skiing seems to be rewarded with solitude on the edge of the city.

We've also been reminded recently about something that's different when you live in Alaska -- the number of people who come and go. Except for college, I've never lived anywhere else where many of your friends are likely to move away. Some leave for better jobs, others to follow or find love, and young families often head out to be nearer to family. Last week our friend Shane came up from California to work a booth at a conference. We hadn't seen him since he, his wife, and their baby left 4 years ago. We've kept in touch via email but that doesn't replace hanging out around the house, walking in the woods, and enjoying good microbrew together. He stayed with us for a week. We caught up over long dinners and walking Bhikkhu every day.

We aren't going to the mall or the theater every Saturday afternoon and our meals are definitely more slow food than fast food. We are lucky to have friends who prefer the woods to the mall and meals of fellowship to the food court. Friends like that are friends forever, whether they live across town, up the highway, in California or Colorado or on the East coast. We're blessed to live in a place where we can pursue our life choices and find lifelong friends.

13 feb 2010 big island adventures

2010-02-15T17:13:00.018-09:00

Some people go to Hawaii to sit on the beach, work on their tans, drink fruity cocktails. Their days become a relaxing blur of sun and sand.

That's not our approach to vacationing in Hawaii. We spend most of our research time focusing on the Activities and Adventure sections of our favorite Big Island guide book. (The second greatest amount of time is spent on the Dining section -- we need a lot of kona coffee, ahi steaks, grass-fed burgers, loco mocos, and homemade ice cream to fuel our pursuits.)

Our trip began with climbing Mauna Kea, an extinct volcano which happens to be the tallest mountain in the world if you start measuring at the sea floor (>30,000 feet). This feat isn't that rigorous but it does involve putting on all of the clothes that you brought on your tropical vacation, including your winter coat. Our friends Pam and Roger who we were visiting had rented a 4 wheel-drive behemoth to cart the four of us and two other visiting Alaskans up the steep rough road to the observatories near the summit. From there we hiked a few hundred feet to the summit to watch the sun set over Mauna Loa, the other massive volcano on the island.

Sunset over Mauna Loa from the summit of Mauna Kea

Pam and Roger are building a house but they try to keep their days balanced between work and play. They start with yoga and an outing, typically a walk or bike ride, before breakfast. One morning they suggested a short ride on the section of the King's Road near their house. It's an old trail that used to circle the island. In some places it's barely discernible, in others it's a foot path or a paved road, and near Pam and Roger, it's a four-wheel drive road over lava and gravel. They have 4 bikes - a 10-speed, 2 old mountain bikes without suspension, and Pam's new Giant country cruiser with front shocks. Roger offered to ride the 10 speed so Paul and I had the best bikes for the trail (though we missed our full-suspension on the lava flows). The morning was sunny and not too hot and we decided to push on farther than they had biked before. After an hour we came to a newer neighborhood and paved roads. We sat in a park near the ocean for a while before turning back. This two-hour ride inspired the longing for an expanded tour of the King's Road. We decided that Paul and I would rent bikes one day and the four of us would ride a tour that Roger had wanted to do for several years. But first, Paul and I had plans to head north for a few days.

Roger negotiates a rough section of the King's Road on his old 10 speed

For three days the small town of Hawi on the north coast was our base. We hadn't been there since our first trip to the Big Island with our friends Jim and Kathy in 2002. We visited several places that sounded interesting in the guide book and were surprised that we'd been there before. "We camped/hiked/snorkeled/ate here with Jim and Kathy!" It's amazing what you forget.

One day we repeated a hike that we did remember from our previous trip - Pololu Valley. It's a 500 foot descent into a valley at the end of the road. Below is a black sand beach backed by tall dunes covered with an open forest of ironwoods and a bright green ground cover, and farther up valley, a pasture with a stream and beef cattle. The day was cool with broken cloud cover and strong breezes so we decided to hike up the ridge on the opposite side and down to the next valley. Unlike the much-used trail down to Pololu, the trail up and out the other side was narrow and lined with native ferns and trees. From the top of the ridge, we could look down onto a narrow valley with thick native forest and a dry stream bed. The trail down seemed well-used until it abruptly ended. We later found out that it had been wiped out during an earthquake in 2006. The latest version of the guidebook (which we didn't have) said that the valley was inaccessible now but the author didn't know that some enterprising hiker had installed ropes down a new path to the valley floor. The thick ropes were in good shape and well-attached to trees on a slope that had not slid during the earthquake, so we decided to descend. Our reward -- a bit of adventure and a valley and rocky beach all to ourselves.

Paul ready to descend into the unknown forest

On our way back to Pam and Roger's a couple of days later, we stopped in Hilo to rent bikes for the bike tour of King's Road and Pahoa. The Giant Boulders were a good all-around bike for the ride - front suspension for the gravel and lava, smoother tires and more upright frame for the pavement. After a light breakfast we pedaled from their house, near the ocean, up to the main road to Pahoa. Nine miles brought us to the Pahoa Village Inn for breakfast (small loco moco with mahi mahi for me). Then we headed back toward the ocean under a canopy of albezia trees. We soon turned onto a one-lane paved road that rapidly descended through a corridor of mango trees. At the ocean, we turned onto a paved portion of King's Road and soon stopped at Aha'luani Hot Pond for a soak. From there, the royal path became pocked red lava-based asphalt and then gravel back to the park where we had turned around on the earlier ride. After a break in the same park, we were on the homestretch to Pam and Roger's.

Pedaling through a grove of protected mangroves on the King's Road

Our visit wasn't completely beach-free. We visited the beaches of the Kohala district. Strong surf kept us from snorkeling so we played in the waves at one beach park and hiked to a remote, protected cove with dozens of turtles. On the Puna coast, we snorkeled twice at the Kapoho tide pools. Though even there, Paul made that more than just a float by leading us across ledges and through gaps to explore the outer pools near the wave break.

Maybe someday we'll be those people you see at the beach park, with a cooler full of cold drinks, folding chairs, boogies boards and snorkel masks -- everything you need to camp out for the day. I'm not sure when that will happen when there are so many trails to hike, paths to bike, and tidepools to explore.

signs like this may be why we seldom saw other people off the beaten path in Hawaii

what about the aggressive bikers?

1 feb 10 fun winter

2010-02-01T21:30:00.005-09:00

I haven't been inspired to write much in the last couple of months, but I have been inspired to get out and play. The winter has been warm and inviting. We've received little snow in recent weeks here in Anchorage. The ski club is doing a good job at keeping the ski trails groomed. The real treat, however, are the multi-use trails that are packed and perfect for mountain biking. I think we've been biking more than skiing here in Anchorage. My kind friend Rose loaned me her snow bike for two days this last weekend. My legs are still recovering from that fun. Our new favorite trail network has been dubbed Baseball Boogie by the winter biking community -- that gives you an indication of the energy and rhythm required to have a good time on that hill.

My bike on the Campbell Tract.

Paul, a little bit of color on the Blue Dot trail.

