Ojai Beckons

A few days after my last treatment, we headed for Ojai to visit with Skip and Sheila.  What a lovely break from the desert and a wonderful visit with friends.  The driveway of Skip and Sheila is flat and perfect for Thistle.  It’s almost as if we have our own condo-in-a-driveway getaway.

Ed and I spent several mornings walking to town for coffee and a pastry plus exploration.  Ojai is a charming small town, situated in a valley and surrounded by mountains.  Idealyic, might be the right word.  Of course, I have a special feeling for Ojai, because I lived here as a kid.  My memories are fond ones, and I cherish my childhood experiences of running pretty wild exploring the nooks and crannies of my east valley neighborhood.  But Ojai is not just fond childhood memories.  It is also  the welcome we receive and the outstanding hosting poured forth by Skip and Sheila.

Going back in time is always so very interesting.  What we remember and what we don’t, with the memories helped out by the trauma or attention a certain activity generated.  I remember getting in serious trouble a few times.  Once when I borrowed a horse from Thatcher School, but my mom insisted I stole the horse and I was forbidden to ever again  go to Thatcher Scool.  I also received quite a lot of attention when I helped my Dad (who was at work)  burn trash.  The fire escaped it’s container, almost scaring my mom to death.  My sister, mom and I carried buckets of water to put it out, fortunately succeeding as Ojai is a wildfire waiting to happen.  My punishment was to sit all day (which is really, really hard for a five year old) at the scene of the crime to make sure it didn’t flare up again.  And then there was the time I walked to the main road to meet my sister coming home from school but instead went home with another friend who came by.  Getting home late, I found my parents fit to be tied, waiting with both worry and anger clearly displayed on their faces.  Isolation in my room for this one.

Small towns were like this back in my childhood.  Lots and lots of roaming freedom, but the rules  were not to be broken.  We needed to be back home for meals, and on time.  We needed to tell our parents where we were going and when we’d be home.    And, as I found out we were not to steal horses or start fires or wander away with a friend.

Anyway, my memories are fond memories and our visit with Skip and Sheila was wonderful and got even better when Sharon and Charlie joined us, adding to my warm and fuzzy feelings about Ojai.

Look how green the hills are.

Riding the orange groves splendid...

Hiking the hills beautiful...

Visiting with friends devine...

And then, there’s silly Ed...

~~~

Never stop screaming, playing and laughing,

 it’s part of our childhood which will always be with us.

Romina Noriega

Summer Catch Up

Where have I been?   

Clearly, missing from my Thistleadventure blog for quite a spell.  I have not been in Thistle writing mode for a variety of reasons, but mostly because of health issues.   Plus I was blocked because of password problems, and it took my dear daughter-in-law, Yessi, to figure it out.

As some of you know, but probably not all of you, I was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer in the fall of 2017.  It had metastasized with growths in my liver and lungs and was also showing up, in a more minor ways, in other spots in my intestinal tract.  It was too deep in the liver to remove with surgery or radiation.  So, I’m on the chemotherapy path of hold-it-back to pick up time to live a bit more life.  My energy is way down, the chemo side effects bothersome, but still I’m getting out and about and enjoying life, between treatments.  

This past summer we made a number of small Thistle trips, like Keystone, close to home on Whidbey Island, for one or two nights.  The North Cascades snagged us as well, as did Lake Chelan and the Olympia area.                                            

                                         
                         


Lake Chelan was fun, sharing the trip with friends, very cold, but very beautiful.

                                    

                             

A trip down to the Olympia area for the Senior Olympic Games, saw Ed receiving two gold metals for race walking.

                                                      

At the end of August I decided I didn’t want to give up my past few years of riding the years of my birthday.  So I did it again, cancer or not.  We camped at Keystone on Whidbey Island, and I rode my birth years. This year I took three days, rather than doing the ride in one, and rode on my new e-bike, but still I rode 78 miles, with lots of support from my family and friends, grinning the entire way.    A wonderful birthday celebration!

We also managed to get to Lopez Island to visit friends and enjoy a kayak spin.

Tiny outings, but wonderful to be thistleadventuring once again. My doctors are impressed and not worried about the fatigue I experience after a ride.  

The summer trips will be local this year, grabbing a day here and there between treatments, but home is a glorious place to be too, so it’s a wonderful combo of good options.    

It’s interesting to note the changes in one’s philosophy when hit with the news of inoperable, metastasized cancer.  Suddenly the small things in life are more important and each day takes on a significance not quite recognized when the end of life was less in view.  I’ve had a truly wonderful life, for which I’m grateful.  

Summer is now over, and we really truly are on another thistleadventure.  Stay tuned.  More postings coming from the SW where we are spending the winter.

