As the Garden Grows

This weekend we were at my mothers for some much needed poolside BBQ time on the other side of the state.  I was a little worried that the weather would dry out the garden while we were gone, but made due with a thorough morning soak on Friday. The time away was a much needed mini vacation, as I have had a lot of negative emotions and stresses bouncing about my head.  Work has increasingly become a drain on my life, and my favorite hobby took a dive when I re injured my knee. To say the least, on Thursday I found myself a blubbering mess fully broken down and crying on the floor. Super mom was there, and was well aware of everything that had been going on in my life. She had kept reminding me to stay positive and proactive as the work world crumbled around me; my compassion and concern for my coworkers and the business having been thrown violently back in my face.  She was also there when I first injured my knee while skating, watched helplessly as I was wailed on in my first rather unprepared foray into a more complicated position.  She was there laughing with me and keeping up my spirits as I took a month off from the one physical activity I loved and did every week. (Coincidentally the activity that brought this whole homestead together) Lastly, she was there when I decided to come back to skating feeling like I had the strength and that my injury would no longer hold me back.  On the second day, near the end of warm ups, I fell, and fell hard.  A familiar pain came shooting through my body like lightning, nausea washed over me, and I couldn't stand.  I knew it, I had tore one of the ligaments in my already surgically repaired knee. 

Collapsing on the floor out of site, the fear and frustration overcame me and I fell apart.  As I sat there feeling utterly hopeless, broken, and frustrated that I had now lost the one activity I was looking forward to for relief from work (I kept blubbering something about "I just want to skate it out, I just need to skate").  Super mom sat there consoling me, and telling me that I am better than all of this.  She then said "Do you want me to call 'Power Puppy'?".  I nearly broke down laughing and crying, my first thought was a playful one "she is going to think this is a clever ploy to get her back to the track!" (as PP had moved away from the team a few months prior).

Needless to say, I found myself a few minutes later carried down the stairs to the car, and driven home by PP. The whole time I felt horrible since I knew that both Super Mom and PP had some crap going on in their lives that was just as pressing, and here I was a broken down bumbling idiot.  Yet, as we pulled up to the house, and I showed PP the garden for the first time, a new emotion started to fill me. We talked and hung out for a little bit, and after they had gone home, I signed online to find the previous post from SM. That feeling from earlier grew into an even greater overwhelming feeling.  While feeling so scared and weak, my friends and Dutch Boy had stepped up and reminded me not only to be strong, but that they could hold me up till I found my footing again.

After coming back from the weekend, I was so happy to see the growth in the garden.  The garden has now taken on -or maybe always was- a metaphor for my life. From the shit spread everywhere, new growth is happening, new possibilities and hope are sprouting up. If I can keep seeing this as the new opportunities that might be sprouting in my life (even if I can't see them at first) then maybe I can keep my head up. Perhaps the world will be clearer when the whole 'homestead' group is over for dinner on the deck after harvesting our food from the garden.  That is really what ALL of this is about, life, work, play, it all comes back to being happy and developing the relationships that help engage and enlighten our lives. 

From Super Mom

This came from Super Mom.... and I smile each time I read it. 

Gardening. Homesteading. For me, they’re awesome ideas and great concepts, which have a lot of valuable lessons all wrapped up in them. They’re also very academic concepts. At least, they were until about three weeks ago.

I admit, I’m basically a city girl. Not a big city girl by any stretch of the imagination, mind you, but very much a girl who grew up surrounded by paved roads, immediately accessible chain stores, and neighbors. Lots of close neighbors. Small yards and did I mention immediately accessible chain stores? Pavement spreads quickly and people grow lawns, not vegetables. Gardening wasn’t something my family really did all that often during my formative years, other than the occasional potted tomato or pepper plant, and when I moved out on my own, gardening tended towards experimentation with flowers, along with the random never-quite-finished windowsill herb garden.

Then The Great Visionary in my life seizes an opportunity…

The Great Visionary (TGV for future reference) is one of my best friends and an unabashed opportunist. She believes opportunity knocks, and you need to answer the door with a smile and ready hospitality. So recently, a bit of land became available and she saw the opportunity to create something beautiful. Opportunity provided a chance for growing food, friendships and our own special kind of fellowship. You can’t go wrong, baby!

As for true beauty, I mean, sure the garden LOOKS cool – I mean seriously? We have driftwood fenceposts and an arched entry way and it’s terraced with little cedar walkways! How cool is that? But really, the beauty is a lot of people coming together to haul dirt, laugh about having neon carrots and pondering how devious rabbits can be and how confused lost and stuck Labradors can become. Soon, we’ll have weeds to pull, food to share, and recipes to enjoy (along with wine. I mean seriously – mmm. Wine….).

This is definitely an opportunity that was unexpected for our family and 100% welcome. Granted, we tend to wander around looking a little bit lost – “You want the dirt… where? Um, on the ground, right?” – but we’re learning. And the Small Thing is excited about a pumpkin plant named Steve. Or perhaps the pumpkin it hopefully produces will be named Steve? Or, uhm, something like that? Pumpkins! Children! Steve!

It’s been a lot of smiles, a lot of little updates from TGV about what’s sprouting, who all has visited the garden, and how much love is going into it. I’m excited to have something else that brings our little “family” together and am looking forward to time spent in the sun weeding, harvesting, and enjoying the fruits of our labor. Spreading pavement? Crazy city life? Get outta here – we’re gonna watch our garden, and our family, grow!

June 11th, 2013

A few days ago we filled up the remaining of the garden beds with soil and planted the seedlings that will grow to feed the homestead.In an effort to keep the bunnies out I picked up a bag of dog hair from Power Puppy. It is yet one more step that I plan on taking in an effort to keep the garden as organic as possible. While spreading the black and white well washed locks around the fence line I noticed the first seedlings of the Broccoli Raab, Lettuce, and Spinach poking through the soil.  It is rather encouraging to see everything growing so well, and hopefully I can keep everything moving along smoothly.  With each little green leaf that pokes through the soil I see how it will mature and fill the garden, and I am anxiously awaiting the moment that the garden is a veritable edible jungle.

6 June, 2013

The growth continues!  Nearly the full 'homestead crew' was over today to finish up the last load of soil and plantings.  As a full yard and a half rounded out the lettuce bed and the three sisters bed, the seed packets sprang open and flung their contents into the precious dirt.  I was excited to show Small Thing that the onions she had planted were already rooted and standing tall, as were the peas and cucumbers we planted. In a quick inspection of the garden we noticed that her pumpkin had sprouted and was poking through the soil. 