We had a gorgeous ski outing on the Numbered Lakes in Talkeetna with Doug and Ellen.

21 jan 10 where does it go?

2010-01-21T21:35:00.005-09:00

The New Year is three weeks old and I'm finally sitting down to write about the end of the old year. We were treated to three auspicious celestial signs that last day of 2009. In the morning, the setting moon, almost full, had a partial eclipse. We watched it set into the fog over the inlet. In the early afternoon, as we drove just north of Houston on the way to Talkeetna, we saw a fata morgana on the ridge of the distant mountains to the west*. Then that night, the moon rose again and was full for the second time that month. That blue moon shone over us as we brought in the New Year on a very cold night.

New Year's Day was cold cold cold in Talkeetna. We snowshoed with friends to help set a trail to the east. We ate black-eyed peas for good luck at a potluck. That was the first that I'd heard of that southern tradition.

I can't tell yet if the auspicious celestial signs and the black-eyed peas have a made a difference in this year. I'm feeling better than I did at the end of last year. But maybe that's a whopping dose of vitamin D every morning, cutting back on coffee, and exercising more. Paul and I start each day with a bit of Buddhist wisdom from a book he bought me for Christmas. We've been cross-country skiing and mountain biking on the packed trails and hiking with Bhikkhu a few times. My evenings feel unproductive yet short and I'm almost a month behind on the blog. I guess black-eyed peas don't make you any more effective or efficient with time.

For resolutions for 2010 - I'm sticking to the tried and true (or still trying to be true to) from the last couple of years. My start may be slow and paced, but I'm hoping it will pick up with some practice and attention.

* I saw this phenomena again a few days later while walking around our neighborhood. Keyholes opened in the ridge of the Tordrillo Mountains, then became arches, and final mesas atop the mountains.

25 dec 09 merry family christmas

2009-12-31T09:24:00.003-09:00

The holidays were busy with various family events with Smiths, Slushers, Buttons, and Salzmans on the Front Range of Colorado, but we managed to visit with Rudolph (in his albino phase) between feasts.

With my brothers and their wives (& one ex-girlfriend?) on Christmas Day, plus a smoochy black lab named Shadow.

My step-mother Kay knitted these sweaters for my sisters-in-law and myself over the last couple of years.

Celebrating a Button Christmas on Boxing Day. Rudolph blessed the gathering.

19 dec 09 winter wonderland

2009-12-31T08:53:00.004-09:00

You would think we shut ourselves inside for a month, but we did get out a little between the middle of November and the middle of December. I just wasn't photographing much. The temperatures were cold in that period and I was conserving warmth in my hands when I was out. We also received some beautiful snow falls during those weeks. They followed several days of ice fog, which had coated trees and shrubs in a thick coat of hoar frost. That frost helped to hold the snow to the trees.

Finally one Friday was sunny and the temperature was nearing 10. Rose suggested that we snowshoe some of the singletrack trails known as Baseball Boogie by the snow bikers. The sky was a deep blue and everything below was black and white. Except for Rose ....

15 nov 09 campbell creek freeze

2009-12-07T20:27:00.002-09:00

8 nov 09 icy bubbles

2009-11-25T10:22:00.003-09:00

While skating on X Lake in Talkeetna a few weeks ago, we came across an area where air bubbles had been trapped in the ice. I'm trying to catch up on processing some photographs and get started on some photo Christmas presents. Here are some bubble photographs for Thanksgiving viewing. I hope you enjoy the day with good friends and family.

nov 09 early winter rambles

2009-11-02T21:42:00.008-09:00

November can be a tough month in Alaska. Usually there's little snow and little sun. The days are gray and the nights are deeply dark. Still it remains one of our favorite times to explore because the cold makes places that are inaccessible all summer hard and firm and great for hiking.

Our friend Pam in Talkeetna organizes weekend rambles throughout the year. On Halloween (no, not technically November but pretty close) she suggested hiking in the Peters Hills. Fourteen of us, plus Bhikkhu, carpooled out past Petersville to tromp across the tundra. A few inches of snow had fallen, which made it easier to cross the dwarf willow and grassy tussocks. The day was brilliant and clear, possibly in the high 20s, though a stiff Arctic breeze from the north made it difficult to tell. The reward for braving the cold and wind was looking at sculpin under the ice of a high lake and reaching a view of the Alaska Range (Denali on the right in the above photo). After a beer at the Forks Roadhouse, we went to Rick and Kathy Ernst's where Kathy had prepared a meal for 14 on an hour's notice because Trapper Creek Pizza, our original dinner destination, was closed for the month.

The following weekend we went back to Talkeetna for more rambling. On Saturday Paul played ice bocce with a group on Lake 5. Bhikkhu and I hiked out to the Susitna River with Ellen, Kathy, Molly, and Loki. We shuffled along clear ice on Birch Creek slough and the edge of the river. Unlike the previous weekend, the day was gray and calm. More typical November. B and Molly found salmon carcasses to nibble (before we chased them off over and over), and Loki and I both wondered if the ice was really thick enough. I could see to the bottom and it looked like a thin layer of ice over clear air.

On Sunday we joined a group at Talkeetna Lakes. Seven of us skated for an hour on X Lake before a large group arrived for a hike. Then we switched to hiking boots and started on the trail around X and Y Lakes. About halfway around, we dropped off the trail to a frozen wetland. On the other side, we entered a forest along a creek. Our destination suddenly appeared in the midst of the birch and cottonwood - a huge erratic boulder left by the glaciers.

From the here the group split. Some returned to the trail. The rest of us, listening to some crazy voice, opted to hike out up the creek through a canyon. This route took us through high golden grasses, across frozen oxbows of the tiny creek, through spruce muskegs, along birch hillsides, and into thickets of alder. Bhikkhu made most of the return trip in my arms or Paul's jacket because the undergrowth was thick and his back legs slipped into a hole in the ice at one crossing. Just as the sun set and we wondered if our leader really knew where he was going, the thin asphalt ribbon of Comsat Road appeared ahead. Pam and Roger hosted the entire ensemble and more for soup and potluck at their house.

Yesterday Paul, B, and I rambled around Far North Bicentennial Park near our Anchorage home. Other feet, skis, and fat tire bikes have tramped down the recent snow falls so the hiking was still good. Campbell Creek is freezing from the sides and bottom. In some places, ice falls are forming and the creek has overrun its banks. The cold winter day was a surprisingly colorful pallet of golden grasses, deep blue water, and green spruce.

For more photos of the Peters Hills (and the Bhikkhu pack in action again), click here.

26 oct 09 bog poodle transformation

2009-11-02T21:30:00.004-09:00

When we adopted Bhikkhu, they said he was a mix of a poodle and a bichon frise -- a Bich-Poo. We didn't really care - we weren't looking for a purebred dog or even one of those breeds. We just thought he was cute and sweet. He had been groomed like a poodle.

We let his hair grow out and admired his curls. Some time over the summer we decided that he was more likely a Bog Poodle or a Salmon Hound. I bathed him every few weeks and tried to keep his curls from matting.

