10 jan 15 sunset

sunset from the Ridge House

Like a beautiful sunset, this song by Carrie Newcomer reminds me how many parts of life are beautiful in their simplicity and that pleasure and meaning in life are all around us.  I don't know if it's the sentiments or the deep richness of her voice, but I can't hear this song without getting a catch in my throat.

I Believe

I believe there are some debts that we never can repay
I believe there are some words that you can never unsay
And I don't know a single soul
Who didn't get lost along the way.

I believe in socks and gloves knit out of soft grey wool,
And that there's a place in heaven for those
Who teach in public school.
And I know I get some things right,
But mostly I'm a fool.

I believe in a good strong cup of ginger tea,
And all these shoots and roots will become a tree.
All I know is I can’t help but see
All of this as so very holy.

I believe in jars of jelly put up by careful hands,
I believe most folks are doing about the best they can,
And I know there are some things that I will never understand.

I believe there’s healing in the sound of your voice,
And that a summer tomato is a cause to rejoice,
And that following a song was never really a choice.
Never really.

I believe in a good long letter written on real paper and with real pen,
I believe in the ones I love and know I’ll never see again,
I believe in the kindness of strangers and the comfort of old friends,
And when I close my eyes to sleep at night it’s good to say,
“Amen”

I believe that life is comprised of smiles and sniffles and tears,
And in an old coat that still has another good year,
And I know that I get scared some times
But all I need is here.

I believe in a good strong cup of ginger tea,
And all these shoots and roots will become a tree,
All I know is I can’t help but see
All of this as so very holy,

I believe.

13 mar 11 Internet-free Sabbath

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.

feb 11 another tour of paradise

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.

highlights 2010

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.

23-26 sep 10 Eklutna Camaraderie

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:

21 may10 bike to work

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.

30 apr 10 climbing hills with strength

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.

27 mar 2010 dalteli

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.

7 mar 10 snow and sun return

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

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.

19 dec 09 winter wonderland

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 ....

5 December 2008 World on Edge

On Friday, my friend Rose and I snowshoed the new singletrack trails at Bicentennial Park near my house. A foot of snow fell last week so we planned to pack the trails for winter bikers. A windstorm in early October felled trees all over the Hillside of Anchorage. Singletrack Advocates, the group that built these new trails, has cut out trees that completely blocked trails. Those overhanging and somewhat passable have just been marked with some reflectors (see the gray one on the left side of the photo?). The number of trees down is somewhat hard to comprehend.

I've tried to imagine what the forest must have sounded like that night, with 100 mph wind gusts and 40' - 50' spruce, birch, and cottonwoods cracking and crashing to the ground. In some places, like the one shown here, the entire root system (of 2 trees!) just lifted from the ground and went with the tree. Roots in Alaska stay within the top soil layer where the ground is thawed more of the year and where water is more readily available. Rose said that with some of the smaller trees, they were able to tilt the entire assemblage back into place.

Sometimes our lives or how we view the world gets turned on edge and we aren't sure how to set it upright again. That's happening to a friend of mine who I work with. The matter isn't life-or-death, but a matter of friendship. She thought that one of the guys she supervises was her friend and that they worked well together. He's leaving for another job and told her boss and the director that it's because working for my friend is difficult. Despite their request, and the assumption that there was a true friendship here, he refuses to approach my friend himself. She feels like she's been "kicked in the gut."

How can this situation be set right? I think it's easier to place small trees back in place. Despite the fact that we're all human, we tend to forget that other people are fragile, too. Feelings can be hurt and one of the worst is to feel betrayed by a friend. We don't need to coddle each other, but honesty with respect and sensitivity can deepen our friendships and make us, and our friends, better people. So please be honest and kind with yourself and your friends.