~~~

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments

Of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at a time of challenge and controversy.

Martin Luther King

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Borders

The strength of travel is in observing new things, with these new things leading to increased knowledge and the expansion of one's world view.  This expansion can be of how other people live, talk and eat or it can be observations about politics, flora and fauna, or geography.  We find it all fascinating and we thrive in newly discovered ideas as well as terrain.

On our recent trip to British Columbia I was particularly observant to how it felt crossing the border into another country, especially after the recent broadening of border security.  We've crossed the border into Canada many, many times over the years, rarely finding it completely stress free.  These days that stressful feeling is ramped up.  Our nation's days of discontent increase and our border crossings feel more threatening.  They are tense.  

Ed was born in Saskatchewan, so he often gets questioned by border patrol in more detail than I, especially by U.S. Customs.  Two years ago, Canadian Customs  pulled us over so they could run a background check on me.  Other times we just breeze through both U.S. and Canadian Customs.   Sometimes we must dispose of food or answer a barrage of seemingly strange questions.  We always try to be prepared with passports and Benton's vaccination documents ready; we carry no liquor; limit food on board; and have receipts for new purchases.  But still, we wonder, "what this time?"  We feel a touch of angst as we wait in the long line approaching the booth.

Coming home, back into the U.S. on this most recent trip, a passenger, about three cars in front of us, was pulled out, cuffed and led off, to who knows where.  It's difficult to completely relax in any situation where the officials have such a high degree of control, and the citizens must comply both physically and in attitude, or risk their escalation of power.

Generally speaking, though, the back and forth between the U.S. and Canada is not too difficult or stress generating, and if you pass through customs at the Peace Arch, it is an inviting and beautifully welcoming park in both directions.  Flags from both countries wave together in camaraderie and peace.

Our southern border with Mexico is quite a different experience, and has been for as far back as I can remember when my family and I visited relatives in the Imperial Valley, close to the Mexican border.  Although we have not crossed into Mexico for a few years, we have passed through check points often in our close-to-the-border travels.  And we are familiar with the past stress of entering and exiting Mexico.  Both Canada and Mexico are our neighbors, but equal treatment is no where in sight and it makes me sad.  This inequality is due to many reasons, but I suspect largely three -- economics, skin color and language.  The differences are staggering.

Along the U.S.-Mexican border, friendship arches and dual-country flags flying to show the camaraderie between our two countries are non-existent.  There are miles of fences and walls, expanses of cement, barbed wire, trash and filth everywhere.   And U.S. southern Border Patrol is tough.

Walking between countries is prison-like…

And then there are the ecological disaster walls impeding wildlife…

Humans are impeded too, by land and by sea…

Ed and I are left wanting to reach out.  To apologize.  We want to show we're friendly.   We want to  honor our neighbors to the south, as well as to the north.  Our encounters with the Spanish people have always been wonderful, both here in the U.S. and in Mexico and other Spanish-speaking nations, like when we spent a month in Ecuador.  Friendly people with easy smiles, who dance and sing and welcome us with delight.  People who love their families above all.  Religious people.   And the food couldn't be better!!  Just try, I dare you, to find a fish taco in the U.S. that tastes as good as a fish taco in Baja.

In Trump's call for wall designs, this one was submitted.   How healing and respectful and loving would this be?  It's still a wall, like at the Peace Arch going into Canada, but it's also a park and a place to join hands and be neighbors…   