It is encouraging to see her take to gardening like I did as a kid, it's fun and dirty.  Seeing something you planted grow and change each day makes it a brand new discovery every time you see it.

Right now I am at a loss for words as to what I really want to say and express.  There is simply too much going on that I can't seem to focus on this one task and complete a simple blog entry. Oh well, here are a few photos of the garden to hold me over till the next post.

First Sprouts 3 June 2013

I went out to the garden this morning around 6:30 to look at the sweet growth over the last week, and very excited to find that the peas that we planted a week or so ago have already sprouted up! Likewise the onions that Small Thing had planted are poking up through the ground, and the potatoes from Chef are poking their heads up through the ground.

The garden on the deck is doing nicely, and easily grew a full two inches over the weekend.  Undoubtedly,  the three days of continuous sunshine really helped. Really looking forward to getting the last few steps of the garden in place so it can be fully up and running.

First Garden upset

Last night after going for a swim, I went to the garden for a little dirt therapy, only to find the first 'Garden Upset' of the season.  There, sitting on the side of the lower terrace that I had not planted yet, was a dog turd.  The neighbors rowdy black lab had broken through the deer fence, got trapped, and shat all over the garden.  Not only did I spend my time picking up the neighbors dog shit, I had to also patch the fence, and keep my anger down. 

I can't fault the dog for pooping, chances are it found its way into the garden and couldn't find its way out and thus, walked everywhere and pooped.  It happens. What does trouble me is two things.  This confirms that Rabbits will be able to get in under the fence and that is something I will need to take care of right away, and two, this dog has been a thorn in our side for a while. Since we moved in to the house in October, this dog has routinely escaped his house and made his way over to the trees by our bedroom.  Being the ever vigilant watch dog, he alerts us and everyone around that there is a raccoon or other animal in the area.  While normal dog behavior hardly bothers me, it frustrates me and the Dutch Boy when it is 4 am in the morning.  After several nights of this -granted at intervals over several months- Dutch Boy spoke with the owners, and that issue has not come up in a while. 

Likewise, I am not bothered that the dog comes over to visit. It seems everyone in our neighborhood has the same concept of dog ownership and freedom that I do with Rose my girl.  If Rose needs to go outside, I simply open the door and let her out, trusting her fully to come back when called, trusting that she doesn't tear up peoples lawns, and knowing that she is safe. The neighbor up the street lets their old golden retriever do this, as does the owner of black lab, albeit less so with him.  The golden and my girl are fairly care free, stick around, and do nothing but investigate and sleep in the grass. The lab, well, it is a lab, so it gets into all sorts of trouble. Again, I can't fault the dog for the garden upset, nor can I fully fault the owners, I simply need to be better and make the required changes in the garden so it doesn't happen again. At least we have spare strips of colorful kite material to tie on to the fence to make it more visible till another solution can be found.

Is it worth it?

So, the ultimate question that I have been facing is:  "Is this worth it?"  The question is multi-fold and complicated, as is the answer. The complicating factors and muddy conclusions have left me thinking about this subject for a long time.

First and foremost I must say that the number one criteria for deciding if this is worth it, is financially.  Like many others across the country my pocketbook is the one thing that seems to be perpetually hungry.  I do not spend lavishly, but I do enjoy some of the finer things in life.  Fitness is paramount to me, and the $40.00 monthly investment is an investment in years after retirement, and is thereby justifiable. Likewise, I enjoy wine and beer, but because micro brew beer is not as readily available as it was where I used to live I have given that up in trade for my $7.00 bottle of wine that last about a week and a half.

I have debt that I am trying to pay off, and a job that hardly pays enough to cover the basic expenses. But, the tradeoff is that I live in a beautiful home with a wonderful person, I have access to the land that I love, and I have the people and things in my life that bring happiness.  So, with all of that being said, I am very open to financial trade offs when it comes to deciding if this endeavor is 'worth it'.

Both Dutch Boy and I enjoy good food, but we also enjoy simple food.  Like this weekend Chef brought over some excess from a haul of mussels she harvested earlier in the day.  At the bottom of the pot I dumped in the butter, sauteed two onions, a handful of mushrooms, a cup of wine, tossed in the mussels for some steaming, and topped with fresh cut tomatoes. Served it up with slices of warmed french bread and we ate it right out of the pot.  Now one plate of this in a restuarant would cost us between 15-20 bucks. For us it cost about $4. (onions 35cents a piece roughly x2, tomatoes 50cents a pieces x2, mushrooms 50cents, mussels free, bread 1/2 a loaf $1.50, and roughly 3/4 of a cup of wine from a $7.00 bottle).

Now, like every other would be homesteader out there I have gone through the various financial calculations to see if the above incident (or others like it) would make financial sense. The standard is to take the cost of the meal ingredients/end meal costs and compare those.

*restaurant: $15-20 per person - 30-40 for one meal    Home: $4.00 per meal, with left overs 5 meals.

Then factor in time.  This is the kicker, restaurants and large scale farms are more efficient than I am, or could be, at all of the various tasks of the job. All of the perceived savings are quickly swallowed up by my labor costs if I use the standard calculation of what is an hour of my time worth.

Like many other homesteaders/self growers/gardener wannabees, we realize that this is not mathematically correct.  We are not adding work hours to the work day, or taking away hours from a work day, so making the equation to work wages is not accurate.  What else would I be doing with that time.... watching Spongebob and petting a cat? So, truthfully I am 'working' for free because I am getting enjoyment out of the act.

Additionally, I am seeing an added benefit out of this that is hard to quantify financially. Last night after finishing up with a group of girls from my team, one of my team mates handed me a bottle of freshly made Mead, and Power Puppy gave me a bag of nuts from her recent trip to Texas. So, right there I have an example of how financially this is may or may not be a wash, but the quality of life is greatly improved. How many people that are financially struggling, eat like kings and queens? Twice a week so far I have been able to make a super healthy salad for Dutch Boys pre-soccer meal with mostly garden grown ingredients.  I have added fresh herbs to a few of our meals, and the canned farmed goods from last year is still a few meals waiting patiently.

Next up: How to benefit personally and emotionally from all of this

25 May, 2013

It may not seem like much, but a lot of progress has been made on the homestead.  All of the posts are up and all of the posts are supported.  Even though I decided to press forward ahead of schedule and thereby snap the drill bit. 

Dutch Boy had been following after me and securing the braces to the posts after I drove in the braces with a mallet.  Most of them were done, but I was low on posts and braces, and after a quick trip to the beach with Dutch Boy and a subsequent trip to Ace Hardware.... I was ready to finish the rest.  Maybe a little to eager and ready. 

