Carol's Illustrated Journey Out West and Back

11/1: End of the Rainbow: Last Post

2007-11-20T10:48:00.000-08:00

The last stop on my Grand Tour was where I began, at my friend Annie's in Brunswick, Maine. You can compare the two pics of the Androscoggin River ramp to see how long it took -- from high summer to autumn.

Annie was there when I arrived, reading her email. She'd had the other hip surgery and while still limping a bit, didn't seem to have to use the walker.

We had a quiet evening. I was pretty tired from all the driving and looked forward to a long day the next day, when I would try and make it all the way home, especially so as to get there before what's now been called post tropical storm Noel got to Halifax.

I'd been speaking with Zeb nightly via Skype video conferencing, way cool, I have to say. He was somewhat worried and wanted me to get home sooner than later and I wanted to get home before winter.

However, nature had one little fillip left for me to see. An amazing full rainbow appeared over the house next door to Annie's with a beautiful autumn amber light. These two pics show one look at what came out from the camera and one after I photoshopped it with "auto levels." The red one looks extra-terrestrial, I must say. And one little one with a plane going through the rainbow.

I woke up at 7 am and got my earliest start for the whole trip.

I had to take a few snooze breaks, but was able to make it back home by 7 pm that night. Needless to say, I was quite wiped out.

Turns out I made it in time to help Zeb prepare for Noel. Because we live in a hydrostone, built after the 1917 Halifax Explosion (here's a website you can look at about it: http://www.halifax.ca/community/explode.html. And a CBC website that has a few photos: http://archives.cbc.ca/IDD-1-70-971/disasters_tragedies/halifax_explosion/.

As you can see, we didn't suffer too much damage from the storm. That's Zeb on our deck. The other pic is of a tree down across the alley from us on Stanley Street. It was gone in about three days. As you can see, the roots are really shallow, so the whole thing toppled down, luckily for the neighbors, it landed right in between their houses, only trashing their fence and a bit of the roof of an entryway.

We went over to Anita and Wayne's the next day when the electricity went out. They have a wood stove and very sweetly made us a hot breakfast (as well as brewed some tea for their 92-year-old next door neighbor). But, we were back up to speed by evening.

I ended up getting this weird thing happening with my balance -- when I turned my head, especially if I was lying down, I'd get incredibly dizzy like I was spinning around. The doctor said this happens to people who drive long distances, as the car jiggles, something flakes off in your inner ear and as it settles and swirls in the liquid in there, you feel on a more macro scale the motion. It was fairly intense, though once I'd been up for a few hours it wasn't too bad. Took about a week and a half to go away. So, that's why I didn't get back to the blog as quickly as I might have.

This will be my last post for this adventure. It's been really amazing and well worth it and I deeply thank everyone I met on my journey for their unstinting generosity and cheer.

Signing off for now,

Carol (aka Fearless Wildflower)

10/31-11/1: Halloween at Jan's

2007-11-20T05:29:00.000-08:00

Halloween. Woke up at the hotel in Binghamton and dawdled some because I thought I was pretty close to where Jan lived in Mt. Tremper (if I have the name right), near Woodstock, where if you blinked, you might end up in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, or Manhattan. But, of course, where someone like myself could get lost, or, as is more the case, not go quite far enough. Looking at the map in retrospect, it looks like the name of this river is the Beaver Kill, believe it or not -- a roadside view along route 30.

I did pause here and there for pics this time as the Catskills were rather autumnly pretty.

It took me a frazzelled while, but I finally made it to Jan's place. She was still at work finishing up some of her earrings. She makes really cool jewelry, using this special glass that's made in a vacuum, so that when you look at it one way it's one color and when the light shines through it, it's another. She also makes small plates, and these really neat glass wall hangings (about 6 inches square) that have a very small vase worked into it, where you can add water and a small flower. Of course, I didn't take any pics of them. Gad. Her business is called "Luminosity Glass," and she has her things in a myriad of stores around the U.S.

Here's a ldescription I found when I googled her name that she put on eBay some time back when she was living in Philadelphia:

I loved the magical luminosity of Fused Dichroic Glass the first time I saw it. A few years ago I was drawn to experiment with making it myself. What you see here are a few of the results. I cut, stack, arrange and fire the Stained Glass and Dichroic Glass in a kiln at a temperature of 1500 degrees Fahrenheit at which it melts and fuses together. Each piece is made of at least 3-4 layers of glass. In addition, some have 24-karat gold or pure silver foil added to the design.

Jan just sent me her website address: http://www.janwilcox.com

She lives in a fairly modern house, with a large basement where she has her kilns and workshop. She gave me a small tour of her yard, or environs. There's a river runs through it where she can skinny dip if she's so minded.

We had a great dinner and talked until we were tired. It felt great to miss the whole Halloween miasma.

I slept well and got up early to make the run to Brunswick to see my friend Annie again before I made my way back to Nova Scotia.

10/28-10/31: Bee-lining to the Catskills

2007-11-18T10:37:00.000-08:00

Heading out from Minneapolis, I did have a thought of visiting Chicago. I had wanted to take a picture of Jackson Park, where my aunt Ruby and Clarence Darrow's ashes were spread and perhaps seeing if I couldn't track down some information from the University of Chicago, or perhaps meet with a Mrs. Weinberg, who's husband wrote a biography of Darrow. But, it was not to be. I couldn't really find a place to stay and I have something of an aversion to wandering around in a big city (and Chicago is one of the biggest) by myself with no clear place to stay, or only pretty expensive alternatives. I was also feeling something of a push to get back to Nova Scotia before winter set in and snow came.

From Minneapolis/Saint Paul, I passed by Madison and Milwaukee, where conceivable there were sangha friends I could stay with, but no one had answered the phone or written back, so I took that as a sign to keep going. I got as far as Beloit, Wisconsin, just across the Minnesota border, and another Comfort Inn. Not much to be said about it really.

Next day I passed through Wisconsin and then into Illinois. I bipped thorugh Chicago, which like New York, has the turnpike (not freeway -- that's my California heritage speaking) going right through the center of it, so I could get my signtseeing in. I'd contacted Jan Wilcox in the Catskills, who said she was having some friends from Hawaii visiting from November 1-4 and if I could get there before or after, it would be good. So, I went for before.

So, I passed through Indiana, very close to my birthplace, LaPorte (only there six weeks though back in 1946), but didn't stop. Got a spoon for my daughter, as they didn't have any shot glasses, and a fridge magnet for me to commerate at least having passed through town.

Then on into Ohio, where I thought of my friend Annie Johnston, a fabulous singer and guitarist, who moved back home to Yellow Springs (from Berkeley) and didn't leave me a number, so I couldn't call her. Didn't quite get to Cleveland, but made it to Freemont, Ohio, where this time I stayed in a room with a jacuzzi right in it. I don't think I totally realized what that meant. But when I saw it sitting in the corner of the bedroom, I decided that I should take advantage and rest my weary bones and watch NCIS.

Next day, I passed through Cleveland (80 miles from Freemont), then Erie, Pennsylvania, which sticks up into Lake Ontario, then past Rochester, New York, but didn't think I'd make it all the way to Jan's, so aimed for Binghampton. It was a very long way, about 500 miles I think, through the Adirondacks, which were pretty in their upstate, New York way. Stopped at several rest areas for snooze breaks (see pics).

I kept seeing signs that I was getting close to New York City, which was somewhat confusing, but just because I didn't look at the map closely enough to see how the states fell together.

Binghamton was quite nice actually, though I had to negotiate city streets to get to the "Comfort Inn," which turned out to be a heritage hotel, which was pretty cool.

Next stop, Jan's.

10/26-10/28: Dead deer and Darrow

2007-11-16T12:53:00.000-08:00

It wasn't very far from Avoca to my next stop in Owatonna, Minnesota. As often happens, the scenery changed abruptly crossing the border to a kind of sturdy, wholesome autumn. There was a feeling of vast emptiness, but perhaps, from my point of view, more friendly -- more trees and squirrels, wildlife, and hunters.

Minnesota, home of Prairie Home Companion, where the men are handsome and the children are all above average.

I did have an idea from time to time to take pictures of all the variations in signs of leaping deer and elk (and moose in Canada) that one sees on the side of the road. It didn't really sink in as a powerful admonition until I saw a large buck deer leap across my lane about 300 yards ahead of me (if I have that kind of distance right -- far enough that I wouldn't hit him, but close enough that I could see his antlers and colouring clearly. I hit the brakes gently while I watched him land and then duck between the front and rear wheels of a trailer truck (not a real large one, but big enough). I think the deer thought it could just slide through, but the truck was going about 80 mph and hit it with its rear wheels, shunting it to the right side of the interstate. Bits of it flew off. Aggg. I saw it land with a thump golden tail wagging down on a white rump. Then I was past.

The next exit was to Owatonna, where I was checked into a Comfort Inn. I rather breathlessly reported the deer to the innkeeper. She called 911, but they said they had to transfer to the state troopers who put her on hold. They never came back on. As I continued driving I noticed many for deer remains along the side of the road or being picked up in pick-up trucks -- probably about 20-25 from that point on. But, "my deer" was the largest I'd seen.

This was kind of a nice Inn, but it had deer and buffalo heads on the walls of the foyer above a rather nice stone fireplace. It's hard to put that sort of a visualization out of your mind. Though I did have a very good dinner at a steakhouse nearby. It was a stopping place for hunters.

I managed to get them to let me stay until noon as I was only a few hours from Minneapolis. Getting back on the highway was hard as I kept seeing the deer leaping out. As with getting a speeding ticket in Manitoba, I used the reminder to come back to the road.

I took a snooze break at a rest stop that had an amazing number of perky squirrels and a memorial to some kind of invention for processing cloth.

I dawdled and dawdled on my way to the lawyer's house. I drove up and down his road and found a great view of a pond with absolute clear reflections of trees in autumn glory with a yellow low sun in the sky. Gad. Couldn't find anywhere to pause my car to take a pic. Oh well.

I got there at almost five on the dot. Randy wasn't home. His wife and two children were though. Susan, two-year old Sophie and four-year-old Ben. Randy didn't want me to put any photos on the web, so I'm honoring that and being a bit vague about my visit.

He was absolutely right that his wife was a marvelous cook. She's made a hobby of watching cooking shows and turning out gourmet meals. We had a kind of Mexican, black-bean, corn, vegetable medley the first night and an amazing polenta, blended with cheese and other mysterious ingredients to go with a savory roast chicken. I actually had seconds. Their house was very white and clean -- lots of books, a huge Leggo set for the children that had it's own table. The house was built by someone who valued his privacy. There were no windows along the curvy white concrete front (looked rather 50's, 60's modern). Windows in the back overlooking the Minnesota autumn. Pumpkins in front of the door.

The house was the quietest I've ever been in. For example, in the morning I would usually have heard the children whose rooms were right down the hall from mine, but I heard not a sound. I decided that I was probably imposing somewhat, though there was no hint of that in their demeanour. A friend of theirs had said that he'd come back on Monday so I could stay Sunday evening, but I decided not to let that happen as he had to get to work in Minneapolis and was staying rather further away. Randy and I had good conversations about Clarence Darrow and he gave me a copy of the readings he'd assigned for a class he taught on Darrow. We promised to keep in touch.

I was starting to feel somewhat antsy about getting back to Canada before winter, so left that Sunday.

10/22-10/26: Judiciously Dawdling: the Mobile Retreat

2007-11-15T07:55:00.000-08:00

Update: Just to let you all know, I'm back in Halifax, as you probably guessed by now. I got a case of positional dizziness due to long hours spent at the wheel and it's taken me about a week and a half to recover. So, I will finish up the blog so you'll know what happened.