Besides, if one is desperate to join loving family or in need of money, there is always a way…

~~~

"Borders are scratched across the hearts of men, by strangers with a calm, judicial pen, and when the

borders bleed we watch with dread the lines of ink along the map turn red."

~ Marya Mannes 

Vancouver Island Wrap-up

Sometimes the timing is off or the expectations are too unrealistic or our own quirks become too quirky. When this happens, to write about all things vacation being perfect is dishonest or at the very least, pretty darn Pollyannaish. Traveling is wonderful, but not always. Out of synch happens. Take our most recent sojourn on Vancouver Island.

The first scapegoat for any traveling discomfort is the weather. Ed and I always play with it a bit, and delight in heading to higher or lower elevations or going south or north, to find "ideal". On this trip we simply have not been able to get it quite right, moving from sweltering to shivering throughout most days. We'd head up off the coast to escape the cold seashore fog, and bake. We'd go back down to the beach to escape the heat, and freeze. We've turned into crazy yo-yos of discontent.

Add mosquitoes to the equation and the complexity intensifies. In the woods the mosquitoes fiercely attack, leaving red welts on top of red welts. During the night I turn into a crazy whirling maniac with fits of itching. To avoid more bites we hide out in Thistle, but that is confining and hot, plus the mosquitoes still sneak in. Sleeping with even one mosquito in Thistle is challenging and hearing the telltale buzzing, I dive under the blanket. Waking up hot and sweaty, I throw off the blanket to cool off, but soon I am chilled, so seek cover again. Throughout, the mosquitoes feast. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

And then, what were we thinking? The crowds of August vacationers caught us off guard. We have done so much traveling in the off season, we had somehow misplaced our recollection of summer vacationers. People are as thick as the mosquito bites on my body, overflowing the beaches, highways, ferries, coffee shops, and campgrounds. The people we've encountered are quite lovely, there are just way too many for my spoiled country ways. I avoid Langley in the summer, and definitely stay away from Seattle, why did I think Vancouver Island would be different?

And finally, change has unexpectedly caught me in its grip. I anticipated finding the small, quaint towns I remembered from 30 plus years ago changed but not too changed. Ha. Take Sooke. This tiny town I stopped at when cycling the Galloping Goose all those many years ago is no longer tiny. Sooke has sprawled every which way and is plagued with bumper to bumper traffic. I am critical of people's resistance to change in the political world, yet here I am trapped in my own mindset of "what it was" in the physical world.

We have seen many wonderful parts of Vancouver Island and greatly enjoyed many of our destinations, but as vacations go I was caught off guard enough to examine my ideal. I was forced into self reflection. Our dear friend, Greg's words rang in my ears: "No expectations, no disappointments."

And, a final word for travel on Vancouver Island -- take a boat!

Any boat…

                           

It's the rugged shorelines and small off shore islands and abundant wildlife and hundreds of lovely little lakes that are the drop dead wonders of this place. A boat enhances the experience, as I know from previous trips, but failed to fully appreciate until I found myself without a boat.

~~~

“Everything that looks too perfect is too perfect to be perfect.”

~ Dejan Stojanovic

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Whidbey Island Summer

A summer right here on Whidbey Island, a summer at home, is unfolding…

Too often it seems to have fun, one is expected to be somewhere other than home.  Flying away to far off lands or driving to exotic places is how to explore and find adventure.   Or, so goes the common story line.  Telling a friend you are staying home for the summer too often is met with words of regret.  "Oh, we're sorry, too bad you have nothing planned for your summer vacation." 

Although we love our Thistle adventures, we also love our close to home explorations.   Despite the push-pull between staying put or another Thistle adventure, we don't think it's possible to make a bad decision.   

Our summer at home, with family and friends will be delightful as well as restful.  Our activities somewhat predictable, but predictability can be just the ticket on occasion.  Although we will not refer to our at-home activities as "adventures" we also will not relegate them to the trash heap of boring.  

Family, always a delight, will be high on our list of "time delightfully spent"…

Yessi, Fran, Brad, Ed

Thistle will rest in the driveway, perhaps a little too much, but we will definitely venture out on short outings, even setting our sights on the not-so-distant, but in a foreign land, Vancouver Island.  We also have visions of more deeply exploring Lake Chelan, the North Cascades and hiking on the ocean beaches…

Digging Brad and Yessi's Klepper out of storage and going for a sail sounds perfect…

And, as always, a bunch of riding is on the agenda.  This year we will repeat a past year's island explorations by again riding all the connecting roads on Whidbey Island…   

Each day we will try to be more like our pup, Benton -- enjoying every minute whether sleeping in the garden or romping on the beach.  Dogs are the prefect creatures to teach us to be happily in the moment…

Plus, what could be more beautiful than our summer garden.  Our Airbnb guests think they are in paradise, and so should we…