Eventually he needed to get a haircut and we took him to a groomer. By then we thought he probably is a purebred bichon but we didn't need to have him groomed like one. Just an all-over cut, maybe a little shorter on his legs. The groomer managed to detangle the mats on the backs of his legs and on his stomach; and she cut him like a Bichon Frise. That's what he was for Halloween.

A week later, after a few walks in sprinkles and the first snowfall, his hair is starting to curl back up and he is starting to look like a Bog Frise.

25 oct 09 czech the times

2009-10-25T10:33:00.008-08:00

Twelve years ago today we were decompressing from a 5 week trip to Eastern Europe and a 5 hour trip across Denver in a snowstorm from the airport to our house. We've been thinking about that trip since dinner last night. Some coincidence, or possibly subconscious thinking, had us making borscht from local root vegetables for dinner and renting a Czech film, Up and Down, for the evening's entertainment.

We have fond memories of that fall trip ... European castles and palaces around the Czech republic, visiting the birth place of pilsner, fall colors on the Danube bend in Hungary, small wineries in hillsides where it cost more to use the public bathroom than to buy a glass of wine, the open-air market in Vienna. We had wanted to visit the Czech Republic and Hungary before they became too-Westernized and as expensive as the rest of Europe.

Last night's movie was a reminder, however, that as tourists we let ourselves be distracted by the architecture and scenery and overlooked the poverty and social problems that these countries faced then and still face. The movie, while entertaining, is a commentary on the struggle of Czechs to accept immigrants and on the black market that runs on either exploiting the immigrants or importing them illegally. The gypsies, or more appropriately, Romanies, have wandered this part of the world for centuries seeking a home and acceptance. That was clear when we arrived, especially at the large train and bus stations. Romanie women and children approached tourists with open hands.

While some Czechs have never accepted the Romanies, they are now confronted with people fleeing Asia and Africa in search of employment and a better life. The resulting changes in neighborhood character and a continuing struggle by some to recover from the economic effects of communism cause some of the movie characters to blame the immigrants for all past, current, and future downfalls of Czech society. At the beginning of the movie, it seems clear who is the bigot and who is 'nobly helping' the refugees. Events show, however, that prejudice is lurking just beneath the surface for all. All, that is, except the person who left the Czech republic for sunnier shores.

I thought the message that getting away is the only way to escape the bigotry was a little harsh toward the Czech people. The country to which that character emigrated has its own prejudices against the dark-skinned people who were there first. If we all have to flee to someplace without prejudice to change ourselves, where will we go? I do agree that sometimes travel gives someone a different perspective that you can't get by staying home. But if we can't change ourselves in our homeland, we'll all be wandering lost and disaffected like the Romanies.

Jeanneau Tonic 23

2009-10-18T21:45:00.002-08:00

fall 09 highlight #3 evening bikes & walks

2009-10-05T21:24:00.009-08:00

When I was attempting to bike to work four days in a row two weeks ago, I was saving a treat for myself on the fourth evening. That was going to be the evening that I rode leisurely home, on my mountain bike, stringing together all the creek-side bike paths and park trails that I could. Because I only got through three days of bike commuting, my last ride was a dark trip with a laptop on my back.

The great park ride came on the Monday evening the next week. The light was golden, the trees were golden, I felt golden. I pedaled the same old lovely Chester Creek trail, the leaves blanketing the gray strip of pavement. At the end of that trail, I crossed on the pedestrian bridge over Northern Lights, went around Goose Lake, over to APU and then the Native hospital, and across Tudor on that pedestrian bridge. I continued past the Trail Closed signs on the re-routed Campbell Creek greenbelt trail to reach the Old Rondy trail into Far North Bicentennial Park (FNBP) and the Campbell Tract. Soon I left construction and traffic noise behind.

This evening all I carried was bear spray in the bottle cage and water, a snack bar, and my 35 mm camera in my pack. I didn't pull out the camera until I hit Old Rondy because I knew I would stop often once I started clicking. And I did. At the first creek bridge, I photographed trees, the creek, geese flying overhead, and leaves on the ground. Every time I came to a spot that the sun hit, I had to stop to capture the golds. Old Rondy to Salmon Run, to Viewpoint, up to Service High, then the multi-use trail paralleling Abbott Road and finally, to my neighborhood. With stops for photos, the entire trip home was almost two hours, twice the normal commute time.

A few evenings later I took Bhikkhu back to FNBP for a walk in the evening light. We walked a few of my favorite little singletracks that cut across the main trails. My destination was the highest hill on the lit loops, but a mama moose with two calves were already enjoying that view. We managed to find several other places where the evening light made the fall foliage glow. Dusk sent us back to the car with the hope that we'd have a few more evenings of light.

fall 09 highlight #2 moored at thumb cove

2009-10-05T21:23:00.009-08:00

September was our first month with a sailboat. Labor Day weekend was warm and sunny, perfect for swabbing decks, rigging sails, and getting to know the boat. We even sailed a little in Resurrection Bay that first weekend.

The weekend after Labor Day, however, was the first taste of why we bought the boat. Harbor life has its conveniences and entertainments, but cruising from bay to bay is what we want to do. That weekend, we got to one bay for one night.

The weather was typical Alaska coastal fall - rainy and cool. At night it was pitch black. When we rowed to shore to walk Bhikkhu around 10:00 pm, we wouldn't have been able to see the boat if we hadn't left a light on in the cabin (the anchor light wasn't working). In the morning we woke to a thick fog and heavy rain. Not ideal conditions but we didn't care. We were moored in Thumb Cove in our very own sailboat.

we all sleep well on the sailboat

fall 09 highlight #1 eklutna

2009-10-05T21:20:00.007-08:00

Despite the fall seeming long and seamlessly transitioning from a beautiful summer, I've hardly felt like I had the time to process my photos of it or write about it. So now as the rains wash the last bits of color from the trees, I will attempt to record my personal highlights from a golden September.

In the top three was the Divas 3rd annual weekend at the Serenity Falls cabin beyond the east end of Eklutna Lake. The weather was just as beautiful as last year, only warmer and with less termination dust on the mountains. We also filled the cabin both nights with Divas, which doubled the turnout from past years. Like last year, we hired the concessionaire to take firewood, wine, water, and other heavy consumables out for us the day before. That left us with our personal clothes and overnight gear, group kitchen ware, and most of the food that we would eat.

The fun was being together -- shimmying across log bridges, playing rousing games of Yachtzee and combat-style Sporks, enjoying good food cooked on a woodstove, trying to finish off 4 5-liter boxes of wine, relaxing in the sun by a pond, pedaling under the golden fall leaves and bright blue sky. We were blessed.

more photos from the weekend are on my photo page:

24 sep 09 footprints

2009-09-24T19:07:00.012-08:00

could i have pedaled away from whoever made these tracks?