When pre-drilling a hole through a brace I stepped backwards to steady myself with my bad leg, and my knee crumpled.  Causing me to fall and torque the drill sideways snapping the bit in half.  OOPS! Thats what I get for being to pushy to keep moving forward. 

I had wanted to have the posts in before Super-Mom and Chef arrived, seeing as the posts are not only frustrating, but also confusing.  I had other plans at the start, but since the actual bedrock is about 4 inches below the soil in the lower portion of the garden, I couldn't sink the posts as deep.  After dig down as deep as possible, and back filling with heavy rocks and sand, the braces were still necessary.

While on the beach searching for more posts, Dutch Boy came up with the idea of a arched top over the entrance and found the perfect log.  After the ladies showed up,  he held it in place while I tied some sisal rope around the beams to secure it in place. Small Thing, Super Mom, and Chef gathered cut grass from the freshly mowed lawn, and tacked the deer fence into place.

Small Thing sat in the soil and labeled the plant markers as we spoke of irrational fears and crazy emotions.  It was warming to watch her plant the first two rows of onions and her very own pumpkin.  She may grow to love a garden, as I know I did as a kid.

Chef had brought over some lemon cucumbers, and a tomato as a donation to the garden, and we happily planted them in dedicated mounds in the middle terrace. The blueberry muffins however, ended up as a snack, thankfully free of dirt.

All that is left now is to:
*bring the industrial stapler by, properly tack up the deer fence,
*bury the bottom of the fence to rabbit proof - maybe double up? (get some hair clippings from the Power Puppy)
*add another yard of soil/compost
*plant the 'three sisters' area
*start the first batch of lettuce and salad greens
*plant the tomato/peppers 'trellis?
*plant all of the last goodies!!!
* oh.. and maybe tie some reflective tape to parts of the fence so things and people don't run into it.

YAY!!! Look at this progress, and only after a few hours here and there.  Yesterday I finished leveling the space and moving the excess mulch.  It has been a little bit backbreaking, but good nonetheless.  It feels like I have been working on it for a week, but the truth is that it has only been a few hours on the weekend, two hours earlier in the week, and an hour yesterday.  In the spirit of the homestead, I gave a few wheelbarrow loads of mulch to the neighbors in exchange for using their wheelbarrow.  It took a bit of planning, re planning, and raking to get the remaining mulch in a somewhat level spot.  I decided to terrace it a little bit (mainly because I couldn't bust the clay under the center of the mound).  So the 'lower terrace is the potato and onion field, the center terrace will be the leafy greens and num nums, and the psuedo upper terrace will be the entrance and the 'three sisters' planting.

Yesterday as I was finishing up the last bit of leveling, Super-mom and Small-Thing showed up with a truck load of dirt.  We hoisted Small-Thing up into the truck, handed her the shovel, and had her start to fill the wheelbarrow.  Load after load the lower terrace filled up, and we rushed to get the truck unloaded as the first drops of rain tried to sprinkle down on us.  It became evident as we leveled the soil that one yard was not enough, and we would definitely need more. Thankfully, Super Mom and Small Thing are willing to return in a few days with another load. 

I am really looking forward to this weekend with Super Mom, Small Thing, Chef, and maybe my own Dutch Boy finishing up the soil, posts, fences, and start the planting!  I can't wait for one of the other core members of our group, Power Puppy, to make her way back from the tornadoes of Texas to start getting her feet dirty.

ps. I promised Small Thing a pumpkin of her own (named George) if she keeps helping.

Left on the to do list for the homestead garden project:
* Add more soil
* Install Posts, and place bracing on posts (since the posts are not dug into the ground)
* Put up Deer Fencing (look into rabbit fencing along lower 2 feet)
* Figure out a gate - Maybe this should come before the fencing?
* Start planting
* Lay out sprinkler
* Mulch over starts with left over mulch
* Build and Install Trellis/cages for tomato and pepper patch.
* drink wine with friends.

Start of the Garden

So there is two parts to the garden. There is our 'kitchen garden' and then there is our 'homestead garden'. The kitchen garden is placed on one of the main decks that makes it easy for me to walk out and harvest quick things for a meal. This one I started the plantingfor a few weeks ago and had intended to only have this one garden. But that was before the tree removal talk.  4 Tomato plants, squash, cucumbers, pole beans, sugar snap peas, swiss chard, spinach, lettuce, basil, catnip, some strawberries, oregano, thyme, lemon thyme, and rosemary.  Not super prolific, but just enough to make a quick meal if need be. After the tree cutters came, we noticed they had also significantly trimmed off some limbs that had given us a little bit of privacy on this deck.  Not that we are really concerned with neighbors peeping in, it was just a little weird to get used to.  So, to make it a little better I built a small bamboo trellis to grow snap peas and some climbing cucumbers and squash on.  I am not sure if I picked the right plants as this area is what I would consider the 'shade' spot of the deck.  Due to one remaining overhanging branch, this area only receives an hour or two of direct overhead sunlight, and 4-6 hours of sunset mid to low angle sunlight.  I am really hopping it will be enough.

This garden is off and growing while I get the Homestead one established.  Today Truck-driving-super-mom is bringing over a load of soil to get the beds ready, and I am hoping that I have everything ready for her!  If not... at least there is a bottle of wine and a little bit of sunshine for our efforts!

Starting a collective

So, there were some trees removed from the property, and in their wake there is a decent size spot for a garden. This weekend we began the hard work of prepping the garden site, and while doing all of the research I can, some good news came into my life. I have wonderful friends, ones that are willing and excited to get involved. These friends are just as eager about the garden as I am, and thus have said that they will help out with some of the little bits and ends as long as they can share in the outcome. Am I ever going to say no to sharing my garden yield? HELL NO!! now take another ten pounds of zucchini. This collective arose from the first mumblings of splitting a cow between three families, and looks like it will grow into a group of friends that are beautiful and strong and I am super excited. Each one of the members of 'Our Little Homestead' has a special trait they can offer to the group. One is a vet tech and dog groomer, and has an abundance of clippings that are great for deer proofing a garden. She also has a way with animals, that will make working with 4 lambs on another friends property even more fun. A hidden talent we didn't know about her is her ability to 'pick and pull' large amounts of wool! Who knew that all you had to do was plop a full fleece in front of her and give her a glass of wine and talk about the weather. Another friend has an incredible drive, and an incredible daughter that is a good fount of energy that will be perfectly tapped by letting her loose in the garden. Did I mention that she works for a lawn care company and has a truck. Grass clippings, compost, soil... and a truck! We also have a bona-fide chef in our group that has just recently purchased a cider press. It just so happens that myself and the truck driving super mom have an abundance of apples and would love to make some cider of our own. Maybe even have super mom's husband start brewing some hard cider? Then there is me, the one who seems to take everything and do it full bore and make things bigger than they really are. I am trying to take a step back and sincerely evaluate my ability to perform to the level I want. It was while I had this deep soul searching questioning moment that I realized that the friends around me are going to make this thing work. What are we thinking about right now? I don't know. But, what I do know is that there is nothing quite as great as hanging out in the garden with my best friends, a bottle of wine, and maybe get some weeding done. Along the way I hope to also use this as a record of what is going on, and a means of kickstarting my writing again. Two of the members of the homestead encouraged me to write last year as a part of the National Novel Month, so I already know that the positive influence I need will be there. Till the next time... ta ta... I will bring photos of the garden, and a bottle of wine next time.