October 22: After my stay in Raton, I headed out for Colorado, which is when I discovered I was only a few miles from a pass that had been snowed in the night before. I had hopes of staying at Dorje Khyung Dzong for four days.

DKD is a beautiful Shambhala buddhist retreat center in southern Colorado where I've done a retreat before. But, it was not to be. Partly I was worried about the snow and getting stuck and I wanted to get to Minneapolis by Friday evening to meet Randy, the other Clarence Darrow "expert," so to speak.

So I reluctantly wrote Melissa and said that I wouldn't be able to make it. I would have to do a "mobile retreat."

By this time I'd driven probably about 7,000 miles. There seems to be a wondrous joy in driving off in the morning knowing I won't be back that way for the foreseeable future. It is certainly a lesson in the truth of impermanence. In the most simplistic way, just the instant by instant changing of scene. Sometimes spotting a terrific photo opportunity and zip it's gone, or no, I could stop. Click.

Zip it's gone. Road work ahead. Fines will double. Overturned tractor trailer (that's road work?).

Like in mindfulness meditation where you come back to the breath in order to come back to the present, in mobile meditation practice, it's coming back to the road and panoramic awareness of the space and atmosphere. Sometimes there's a fierce joy to be found in the unconditional travel down the road.

Passion, aggression, and ignorance are to be found in plenty. Someone passing and then cutting back right in front, so I'd have to tailgate. Breath. Maybe I could catch up to that truck way up there. Breath. Spacing out, slowing down and getting passed on the right. Breath.

Desperately searching for a rest area. Road Work ahead. Closed. Next Rest Area 43 miles. Aggg. Doing what I can to not doze off.

My car doesn't turn on a dime, but a Toonie. It has a lot of momentum, gets between 24 and 29 mpg. Basically it's behaved well. Got the tires rotated in a small gas stop in Arizona. I have snow tires on it, so the tread wears more quickly.

So, I just swooped through snow covered southern Colorado. Thought about staying in Boulder, but no one really responded to my rather no doubt too subtle queries. Plus, I might get stuck snowbound. Bipped through Denver. Discovered that Wendy's seems the best of the burger chains -- so a few days I'd get a cheeseburger to eat in and a Mandarin Orange salad to go for the motel for dinner. Stopped in Fort Morgan on the plains past all trace of snow.

Next day, beeline for Nebraska. Decided to stop in North Platte. A kind of surprising town/city. In a quest for a lens cap, I found a pretty decent sushi place called North One, Suyin W. Groesbeck and Wilson Fang (a Chinese man who learned to make sushi in San Francisco). they are both fans of the internet and were quite pleased to let me take a pick and include them here.

They put a great package for me to take back to the Blue Spruce Motel, where I decided to stay (instead of at a Comfort Inn). The price was better (only $32, including tax). The proprietor was local. no question. He had on one of those round necked, sleeveless undershirts and was in the middle of a remodeling project. Pick-up trucks parked here and there. Didn't have a plastic glasses and I almost thought they didn't have towels, but finally found some by the sink in the bedroom area. Unfortunately the bedsheets were laundered in a very odiferous floral-smelling detergent that hadn't been rinsed out enough. But overall, it was good to buy local for a change. And the wireless worked. Called Zeb via skype and Stan on my cell phone to see how he was doing in terms of the fires (already reported).

Next stop was a Motel 6 in Avoca, Iowa heading into Minnesota. I wouldn't particularly recommend it. Small room. Smelled intense -- kind of like a variety of lysol. Wireless was promised but didn't work. "Must be something wrong with your computer." Right. It's only 2 months old.

These two pics give you an idea of Iowa. They were taken outside the Motel 6. Skies were clear as a bell, so I was fulfilling my desire to dance between the sunbeams and not get caught in a raging tornado storm. Quite flat, but interesting in a more subtle way than other vistas. Smells of cow manure indicating the passing of a cattle ranch. Lots of trailer trucks, got some good state shot glasses for my daughter, though I think she's stopped collecting them by now, with too much enthusiasm on my part.

Next Minnesota.

10/18-21/07: Dancing Between the Sunbeams

2007-10-31T07:27:00.000-07:00

Update:
Today (Halloween) sees me at a Clarion Hotel in Binghampton, New York, on my way to Jan Wilcox's to visit for the night and then back to Annie Cooper in Brunswick, Maine, on the last leg back home.

It's been a while since I last wrote. Stan and his family are OK. Crestline, where he lives, wasn't touched by fire, which is wonderful. Hopefully this blue jay is still flying with its mate through the pines in their front yard.

I saw the lake on the right
on my way out of town -- the back way, through to Barstow and Arizona. I heard that this area burned, but don't know that for a fact. Dancing between the sunbeams this time, I made it to Arizona and stayed in Williams, just outside of the entryway to the Grand Canyon, where I met Pagent and Susan at their Battledress and Bodyworks shop, where I bought a tourquoise necklace made by Pagent. Evidently they had just opened and were willing to give me a really good price. Pagent (the one on the left) showed me where the ATM machine was in a restaurant next door -- very C&W, kind of biker, but with good steaks. Susan showed me photos of women who looked dressed in kind of medieval biker tattooed exotic dress (like sword and sorcery sci-fi art beloved by teenaged boys and young men). It was all paint, not a stitch of fabric to be had, so to speak.

When I walked in they suggested that I could try on any necklace or motorcycle helmet of my choice. In a way, I was kind of flattered and though that if I actually lived in Crestline, I might need a helmet, so that I could ride with Stan on his Ural, but I probably wouldn't get pink.

The next day, I did got to the Grand Canyon, as the pressure from my friend Sue Corning back in Halifax and Pagent in Williams was too great. I realized I'm not actually that much of a fan of on-purpose tourism. But, of course it was beautiful, hot, fair number of people, and of course, the requisite idiots (as can be seen if you look very closely at the top left of the photo on the right. At the very tippy top of the rocks are some dim-witted daredevils.)

I did get some pretty amazing shots though (like on the left), which, of course, you can see more of when I get back.

I stayed that night in Winslow, Arizona. I tried to stay in this really cool train station that I stayed in with Stan when we did our road trip in 2006 to bring my mom's car back, but it was full for days and I ended up staying at a Best Western, I think, at the same great expense as I would have done if I'd been able to stay at the train station. I ate dinner there though, but got kind of sick. I think it was the lime margarita. I was feeling adventurous, but I generally just drink wine or sake, not mixed drinks. Too bad.

The next day, I tried to see if I could stay at the Ritchies, where Stan and I'd stayed last time in Santa Fe, but, while I could have perhaps, it would have been in Halifax, as that's there home base now. Above and on the right is a pic of the border between Arizona and New Mexico. New Mexico has more mesas, though the colouring is a bit like the Grand Canyon, it's a bit more red.

So I made it to Las Vegas, New Mexico, instead and stayed at a sweet little place called The Lodge, owned by Latinos. It was cheap, simple, and clean. What more could I want. Then I listened to the weather news and heard there was a blizzard blowing up in the front range area of Colorado, just where I'd be going the next day, if I kept to my plan. You can see from the series of photos I took on my 100 mile journey to Raton, New Mexico (right on the southern border with Colorado) that the decision to stay at a Comfort Inn in Raton was a good one.

Turned out there was a high pass in about 15 miles that I would have to cross to get into Colorado that was snowed in. This is a picture I took outside the window about an hour after I got into the motel at Raton. The first flakes had begun to fall just as I pulled my car in. Frost was on the windows the next morning.

10/24/07: Update: Lake Arrowhead fire

2007-10-24T07:18:00.000-07:00

Hi out there. Just thought I'd let you know, I spoke with my son Stan yesterday. Here's his report:

As background, Stan lives in Crestline, California, up the mountain from Lake Arrowhead, a center of one of the big fires in San Bernadino/L.A.

On Monday night he had packed up his car in case of an evacuation notice, though the fire was still about two air miles away. On Tuesday, four years to the day, they read the official notice to evacuate via http://www.rimoftheworld.net/ to evacuate. By 11 pm he'd packed up the family, cat and two dogs and headed to his mom's (adoptive) place in La Verne. It was very windy, two semi's were overturned on the road, but there was almost no traffic.

He'd spotted boats, trailers, and classic cars (like a '57 Chevy) parked in Goodwin's (the Crestline supermarket) parking lot. He figures they were from Dart Canyon, which was in the path of the fire. Where his house is situated in in a protected spot where he could see the stars and clear sky overhead, but heavy smoke up-mountain. He'd heard that Twin Peaks, a nearby town, had embers the size of milk cartons flying in. Twin Peaks is pretty much gone.

It was four years to the day since he had to evacuate from the last big fire. His daughter Sarah was just nine days old. He said the situation wasn't as bad as that time, believe it or not, at least in Crestline, which historically hasn't yet burned because of wildfires.

He said it looked like Apolocypse Now at Lake Gregory, which is in the town of Crestline, with helicopters thwop thwopping in lines scooping up water to dump on the fire. The level of the lake was already low, but now is noticeably lower than it was when I was there a few days ago.

He said by Monday as he was trying to call me on Skype he heard a frantic knocking at his door. It was his neighbor across the street who said "I'm 80 years old, too old to leave now, but my daughter's freaking out. Can you come over and help?"

They have about 15 dogs and cats. He saw eight cats in boxes lined up by their car. He told them he didn't think they had to leave just yet, which calmed them down a bit. They have three cars that barely run (one had a broken water pump and the engine was spewing oil) and a trailer parked there that had plastic for a door. I think they do have one car at least that can get them out of there.

This time Stan says he's better prepared and shut off the water and all his electronic stuff, like computers, TV, phone. Last time they were gone for 10 days and the refrigerator was a mess, with melted ice-cream leaking down the back. He'd been given a pair of surgical industrial-fit gloves, a bag and a mask which he donned to clean it up. The electricity was still on as of last night, so he's hoping it won't be as much of a mess.

He emptied the garbage and the food out of the dog run, so mice won't get in.

He says in Crestline, because it's not as upscale, people don't plant plants that don't naturally go there or water them particularly, like they do in San Diego, i.e., mesquite and chapperal that burn nicely, and that the infrastructure is better, compared to San Diego.

He said it is raining ash in La Verne, but otherwise it's fine. He plans to go in to work at Redlands on Thursday. Kristen teaches grade six in the Highland area, where another fire has started. They've closed the schools in San Bernadino, so she has a few days off.

Sarah packed her new Barbie suitcase with five pairs of socks, underpants, three shirts and pants, and a few toys, so she's set.

I'm putting in a few pics I took when I was there of Sarah's birthday and Stan working on his Ural (russian-made cherry red motorcycle with sidecar) that he's left up there along with a new scooter.

I got to Crestline in time to celebrate Stan's wife Kristen's and daughter Sarah's birthdays, which was really great. We went out to Baker's restaurant, a favorite of his mom, Vera's, to eat lunch and then came back to her house for cake.

Me, I'm in North Platte, Nebraska, about to head out to the other side past Lincoln, on my way to visit another Darrow expert. I'll keep you posted.

10/12/07: To Crestline the Back Way

2007-10-21T20:01:00.000-07:00

Well friends, I now have a quiet moment when my son Stan is at work, Sarah, my almost-four-years-old granddaughter, and daughter-in-law Kristen are at childcare or teaching. I was going to try and go from Howard's house in Richmond via San Simeon to pause and take pics of Hearst Castle to go with the Pan's Pool photo I took (now at the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia). Pan's Pool is a photo I took out back of the Berkeley Women's Faculty Club on a visit there in 2004. They were both designed by Julia Morgan in the 20s-30s, the first famous women architect (or so the PR goes).