So yes, a summer at home is what's happening this year.  A summer of slow, lazy, happy days on a beautiful island in the Pacific Northwest.   And to enhance our at-home enjoyment we have an outdoor bedroom.  Upstairs, in the building housing our office and carport, that we call the barn, is a recently installed Murphy bed high above the garden…

~~~

"In wisdom gathered over time I have found that every experience is a form of exploration."

~  Ansel Adams

"Gardening is the Best Exercise of All!"

I don't know why I agreed.  A weak moment, perhaps?   It's not as if life is not busy enough with Thistle travels, political involvement,  running an Airbnb and just plain day-to-day life.  But I did hear "yes" come rushing out of my mouth.   I think it might have been my physical therapist's words, newly delivered, "gardening is the best exercise of all.  Keep gardening!"

So here I am, day in and day out, gardening my body into some semblance of fit as I prepare our garden for the Whidbey Island Garden Tour on Saturday, June 17.  As the day draws near,  preparation panic sweeps over me.  I rush to eliminate all weeds, prune all trees and nudge each and every garden corner into a thing I know doesn't exist, but I'm still striving to achieve, perfection.  Ha!  Both my garden and my body resist mightily.

But, despite the work-in-progress nature of a garden, welcome to our Fredley Garden.  Our home and garden are in the city limits of Langley, on Whidbey Island.  We have 1/3 acre of peace and quiet, hidden from neighbors, yet a short walk to town.

This is the front gate, built in our son's wild and playful style. His company, dbBrad, built our home and Brad is our family's creative genius.

First couple of steps through the gate…

A little stroll around the garden…

Our pond…

Please, come again…June 17?

Tickets are now on sale for the tour.  Proceeds from the annual Whidbey Island Garden Tour are donated to selected causes and non-profit organizations that support the improvement, restoration, and maintenance of our common island habitat. Projects that emphasize public space enhancement and education are of particular merit in the eyes of the WIGT Board.

~~~

If you want to be happy for a short time, get drunk;

happy for a long time, fall in love;

happy forever, take up gardening."

~ Arthur Smith

California Outback

Cougars, bobcats, coyotes, rattlesnakes lurk. Cactus, scrub oak, manzanita and a plant called Red Shank or Ribbon Wood (Adenostema sparsifolium) dominate the landscape. Red Shank is a beautiful shrub growing uniquely in this part of California and Australia, according to literature and our host.

Quiet, beauty and peace prevail. We are camped on 40 acres belonging to clients of Brad and generous strangers to us, Karen and Mark. The property looks out over BLM lands, the PCT Trail, Anza Borrego Park, the Santa Rose Mountain Range and Idyllwild Mountain.

                        

Neighbors are visible, off in the distance, but mostly we are alone -- no phone and no internet and no one in sight. We are at the end of a very long, narrow rutted dirt road. There is a well and water so for the first time in longer than I will disclose, we are clean. Showers this morning! Not the inside kind, with hot and cold water adjustable to our personal temperature desire, but water from a hose attached to a cold water faucet, in the middle of the wide open world. Oh my, how delicious.

The temperature here on this knoll is lovely, in the low 80's with a slight breeze. Down in the valley yesterday, as we passed through, it was a windless and a very hot 100. How grateful we were for Thistle's air-conditioning. I remember trips in bygone days where the only relief from traveling through the desert was rolling down the windows and going faster. If there were creeks along the way we'd wet bandanas and wrap them around our necks. Edward Abbey, in his writings, expressed auto airconditioning as four windows down and 45 miles per hour.

While Mark was off teaching in San Diego, Karen arrived around noon with a dozen fresh eggs in hand and time to spend hanging out and showing us the land. We deepened both our friendship and our knowledge of this special place as we hiked to a canyon creek, still flowing lightly from the last rain. Oak trees were growing in the canyon, completely changing the feel from where we were camped at the top of the ridge.

A deep thank you Mark and Karen!

And as we were driving away this morning the hills were covered with poppies…

~~~

“My loyalties will not be bound by national borders, or confined in time by one nation's history, or limited in the spiritual dimension by one language and culture. I pledge my allegiance to the damned human race, and my everlasting love to the green hills of Earth, and my intimations of glory to the singing stars, to the very end of space and time.”

~ Edward Abbey, Confessions of a Barbarian

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