A new beginning

It has been apparently too long since I last wrote on here. Not that my writings were consistent enough to warrant more than a fleeting thought amongst the ether. I simply have been so scattered brain that I do not know what to do. Big changes have happened in my life. A year and a half ago I completely started over. My closest ally and husband of several years and I chose to end our marriage amicably, and I moved back to Washington State. It has been both an easy and a difficult transition. So many new things have filled the voids that were in my life, but they have also caused overflow into other realms that I previous thought were stable. For that I am not sure if I am thankful or scared. In a sense even the fear feels good and has the essence of thriving and development. Perhaps I will start over and write again. Perhaps I will finally realize my one true dream of being a published writer. Perhaps, or perhaps I will die in the anonymity that is this pathetic blogosphere.

Recent bomber run with my buddy at Breck, Jan 26, 2011

Dec 19th Trip

.....
I am ready for this trip, but I am also worried.  I hope et no point do I get stuck somewhere or get in an accident.  After saying my goodbyes I was on the road by 6:45 am.  Starlight slowly gave way to pinking sky as I drove northwards.  The sun not making its first full appearance till I was in Fort Collins.  So many things already felt familiar, yet different.  Like I was doing this whole thing backwards.  The Art-deco gas station that now serves as a marijuana dispensary.   The new owners electing to keep the original colors.  Not for aesthetic reasons, ony because they were either to lazy or to cheap to do otherwise.  Nevertheless the neon green and electric purple they used for the new sign gave it the feeling of a low-class strip joint. 

I could not help but notice the sign on a car wash while I sat at a stoplight. "psst, your dirt is showing"  I felt proud and giggled as a clean sedan pulled up next to me.  No outdoor minded subaru owner would be caught dead with a perfectly clean and waxed car.

By 8:20 I find myself somewhere just south of Laramie pulled over for speeding.  He says he clocked me, I am surprised since he came at me from the other direction.  A nice enough guy and he seems to actually be sad he has to write me a ticket.  I tell him it's okay, it's my fault, and his job.  Somehow we end up talking about how until recently he used to own a ski-resort 'near-here'. But after the economy took a hit, well, now he is a cop.  I drive away not exactly sure how that conversation came up.

Soon I am on I-80 picking my way through all of the United States tractor-trailer fleet, while simultaneously navigating the snow- packed roads.  I take a little solace in the fact that all of the vehicles off the road are semis.  Some on their sides, some facing the wrong way.  That little bit of misplaced confidence is quickly shot down every time I see the grill of a MAC truck barreling up my ass.  Add into the fluffy mix a handful of folks with far off out of state plates (Florida, Illinois, Missouri) that seemed overly cuatious about driving in the snow.  So cautious that they were more dangerous.  I was glad to finally turn off on to snowpacked 191 and get away from everyone.

August 7th, 2010 (old entry)

(NOTE : I am posting random entries and tidbits from my journal trying to catch up to present day)

One week left here this summer. One week till I can put one more notch in my belt of a summer at the lighthouse. Sad to say, I feel so blasse about the thought of my remaining time. As if I have written all of this before. True, these are the same feelings I always have around this time, and in that sense they are familiar and confronting. But, well.... I don't know what to say.

Trinket, the resident baby seal, begins mewling and the noise redirects my thoughts. Four people show up just before 11, rain soaked and loud. The usual conversation of sailing here and there, of a 12 pound ham they have been using for a week and the need to pump their tanks. I wish I could avoid listening to such a banal conversation. They are so loud and occupy a major portion of the porch. Silence might only be found in the woods. I am elated when one of the women says she is cold and should get moving. I am happy they are retreating to their boats and Costco salmon burgers. The rain starts falling harder, Rose curls deeper into herself.

A slow day, a good day, a day that I read a whole novel from start to finish without much interruption. Robert Louis Stevenson "The Dynamiter". An appropriately sized green book with the visage of a young man embossed on the cover. The typeset almost a 3/4 of an inch from the edge of the page. A somewhat absurd margin that made the book thicker then what it should be.

From out on the water comes elevated voices, a father and a teenage son aboard a sailboat ironically named Nirvana. They are yelling at one another. In transiting past the point, they cut it to close and fouled their prop in kelp fronds. The father jumped into the dinghy while the son fiddled with the boat hook. The offending kelp finally freed, the boat turned towards Bedwell Harbor and disappeared into the fog.

June 14th, 2010 (Old Post, catching up on posts)

14 June 2010
The sign in the waiting area encourages people to use mass transit. Twilight Tolstoy’s have written their smarmy quips about taxes, Schwinns, and poop smoothies. It’s so infantile and yet I add my line amongst them. “Plus bikers aren’t fat” On the ferry the locals read their papers and sip their coffee in silence, while tourists chatter to shake off the morning groginess. A few stretch out across bench seats and catch a nap. Work boots hanging over the edge and sweat-washed ballcaps blocking the light. A few tables over, someone shuffles a deck of cards and another man turns the pages of his newspaper.
While off island we went to all of the usual stops, a sea of consumerism with strip malls extending out on to the pavement like awkward angled jetties. The hardest was WalMart. Fat women in tight capris and stilletos dragging their fat bawling children. Men with bellies hanging miles past their belt. Forcing them to create ballast by thrusting their heads backwards and adding bags of cookie dough to the back of their calves. Everyones shirts are so tight their back rolls appear as a pack of sausages made by an inexperienced butcher. I feel so out of place, nausea begins to take over. A couple of women walk past that are perfect examples of real behead. They don’t waste their money on styling gel, they just use the sculpting power of unwashed stringy locks. I want to run out the front doors and breath in the sweet rain perfume air. Dan pipes up “Oooooh, Scrubbing Bubbles, I love scrubbing bubbles.”
It strikes me as utterly hilarious and I can’t help giggling as we walk towards the checkout lane. I only feel completely normal again while sitting in the ferry line. A Ford Focus with Oregon plates pulls up next to us and a nun steps out with her dog.