But, in my effort to get going and spend more time with my son and his family and be here in time for Kristen's 40th (which is today by the way), I opted for directness and, of course, got stuck driving at night on a two-lane road with halogen/brights coming my way and tailgating me from behind (I let those guys pass).

I went the back way, down 58 and then onto 138 and saw these windmills, which were very hypnotizing, spinning in every which direction. There were lots and lots of them, big ones and little ones.

I passed by Edward's Air Force base and was passed by fast vans with Homeland Security and other police services written on the sides. I saw a huge plane fly in a big circle sheparded by a teeny weeny plane (at least in comparison).

Actually it turned out this was a good decision, because the next day on Friday, there was a huge accident in a tunnel on the I-5, around the "grapevine" involving tractor trailers and cars bursting into flames. Three people died. They closed the I-5 for a few days.

I've been spending time diddling with the photos I took at the Wildlife Safari, learning more about this Mac and deciding I was better off using iPhoto than the EOS Image Ready, my Canon Rebel uses, which was taking an incredibly long time to load and delete pics. But now I've gone back to the EOS editing software, because the iPhoto duplicates photos and takes up a lot of memory.

10/07-11: Bay Area: Joe Lutrell, Law Antiquarian

2007-10-21T17:05:00.000-07:00

I arrived safely into the Bay Area on Sunday, the 7th, and moved nicely into my son Zeb's dad's spare room in Richmond. Howard has a beautiful place that I find very safe and peaceful. He's a student of crazy wisdom master, Kusung Lingpa and spends a lot of time travelling, hosting various Tibetan teachers, and managing rental properties in central California.

I did fulfill one of my missions, to visit Joe Lutrell (and took a pic), of Boswell Meyers Bookstore. He's an expert on Clarence Darrow. It was really fun to meet face to face. I'd been corresponding a bit via the web. He was recommended to me by my cousin Elva and Randy, another lawyer I'd found who's an expert on Darrow.

I finally got to see the insides of Boswell Meyer (http://www.meyerbos.com/perlshop.cgi?thispage=home.html), which is on Mission Street in San Francisco. It's on the third floor over a house paint shop of a very unassuming brick building. Joe very kindly let me park my car in his spot as he'd ridden his bycicle to work. He showed me his collection of Darrow books, which occupied three very tall bookcases in a "library stacks"-like isle in the spacious room.

We went to lunch at the nearby Tartine Bakery (http://www.tartinebakery.com/), specializing in bakery delights and quiche and salad that had a queue that had about 10 people almost all the time we were there.

On the way there we passed the most amazing painted building that I'd ever seen. It was three stories and painted with all kinds of women images in vivid paint. Joe said it was the S.F. Women's Centre. Here's a web page with closeups of some of the images. http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=Women's+Building+Mural%20San+Francisco&w=all

He talked to me about his young days in the Peace Corps and his work with civil rights law in Georgia. I talked with him about my idea of writing a pictorial essay on Clarence Darrow. After I'd come back from getting a coffee refill, I asked about how his interest in Darrow began. He said he was thinking about that and couldn't remember exactly, but that everyone needed a hero and his is Darrow. He said that Darrow doesn't disappoint.

On the last day I went to my favorite book store in Berkeley, Cody's, even though Cody died (along with Moe of Moe's Bookstore) and the store has been bought by a Japanese businessman, or so I heard. They have a really good group of employees who will help you find the book you want. In my case, "Outsourced," a novel about outsourcing the U.S. Intelligence community. I also bought "Look me in the Eye" about a man with Asberger's Syndrome, and "The Imperial Presidency," about Bush et al.

10/06-07/07: Luci, the Artist

2007-10-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

I arrived at Luci's in good time -- early afternoon. Luci's been through a lot and has recently moved from her memory-filled ancestral house in Corte Madera, California, to her own trailer home in Sonoma. It's not a teeny type trailer. It's double width and in a nice residential area. She has a garden she's beginning work on. She's a fantastic artist -- painter, collage, and computer -- and is also delving into an astrology service.

She's only just moved in, so we had to improvise a bit on sleeping arrangements. It's wonderful to stay with friends and just chill. She spent quite a bit of time looking at all my pics on the computer and the ones I brought from home. I gave her two -- a large one and a small one. She wrote poems for them.

We went out to dinner at a kind of spiffy restaurant. On the way, I saw the above vividly coloured truck and car. Luci thought I should take a pic.

I ordered some fritatta and a glass of Pinot Noir, which I found out cost $12/glass after it had been poured. Luci was fairly livid about this, since it's one of her favorite restaurants she likes to take her friends to, and they hadn't posted the prices on the sign. I had ordered at a Starbucks-type counter, so didn't necessarily expect that kind of spendy-ness. She complained to the manager (she is braver than I), who ended up giving us the rest of the bottle. It was good Sonoma Pinot Noir, not your rouge ordinaire.

We sat for a while outside to have a puff -- they still allow cigarette smoking in front of a restaurant on the streets of Sonoma, much to my amazement. I took these pics of her. The result is what happens when I use "aperature preferred," without knowing how to take a pic in the dusk. She liked them though, and didn't want me to take another in better light, so there you go. They do have a certain charm (note the pumpkin).

We went back to her place to talk. I learned a lot about how she became a buddhist and student of Khyentse Rinpoche's (the elder, now reincarnated, whom she met in Nepal and held on her lap for a bit).

I slept well. The next day Luci had a lot of things planned. We had seen a store that we wanted to look into near the one with these old Chinese stools, which while cool, were none-the-less something like US$125 each.

I didn't buy the necklace I was looking at (I do have a rather large collection of my mom's jewelry that should do me for a lifetime), but I did get some pants, a skirt, a shirt, and a scarf, at great expense, but just in case I had to dress up for something.

I did take a great pic of the wall in back of the store, which had a few tables in it and was all enclosed. Very New York I thought.

We didn't have time to go to the winery that Luci wanted to take me to -- I spent too much time being in consumer heaven. She had an appointment at 3 pm in Berkeley and I had promised Zeb's dad, Howard, that I'd be there around then, so we went back to her place to pack up and get ready.

I'm afraid I scared her cat -- what you get by trying to "herd cats" -- by rushing it to try and get it to head back into the trailer and not out the door. I'm not really a cat person and don't have a lot of empathy or maybe it's sympathy -- they seem to like me well enough, maybe it's that aloof quality. Luci is a cat mom, and it was kind of upsetting having to rush around to get ready while having to calm the cat.

I asked to follow her out of town, which maybe wasn't a good idea as the traffic in California is not like it is in Nova Scotia. California motorists are almost always in a hurry to get "there," though Luci was very patient and waited for me at crucial turns.

As you can see, Luci also has a good sense of humour and was able to forgive me in the end. She has always been my very good friend. And, I hers.

10/05-06/07: R&R at the Mandels

2007-10-20T08:42:00.000-07:00

Today, Friday, after all the excitements and long drivings, I went down to Davis to visit my sangha friends, Joel and Sarah Mandel. Of course, I had to get lost. Last time I visited them New Years Eve 2005, right after my mom died. It was pouring the Pineapple Express (a heavy rainfall that comes across the Pacific from guess, yeah, Hawaii). The whole central valley in California had flooded and houses washed down the Russian River. I arrived at the Davis Shambhala Centre just in time to hear Richard Reoch open an address to be given by the Sakyong that was being transmitted live via phone link.

So that time when I came I had to traverse a number of rather large puddles, more like small lakes and get lost. This time, outside of not recognizing the road, it was less excuseable. Mainly I undershot the mark and travelled up and down Mace, which turned into something else. Anyway, Sarah talked me in via cell and they served up a wonderful dinner of beef stew. Mostly I rested and chatted and worked some on the Wildlife Safari pics, while Sarah sewed beautiful quilted puja table cloths and Joel exercised and travelled to the store. I thank them very much for their hospitality and generosity in just being my friends.

I left at my usual time -- about 9:30 or 10 am -- to go visit my friend Luci in Sonoma, whom I've known since about 1971 or 2. Her directions were from Google and even though down many highways and biways, I was able to follow them and not get lost!

10/05/07: The Langdells

2007-10-19T09:20:00.000-07:00

The next day I got up early to visit what I'm calling my "god parents," even though, as you know, non-theism reigns supreme. Heh. Libby and Joe have known my mom since she was in College. She and Libby went to the Chicago Institute of Art back in the 40s.

Joe is 93 and had a medical mishap, but is recovering nicely. I never saw anybody zip along faster on a walker. Joe has spent many of these last years organizing (most of the organizing being done by Libby I must mention) reunions of the survivors of the U.S.S. Arizona in Hawaii. He was serving on board the U.S.S. Arizona during the bombing of Pearl Harbour. He retired a Lt. Commander. He said I should google him and 11,400 listings come up on his name. Bob Schieffer of CBS interviewed him on the 50th Anniversary of Pearl Harbour. I found a good biography of him at: http://www.ussarizona.org/survivors/langdell/index.html

Here's a quote from the biograhy:

"Mr. Langdell is one of three principal figures in the television documentary, "USS Arizona: Life and Death of a Lady" (see right side bar for Spotlight Documentary) which aired of the A&E cable network in 1991 and 1992. During an historic moment aboard the USS ARIZONA MEMORIAL, former ARIZONA Officer Joseph Langdell accepts a floral wreath in memory of ARIZONA'S entombed from former Japanese Lt. Commander Zenji Abe, a pilot who dropped a bomb on the ship."

When I asked Joe if he forgave the Japanese, he laughed and said "Hell no," as only he could say it.

Libby has been a second mother to me, helping me greatly from time to time in working with my mom. She has a wonderful memory for telling stories and has kept the family and house together lo these many years. And, not has much now, has been a wonderful cook and gardener, and specialist in the colour purple, which fills her home.

Teddy, their son, is an amazing fellow. When I googled Ted, I got 7,710 listings. He's what I'd call an alpha geek -- a high compliment in geek circles. He specializes in Macs and as you can see from the pic we both have MacBook Pro laptops. He asked me in some puzzlement "When did you get yours?" About a week and a half before I left. Heh. He lickety split got me up and running on iChat so I can video conference real time with others who have iChat. This was very useful when I got to my son Stan who set me up on Skype with the same video ability.

Ted has a great business where, besides creating commercials and business videos, he creates "documentaries" of personal stories. He can use old photos, records, antique video (like Super 8 or whatever) to create a mini-documentary for a family, which has been used to great effect for memorial services. He knows how to restore all these things and has recently become the sales rep for a restoration machine made in Germany. His website is: http://www.tedlangdell.com/.

He whizzed around taking zillions of photos with my Canon Rebel that could be viewed at one second intervals and have the effect of a video. He somewhat annoyed Libby when he started recording her as was telling my a story about my mother's last meeting with her father, Burt, before I was born. Burt wanted to know what she planned to do after College. He thought being a teacher or nurse, or perhaps secretary was the appropriate thing. My mother did get him to send her to Art School. She later became a cartographer for the OSS (precurser to the CIA) during WWII and then developed a career as an industrial designer.

Ted did manage to document my departure.

10/04/07: A Quality Inn Graphic Detail

2007-10-19T08:40:00.000-07:00

I spent the whole day on Thursday, the 4th travelling from Oregon to Yuba City. It was really a long way, through redwood forests, along the Coast of Calfiornia, and then left through to Clear Lake and on into the dark and lightning-struck night of Central California listending to a NPR (National Public Radio) station from Nevada. Got to the Quality Inn in Yuba City on Rte 99 where I'd made a reservation and it was terrible. Requested a smoking room for some unknown reason, which was bad enough, but the worst was the toilet lid would slap my back every time I sat on the seat and then there was a full-length mirror that faced me on the outside of the bathroom door which wouldn't close. Well, that's for those who like graphic details and to know that all is not nirvana and that those little details of suffering are always there lurking. The good news, I think, is that I got the room free with so-called points.