I work up at 4:00 this morning. I laid there for a few minutes, listening to Bhikkhu fluff his bed, before I realized that my thighs were burning. I took two ibuprofen and laid in bed, wide awake, for a while longer. When I got up at 5:15, I knew that I was not riding my bike to work. My legs hurt and my energy level would be nil on less than five hours of sleep.

So ended my attempt to go car-free for a work week, maybe even a week. I had thought of the challenge as a way to get in shape fast - my own boot camp. Maybe if I'd been biking more this summer, riding 23 miles a day, with a 700 foot elevation difference between home and work, would have been sustainable for a few days in a row. I knew it was going to be hard; I just didn't know it was going to hurt.

So I carpooled with Paul to and from work today (still earned 2 points for the Green Commute Challenge). I had missed this time that we had to talk about the day ahead or debrief about the work day behind. And the irony that most of my biking meant that he was the sole occupant of our car did not escape me. That's why the challenge was not really about reducing our household's carbon footprint. It was about reducing the imprint my own feet make and pushing myself to try something new.

I was disappointed but I'm not beating myself up. Now I've got incentive to bike to work more often because I really think I should be physically able to bike it everyday. And I realized that I've got a much better car commute than most people because I get to spend it with my best friend. Either way - bike or car - I've got it good.

23 sep 09 cold but not frosty

2009-09-23T22:07:00.005-08:00

The first thing I heard when I woke up this morning was that it was 32 degrees outside. My first thought: I didn't cover up the greens in the garden. My second thought: I was going to bike to work with a damp head this morning. Luckily we dodged the first frost (32.25 at our house!) and my crops survived another day. I dried my hair a little more than normal and a skull cap under the helmet kept me warm.

This was a long day. I had a Great Land Trust board meeting from 5:30 to 7:30. By the time I chatted and changed into comfortable biking clothes post meeting, I was assured of riding home from dusk to dark. I slipped into the garage just before 9:00.

My legs are tired. I was glad to hear that Paul had walked Bhikkhu. And he had chicken breasts on the grill!

One more day to bike this work week. Paul is going to join me again. We've got to leave a little early because I have to give a presentation in the morning. I know my legs will make it to downtown. Can they make it home one more time?

22 sep 09 world car free day

2009-09-22T21:10:00.005-08:00

North fork of the Eklutna River

I don't know how many other cyclists were commemorating World Car Free Day today but I do know that there are many more people cycling to work in Anchorage than when I first started doing it 9 years ago. Maybe it's the new Elmore Road from my part of town. As much as I didn't want that road to slice through those wetlands, it sure has improved the bike commuting with its wide path, bike lanes (if you like to ride in the street), and limited intersections. Plus the view is nice.

Paul and I pedaled downtown together on this fine morning with the clouds lifting and no rain. From Elmore we could see that the snow line has come down quite a bit further in the last two days. During the day, I could watch dark clouds lower over the mountains. The wind picked up downtown and I wondered how wet and breezy a ride it would be home. The rain held off and the wind abated, and the ride home was almost as pleasant as the ride in.

I forgot to lube my bike chain when I got home last night after riding for an hour in the rain, and the chain squeaked all the way home today. I don't know if that made the pedaling harder or not, but it certainly distracted from the tranquility of the Chester Creek trail. Surprisingly, my legs didn't feel as tired as I had expected for my second day of riding 23 miles round trip.

This was also my fourth ride in the past five days. This last weekend was the Divas' annual fall trip to the Serenity Falls cabin east of Eklutna Lake. On Friday we loaded our bikes with provisions for 3 days, 2 nights, in panniers, bob trailers, and/or a pack on our backs. Then we rode out 12.5 miles to the cabin. The trail only has one technical spot and it mostly follows the 9-mile lake shore, so the elevation gain isn't great. There are a few long hills past the lake on the way up the river to the cabin. Without an extra 30 - 40 pounds of gear, it's a fun, fast ride. With the weather and fall colors we had this last weekend, the weight is just another reason to slow down and enjoy the scenery. On Saturday we hiked 8 miles and on Sunday we loaded back up and rode out.

So tonight, my legs are a little tired. I have lubed the touring bike and the mountain bike, and the touring bike is hanging back up on its hook. It's the one I outfitted for commuting, but the mountain bike has two more chain rings that come in handy for hill-climbing. I think I'm going to need them tomorrow for the third day of my motor-free work week.

21 sep 09 motor-free day ... week?

2009-09-21T21:49:00.006-08:00

This week is the annual Green Commuter Challenge (GCC) at my work place (an international NGO). As the coordinator for our office, I try to lead by example. Paul and I carpool most days, so I don't feel guilty about my normal practice. GCC, however, has the hope to inspire those who do travel by themselves in their cars to try something different this week. So this week I will try something different - I'm going to attempt to bike to work four days in a row.

Where did I get this crazy idea? Oh, I know this isn't a crazy idea to many people, and if I lived closer to work, both in distance and elevation, I wouldn't think it odd either. I've often thought about doing it. That's one reason why I outfitted my touring bike with fenders and a new bell in April. Why now? My crazy brother Scott. He's going Motor-Free all month. Granted, he's got advantages I don't have (lives close to work in a temperate climate), but I thought, if Scott can do it for a month, can't I do it for a work week? So I set myself a challenge.

Today, the fall equinox, was my first day. I almost changed my mind when I walked B in the cold, dark, and rain at 6:30 am. A quick check of email included one from a biking friend who was going to try also to go car-free. An email from my friend Rose reminded me that she and her husband bike to work almost every day, and that today is Rose's birthday, and that it's also International World Peace Day. Given that the fight for oil is a huge source of strife in this world, I thought I'd do my part for peace and not use any gas for the day.

By the time I got out of the house, the rain had stopped and I was pedaling through tunnels of golden birch leaves. As always, the bike commute in was invigorating. Total pedaling time: 47 minutes, which is just a little slower than typical for the 11.25 mile commute.

On the ride home, I felt like I could do this every day this week ... until I got to the last 3 miles, which are steadily up hill. Total pedaling time: 65 minutes. A few minutes slower than usual, maybe because the ride included an extra half mile over the morning commute to check out a alternate route at the Tudor-Elmore intersection.

Tomorrow is World Car-Free Day. Paul has agreed to commute to and from work via bike with me. So I'm almost assured of meeeting the challenge two days. Wednesday will be the tough day -- I've got an after-work meeting which won't lengthen my trip much but will ensure a partial ride home in the dark and will make me figure out how to safely (and drily) carry a laptop.

If I can make it four days in a row, I can rest and telecommute on the fifth, which still earns GCC points and fits with my normal work week. Then I hope to stretch the work week challenge to a full week motor-free and only bike or walk on the weekend. Wish me luck!

13 sep 09 thumb cove, different boat

2009-09-14T21:53:00.005-08:00

We went to Thumb Cove for the second time this summer. Instead of paddling kayaks out or getting a water taxi, we motored our sailboat south from Seward. Saturday was rainy and still, so no sailing. We putzed along at 6 knots, one of the few boats out in the post-Labor Day era. We tied up to a buoy half-way down the cove. Our 24 hours in the cove included several walks along the beach, a long night of sleep, and a relaxing morning reading and talking sailboats while sipping buckets of strong coffee.