Waiting sucks.

It has been hard, waiting for things to happen. The BLM recently changed the policy regarding docents at Patos, making it nearly impossible for me to go out this year. Now I will be waiting till July to go out to Stuart. That's fine. I have come to accept it as a part of the process.

The waiting for something to happen has left me apathetic to my writing. Add on top of it, this year I do not have someone to write to. Everything is harder this year. The rain fails to keep away the tourists from strolling out to Indian island and picking the flowers. They keep pouring in while the tide is low enough for them to walk out along the spit. The only faces I recognize anymore are family or the senior friends of my grandmother. If i feel lonely in my home, and even lonlier in Colorado, how can I ever expect to feel a part of something again?

I am still traveling with the cancerous letter that I wrote a month ago. A letter that feels out of place and time, yet I can't bring myself to dispose of it. Something about having it allows me to be visually reminded about my promise. But with no one to write to, I feel lost.

Photos: Rawlins, Wyoming to Victor, Idaho.

WeMo camping under the stars on the edge of the Kilpecker Sand Dunes in Wyoming.


















Big Sandy Reservoir


















Birth place of "Big Sandy's Boot"






























The Road Warriors once again take to the road in their faithful WeMo. (Name of the car)
















Granite Falls Wyoming, had to stop for other reasons, but the view was amazing!

Rawlin Times

An article about me, they called for an interview. Boy did I feel like a rock star.

Here are some photos from the event taken by the onsite photographer.

May 16th Start of the summer trip

Left early yesterday after a small little set back at the house.  Once my passport was re-found, I said goodbye to Tom with a big hug and a kiss.  The send off was rather uneventful, rain clouds and fog hung low over the gray road all the way to Rawlins.  A few times I was a little worried as far as the comfort of the kite festival.  While driving through a sleepy Loveland, I smiled as I passed a man walking along the sidewalk.  In one hand was a fresh cup of coffee, in the other, two red reniculas whose heads bobbled outside their newspaper wrapping.  Outside of Fort Collins the sky began to box in and fog banks filled every valley.  I barely noticed when I had crossed into Wyoming.  A few times the sky cleared up enough for me to see  the base of the wind towers or the lone male antelope in the middle of the plains.  All the while Steve Inskeep was on the radio telling me of life on the Pakistan-India border. 

 Fifty miles east of Rawlins I crossed the Snowy Range and ran into a wall of wet snot.  The thought crossed my mind that this trip, at least the part to Rawlins, was going to be a big mistake.

April 9th 2010

(Spokane Wa)
There was definitely something familiar about walking around downtown Spokane. Although for the life of me I couldn't remember where Aunties & Uncles was. I vaguely remembered it being near the Opera house, and with enough sidewalk stumbling I found it. It had changed somewhat inside. Downsizing to almost only the bottom floor. Still bright and loving, the walls the same muted white with that almost obnoxious green accent. It felt different this time. As I walked amongst the neatly lined shelves it felt like something was missing. Perhaps it was the lack of the oppressive weight of floors full of books above me. Even the attached cafe had changed. From the artistically over colored photographs on the slate gray walls to the perfectly handwritten chalkboard menu above the stereo playing french nouveau jazz. The quaint cafe had become that psuedo-neighbors dining table style of upscale fine dining. It reminds me of the Kitchen in Boulder and I feel sadly under-dressed in my hoodie with my americano and Byron. (Book: The Road to Oxiana by Robert Byron)

Don't get me wrong, I love it in here. The manager, whom I talked to for the better part of an hour, and the owner have done a fantastic job. It is just that feel like a stranger in a town that was once my home. Oddly it only spurs my desire to be back on the road. At least that is familiar from my past, a feeling like I always needed to get out of Spokane.

The music changes slightly, still the words are in french, but the beat feels distinctly Cuban or Puerto Rican. I is with this change that I am blindly following Byron through the Mediterranean eastward. Funnily enough, I am continually distracted by a particular patron within the bookstore. From where I sit I have a clear view of the magazine rack and the books on Astrology and Metaphysics. It is there that he has been perusing for the past twenty minutes. As if the answers that he has failed to find in his anarchy might be hiding in the pages of an untold horoscope. All black clothes with various slogans of the anti-corporate, gauged ears, and long black dreadlocks that reach towards his studded belt. If eel as if he is a cross between several of my friends and a cliche. I think he knew I was watching him, for he looked right at me, walked away, then circled back a moment later to return the books.

NABX 2010

For more photos see: Chris NABX 2010

Aoxomoxoa, we have all felt it. Whether we fly stunts, fighters, traction, or anything else our childish community of peter-pans has devised to put into the sky. It is that divine feeling, or transcendence that one feels at any age. Pure unaltered bliss that you can only know when you fly simply for the sake of flying. It is aoxomoxa that overcomes you and makes you smile even when you snag a kite in a bush or snap your lines. You are happy because you are doing what you love. Aoxomoxoa lives within the playa, and it calls out drawing everyone from near and far. Although, most of us traveled from all over the United States, this years North America Buggy expo (NABX) brought crews from Canada, United Kingdom, New Zealand, Australia, Israel, and Japan. Whether it was the possibility of setting new land speed records, or just to be surrounded by fellow kiters, we all converged on Ivanpah Lake south of Primm, Nevada.

The reports from the pre-event were of conditions boasting 30-40 mph winds with 75 mph gusts. It was on one of these days that Fast Arjen set a new record of 82.89 mph with a 2.7m kite. As he sped past Buggytown some dropped what they were doing, others were desperately trying to tie down their own gear in the rolling wind. Everyone, however, knew that they were witnessing history. It was into this boiling wind that the HQ Powerkite team thought they would be falling into when arriving early Thursday morning. However the storm front that had brought about those conditions had cleared out and passed to the west the night before.