10/04/07: Square Pants and Lone Sticks

2007-10-17T15:37:00.001-07:00

My brother gave me the day off, which was very sweet of him, to go and visit the lawyer, Don, down in Brookings (not too far from Gold Beach -- about 20 miles). I let him pick one of my photos as a thank you for all the work he did for my brother and I. As some of you may know, he's the sort who, after a Rotary Club meeting came over to the house wearing a tie that lit up and I think may have played a song. Gad. He has a heart of gold.

He picked "The Dao of Driftwood," which as you may recall is at the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia. He had me sign the back as an "artist's proof." He's going to frame it and put it in his reception area.

He kindly took me out to lunch at his favorite watering hole and let me take a pick of him in his bright blue new Volkswagen. That's Square Pants Sponge Bob on the side. There's a pic of Minnie Mouse on the hood. He's an avid golfer and has (obviously) a great sense of humour.

After that, I went by my mother's old house that I sold on December 21, 2006, one year to the day after she died. The new owner has painted it pumpkin orange and green and renamed it "Herb Cottage" (as you can see in the pics) from "Set E C," which my mother and brother had named it, meaning C'est Ici for the francophones in the audience. There are what look like four "beds" in the front yard. There used to be Agapanthis (tall purple flowers) under the living room windows, which they've pulled out to expose the raggedy bottom of the front wall. Good thing we sold it "as is."

Then, on the way back, I stopped by Lone Ranch Beach, where I took most of my beach photos of driftwood and such, and spent another half hour taking some really cool pics. I'm just posting one that I'm calling "Lone Stick." It's nice to know sometimes that my photo taking is not always completely serendipitous!

When I got back to Gold Beach I went out to dinner with my brother one last time, this time to the Porthole on the harbour in Gold Beach. Went to bed early to get ready for the long drive to Yuba City and my "god parents" Libby and Joe.

10/03/07: Crab Shack and Dinosaurs

2007-10-17T12:04:00.000-07:00

The next day my brother wanted to drive up the Coast to Bandon where we were going to have lunch at the Crazy Norwegians (as per Jan Wilcox, whose sister has a flower shop, that used to be a gas station right next door), but it wasn't open, so we went to the Dock, a crab shack on the coast. He had crab louie, which looked fabulous and I had a cheesy seafood fettucine type dish, which was too heavy on the cheese and noodles.

My brother seems to have really liked the hoodie I got him at the Glooscap Trading Post in Nova Scotia what seems like quite long ago now.

Afterwards we headed back toward Gold Beach where we stopped by the Dinosaur Park, which specializes in life size statues of various kinds of dinosaurs. I'd wondered where the Tyranosaurus was, and missed it right in front of the entrance. Didn't look like Jurassic Park. The proprietress was very impressed that I'd driven all the way from Nova Scotia to see her dinosaur park and insisted on helping us take a picture in front of said tyranosaurus. However, I forgot I had a fully automatic setting I could have used and instead tried to do the f stops. She wasn't able to make sure the light was right, so you can't see us very well, but there you go.

This dino turtle didn't turn out too badly.

But I did take a great pic of what looked like a Primeval forest.

We came back to Gold Beach where we repaired to the cabin where we've had many a good talk. My brother's doing very well and it's been good to see him.

10/01-02/07: Rustic Cabins & The Mother Tree

2007-10-17T11:31:00.000-07:00

Last night I arrived in Gold Beach and found a great place to stay for a few days while I visited my brother. It was called the Ireland's Rustic Lodges. I highly recommend it. I got a discount for being over 60, so it cost $80/night -- pricey, but better than some others. It had a "real" fireplace in it where I could burn wood, which smelled good and covered my brother's smoking. It had a big living room/bedroom, another small bedroom and bathroom, small fridge and microwave, wi-fi, TV with HBO (if one were interested) and no phone, which was interesting. I now have moved to Skype (with the help of my son Stan) and can now make video calls to anyone with Skype for free anywhere in Canada or the U.S. (hey, hey).

It was a great place for my brother Frank and I to have some quiet space that wasn't Driftwood Lodge, where he lives, or a restaurant or the bush. He said it really reminded him of places where he and my mother would stay on their many trips around the U.S.

The next day I picked my brother up and we drove down to Crescent City (about 40 miles or so down the Lost Coast of Oregon into California) where he did some bank business, and we got some Kentucky Fried Chicken lunch to take with us to Jedediah Smith Redwood Forest. My brother remembered exactly how to get to the triple-trunked tree where we spread my mother's ashes last year. Turn off 101 to Forest, turn left on Walker Road, .25 mi down road on left.

My brother had noticed only after we had spread her ashes around this tree that it had one big trunk and two little ones coming out of its base (symbolizing our small family). So it was fairly distinctive looking and no mistake could be made as to which tree it was. We ate our picnic as last time and then I burned a sage smudge and said "ki ki so so ashe lha gyel lo" around the trunks. My brother thought I was funny. But hey. Each in our own way. He searched and found that the dumping area had either been cleaned out or grown over and it all looked very beautiful and peaceful. This last is sunlight on a fern growing from her tree.

10/25-29/07: Discovering lineage, the Hamerstrom/Paulsons

2007-10-13T19:35:00.000-07:00

Today, Tuesday, we went up to Crater Lake, an old volcano lake with a cone shaped tree-covered island in the middle called "Wizard's Island."

Crater lake is amazing, the reflections of the sky make you dizzy, not knowing whether you are looking up or down.

Elva and I traded turns using her camera to take back-lit pics of each other with the sun behind us to capture our beautiful silver and gray hair.

Here she is, "the girl with the curl."

And a very nice pic of me I thought, looking as quietly happy as I felt to have discovered such wonderful new relatives. Interestingly they live about 100 miles from where my mother used to live, who was also a naturalist and bird fancier. They would have liked each other. I'm sure I've seen Elva's bookmarks and cards in my mother's desk. Now I have to check when I get back to see if they have "Elva Hamerstrom Paulson" on the front. My mom's birthname was Hamerstrom.

Elva's cards are carried in many U.S. National Parks. When she was in the thick of her business, she said she use to have 10,000 printed at a time. Ah, now, if I could get that going with my Chinese new years cards!

I thought I'd include a few more pics from the Wildlife Safari. Here's a very well hidden baby cheetah and a baby zebra arching its neck.

The next few days I spent processing pics and learning more about my camera and sharing stories about our mutual relatives. Two days were spent scanning some artifacts from my Aunt Ruby and reading some of the books written by Elva's mother, Frances Hamerstrom (for more information about her amazing life you can read this entry in Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frances_Hamerstrom, and by Elva's daughter, Lita Judge. Here's her web page if you'd like to view her wonderful paintings and find out about her books: http://www.litajudge.com/Ill_main.html.

Here's a good article and review about Elva's bird illustrations for a comprehensive book of Oregon's birds: http://www.newsreview.info/article/20030406/FEATURES/104060006.

9/24/07: vultures and cheetahs, oh my!

2007-10-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

Well, I arrived safely at my cousins Elva and Dale's house in Roseburg. Quite tired but happy. I was a little nervous driving in, but that was dispelled immediately by the warm welcome I received. Elva looked like her pic (she sent me one standing next to a Cheetah), long grey braid, plaid shirt, white chinos, and sturdy boots. I felt right at home with my "kick butt" no longer vietnam combat boots. They are both in their early to mid 60s, so just right. Dale suffers from arthritis and uses walking canes, but is planning to get some hip surgery in the spring, which should be a big help for such an active person.

Elva said they spend about 100 days a year camping out, 7 weeks of which are spent in Yellowstone in the spring where they keep track of the wolves, bears, and elks. They are one of the most well-adjusted couples (if I could say so) I have ever met, able to spend so much time together and at least from what I could see, not fight, be able to be silent and companionable.

We made the plan to go to the Wildlife Safari in Winston, Oregon, the next day. Elva and Dale are docents and so were able to put some magnetic signs on the door of their white safari coach (so to speak) and drive without hindrance. At first we'd only planned to visit for a few hours, but it turned into an all day adventure. Dale gave me a very intensive camera lesson (I'd only gotten my camera about a week before I left). He wanted me to actually learn what an f-stop was and how it meshes with the speed of the shutter and the ISO (or speed) of the film and do it manually, not relying so much on the automatic nature of my camera (which is how I took my pics up to this point). Also, one's required to "wait for it."

Though, we came upon this vulture just perched on top of a perfect vulture tree sunning it's wings for at least 10 minutes after we arrived. I couldn't believe it. My friend Luci told me later that they did that to dry off with the effect of using the sun to inhibit infection arising from their eating habits. Below is a closeup of same vulture.

He also taught me a lot about taking pics of living creatures -- most of mine to this point have been of rocks and landscapes.

I had a great time taking pics of cheetahs. It's amazing how they blend in with their background. This is a pic of a baby cheetah in the sun with her sis in the background (can you see her?).

10/3/07 After the long Hiatus

2007-10-04T09:38:00.001-07:00

Can't take too long now, believe it or not, but I'm headed out from visiting with my brother, Frank, in Gold Beach, Oregon, which was very good. I'll be visiting my "godparents" (I named them that) in Yuba City, California, who aren't doing very well, and then on to Davis and the Mandels and then my friend Lucy, and then Howard's, my son Zeb's dad, in the Bay Area.

I had a wonderful visit after Seattle with my "new to me" cousins Elva and Dale, both of whom are wildlife photographers -- Elva is also a wldlife artist and had some intensive lessons in the use of my camera, which I'll share soon.

Out for now.

9/23/07: Twilight Watch, Salt Springs, and Chainsaw Bears

2007-09-24T09:32:00.000-07:00

Friday, Duncan, British Columbia

Hello friends. It seems to be getting busier as time goes by. Ah, less time at "Inns" and more with friends. So, I thought the Hazells lived on Salt Spring Island, but that was a mis-apprehension. They live in a little town (at least the postal code has this name) called Duncan, about two-thirds the way down Vancouver Island from Nanaimo. So took my first ferry ride, which took about three hours to get on. I learned that I need to make reservations, which I did for the ferry I took two days loater to Anacortes.

Becky was teaching a Level 5 in Victoria, so was staying down there for the weekend. So Mark and his son Stephen greeted me. Mark is a really good cook. He had some clam spaghetti available that was delicious. I discovered a connction with Stephen, who's the same age as my daughter Kate, 26, and is studying video game construction at Simon Frasier University in Vancouver. I mentioned to him that I had just finished "Twilight Watch" by that Russian psychiatrist I was telling you about and he got excited because he'd downloaded the movie version and had it with good subtitles for the Russian. He didn't know that it was out in book form, so I gave him that copy. They have a beautiful zen-ish, definitely ratna garden that the deer love -- especially chrysanthemum flowers. Their house is full of paintings by Becky and drawings by Mark's mother, who is an excellent artist also.

They have a humongous TV and I got hypnotized into watching Minority Report, which wasn't too bad actually.

Salt Spring Island

The next day, we went to Salt Spring Island, because of course how could I resist seeing a hippy dippy haven. It was pretty cool. We went to the Saturday Market where folks sell crafts and produce. Got some fresh pressed apple juice and some cheeses to share.