The fog lifted and the rain finally broke around noon on Sunday. A light southerly breeze picked up and we cast off from the buoy. We sailed most of the way back to Seward, until the wind lessened near the head of the bay. If we hadn't needed to pull the boat out of the water and drive back to Anchorage, we would have pushed that little breeze as far as we could. Much of the allure of sailing is taking things slower.

12 sep 2009 starter summer

2009-09-10T22:30:00.006-08:00

Happy sailors on an unbelievable September day on Resurrection Bay

This has been a summer of firsts for us -- first dog -- and last week we purchased our first sailboat. Like the dog, I think we still can't believe we did this. Like the dog, we're wondering how this happened. Like the dog, the boat just seemed to be the right one.

And thankfully, B does seem to like the boat. But as Paul says, " when you sleep all day, how can you not like something that is two-thirds bed?"

The boat: a 1988 Jeanneau Tonic 23, which means it's roughly 23 feet long at some point. So it's not what you'd call a yacht. This is probably not what Ted Kennedy sailed. Well, maybe when he was 10.

We were attracted to the fact that the interior has wood finishes, a small gallery, a functioning head (that's a toilet for you non-sailors), and the boat can be trailered. It seemed mighty small last weekend as we loaded gear on board -- kitchenware for the galley, tools for repairs, bedding for our berth, clothes for the weekend, a full bag of books about sailing and sailboats, and food for 3 days. Eventually, we found room for most of it and could see how we are going to be very comfortable on this little boat.

Where will we go? Hopefully some exploring of Resurrection Bay yet this summer (that's where the boat was located). Maybe to Prince William Sound next summer. Who knows?

The name? We want to change it (can't write it down according to boating myth). Any ideas? Luna Sea seems to be a popular one at the Seward harbor. Wonder why?

Paul in the cockpit of our little boat with a much larger boat on the other side of the dock.

4 sep 09 fat of the great land

2009-09-04T10:50:00.007-08:00

I've been an avid vegetable gardener for the last 12 years or so. Something about providing our own food just feels good and right. And it's another great reason to spend more time outside in the summer.

Gathering from what Nature is planting has been less of a regular activity. When we lived in Talkeetna, Paul caught the fishing bug and spent many an evening casting for kings and coho. We ate well. In the first few years after moving to Anchorage, most of our fish came from friends who worked with Paul at Katmai or Lake Clark National Parks. They had subsistence rights and would share some of their harvest. In the last few years, we've supported the Alaska commercial fishery and have enjoyed scallops, shrimp, halibut, and salmon from the local fish counters.

Berry picking in Alaska is almost as popular as fishing. I've picked some high bush cranberries over the years and have made liqueurs or mixed them with my apples for jams. We've picked blueberries, huckleberries, salmon berries, and raspberries if they've presented themselves some place where we're hiking. Most of those have just gone into our mouths immediately. We've never picked with the intent to fill the freezer.

Last year our friend Jon, an avid (obsessive?) blueberrier and mushroom picker, showed us how to identify bolete mushrooms in the local woods. He guided us again a few weeks ago to make sure we knew what we were doing (and to feed his own addiction to the hunt). Since then we've pulled a few from our yard and our neighbors and have filled up a large ziplock bag with dried mushrooms.

Summer is turning to fall here in Alaska and the primal urge is on to fill up the larder and get ready for winter. Last Sunday Paul went fishing for coho with two friends in Talkeetna. While he was casting at Birch Creek slough, I picked blueberries and boletes around our cabin. In the days since, I've been checking the garden to see what needs to be picked. Raspberries and strawberries are ripening daily. The pea pods are almost too big to eat and the romaine is reaching high to be cut. Last evening I trimmed back the basil in the living room window and froze some pesto. The tomatoes are finally ripening and once again I remember why I try to grow them without a greenhouse -- the harvest may be small but no tomato tastes as sweet as the one you just picked. I picked the end of the rhubarb over a week ago and it's time now to boil up what didn't become cake or compote and jar up some rhubarb-ginger jam.

With all these fresh, local foods, both homegrown and wild, in the kitchen, the tastes still fresh in my mouth and mind, I think that I ought to make more time for berry picking, fishing, mushrooming, and gardening. Maybe I don't garden and gather just because it feels good and right. Maybe it's because these foods just taste so good.

Bhikkhu showing off part of our harvest

Here's an inspirational and useful website for cooking with gathered foods: fat-of-the-land.blogspot.com.

23 aug 09 rabbit lakes

2009-09-04T10:31:00.006-08:00

Bhikkhu carrier = 1 old external frame pack

+ 1 12-pack beer box

+ 1 towel for cushion

+ 1 little dog who loves a ride

This Sunday was a little drizzly but I really wanted to go for a hike. I suggested Rabbit Lakes trail on the edge of town. It's a little over 4 miles to the lake, mostly above treeline, and we've only hiked it once, several years ago now. The first few miles are steadily up hill and the last bit is fairly level, slightly rolling. It seemed like a good hike with Bhikkhu if he got a ride up the steepest parts.

Thus was born the Bhikkhu Carrier. Paul quickly converted an old external frame pack by stuffing a 12-pack beer box into the lower half and I added a towel for cushion. The towel would also serve a dual purpose of drying B off if the rain picked up. The top flap on the pack could be loosely fastened to keep the rain off his back. Paul could stash snacks and water in the outer pockets.

Bhikkhu hiked up the first mile or so with us and then Paul carried him for a couple of miles. The higher we got, the wetter and windier it became. A friend of mine ran past us down hill, trying to get warm. Berry pickers on the slopes had their hoods up and seemed like they were kneeling on the ground as much to stay out of the wind as to find the berries.

When we crested out past the 3 mile mark, Paul observed that the weather was much the same as the last time we'd hiked this trail. That time we had returned to the car soaked. We agreed that continuing on head down into the wind and rain didn't sound like much fun. The lake was just out of view but the black clouds gathering over it were plain. We pulled Bhikkhu out of the pack and the three of us hiked back down the trail to the dry car.

15 aug 09 garden variety change

2009-08-15T21:21:00.013-08:00

This weekend and last have been devoted to landscaping as we prepared for and now clean up from the replacement of our septic tank and the line to the leach field. All the digging, potting, raking, shoveling, and picking rocks lends a large quantity of time for thinking. The more repetitive tasks almost become meditative.

Thinking about the changes in the yard brought me to thinking about change in life in general. Why is some change anticipated to be good and other bad? Some change has obvious immediate good/bad quality. Being convicted of a crime and going to jail. Bad. Winning the lottery. Good. But other change seems to have a good/bad quality depending upon how you think about it.