The lake bed baked in the gradually increasing temperature while everyone walked around lazily awaiting for even a breeze. The more seasoned fliers watched as every now and then a ‘sucker wind’ would come through and the newbies would run out to the field to set up. Only to have their kites fall out of the sky. Time came to a standstill as the sun wavered in the sky. In the heart of the mojave, the middle of the day is the hardest. For almost 8 hours everyone floated between chatting, checking gear, and snagging lunch at Buggytown headquarters. Then at 4:29 pm, Aeolus (greek god of the winds) flipped the switch to ON and Ivanpah came alive. Buggy town emptied out as one after the other ran out to their kite of choice. The night ended with a HQ sponsored party under the big tent, with the fresh flowing nectar of Ska Brewery. The Matt’s (Kite fliers hailing from Ska Brewery) themselves stood behind the taps pouring one cup after the other for each successive thirsty kiter.

The sun broke on friday morning with a day of no wind. The bug was in us by this point, and Team Wee Thump of HQ took off across the mountains to the west in search of wind. Before reaching our destination, we were sidetracked and stopped at the edge of a true Joshua Tree forest to fly some stunt kites and deltas, trying desperately to keep them above the kite eaters all around us. Large bushes and blooming joshua trees thrusted their snarling fingers towards the sky trying to pull each one of our kites back to the ground. But HA! we were successful and walked away with only one accident, our fateful teammate Wheelie Willy had backed into a barbed wire fence. The day was only half over when we stopped by the Whistlestop Cafe in Nipton California. Once a favored stop of famed silent film actress Clara Bow, this town with a population of sixteen had become a ghost town holding on to the edge of the desert. The crew played with the bobble-head turtles and toy tanks inside the store, until that tell tale whistling of the wind started to pick up along the road. Oh sweet wind it called to us and brought us forth to the southern end of the lake bed. Would it be possible to kite back to buggy town from here? Only eight miles from the fencing along the road back to home according to the GPS. The question was, were there unseen hazards? Like what about the old evaporation pond and the berms with kite eating thorns? To do it on a buggy is one thing, but for Kiteloop Kyle to think about crossing that distance on a landboard, meant that the day would be over by the time he poured himself into camp. After much debate, the plan was scrapped in favor of bringing the wind back with us to camp. The camp was rejoicing as the dust rolled off the back of our car at a steady 15 mph. Several folks stopped by the HQ camp to try out our new baby, the Prodigy 6.5m. Others simply wanted to learn to fly either a de-power or a kite on handles. We were more then happy to teach and help set up, only to be rewarded with watching that smile spread across their face. Priceless. Flying once again into the sunset, more than the HQ Wee Thump team rejoiced when dinner came out and Lenka and Slava (Snowkite Cinema) threw on videos of the day.

Saturday came parading into buggy town with perfect wind in tow. Over 8 hours of flying and free-riding and all of us felt that great aoxomoxoa feeling wash over us. All types of traction kiters, buggiers, landsailers, and landboarders spent their time riding the pleasurable playa. If it moved, chances were that we put a kiter in it and watched it sail. With the perfect lighting and all of us out on the playing field, it seemed only perfect that we set up a tandem buggy and head out to capture some footage. Kiteloop Kyle grabbed the Montana V 7.0m in the 16 mph wind and Chris and myself in the tandem buggy popped up the Apex II 7.0m and headed to the softer side of the lake. A perfect place to throw some tricks and fly as a group. The sun set on buggy town and those not out on a midnight ride were treated to a fabulous banquet and the raffling off of many fabulous gifts.

Team Wee Thump was all too sad to wake up on Sunday. Other then the lack of wind, there was a sense of sorrow in the air as we all knew that we would be going our separate ways. We were also sad to say goodbye to those that made this event amazing. Thank you Dean, you are the embodiment of living-breathing aoxomoxoa. Thanks also go out to Jose and the various characters that aided in making sure that everyone of us left with a big ole chuckle in our hearts and a smile on our face. Thank you Lenka and Slawek, and the Peter Lynn boys for the amazing footage to keep us entertained at night. And last but definitely not least, a special thanks goes to everyone that helped in the kitchen. Without your hard work and delicious meals, we would of been relegated to eating cold McDonalds and marshmellows.

Personally I want to thank Ska Brewery for suppling free beer to all of us thirsty kiters. Not only are the Matt’s kiters themselves, but they are spreading the word and the fruits of fabulous Colorado Breweries. I also want to thank HQ Powerkites for being so amazing and accepting of a silly girl in a gray skirt that just loves to fly. You guys are always making the weirdest places feel like home for me. To everyone else that went to NABX and spent a minute talking with me and my crew, or just flew with us, you are the reason more people need to get into the sport. Finally, to the members of the new Team Wee Thump: I love you guys.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cbau/4380798629/

Dear B,

It is snowing again, and much like the moisture laden flakes falling from the sky, I feel heavy and burdened. I feel unable to let go off this oppressive feeling that someone I trusted so completely routinely lied to my face. Almost a year has gone by and without any form of real closure I feel more and more betrayed. Why I ever put any sort of faith in that friendship continues to haunt me. What a colossal waste of energy. I can't express how hurt I am right now and at the same time clueless at how to make myself feel better. There is something I am looking forward to. I plan on driving to Lake Louise outside of Calgary and cathartically burning my favorite photo of me and this friend. It seems befitting. What do you think? Do you understand why I feel this way? Does my catharsis in Calgary seem a fitting closure in light of the fact that my friend will never do me the kindness of being honest with me... let alone speak to me? Your input would be greatly appreciated, and until we speak again, I hope all is well with you.

Me

Mar 12th-13th, 2010

B, Mar 12th

On the road again. This weekend its off to Powder Mountain Utah for the Superfly. It is the next stop on the Snowkite Circuit, with only one or maybe two more before the season ends. I wont be able to make the snowkite Rodeo in Montana because it is the same weekend as the

North America Bu

ggy Expo on Ivanpah lake south of Vegas. You guys probably drove through there last year on the way to the California coast.

Sigh, just looking at my travel list for the next few two and a half months, I am excited, but worried. The van is sure to die soon. The question is whether or not I will be lucky enough to have it happen when I am either here in Boulder or at my mom's/the island this summer.

How is your trip to Newfoundland going? Well I can imagine. That is such a beautiful part of the country (no B.C. tho!) I wonder if you are going by road, plane or train. I don't know if you heard that my travels will take me through your neck of the woods in a few months. I doubt you will have the time tho to visit. Oh well, I will continue to write as if we were still friends! I have to admit that seeing the photos of you at Lake Louise

has inspired me to add it to my travels this summer. I have seen photos of it since I was a child and have always wanted to go there. But that is for another letter. This one is supposed to be about my trip to Utah! After last weekend at the Colorado Snowkite Open, I now have a whole family of kiters from all around the country. I can't really think of anyone of the folks I met that wont be happy to see me again. I know that I will always have a fresh cup of coffee waiting for me and countless others either sleeping on floors or in the back of their vans/trucks/SUV's/Campers. It is definitely an added sense of security when you are in my position. Alone on the road. It's always nice to have a friendly face amongst the wilderness.