That evening Mark drove us down to the Victoria Shambhala Centre to get Becky, who was still teaching when we arrived. We went to a great Japanese restauarant with some of the participants. I ended up selling three of my cards to a young teacher named Chris, which was just enough to pay for dinner!

Sunday, Sydney to Anacortes and off to Natalie Pascale Boisseau's

The next day, I took my third ferry trip (2.5 hours) across the border, definitely the best way to cross a border, even if you end up cuing up in your car a lot. There so happened to be some kind of humongous motorcycle rally going on in Anacortes -- literally hundreds of motorcycles in packs of 10 to 15 roaming the roads, which made driving on I-5 a bit of a challenge. Made it to Natalie and Laura's with no problems, had a lovely walk up a huge hill with Natalie and her two beagles, Bella and Chi (?) to catch a gander at two murders of crows pecking away on top of a reservoir.

Natalie's house has lots of trees, greenery and so on, my favorite environment and a large backyard with patches of vegetables growing. Evidently last winter four (I think) trees blew down and a chainsaw wood sculptor came by and asked if he could carve a few bears in exchange for one of the bears. Laura liked them so much that she bought the other one. Laura, who is a fish biologist, was all excited because she had been sailing in their boat that afternoon and spotted a "bait ball." She had spotted hundreds of birds screaming and flocking around a patch of water and went to investigate, paddling through a room-sized swarm of small silver fish (probably like sardines) and saw the birds in a feeding frenzy picking out the fish and "flying" through the water back up to the sky while small silver fish scales slowly sank all around. When she paddled back through, the "bait ball" was much smaller and she spotted the ring of harbour seals who had rounded up the fish -- the bait -- for the birds so they could snag some fresh fowl for lunch.

Well today, I'm headed to my Cousin Elva's house in Roseburg in Oregon, but I may stop overnight on the way so I can avoid driving at night. She's at a meeting of the Wildlife Safari, where she and her husband Dale volunteer. She's been very patient with how long it's taking me to get there. They "watched" a giraffe on the weekend (I think that means something like giraffe sat) and have put off their annual trip to Yellowstone Park to watch the elk in mating season. Elva is an ornathologist, like her mother Frances Hamerstrom, and takes wonderful photos of wildlife as well as draws. I'm really looking forward to meeting her.

When my mother died, a year ago Winter Solstice, I inherited a whack of photos of Clarence Darrow who married my great aunt Ruby. I ended up contacting two Darrow exerts, Joe Lutrell, a law antiquarian, and Randall Tietjen, a lawyer and author, who is putting together a book of Darrow's letters. He told Elva about me and she wrote an email and gave me a call. It's wonderful to meet a blood relative. I don't have very many -- mainly my brother Frank.

Well, that's enough for now.

9/20/07 evening: Kamloops!!

2007-09-20T20:53:00.000-07:00

Well just to let everyone know that I've made it to Kamloops!!! I've been in touch with Mark Hazell and will be there tomorrow night (barring unforseen auspiciousness).

The top right photo is of a mountain in Banff Naitonal Park near where Lake Louise would be. Decided not to go there though so as not to push my luck, so to speak. Was glad I could take off after taking the photo though.
The bottom photo was taken in Glacier National Park. This view was right in your face, straight up across the highway. It was quite foggy, cloudy, and lightly rainy, so I didn't see what must have been mighty peaks up above -- just vague, sneaky glimpses.

Good news though. I did finally hear from David Mann. He and Susan had evidently just bought a car and gone on a walkabout -- or driveabout as the case may be. So, he didn't read my email nor receive my phone messages until I was stuck in Banff. Susan is working as a mobile crisis worker (or as David says as a Desung getting paid the big bucks). He's doing business development work for Meals on Wheels. Susan's looking into a Master's Program for Community Health with a Global view, if I understood that properly.

9/20/07 morning: Wild Flour and the Three Tows

2007-09-20T07:32:00.000-07:00

September 20, 2007

Note: You can double click on the photos to see a slightly larger version, but please don't download them as I may use them later).

Sorry guys for taking so long to make this post, but I've been somewhat trapped in Banff. I'm sitting in the Wild Flour Cafe eating granola, compote, and yogurt, drinking Free Trade "Three Sisters" mild coffee and cream, looking at what appears to be a rather threatening sky. Aas many of you know, my Shambhala Clan name is Fearless Wildflower -- also how I sign these posts, AND it has free wireless.

Last Sunday, as you recall, my car stopped working at the entrance to Banff (now I know how to spell it) National Park. Turned out the water pump had stopped working and caused the serpentine belt to break, rather dramatically I understand into various pieces. Along with a tensioner pulley, I got that fixed for a mere $569.46. Then under strong advisement from John the ace mechanic at Knibbe Automotive, I had the oil replaced (homage to Stan) at the Minute Muffler -- about $41.

Well, I drove back to the Park, past Banff and -- of course, stopped and took a pic of what I think is Castle Mountain (see photo), started the car and it stalled, started again, and it stalled every time I put my foot on the gas or changed gear from Park. Called CAA, got Martin the Albanian again, but this time decided not to go all the way back to Calgary (probably not a great decision). I didn't want to further impose on the Johns' (after being there three nights), so went to the Petro Station in Banff instead. They didn't get to it until the afternoon, which meant a night in Banff. Picked the Homestead Inn, because it was close to the Petro station and didn't cost as much as everywhere else ($111/night. gad. No wireless.)

Next day, they were still working on it, and because I kept coming back to get things out of the trunk, ended up locking my keys in it. After the guys (Stuart -- long blond hair in a pony tail, who knows Buicks, Don Donnelly (who looks like a George Clooney clone, who probably has been told that numerous times, so is shy to look a person -- particularly female -- in the eyes, but otherwise has a quiet humour, who can get hassled if you push; and Paul, the owner -- I think he's possibly Pakistani, though I'm not sure, who takes rather good pics of Park animals to calm his mind, which could use the help as he's a bit of a hoverer) tried to open the trunk for at least an hour and a half, called me up to come down to decide what to do -- call CAA for the fourth time. Fellow named Joe came out and made me new keys (should have brought my spares, which were sitting in my desk drawner in Halifax). So, car wasn't done, stayed the next night in the last extra room Homestead had saved to accomodate a bus tour.

Next day, done by about 2 pm. It took them a very long time doing diagnostics. I had big worries about the bill. For the car techies in the crowd and I know you're there: "starts then dies when put into gear. Remove and test ignition coil pack. Tests ok. 2 cylinders not firing. Replace ignition module. Cylinders now firing but engine still misses/stalls. Trace to old piece of belt stuck between the crankshaft sensor vanes. Remove pulley to remove belt piece -- plus more). Cost: $688.70. They gave me a free tow card, good in the U.S. and Canada.

Took off. Didn't make it as far as Castle Rock this time. Stopped to take a pic or two (see photos) and turned the engine on, and it did it again, but not quite as bad. I almost wanted to try and make it go, but knew that I'd regret it practically immediately. Called CAA for the fifth (and last free time) and got towed back to Banff (by a Japanese fellow this time). Booked a room. I had investigated staying at the hostel (only $35, but I'd have to share a room with 6 other people. Did have wireless and and a pool table and activities, like hikes that you could go on. Also tried the Banff Lodge across the street from the Homestead, but it cost $169 plus tax, but did include wireless, which is when I decided to use the Wild Flour).

So, basically the problem was that a piece of the belt that blew up, got inbetween something and the sensor coil, which didn't manifest until probably, I stoped to take the pic and it fell down into the place where it interfered with the transmission of the signal that the cylinders were firing. (I promise not to be this techie in future posts.) They fixed it fairly quickly as they had ordered the part, which was an Ignition coil (aka, the sensor). $184.21.

Now, it is time to leave. I'm definitely going though the sky is louring and it may snow, hopefully not too badly. Let you know later how it goes. I did (I have to admit) get somewhat bummed, but that's part of the journey too.

9/16/07: Trippus Interruptus

2007-09-16T15:34:00.000-07:00

September 15

Had a wonderful day with the Johns'. Went to "Kensington" district with Frank to meet up with Amber Rutledge, who I'd met (mostly on-line) when I'd done a project for Chris Tamdjidi and Shambhala Europe. They were going to check out a place as a potential meeting place for a nascent Calgary Shambhala group. It was not so good. Besides costing $100/hour, it was a Tai Quan Do place by day and smelled heavily of sweat sock and old jock straps. Yick. Not very conducive to meditation. But, Frank was very diplomatic and asked good questions to maintain positive relations with a potential connection to the renting world.

I took my obligatory pic out in front of their house. Lorraine cooked a very tasty mixed sausage spaghetti dinner with green salad. We just hung out and chatted. We made plans to visit Bannf National Park and check out Chateau Lake Louise where Frank and I did seminary back in 1980. Then I was to drive on and the three Johns' were going to hike up to a teahouse.

Never did get to see David Mann and Susan, though we did find his phone number and left a message. Ah well.

September 16

Then the no-doubt inevitable happened. My car broke down. The light for the battery came on and the steering got impossible -- very stiff. The good news was I was following the Johns' for a little pilgrimmage to Chateau Lake Louise and had just gotten in line at the Bannf National Park gate. Didn't have to pay. I could still drive the car forward and backward, but turning was a pit. So I immediately began calling CAA. My second use. Had to wait on hold for quite a while, maybe 20 minutes. We figured out that it must be the alternator, or perhaps the alternator belt. Good thing I have CAA Plus, because it allows for free towing for 160 km.

I had lost Lorraine and Frank, because I'd paused at a turnout to take a pic of a cement factory (at tleast that's what Martin the tow driver thought it was). I mean look at it, how could I resist that? They'd done such a nice job stripping the rock behind it. I figured I'd catch up with Frank et al at the gate to the park. They must have seen me pull out.

Then, of course the car trauma happened. After I'd gotten the car around the back of a park building (not easily I'm telling you), I called Frank. I had gone across the street to a kind of parking area to see if they were there, but no luck. As I was calling I spied a gold car way up on the right shoulder of the road, almost out of sight. There they were. I felt very grateful they hadn't given up on me. Frank walked down and gave me the key to their house. That goodness for cell phones too. The tow truck came. No more old fashioned dragging the car along behind, but he put it right up on a flat bed. Unfortunately (or not as the case may be), he said he wasn't a mechanic and wasn't going to look at see if it was just the belt. I'd gotten a mechanic's name from Frank in Calgary, so that's where we went. The tow truck driver, Martin, told me he was a dual citizen.

His other country was Albania. Nice fellow. He had a neat kind of box like an On-Star tracker that spoke to him in a nice feminine voice telling him where to turn and when to get to the address I gave him. I importuned him to give me a ride to the Johns' as I didn't know where the heck I was or how long a taxi might take. The mechanics was closed of course, being as it's Sunday. So I must ask the Johns' if they'd put up with me for another day (possibly two if it's anything complicated on the car.

I came back and did the dishes to help out.

9/15/07: Winnipeg to Regina

2007-09-15T17:14:00.000-07:00

September 15. I'm sitting in the Lorraine and Frank's "rec" room in Calgary writing this. I'll be off tomorrow headed for B.C. Sorry it's taken me so long to get to the keyboard, but my neck has been hurting, that unidentifiable kind of pain that feels like nails on chalkboard. So resting has been in order.

September 11

I did have a wonderful time in Winnipeg with Kate Byman, a new friend. She has a beautiful condo apartment in the artsy part of town (which I've now forgotten the name of). Very beautifully painted and decorated. Deep blue Prussian blue carpets lead up to the third story where her apartment is. She had me clear out my car of anything that looked steal-able or enticing. Kate's a teacher of 4th-5th graders in a very multi-cultural environment. She's the one who taught me that the plural of inuksuk is inuksuit.