The septic tank replacement is a good example. Having a huge hole dug in the yard under a large flower bed, part of the driveway, and the main walkway to the house means that there is going to be some work to do on our part and the rest of it is going to cost some money. Even though neither one of us would choose this as the way to spend two August weekends and half a dozen evenings, we didn't moan about it too much. Why? Probably partly because we both do enjoy working in the yard and improving our home. But also because this would be an opportunity to make some changes that we never would have put into motion otherwise. All that asphalt that the previous owners needed for snowmachine trailers or whatever -- some of that's gone. The pretty campanula that became an aggressive ground cover -- buried with the new tank. The dry creek bed that we admired on the garden tour last month -- it's inspiration is meandering through the renewed flower bed. The possibility of having another sewer backup into the basement -- not while we live here.

So because the change - even though a lot of work, a lot of money, and a lot of time - brings us multiple things that we call good, we can ignore the bad -- like the cost, the time doing manual labor, the loss of time for biking and kayaking. So if we could think similarly about other changes, we could call them good, too, and not bad. I guess there's my challenge the next time my husband, my boss, or life throws some change at me that doesn't seem very good at first. Isn't that called finding the silver lining?

1 aug 09 north of seward

2009-08-11T21:39:00.003-08:00

B jumping drainage ruts on the Ptarmigan Creek Trail

Summertime .. little time for editing photos and blogging ... so another mostly pictorial edition of the (somewhat) weekly.

We spent the first weekend of the month in the Seward area. We camped two nights at Primrose Campground, the Forest Service campground at the very southern tip of Kenai Lake.

Paul and I biked part of the Primrose Creek trail up to Lost Lake. It was not one of my stronger performances. At least the woods were pretty.

Bhikkhu found a moose femur in the campsite. A little slice of doggie heaven. The bone was almost as big as he is.

On Sunday we hiked the Ptarmigan Creek trail before joining the long lines of cars wanting to beat the traffic.

july 09 in review

2009-08-04T19:14:00.011-08:00

I keep thinking I should put an automatic reply on my email and a note on this blog that says: "I'm out playing in this perfect Alaska summer and will not be at my computer again until it rains." I keep tabs on email but have been a bad respondent this summer. And as you see, the blog has not been weekly. The photos are piling up on the hard drive ... just not being edited or uploaded or posted. So tonight it's raining, and after doing a little yard work, I thought I'd try to catch up on the events of the past month. Here is the month in photos.

Paul's sister Mary and her husband Gerry arrived on the 6th. Their visit prompted our first outing on the Winner Creek Trail and handtram near Girdwood.

We stayed at a cabin in Thumb Cove for 4 nights. Mary & Gerry kayaked for the first time and Gerry spent many hours trying to catch fish from the shore and kayak.

We climbed to a glacier one day and bushwacked up a creek another.

The last Sunday of the month was the annual Anchorage garden tour. Friends Pam & Roger from Talkeetna and their neice from Oregon joined us for our annual bicycle tour of the gardens. Paul and I pedaled over 41 miles to see some beautiful backyards in our fair city.

And the little dog became a hiker, lost some weight, got curlier, and is totally spoiled. We saw his twin at one of the gardens and have decided he's a purebred Bichon Frise.

04 jul 09 independence

2009-07-04T09:39:00.007-08:00

Despite the irrational actions our (almost former) governor may take, this will remain a Palin-free blog. Besides, greater minds than mine are covering the speculations and twists and turns in the latest Sarah drama. Here are some of my favorites, including one local moderate conservative who would have been a good governor for Alaska. Where would our state be now if Andrew Halcro had won in 2006? We wouldn't have been sidelined by the campaign circus and follow-up traveling show of the 2008 Presidential race.

Andrew Halcro

Shannyn Moore

Mudflats

Alaska Muckraker at Huffington Post

Watch out Lower 48 ... she's probably coming your way next.

The rest of us Alaskans will get back to truly treasuring our great state and being good citizens.

Happy Independence Day!

29 jun 09 living in a park

2009-06-29T21:27:00.006-08:00

I'm trying so hard not to take this beautiful weather and this beautiful place we call home for granted. June continues to be mostly clear and warm(ish) and like the summers I remember before 2008. The mosquitoes are worse than normal, however, so often I'm still wearing long pants and long sleeves unless I'm biking. But that is a small price to pay for a perfect Alaska summer.

My parents were here from New York state this past week. Visitors are always a good reminder that we are very lucky to live in Alaska. We toured locally and had no trouble coming up with spectacular destinations for a few days. Some of our state parks would be national parks in other states and the municipal parks could be state parks in the Lower 48. One day we hiked to 'the beach' at Kincaid and walked the new boardwalk at Potter Marsh. Another day we drove to Independence Mine at Hatcher Pass. On Sunday, the best weather of the entire summer so far, we walked out the Powerline Pass trail in search of wildlife and wild flowers. We were rewarded with moose, colorful songbirds, and fields of flowers.

Even Saturday's outing near downtown reminded me that even Anchorage has something few cities of its size or larger can boast of -- natural channel streams that support salmon. We pedaled the Ship Creek trail that opened last summer. Even though this portion of the creek passes mostly through an industrial zone and along the railroad, the river hasn't been confined to a concrete trough so typical of other urban streams. Large bright red king salmon were heading upstream as we rode by. I am glad to call this state and this city home.

8 jun 09 trying to be present

2009-06-07T21:39:00.009-08:00

A man at Quaker Meeting last week spoke out of the silence to just what I'd been trying to do for 30 minutes (until I'd totally forgotten and had acquiesced to the "chattering ladies in the attic.") He told of standing by a flowing creek one day with his mind full of thoughts and concerns. After some time, he realized that he couldn't hear the creek over his thoughts. He decided the creek sounded better than his racing thoughts and sat down to listen to it instead. I'd been struggling to quiet my mind and be present where I sat, to listen to the ambient sounds, whether they be the cars on Tudor Road or the breathing of Friends.

I've especially been trying to be more present with the outdoors these past few weeks. Somewhere I read that having a dog should help you be more present in the moment; the dog certainly is. So I've taken that as a reminder to get back to one of the core principles of Buddhism and Quakerism. Our walks aren't exactly meditation but I'm trying to pay more attention to the birds, the emerging spring, and the motion on the other end of the leash and to keep my mind from thinking about what's next on the agenda.

On Sunday Bhikkhu and I walked out to Powerline Pass from Glen Alps trailhead. I've been hoping for a clear morning to introduce him to the high country and to see the higher elevations emerging from winter. I tried to notice and name every plant to keep my mind where my body was ... lupines, white geraniums, false hellebore, alders, hemlocks. The sun and the scenery kept me thinking about how blessed I was to be in this place at this time; I hardly thought about the afternoon ahead or the work week to come.

So if I can keep my thoughts under control for a few minutes of sitting or strolling in the sunshine, can I do it while moving a little faster? A local bicycling blogger wrote last week about tuning out the brain and how mountain biking can be a form of meditation. On Sunday afternoon Paul and I biked through Bicentennial Park and the Campbell Tract to get me to Meeting. As we descended on Brown Bear, a steep, rooty trail, I found myself thinking too much about what I should be doing. I remembered the post on 'meditative biking' and settled into the bike. I started relaxing more and was half way down the slope that I usually pause at the top of before I even realized what I was doing. I managed to keep my brain in the background for most of rest of the ride and felt like I was flowing down stream along the various winding trails through the woods and along the creeks.