Anyways, the weather in Boulder is trying to be spring. It is kind of sad since we never really had full blown winter here. Before we could see the snow we all sat around anxiously awaiting, the birds started chirping and the tulips started to poke their leaves through the warming soil. Pussy willows are appearing on the trees and the temperature seems to want to stay around 60. It seem strange that here I have spent yet another spring in Boulder, and I am once again on the eve of my summer departure. Thankfully these trips I have been taking have been a good remedy for my greatest malady: Wanderlust. Actually, as you know, it hasn't cured me of it, it just has satiated my appetite a little. I fear tho, that it will take more and more trips to achieve this level of being ok with remaining relatively stationary. It was a lot easier when I only looked forward to the lighthouse. Then I could bemoan my time at home with nothing to do but plan. Now, I have what I wanted, a stable home and a life out of a duffel bag.

On the subject of home, I have really been developing my idea of it. The best way to describe it: I have always wanted to see my house as a museum of my life. A repository for the detritus that tends to collect about me. I also like having the thought although my 'life is afloat' I still have an anchor somewhere.

Till after the event,

Me

Dear B, March 13th.

Driving across Wyoming. Awoke this morning at 5 am outside of Little America. After driving for an hour or so I pulled off on a ranch exit next to the train tracks, crawled atop a parked freight car and watched the sunrise. THe mountains and some cows at my back, along with the threat of a blowing front. Until now I had always hated driving across Wyoming, but there is something special about it. Long red roads and gusting winds, and thankfully a refined sense for Road music radio stations. I don't know if I would ever go so far as to live here, it will always remain a waystation state for my other journeys. Like now, I write this from Utah, waiting for the skippers meeting for the Powder Mountain Superfly.

Love,

Me

Dillon Snow Kite Open Mar 5-7 2010

For the first time ever, Colorado Kiteforce has upgraded their ever popular Therapy Sessions to a full blown competition. With roughly 30 competitors from near and far, (some hailing from Russia, Peru, and even farther!) the fields for both Pro and Amateur were well rounded. The event, set to kick off around noon on Friday was postponed due to wind conditions. Although many had set up on the ice in the lee of the marina, most felt wary about launching into the 30+ mph winds. Those of us that sat this one out, the Peanut Gallery as it were, watched from the deck of the yacht club as gust after gust came out of the west. One by one swirling vortex’s would come crashing down on the ice and tumble towards the fliers, catching some off guard and humbling most. Finally around 3 pm their seemed a lull in the gusts and the wind felt as if it had evened out to a steady 25. Those with enough faith in their abilities (and maybe a few hotshots) decided to take off across the ice for a short practice run. In short order those of us in the Peanut Gallery watched as one by one those that had ventured out came back with either their tails between their legs, or completely spent from trying to maintain control. In the span of an hour three kiters had detached from their gear completely, with one kite tumbling over a mile across the ice before it came to rest in a barbed wire fence along Highway 6. Needless to say the tapped keg of Euphoria (Ska Brewery) and the threat of a spectacular 80’s band at the bowling alley that night helped us to assuage our fears about the rest of the event.
Thankfully the great gods of the sky decided to bless us on day 2. Sadly tho, their blessings were a little misguided. They seemed to be directing their attention more at those partaking in some alpine action on the mountains ringing the valley. Blue skies, nice temperatures, and no wind. Ideal if you were doing any sort of downhill activities. This was, as evident by the RC pilots early in the morning, not what we needed if we expected to do any races. In fact before the racers arrived I pulled out a no-wind stunt kite and enjoyed the sunshine warming the day. Thankfully, around 3:30 pm the thermal finally started to kick in and those with kites out ran down to the ice to fly. This time, to be rebuffed by 7 mph winds that kept dropping down to 5. Between the conditions overhead and those underfoot, it was a chore to stay in the air let alone work your skis, or board, out of the slush that was developing rapidly. One competitor (Gary Greene of GG Wind) ended up barely crossing the finish line when the kite fell out of the air due to 2 mph wind. Several folks even walked part of the upwind leg of the race simply so they wouldn’t lose ground and could keep the kite aloft. Before we parted for the evening, the raffle was held. With folks (some only spectators) walking away with a brand new 6.5m kite, a new Cabrinha snowboard, a new set of Rossingnol fatties, and countless swag. Those that were winners, and those that weren’t, once again retreated at the end of the day to the keg, a hot tub, and the bowling alley.
Oh Day 3, we were so happy to see you come. For this final day of the Snowkite Open broke upon us all as the perfect Goldilocks day. Just right. Most of the competitors had felt that the day would take the same turn as the previous two days, so when the call came down from Anton that yes indeed we WERE going to race at 11 am, most of them were still rolling out of bed. There was a mad rush to the field, jackets and harnesses half on and rolled up kites in tow as one after the other ran down so as to enjoy the 12-15 mph steady wind from the south-east. Those with LEI’s were hand inflating while standing in line at the air compressor simply so they could get out there as soon as possible. As the pro’s were set to ride in the first race, I had time to set up the PA system and throw on Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Up Around the Bend. How funny that up until the point that I was watching Billy Bordy (Ozone), Jacob Buzianis (Best Kiteboarding), and Anton Rainold (Colorado Kiteforce) launch and head toward the starting line that I finally heard the lyrics of the song. “Come on the rising wind, we’re going up around the bend...yeah”. I think the folks on the field had the same feeling and they all let out whoops and hollers as the realization hit that the event was on in full force. All of the races were run in the next few hours with Amanda Weldy (Ski’s) and Heather Schenck (Snowboard) taking first place in their divisions in the women’s fleet, Sean Haag (Ski) and Billy Bordy (Snowboard) winning first place in the Pro division and Bentley Blaho (Ski) and Rick Dunn (Snowboard) in the amateur division. The day was not complete with out some free-riding and a chance for us to just enjoy the unconstrained joy of new and old tricks and good wind mixed in with great friends and fine weather.

update. I am an HQ sponsored kite flier!

Recent Photos

Travel makes us look sweet and sleepy.. maybe because we are.




Yellowstone Country


Sitting in the Park, with/on Ben

Elizabeth Blank at Ballestreri Winery amongst the Sunflowers.