Kate cooked a marvelous all-Manitoban dinner of lightly breaded pickerel, kale and beets and a mix of two kinds of potatoes with a wonderful light white wine. We ate at a table in a kind of sun room area overlooking a little park that somehow felt like being in what I imagine a Brownstone in Manhattan would be like, a light westering sunshine coming in through the paned windows on two walls. She's just had heating put into the tile floor, so it's warm to walk on in bare feet. Who could ask for more? She's the only "old" Shambhalian in town (at least that she knows of) and has a few people over once a week to her apartment for meditaiton practice.

I indulged myself in a bubble bath, which I never have, but this and a good neck rub really helped my neck feel much better all the next day as I drove through Manitoba to the middle of Saskatchewan, where I stayed at another Comfort Inn.

September 12-13

I only discovered, on the 12th in the evening while reading my email at the Comfort Inn in Regina, that Pam Johnson (aka Wimberley) had been living there with her partner Boo. I wasn't sure whether or not I would stay another day in Regina or head out for Medicine Hat, AB, and decided to leave it to "tendrel," or auspicious coincidence, and it certainly seemed to happen that way, with Pam and I meeting within a five-second window, where if I hadn't seen her, I would have driven on to Medicine Hat. So I stayed and had dinner with them, talking late into the evening. They're very obviously in love and seem quite happy together. Pam works as a branch librarian, but does have a few problems with subordinates, but I think it will all work out. They've tried to have a meditation evening, but it's been difficult as there are no other Shambhalians there.

I think I'd best stop now, so I won't keep the Johns' waiting on me for dinner.

Lake Superior and Secret Doors

2007-09-12T18:48:00.000-07:00

September 12, 2007

I’m writing from Pam Johnson’s place (used to be Wimberley) in Regina, Saskatchewan. I keep getting hypnotized watching telly. They just aired a segment on eye laser surgery. Hmmm.

Anyway, I’m trying to to a bit of catchup, so I can move along more smartly, though I’m getting to a phase where I’ll be staying at people’s houses a bit more (until I visit my brother in Gold Beach, Oregon, when I will be staying about a week).

So, back to September 9th. From Wawa, it was a beautiful drive down Route 17, taking the long way around the Great Lakes. I did see more inuksuit and decided to branch out in my picture taking to get a shot of Lake Superior, though I wasn't always near enough.

I moved on to a small town the other side of Thunder Bay (which had a population of 110,000 -- amazingly enough to me and too big for me to want to stop, plus being off the road), called Ignace (population 1,700). I almost ran out of gas again. Seems I have to fill up when the tank gets to half empty. The distances between "towns" (and that's possibly being generous) is too great. It did start raining a bit, but not as bad as on the way to Wawa, when it poured buckets.

For a good idea of how the road looked, I spotted a bit of a rainbow behind a big rig, as I cruised off the Canadian "shield" -- a pre-Cambrian, huge patch of rock that covers most of Ontario, Quebec, the northern parts of Manitoba and Saskatchewan.

I ended up staying at the Lone Pine Motel on Lake Agimac (believe it or not there’s more than 56,000 listings in Google for this motel).

It was a wonderful old motel built by the proprietor's father, who also made all the furniture. It had some interesting features (besides, of course, no wireless nor cell access). It was a classic vacation spot, where each room had access to a little bit of beach and a few comfortable
beach chairs.

Each room had an interesting feature of two little back-to-back doors that you could use to unload your luggage from your car, which had to be parked behind your room, so as not to obstruct the lake view.

September 9: Inuksuit Abounding

2007-09-12T07:22:00.000-07:00

Sudbury to Wawa

Just outside of Sudbury, I saw the Falconbridge nickel mine (at least I think it was the Falconbridge mine. I took a pic for the sake of my work at Metals Economics Group.

I later learned from Kate, whom I stayed with in Winnipeg that the area around the mine for kilometers in either direction used to look like a moonscape, but as you can see they’ve cleaned up their act some. This man-made monument to capitalism certainly contrasted (and not well) with other human erections I saw later along the road.

I was deep into Northwestern Ontario, Superior Lake country. It was incredibly beautiful and calming – full of those kinds of lakes, trees and scenes that seem prototypically Canadian. Very few towns, but the land still felt populated and protected.

It took me a while, but I began to look beyond just the stratified nature of the roadside rocks to the tops of them, where I kept seeing what looked like intentionally piled rocks. Then I saw a pile that was unmistakably an Inukshuk. Then I kept seeing them on top of almost any flat space like Tibetan offerings to the dralas.

I found this definition from Wikipedia: An inuksuk (plural inuksuit) [1] (from the Inuktitut; alternatively inukshuk in English [2] or inukhuk in Inuinnaqtun [3]) is a stone landmark used as a milestone or directional marker by the Inuit of the Canadian Arctic. Inuksuit differ from some cairns in significance. The Arctic Circle, dominated by permafrost, has few natural landmarks and thus the inuksuk was central to navigation across the barren tundra. he word inuksuk means "something which acts for or performs the function of a person." The word comes from the morphemes inuk ("person") and -suk ("ersatz or substitute"). The Inuit make inuksuit in different forms and for different purposes: to show directions to travelers, to warn of impending danger, to mark a place of respect, or to act as helpers in the hunting of caribou. Similar stone figures were made all over the world in ancient times, but the Arctic is one of the few places where they still stand. An inukshuk can be small or large, a single rock, several rocks balanced on each other, round boulders or flat. Inuit tradition forbids the destruction of inuksuit. (from http://thecanadianencyclopedia.com/index.cfm?PgNm=ArchivedFeatures&Params=A29)

Of course I only now know about all this. I’d see the more classical type of inuksuk, that have two legs a layer of rocks as a body and a smaller rock as a head), but not in the diversity that these roadside ones exhibited themselves. They looked fairly newly erected and were fairly small in size, about 1 to two feet tall or so, always made of rock that could be found around where they were placed and mostly in the highest places, some of which would have taken some climbing to get to.

In Wawa, where I stayed at the Sportsman’s Motel (thought I’d join the hunter side after my cow experience). Here’s a pic of “big bird” Wawa style. It is, of course, a Canadian goose.

(Small digression: I heard a report on CBC as I was driving through Manitoba that a particular school was right in a staging area for the migration of Canadian Geese and having a big problem with "goose poop" in the school yard. One goose drops off 1 to 2 pounds of poop in a month (I think it is) and there are about 3,000 of them gathering in one spot. They had to get special permission from the schoolboard to get special dogs (and then from the city council) that are quite pricey to hire to drive off the geese to another spot, and then they had to have permission from the feds because Canadian geese are a federal preserve (don't ask me). Meanwhile, the geese aren't waiting for permission and the playground is getting covered with white slippery stuff, such that it looks like a white carpet were laid down.)

Back to the "plot": I ran out of batteries for my camera right about then, so only got one. There were three or four others in spots through town, which, keep in mind, only has a population of about 5,000 who are definitely not necessarily located in one clump. Had a decent hamburger at the Viking restaurant near the motel. I figured it'd be two days to Winnipeg, where Kate Byman contacted me in respone to my plea for landing spots, with an offer I couldn't refuse.

I'll continue with a separate post for Ignace.

Backtrack: How Now Brown Cow?

2007-09-10T16:20:00.000-07:00

September 8

Well, Saturday saw me leaving Sudbury and headed as fast as I could book to Winnepeg, no, Thunder Bay, no, maybe WaWa.

You may remember a while back when I said I had been missing great pics of cows (and horse). I finally captured some in greater rural Ontario. However, as pictures speak louder than moos, I’ll let them tell most of this story.

I found a likely herd by the side of the road and stopped the car. Got out and loaded up my camera. I wanted a brown cow, so focused on those two you see in pic one. But, the white one (whom I call the "Watch Cow") kept staring at me. Every now and then he’d bend his head over his shoulder to cow-right and then look at me again, so I decided to get his pic (could be a she for all I know). Then, I heard a moo in the distance. Whitey turned his head to look at the rest of the herd and then another more imperious moo sounded.

It happened very quickly after that. There were answering moos from here and there and of a sudden, whitey turned and ran, then the two brown ones wised up and turned, then they all did, leaping over each other to get away from the fence. I was so surprised that I didn’t snap those pics until they they ambled off the field. Reminded me of Farside.

Was it my breath? My zoom? I have been eating steak every night. Maybe it was just lunchtime in the pasture, but it sure felt more personal than that.

Maybe I should just stick to wooden cows.

Backtrack: White Mountains and Blue Skies

2007-09-10T15:52:00.000-07:00

September 5 and 6

This is a backtrack to September 5, after my visit to Annie. As you may remember I was heading for Vermont and Suzann Duquette.

White Mountains

The day before I left Annie’s I’d had my 80 km check (about 1000 km later) of the Buick’s “torque.” I’d had the front struts and a tie rod replaced, which seemed to require a torque check on whether or not the lug nuts on the wheels would fall off. (When else could I write a sentence like that and know what I mean?) All was fine, so I felt secure enough to tackle the back roads of Maine, following Foley’s instructions, and then head through the White Mountains of New Hampshire to Vermont.

Still in the mode of taking my time, I saw some amazing rocks by the side of the road and my rock photo project began. I’m just putting one in now, because this post is going to be more illustrative than most.

Then feeling adventurous I stopped at Wildcat Mountain Ski and Sports park. Those who know me, know I’m not what you might call a sport nut. I got some interesting water pics (not the kind for your teeth) and decided to ride the gondola.

The ticket and “lodge” area smelled incredibly pungent, like an old sweat sock, combined with new plastic. (Oh, my god, I just saw a water plane take off from a lake I’m staying at in Ontario!). I decided I didn’t want to ride this other thing, which looked like people were strapped into some kind of harness and shot down a wire from the top of a mountain to the lodge. Too adventurous for me. I can sometimes be affected by vertigo, so thought I’d wait that one out. Didn’t react too badly on the way up. When you’re feeling fearful, it’s a great time to practice taming your mind. So when that arose I focused on the handle bar and slowed my breathing down. The door was opened at the top by a guy who’s evidently working his way up to getting a gondola job in Colorado where the “real” mountains are. Took a pic of Mt. Washington (not shown here. Looks like a forest-covered mtn, but it’s a famous one in New Hampshire.

I stayed there for a fair amount of time, then headed to VT following Suzann’s direction (still think of her as Dapön B though).

Blue Skies Guest House

I found it without getting lost (thanks to handwritten directions). It’s a white farmhouse set in a little valley nicely landscaped in that it’s not too tame and not too wild. When you walk in the back door, which goes to the kitchen, I saw a framed poem written by the Sakyong on the occasion of Suzann and Jan’s marriage. In wandering through to the living room I was struck by the amazing number of thankas of just about everyone we’re familiar with, Shiwa Ökar, Rigden kings, White Tara – must have been at least 10. Don’t recall seeing any wrathful types, though maybe they weren’t for viewing in the guest part of the house. “Asian” rugs and comfortable furniture, a nice sun room where I had a T and T (Tanqueray and Tonic for the non-Brit fanciers). There was a beautiful samurai helmet on a table by the stairs heading up to the guest rooms that was given to Suzann as a thank you for her service as a director of Karmê Chöling.

Wasn’t able to access wireless though, so that’s why you didn’t hear from me about this stop sooner. They did have cable modem, but I’d have to have unplugged Suzann’s computer in her office and I didn’t want to impose.

They invited me to dinner (which is not a part of the ordinary service), a mostly vegetarian (except for the chicken. Hmmm) dinner cooked by Jan, who works up at Karmê Chöling as the gardener. Born in the Netherlands, he has a lovely Dutch accent.