25 may 09 Introducing

2009-05-24T21:39:00.015-08:00

Benji Bhikkhu the Prancing Bich-poo

I'm not sure how it happened, but we've become a pack. I mean, I do know the series of events of the last 10 - 12 weeks (looking at a rescue photo for 2 months, filling out an online application, phone calls, visits, trial adoption). What I don't quite understand is how I went from being a cat person to a dog owner and how Paul went from being a non-pet person to the guy saving table scraps and buying squeaky toys. How did this funny little dog end up a part of our lives?

Meet Bhikku ~

The outer dog ... If you were to ever think we'd get a dog, this is probably not the dog you would have predicted. He's an unknown mix but probably part poodle, part Bichon Frise, and maybe something else. So he's got a stout little body, short legs, and a poodlish head, all covered with curly white and apricot hair. He arrived here on April 30 fresh from the groomer, who shaved his body yet left his topknot and ears long. The rest has been growing out and I've been cutting his ears back to something less flowing. Eventually he'll be covered in soft curls. He's in his 'golden' years, probably around 10, with cataracts and a skin condition. He's a little overweight, but daily walks and fewer treats have already improved his figure. He rarely barks, usually just when excited while playing ball with Paul or if we've been at work.

The inner dog ... Once you meet him, you understand why we're adopting him. The Friends of Pets website described him as 'an amiable boy.' He has a charming personality that is led by a 5" tail that shakes his whole body. He follows us almost everywhere and is always happy to see us, even if we've only been gone a few minutes. He arrived with good manners and he has picked up the house rules very quickly (though that doesn't mean he doesn't get up on the couch if we leave the house for 5 minutes). When the three of us walk, Paul often holds the leash. If I get behind, Bhikkhu looks back to see if I'm coming. If Bhikkhu and I walk without Paul, he runs around the house upon our return until he finds Paul.

The name ... Paul and I have been reading together about Buddhism since our trip to Asia this winter. In one book, every quote of the Buddha begins with 'O Bhikkhu,' and we had started using the phrase affectionately with one another. A Bhikkhu is an ordained Buddhist monk. He is "expected to obey rules of conduct" and the translation from the Sanskrit literally means "beggar, or more broadly, one who lives by alms" (quotes from wiki). Given his wise and kind nature, our hope that he'll obey rules, and the fact that everything he eats comes from us (and he does beg), we've named him Bhikkhu (we pronounce it "bee-coo").

Change ... if you read my last April entry, you may have been wondering about the change in our lives. I even gave you a clue. To continue with the Buddhism, if live is change, which can bring suffering, you might as well have a Bhikkhu at your side to help you down the path.

Apologies to Buddhists out there; we hope this sweet boy's name doesn't offend anyone.

18 may 09 generous spring

2009-05-18T21:46:00.008-08:00

Soon the trails will be dry & this bike will be getting out more

I'm often saddened after local elections because inevitably (with a few exceptions), parks and recreation bonds in this city get voted down. Bicycling around town the last two weeks, I wondered who votes down these measures because it looks to me like everyone is using the trails and bike paths in the greenbelts and long the roadways.

Yesterday I pedaled to Quaker Meeting in the afternoon, along my usual route which includes a lovely stretch of the Campbell Creek trail paralleling Tudor Drive. When the weather is nice, I am amazed at the number of people crammed into the small Campbell Park where the creek flows under Lake Otis Drive. Kids were wading in the creek (hey, it's 60 degrees and the ice went out last week!), teenage girls were working on their tans, dogs were catching frisbees, couples were strolling hand-in-hand. I assume most of the people that use this park live in the apartment complexes of the neighborhood. This park and greenbelt are their backyard.

This morning I rode to work on the usual spring route, which includes a lovely stretch of the Chester Creek Trail. Moms in a fitness class were pushing chariots up over the Northern Lights pedestrian bridge while doing squats (!), couples were pushing strollers, college kids were running with their dogs. I went in late this morning so I missed the early morning strolls of the older Asian ladies. Instead I saw the younger women harvesting tender greens in the grassy areas along the trail.

I wish we were voting on these bond issues in the middle of May, when it's been bright and sunny for almost 3 weeks and only the deranged and really mean people haven't been made giddy (and generous!) by the sunshine.

8 may 09 time to bloom

2009-05-08T10:44:00.004-08:00

In the past week, I've heard several people exclaim that spring so far has been better than all of last summer. It seems true. A high of 70 last Saturday, sunny skies 9 out of the last 10 days, and the snow is all gone. My crocuses are coming up in May instead of June this year. As always the daffodils on the south side of the house are abundant and peaking.

28 apr 09 time for change

2009-04-28T21:21:00.010-08:00

Maybe it's just the energy and hope that comes with spring ... but it feels like things are changing. This morning I told Paul my (new) theory that we should introduce change to our lives periodically to keep ourselves mentally flexible. That way when life throws you something you can't control, you've got some experience, some reference, for making the necessary alterations.

Our life is pretty comfortable these days. We've been considering making a change that would shake up our routine a little. So maybe my theory is just an attempt to convince Paul to make this voluntary change. But I do believe that we can't become too stuck in our ways or we will stop growing. The phrase about the old dog ... I don't want to be old ... I want to be able to learn new things and be open to the positive and negative changes that will come.

That's why I love living in a place with extreme seasons. There's always a change a'coming. Welcome back to Alaska, Spring.

The photo is Paul on a raft trip in western Colorado in 1995. My wonderful in-laws gave me a scanner when I was in Colorado and I'm pulling out my black-and-white negatives.

21 apr 09 bicycle commuter

2009-04-20T21:33:00.009-08:00

the commuter bike, in front of the snow berm at the end of the driveway;

the ash line is still below the surface

I didn't really make any resolutions this year, but one of my hopes is to commute via bike more. To kick that off, I pedaled to my favorite bike shop this past Friday and bought fenders for my touring bike and a new sonorous bell for the bike paths. The fenders are to eliminate the need for rain pants whenever it's the least wet, especially if I'm wearing street clothes while riding. The bell was because the spring on my old bell was loose and I felt like the ice cream truck all the way to the shop. I'll ride my mountain bike sometimes, especially when I've got the option for a long ride home through the park, but my 1991 Miyata 600 GT will be the main commuter.

Spending money often motivates me because I hate to waste money. Thus the fender purchase. Another thing that can motivate me is keeping records and seeing what I've accomplished. So I zeroed out my bike computer and put in a new battery to make sure it would get through another year. The odometer read 962.8, but I'm not sure when I last replaced the battery. I bought this computer almost exactly 3 years ago when I lost the back off the old one the evening before the Gold Nugget triathlon (I just pedaled hard and hoped I was hitting my pace.)