Lighthouse Ramblings

19 July
I awoke early this morning. It was so peaceful all I could do was smile and reach out and pet the soft ears of Percy who lay nearby. It was a nice respite from a restless night. For some reason I had a lot of trouble sleeping, constantly waking to toss and turn.
I have so many great plans for the future and things I want to accomplish. Thankfully Turn Point and Patos give me a chance to really tink about all of the logistics of each dream. I have so many plans in general for the coming year and I really hope that I can stay true to my course and do them I think of the dream I have to become the US top female white-water kayaker, and realistic that is. It is a daunting task to face, and the question is am I really up for it.
The water is eerily calm. Candlestick fish create the only ripples on the water as they jump and swim. Likewise the air is still, as if lying in wait for something bigger. Not another person or a boat for miles and the only sounds of humanity come from squawks on the VHF. In the distance I can clearly see the Olympic mountains. With the weather as it is, they seem bigger today. Their snow-capped peaks feeling closer then before. There is some stirring in the mattress of kelp off the point. The baby seal cries out for its mother as it vainly tries to climb upon the slippery stalks. It splashes back down into the water, each one sounding loud and percussive in this ‘anticipating air’.
I wonder if the weather is a precursor to what I can expect as far as visitors today. The past few days I have seen over a hundred people both days, but I also saw someone by 9:30 in the morning. It is 10:30 now and not a soul has approached the point.
I get all sorts of interesting folk that come out here. I am used to the ones that complain about the hike, even tho it looks like they should be hiking more often. I am also used to all of the other sorts of folks that find their way down here, camp kids, aging boaters, those on kayak tours, and the likes. In spite of all of that, I still get broad-sided every now and then by folks that absolutely baffle me. Like today I was moving wood chips down to the keepers quarters when a fellow and his grandson came by. He offered up his grandson to help me carry the buckets. I gladly accepted and then we walked down to the point. I ended up talking with the grandfather, feeling the whole time that something was ‘off’ about this soft spoken man.
Like many he asked if there was an easier way back to Reid harbor. I try not to laugh at people, the walk is not as bad as they make it seem. I told him ‘no’ and that he shouldn’t cross private property to get there. This sparked and annoying and persistent debate which he left by saying “well there is another way to think about all of this, these islands should all be parks.”
This after I said my family still cares for its homestead property. I am trying to see it from his point of view, and when I try I find myself severely conflicted. The land is so beautiful and at times I do wish everyone could enjoy it. However, I have seen how people treat public spaces. It is a romantic ideal to think that only people of good intentions and of a ‘Leave No Trace’ mentality actually compromise the majority of visitors to public spaces. I even see it here, while my general job is to be here for the people and to open the museum, my overall number one priority is to keep honest folks honest. Ask any ranger at any park what their job now entails. They are cops in green pants with a park badge. I think the writer of Nature Noir said it rightly. “The same a-holes in the city are the same a-holes in the woods. Nature doesn’t change people.”
It is a sad but true state of things. I find it every time I walk the property and find beer cans and toilet paper on the ground. Or bits of left-over wrappings from a snack shoved into a tree. As if mother Nature doesn’t mind the extra bit of tinsel crammed down her throat.
I also take issue with his statement on many other levels that I choose not to go into at this moment. My hand would cramp and my eyes would fail before I finished that diatribe.
Linda stopped by later in evening, bringing by more toilet paper for the outhouse. We ended up sitting on the porch talking about the future of the Keepers Quarters and about the joys of dealing with bureaucracy. Right now everything is somewhat at a stale mate as far as progress. Who will and can do what is still up in the air. We ended up discussing the proposed fence and its implications. We both agreed it would be sad to cut off the little bit of view that I do have. I can see a filtered sunset through the trees and sometimes a passing tanker. Now that the trees have been cleared from the water towers, there is ample sun reaching the ground. I can’t wait to see this place after the salal and underbrush has grown up and moss carpets the ground. This place still has an air of hope about it and I hope it isn’t stifled.

A lighthouse journey

8 July 09
Started raining late last night and it looks like it will continue for awhile. Unlike yesterdays drizzle, these are big drops and enough to be of the soaking variety. I am still going to open the museum, but other then that I dont know what I will do. Yesterdays injury to my thumb with my carving tools has left my hand nearly useless for picking up or doing functional things.
After setting up the museum early, around 10, I returned to the porch with my book and watched the boats pass for sometime. The silence of the water was broken when the fast wet puffing exhalations of an Orca surfaced a few hundred feet from the point. I quickly grabbed my radio and camera and rushed down the steps. Although I could not hear any one talking on the net, on account that most of them were in Rosario Strait, I broadcasted out my call-sign, location, and that the pod was south-bound. I voiced it three times with no response and resigned myself to watching them pass when finally my ‘old buddy’ on the Emerald Moon called me and passed the info along. We chatted and shortly thereafter when I was sitting on the porch I heard the captain of the Peregrine voice over the radio “Who ever the lady at the lighthouse is, she has my undying gratitude.”
I chuckled a little to myself and shut the radio off.
Some may see it as harassment, what those boaters are doing. In fact amidst the various conversations on the net yesterday, some humorous, others argumentative, came someone who was unaffiliated to the whale watchers. He didn’t call anyone or say who he was, just “How are things in the whale harassment fleet today.”
This topic has been a constant source of discussion in the area for years. I personally have only a few minor problems with it, because I can list all of the good that comes from it. I hate to also add that it brings a much needed revenue to our tourist based economy. Money that small farms and business just can not seek to provide. I feel they also safely educate people. It is always a travesty to me to see large animals confined to small pens. We say it’s for ‘our knowledge and pleasure’. But if we are the ones that want the experience, shouldn’t we be the ones in cages in THEIR environment?
What a lot of people don’t realize is that with those boats also comes the necessary law enforcement. They don’t only hand out tickets to the public, but also the commercial. The latter sees a fine significantly more hurtful then the former. It is also because of these boats that we are able to pay for researchers etc... Such as the whale-poop sniffing dog and her boat Mojo. How else would we know if the whales have been forced to change their diets because of human effects on fish populations?
It was a rather slow day, partly on the account of the rain. Both linda and Jim came to visit and we discussed everything from the future of TPLPS to power loads. Later in the evening, after supper I went to the school library for more reading material. I spoke with a few locals along the way, and ended up bringing back a collection of work by Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripidies, and Aristophanes. I also picked up two other books, but it wont hurt to read some classical literature while I am out here.
I finally did walk along part of the deer trail out the back door, but only because Percy and Rose decided to go for a romp in the woods for over twenty minutes. I have been a little worried because Percy has been limping noticeably the past few days.