After dinner, we watched “Freedom Writers,” and had fun guessing the next plot turn. Suzann was right every time.

Slept really well on some kind of an air mattress (not the usual kind, but one that with loud noises you can adjust to your preferred firmness. The pillows were the best I’ve ever slept on. Didn’t have to plump them up or beat them down.

In the morning had a filling breakfast of pretty good oatmeal (with dried cranberries it looked like) and a soft boiled egg. After breakfast, while packing up, I talked a while with Jan. It gently rained on one side of the house (on my car) and a rainbow appeared on the other. Jan said he’d been hoping for rain, but not on that side. He’s been having to water the Karmê Chöling gardens by hand every day. We talked about the tent caterpillars that I’d been seeing in Maine of which there were several examples out the dining room window. He said they didn’t actually kill the trees, but came out in August when the trees were at their strongest, sucked the energy out for a few months and then died off. He said they were in the sixth year of a six-year cycle that hopefully will see them died back next year. He also said that if I’d examined one of the nests closely, I would have seen zillions of crawly larvae milling together. Glad I didn’t get too close.

So, I highly recommend Blue Skies Guest House. It only cost $54.50 (an odd amount, but that’s the 9% VT tax) for the night. They are relying on the word-of-mouth trade, primarily sangha. The address is 136 Church Street, Barnet, Vermont 05821. (802) 633-2320.

Samadhi and KC

I stopped by Samadhi Cushions on my way out of town (only about three doors down from Blue Skies. When I first drove in to a parking lot the sign said “Closed.” By the time I got out of my car and went to the door, it said “Open.” That was Ric Walter’s eagle kasung eye. He looked kind of shocked when I walked in. He’d evidently just read my first two posts the night before and I guess didn’t quite expect to see the live version walking in. Quite cool for me though, knowing someone’s actually reading these. A fan. Gad. No, he wasn’t sleeping well, so decided to read his email.

Bought a calendar and a red silk Chinese kind of blouse and was able to show Sumner (the proprietor with a very flat affect – otherwise known as “inscrutable” in our community) my cards, including my latest of the year of the earth rat, coming up. Suzann liked them anyway.

Left there and decided I had to drop by Karmê Chöling, since it was only five minutes away. His Eminence had just been there teaching on Powa for three (or four?) days, which meant he did four (or five?) sessions per day, beginning at 6:30 am. The whole Ripa family came, so it must have been quite the zoo. Khandro Rinpoche was to arrive that day and begin another seminar, so everyone was quite busy.

Ruth Snow (see photo) was detailed to give me a tour. Her mom was a coordinator of the Khandro Rinpoche program. Ruth was quite good, rather inscrutable I thought, though with good affect. I didn’t stay for lunch, thought I’d best get on (as you will know that was the day I made it all the way to the other side of Ottawa).

Below is as close as I got to the Cirque de Soleil. It's called the Cirque du Cheval (I think that means horse circus). It wasn't open. Dang.

That’s about it for those two days. I’ll catch up to present time next.

In Wawa, Home of the Big Bird

2007-09-09T06:21:00.000-07:00

Can't take long here. Got a big left-side neck and should muscle ache and had to sleep a lot, which is cool, but leaves less time to write. I'm trying to get to Winnepeg, but may not make it that far today, but close I'm thinking.

Sudbury, Ontario, 9/8/97

2007-09-08T05:05:00.000-07:00

September 8, 2007

Decided perhaps I'd best catch up straight away to let you know where I am, which is the sort-of-glorious town of Sudbury, Ontario, home of base-metal mining. I'm going to begin using the date when I'm actually writing at the top of the post and then back track as I can.

Basically, I've decided that Canada is rather bigger than I had imagined, to nobody's surprise I expect, except mine. Especially Ontario. After I left Suzann in Barnet (which I'll report on in another post), I decided I'd better bip, or it would be weeks before I got to the West Coast. I do have a bit of a deadline if it doesn't alter, which is my "new" cousin Elva may be wanting to get to Yellowstone, leaving on the 20th or so. She lives in Roseberg, Oregon. Otherwise, I prefer to go at my own pace. I've made a resolution (if not a vow) that I'm only going to go as fast as I can go, perhaps even dawdle from time to time.

So, after Vermont, I boogied along to the next border, which came up surprisingly quickly into Quebec at the unknown town (to me) of Stanstead. It was a surprisingly easy translation. The border guard was a rather cute Quebequer with spikey black hair and a flirty smile. He, too, like the border guard at the U.S. border (a short-haired blonde, all business, Marine type) seemed most interested in -- what I might be bringing into the country, especially cigarettes and alcohol (mostly what I bought in Canada and transported through the U.S. to him). Piece of cake.

It was fun, at first at least, to see all the signs in French -- that is highway signs, which could be a bit confusing if you have to translate in your mind -- par example: droite and gauche. Initially in my scheme of travel, I was going to stop in Monreal and then in Ottawa, but I decided that I'd better keep going and besides, it was like riding the Shoot the Chute. If I got off the highway, it might take me several hours, if not days, to figure out how to get back on, so that on this Thursday, September 6, I decided to keep going. Stayed at a Comfort Inn, as mentioned in last post.

Yesterday, Friday, September 7, I also decided to keep going. This section is definitely a spot where one realizes Ontario is rather large and the Great Lakes can be seen from space for a reason. I had to stop in Sudbury -- besides being rather tired, it all-of-a-sudden poured down rain like out of a bucket onto my car. Got slightly freaked -- not hard to do if it's late in the driving day and everyone else seems to treat it as if it's just another Sunday drive. So found another Comfort Inn. Kind of spooky, because my room looks almost exactly like the one in Ottawa. I'm not sure I need that much predictability.

(photos: some cool rocks I saw from the side of the road. I did see some cool cows and two great horses against a barn, but passed by too quickly to backtrack. Dang.)

Had lunch at Champlain Eco Center at the Gazebo at the day camp area. Also snapped two campers who I think didn't want their pic taken, but I wanted to give you a sense of how beautiful that park was.

Here, in Sudbury, I'm not quite to Lake Superior. I hope to traverse around it today, but heard it's 12 hours to Thunder Bay -- I must say I never thought I'd be going to Thunder Bay, having the impression it was way up there, and so it is. But there's no other path.

I received a nice invitation to stay in Winnepeg, so I have a place to land, but probably can't make it until tomorrow, Sunday, night (at least I hope so).

Technical Notes:

Gas was $0.95 in Ottawa, but rose up to $1.05/liter by Sudbury. It cost $110 to stay at the comfort Inn in Ottawa and $125 here (because it's a weekend -- what's that?).

Annie

2007-09-07T04:49:00.000-07:00

September 4

I spent the day with my friend Annie, Georgiann, Georgia Cooper, the inimitable. We've known each other since we lived in Berkeley, California back in the mid 70s. Her son, Grey, and mine, Zeb, were friends. She used to live with Jessie Miller, whom some of you might know.

Annie's the kind of friend who doesn't mind (too much anyway) if I just take a nap or read my book -- as said The Nightwatch "The extraordinary Bestseller from Russia) by Sergei Lukyanenko. I did get The Daylight Watch and The Twilight Watch from Borders. I felt bad about that actually. I, of course, got lost on the way and went into Bookland (I think it was), an independent bookseller where I generally prefer to buy my books, and asked directions to Borders. Aggg.

Anyway, Annie felt bad too, but we didn't call Bookland to see if they had the sequels. But that's Annie too. I was slightly freaked to see Annie using a walker, though she warned me about it -- like I was surprised to see my friend Oscar Garcia using one at the Kalapa Festival. I'm sure you know how it feels to flash back on youth when all was mindless and fraught and then see the consequences of youth -- sickness, old age, and . . . yes, that's coming too. However, Annie looks great other than the walker, though she uses it with panache.

So Annie doesn't mind (not too much anyway), if I blow into town on my way to or from Nova Scotia for a night, i.e., 12 sleeping hours with one or two on either side, or for two nights, though she might prefer more. I'm used to her contemplative way of going about things -- otherwise known as slower than Molasses in January, which gets in the bucket just in time anyway.

(The river is called the Androscoggin -- which means "snake-y in the local first nation's tongue. That little dot in the middle of the river is evidently a lobster buouy.)

As said, she still smokes. I emphathize. I'd kind of like to, but it makes my lungs feels like an elephant has sat on them after a time. It makes my back hurt when I stop. Plus of course, one of the more compelling reasons, they're expensive. But, nonetheless I shared what I could, which at this point is one, maybe two, if I've had some alcohol, before I get nauseous -- another compelling reason to limit it. I decided to listen to that stomach.

(The photo of the grasses on the right was a picture taken out Annie's kitchen window just as the sun was going down.)

So, we can sit outside in the chairs. I didn't mind taking them out and helping open doors and such (I'll only be there a little while), though Annie's walker has this cool basket that can hold quite a few things, a drink, ashtray, cigarettes, a book. She was trying to get me interested in reading Iris Murdoch (see I remembered the name Annie). I tried reading a bit when Annie was out on a smoke break at the Tavern we went to. It was a particularly vivid description of the human body as a kind of organic eating and fornicating machine of various holes for input and output. She thought it was amazingly funny. I can visualize too easily and perhaps I used to see things that way too easily, which had the effect of making me an object with no affect and too distant from being in my body, such as it is. It seemed to reflect too much self loathing. When she came back from the break, she read a description of the lead character's kitchen that was supposed to be a reflection of Iris Murdoch's, which was kind of disgusting actually. Sorry. Though I really quite liked Annie's delivery. She had an interesting kind of pursed-lip PBS-mannered, futsy kind of voice style punctuated by sips of Irish coffe, that suited the writing style. The closest I get to a worldly wise cynicism in my authors is Tom Wolfe. And, I know (or maybe I don't) that she probably wouldn't be interested in a lengthy description of the sci fi, lit j books I do read. I hardly ever read "character dramas," though I do get interested in seeing where the characters go, like the boss of the "Others" Nigh Watch, named Gesar. I'm trying to see how like the Gesar we just heard about at the Kalapa Festival he might be. And, Annie doesn't mind (at least not too much) that we don't share author loves.

I think Annie's spirit is coming to peek out of her gestalt more. She's got quite a pixie quality about her and I think looks quite beautiful (just being objective here). She probably won't mind if I say that either. You can see Annie's a friend well worth having.

I'm trying to see what I wrote from last time, so as not to repeat myself, but the blog won't open up. The signal is kind of weak here at the Comfort Inn outside Ottawa, but strong enough that I can get this composition in.

What was I going to say? Oh yeah, Annie gave me the Suzann Duquette's (or the Duke -- or maybe it's Duq -- as Annie calls her) number at her B&B. She was in, and I was in for the next night. Annie's roommate Foley (I know I said something about this), was very kind and explained how I could get to Barnet without getting lost -- going down the 295 to Yarmouth (yeah, there's one in Maine, just across the water almost from the one in Nova Scotia) and out 115 to 306 to 16, to 2 in Vermont. I think that's right. Thank you Foley.

So, went to sleep early and managed to leave Maine about my usual 10:30.

Techie Journey Details for those who might care

For those of you who might be interested. The price of gas in NS was $1.08/litre, in NB, $1.05; in Maine, mostly $2.75/gallon, a little lower in NH, but back up to $2.75 by the time I got to it. Lower in Ottawa, to $0.95/litre -- maybe so Harper will think prices are reasonable every else. I hit the 1,000-mile-mark just before I hit Ottawa.

New Hampshire and Vermont next. Gotta catch up a bit.