I have two vague goals : "bike commute more" and "get in shape." Paul and I usually drive to work together because our offices are within a mile of each other. Paul doesn't like to bike to work (messes up his hair and he gets sweaty). So if I ride in alone, it doesn't reduce our carbon footprint but it could reduce my waistline. I'll only reduce our fossil fuel dependence if he isn't going to work one day or if I can convince him to bike in with me. During the summer and fall we usually bike home at least one evening a week and get creative about retrieving the extra vehicles downtown (movies at the museum on Sunday evenings, Saturday market).

This Sunday Paul pedaled to Quaker Meeting with me in the afternoon. The creek paths are still slushy so we toured the neighborhoods east of Lake Otis as much as possible to get down to Tudor. On Monday morning I rode to work. Assuming Chester Creek is not very rideable yet on my touring bike, I took the opportunity to tour Fairview to make my way downtown. Paul served as sag wagon and carted my clothes, food for the week, and homework to my office.

This evening Paul and I rode home together. My odometer already reads 48 miles after just 5 days. It's a beginning to what I hope will be many happy hours commuting to work, Friends, and errands.

17 apr 09 recent past

2009-04-18T11:37:00.012-08:00

I've been wondering, "do I exist if I don't Facebook?" Seems like I'm quickly becoming the minority among my peer group by not setting up a Facebook page. A few of us are still clinging to old communications media, like blogs, emails, and the phone. Do we need to set up a club or a support group?

A friend left a phone message yesterday, wondering if we still exist because he hadn't heard from us in a while and my blog hasn't been updated in over a month. My excuse -- a 12 day trip to the Lower 48, returning to too much work, last minute taxes, and a possibly broken septic system.

Paul didn't go to Colorado because a Redoubt eruption caused a cancellation of his flight. This was during the period when over 250 flights had been canceled, and Alaska couldn't put him on another flight for over 4 days. He opted to stay home and fit intake pipes with panty hose and sweep ash from the deck.

While he monitored the Anchorage scene, I skied with my dad and brother in Utah and visited our families and a few friends in Colorado. Here are a few of my favorite photos of my favorite people in Colorado:
Nell makes a beautiful cherry pie.

Dylan is too fast to capture.

I met baby Sam for the first time.

Ryan can be quite the charmer.

Oh, for a city full of bike paths. Dad and I toured 18 miles along creeks and through neighborhood greenbelts. The Diamondback Wildwoods (top photo) is a good town cruiser.

Brother Ron on the Solitude slopes. I followed him almost everywhere, as long as there wasn't a sign cautioning "Danger Cliff Area."

Click here for more photos of the family

14 mar 09 The Middle Fork

2009-03-15T10:23:00.009-08:00

On Friday afternoon I found the antidote to the work stress that had been steadily increasing all week. My friend Jo-Ann suggested that we drop a car at Glen Alps and ski down the Middle Fork trail to a car we'd leave at Prospect Heights. With a couple of inches of fresh snow, the conditions on the exposed and often windy trail might be just perfect. And they were. The fog that shrouded our houses didn't reach to Glen Alps, and amazingly, there wasn't any wind there.

Jo-Ann after climbing to the east side of the valley of the South Fork of Campbell Creek

The Middle Fork is also one half of a nice loop between Prospect Heights and Glen Alps. With such perfect conditions, Paul and I returned on Saturday to ski up the Middle Fork and down the Powerline Pass trail for a 2.5 hour tour. Clouds formed, dissipated, and moved across the peaks, and sometimes I just stopped to watch the change in light.
Paul welcoming in Lucky Cat fashion at the Middle Fork of Campbell Creek

Currently in our study of Buddhism, Paul and I are reading about the Middle Way, the eightfold path of self-discipline, self-development, and self-purification that leads to a cessation of suffering. On Friday and Saturday, I found the Middle Fork was another path to the cessation of stress. It might not get me to Nirvana permanently, but the Middle Fork and perfect Anchorage 'spring' weather took me there for a few hours this weekend.

12 mar 09 Repossessing Balance

2009-03-12T21:02:00.011-08:00

This economic downturn didn't seem so scary to me last fall. With Barack Obama being elected president and a democratic senator emerging in Alaska, the world's future looked so hopeful. We traveled over the New Year and heard more stories of crisis and how tourism was dropping in Asia. We felt fortunate to be there and have jobs to return to, and we went on our merry way.

Even after we returned to Alaska, I wasn't worried. One of my co-workers expressed her fear about what might happen at our non-profit and I was surprised. Then a week later one departure was announced. Another week and two more layoffs. So this situation was going to get personal. People I knew, admired, liked, people who were part of my daily life, were going to be hurt. I wasn't worried about my own job but the future didn't look so bright.

How do you keep the fear and stress from rising? I can rationalize that I shouldn't worry, but then I talk with that friend who's out of work or hear another story on the radio about somebody losing their home or retirement. Short of tuning out, what is there?

One of the things that has brought me hope has been the chance circumstance that a radio interview program called Speaking of Faith airs about the same time we've been driving back from Talkeetna these past few weekends. The guests are religious folk, Christian, Muslim, and Buddhist; authors and poets; scientists and bankers; economists and secular humanists. The discussion eventually gets around to whatever 'faith' is for them. It may be God, natural laws of science, goodness of people.

SoF has a series called Repossessing Virtue where the conversation centers on whether the current economic crisis is also a moral and spiritual crisis. The answers to that question have fascinated me. So much so that I've been visiting the website to listen to more past guests. It almost seems like the show's producers are screening the guests for a combination of optimism and wisdom. Their individual answers vary but there's definitely a common theme -- reexamine what gives your life meaning. For most of us, it's not our bank account or our paycheck. It's our relationship to our family, friends, and community. For many of us, it's also our communion with the natural world (see the Wendell Berry and Anne Frank pieces in the right-hand column.)

If I had named the series, I think it would have been Repossessing Sanity or Repossessing Balance or Repossessing Values.

6 mar 09 snowy perch

2009-03-06T14:39:00.007-09:00

After mentioning our outhouse in my last post, I was inundated with requests with requests for photos of it. In my dreams. We did remodel it last year, however, and it's probably better looking than you expected. I painted new walls in colors that I took from a card from Wolf Creek Printery and we replaced the plywood roof with translucent corrugated green plastic. I'm sharing a photo of it that I took this past weekend. The Wendell Berry poem is on the left (if you're looking in), a poster with a Gandhi quote on the back wall ("Be the change you want to see in the world"), and Wolf Creek art on the right. There is no door so when you're sitting, you've got a good view of a lovely birch forest. I've watched moose pass through the woods from this perch.

Talkeetna has an excellent snow base for skiing. The path to the cabin and to the outhouse is like a maze. We had planned to preview this year's Oosik route on Saturday, but a bad head cold has sapped me. We'll still go up tomorrow and ski something shorter. Then tomorrow night we'll be potlucking Asian style with our traveling companions.