Caterpillars and Borders

2007-09-06T07:14:00.000-07:00

September 3 and 4

It's Thursday, and I'm sitting on the steps of the Barnet Public Library. It doesn't open until noon, but hey, it has wireless whereas everywhere else I've been doesn't seem to, and I need to be on the road to Ottawa before then, so I'll make this a bit short.

To back up, where were we? Ah, Saint John. Well, I finally left there about 10:30 (comme d'habitude) and made it up to St. Stephens, NB. I bought a carton of Benson and Hedges ultralight regulars for my friend Annie in Maine because they didn't have any Virginia Slims ultra light menthols. Cost $45.50 (C$), so under the $50 limit she mentioned as the price in the US. Big mistake. She only smokes the Virginia slims, not the Cravens I got, nor the B&H. I've theoretically given up smoking -- can't smoke more than one a day before I get nauseous. Hmm. Deal with it later.

Also, got a bottle of Tanqueray for $19.50, good deal for Canada. Crossed the border, which was actually fairly easy. He wanted to know how long I'd be gone. I said "this trip into the U.S. only four days or so, then back into Canada for the long haul across the continent." He only asked about cigarettes and alcohol, which I said I'd gotten for my friend in Brunswick. He wanted to see the receipt. Good thing I'd just gotten them, so I could show him. Then he peeked in my back window and said "You're sleeping in your car?" I said, "only for snooze breaks -- in case I get tired on the road." So we were cool. I did have my U.S. passport, so the only other thing he asked about what my framed photograph in the back seat. Don't know why. Saw this sign at the border. Your guess is as good as mine. I think it probably refers to reefers on trucks?

(Did I mention that the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia accepted four of five of my photographs for their Sales and Rental Gallery? Hooray! I'm now an official Nova Scotia artist. They can work for me while I'm gone. They accepted, The Dao of Driftwood, Eel Grass at Home, The Path, and Pan's Pool. Later I'll put them on my web site as being on exhibit so you can see them.)

Then into Calais, Maine where I promptly unknowingly got totally lost trying to follow my CAA Triptik, which advised I travel on Route 1. I usually go on Route 9 to Bangor, but followed the sign for Route 1 instead and went North. Gad. Didn't realize I was lost until I got to a choice between Route 169 and 171 with no reference to Route 1. Took a nice pic of a tent caterpillar web, which I'd been seeing on trees, that were dying around it. Seems to be an infestation of them in the north piney forests.

Got to a spot in the road on 169 where cars were parked for about a quarter mile on each side. It was Labour Day and a Labour Day Fair was in progress. Stopped a likely couple walking up the road and asked if they knew how I could get to Bangor. I knew I was lost when they didn't seem to have heard of Bangor or it's relevance to that part of Maine. "There a crossroads down the way, you can go to Lincoln," they said helpfully. Gad. Got there and decided to check the map. I'd tried to find 169 on the CAA map, but it was nowhere in sight. Turned right onto Route 6 which led to I95, turned South and was 40 miles from Bangor. Took me a bit to get down the road to the exit for Brunswick. Took the ramp and promptly ran out of gas and gently coasted to a stop right in the middle of the exit. Good thing I got CAA. First time in my 40 plus year driving career that I've run out of gas. Now I know that when that little yellow light comes on, I'd best immediately look for a station. Even better would be to stop at half way down the gauge.

They made me a priority since I was in the middle of the exit (though cars could pass me) -- don't forget this was Labour Day heading into the evening. A policeman stopped to inquire, found out CAA was coming with gas and left saying he'd check back, but since it wasn't dark yet, he wouldn't stay. Got all gassed up and got lost again wandering around in Brunswick to get to my friend Annie's. Did finally and we shared some T and T's (Tanqueray and Tonics) with fresh lime I'd found on the way.

That brings me up to posting time for my last post. Stayed at Annie's (or Georgia's as she's now calling herself. When I first met her it was Georgiann). She just had hip surgery and needs to get the other one done so is using a walker or two canes and I must say she's quite spry about it. Much better than my mom, who had so much pride that she'd rather my brother waited on her than use it, but did change her mind when he went walkabout (another story for another time).

We had a nice restful day the next day. I found books two and three in the Russian Vampire series I'm reading. We ate out at a Tavern where they had a good Ruben for Annie and a steak for me. And a good Irish Coffee for each. We went there partly because it was the only place in town that allowed smoking in a covered outdoor area filled with biker types, who all seemed to know Annie.

Annie's roommate, Foley, mapped out the route for me to get to Barnet, where I'd set up to stay with my friend Suzann Duquette and her (relatively) new husbaqnd Jan. I'll write about that tomorrow (or whenever I can again find wireless).

Sept 2: Glooscap and Rouge Ordinaire

2007-09-04T18:45:00.000-07:00

Halifax to Saint John
Left home in the Tibetan manner – in my own time – about 10:30 am. Don’t seem to have forgotten anything. Made sure to say a loving goodbye to Zeb, since I may be gone for two months.

“When will you be back?
Six weeks?”
“Well, about.”
“In October?”
“Yes” (sigh) Mid to late October.”

Really packed the car up, making a nest in the back seat – foam, Kagyü-red soft blanket, sleeping bag, pillow – for snooze breaks, when I hit those “sleep zones” on the road.

I’m now typing at the Colonial Inn in Saint John, NB. Looked it up in the CAA book while eating my tuna sandwich at a golf and country club at Magnetic Hill (which I didn’t see).

Dang hotel supposedly had wireless, so I could begin to blog. But they didn’t – “we’re having trouble with it. You can use that computer,” pointing to a kind of nice looking flat screen version across from the front desk. Um, no. I need to load software and use my own computer and I like using it in my room on my own terms. Gad.

They didn’t have the lounge or steak house advertised. Or rather they did, but they’d recently been closed down. Red velvet rope across the route downstairs. But they did seem to have a church going in one of the salons. I heard live music from my room and went to investigate, tried the door, but someone was sitting in a chair on the other side. Thought I’d interrupted a rehearsal of some kind (maybe for the lounge – before I knew it was closed). Nope. Turned out to be a church. Probably good I didn’t get in, though I supposed you never know who could proselytize whom.

Had a “special” ($11) of loin steak, baked potato, and corn. I asked for a salad to go with and about what kind of wine they had. The perky young waitress said, after a few second’s thought: “white or red.”
I said, “OK. How about some rouge ordinaire?” No response.
“de la maison?” No response, but looking a tad more earnest.
Decided not to be cruel. “Red will do.” Relief.

She did confess she’d only been working there two days. But this is Nouveau Brunswick, only province in Canada with two official languages. Must be a complete Anglophone. Ooops.

She’d shown me to her favorite table, in a kind of bower of plastic roses and potted plants that overlooked the interior garden courtyard, with an eeny fountain and a small light-brown, glazed dog looking inquisitively in the window from a bed of orange flowers. This part of the restaurant had a kind of paned greenhouse-looking kind of window that extended from about six feet of ceiling to the floor, so I could watch the clouds and sky slowly darken. The waitress told me this was her favorite spot, where she could sit and do her crossword puzzles during slow times, though she did say that she wasn’t really supposed to be sitting down at a table.

She finished taking my order and left for the cash register. I started to read my book “Day Watch” about Russian vampires and “Others,” but had to hop up and run over to make sure my steak would be rare, but not raw (nor well done). “Oh, right, I forgot to ask,” she said.

I saw I could order a DVD, so chose “The Constant Gardener” directed by Fernando Meirelles, based on the Le Carré book, and found out that I couldn’t take it to the room with me, but that it would be played for everyone on Channel 61, after a Bobby Darin movie. Ah, well, there was a nice flat screen TV in my room. The movie was really good. Ralph Fiennes and Weisz played their characters with subtlety and passion. I understood the plot a lot better than I did when reading the book. The African scenes were very vivid and the message about big pharma using Africans to beta test TB meds by tricking them into giving “Informed Consent” to get AIDS drugs was saddening. True? I don’t know, but, of course, being relatively paranoid about corporate greed, decided it definitely could be.

However, my day really began back in Nova Scotia, at the Glooscap Trading Post on the Millbrook Reserve off 102. I first stopped at a brand new official Tourism Nova Scotia building kind of shaped like a yurt, where an older blonde tour guide was sharing German ancestry anecdotes with a couple of tourists. Didn’t pay the $3 for the tour, but spent quite a bit on my first hoodie and a sweatshirt. Got something for my brother. Outside there was an enormous statue of Glooscap himself. Initially the statue had Glooscap’s hand holding the torch at a 90 degree angle coming straight out just below waist level, which looked rather evocative from behind and to the side from the highway, so they changed it to what you see in the photo. Go to: http://www.glooscapheritagecentre.com/ to find out more.

The reserve has built quite a few new buildings since I’d been there last. An Empire multi-theatre Cinema, gas stations, couple of restaurants, including a root beer chain. I was trying to find the old trading post, which used to be the only building in the area, which you could only get to from the 102 South. Saw a small new building that looked promising that I thought might be an upgrade of the old trading post. Turned into the parking lot and went in to a lobby with a cash machine. The door inside was covered in warning signs so I peeked in, and saw a line of video gambling machines. Rather hurriedly backed out, got back in the car and turned further down the road. I don’t have a very positive attitude about gambling. It’s bad enough when you have credit cards that are stacked against you, but to take money and actually give it away into a machine is somewhat incomprehensible to me. I’d much rather just throw it in the street and be done with it.

Finally found the Glooscap Trading Post in the last parking lot. Spent about an hour there having a great time looking and things and laughing with the proprietress. Bought three sage bundles after discussing it with the merits of various kinds of grass which differed depending on the purpose. I told the story of beginning my mom’s sukhavati (Buddhist funeral ceremony) with a lhasang, by explaining to my mom that it was like a “sweet grass” ceremony. My mom had a distinguished collection of southwestern Navajo and Hopi artifacts. Told the proprietress I was going to perhaps do another when I went out to visit my brother who’s staying in a group home in Oregon. My brother and I spread my mom’s ashes around a three-trunked tree in the Jedediah Smith Redwood Forest in California. Perhaps we’ll go back there when I get to him.

Got a great black fur hat with flaps that I put on backwards to begin with, thinking the big flap went on your neck but went on your forehead instead. And some matching furred gloves for those still cold Canadian winters. Joked about how I now had four one-handed gloves at home. She asked which hand, maybe I could make two mis-match pairs. I think I’m going to put a string between the right and left hands that I can put through the sleeves of my jacket like little kids do so I won’t lose these.

Spent about an hour there talking with the proprietress and joking with a few band members who came in. Not all Mi’kmaq. Discovered that she was a dual citizen and that there was an “Indian” passport that allowed free access for status Indians between the U.S. and Canada according to the “J Treaty.” I discovered this because we got to talking about being dual citizens. I’m dual American and Canadian and have two passports. She was too, and then Mr. Johnson, a handsome dark-haired older man with sparkling eyes, and a gap in his middle lower teeth when laughed, which was often, who’d come in to get some smokes, said he was too (but his other country was First Nations, as a Chapel Island native. Chapel Island I found out was not off “Pictou” as the Texan-Indian said, but off the Membertu reserve, probably in the Bras d’Or Lake area in central Cape Breton.

Decided to get a book on Mi’kmaq history that I’d checked out earlier that the proprietress said was really good First Nations History: We were not the Savages by Daniel N. Paul, third ed. (see: http://www.danielnpaul.com/WeWereNotTheSavages-Mi'kmaqHistory.html for more.) There’s too much I don’t know about my province. Perhaps I’ll share some of that as I go along (if I don’t get too distracted).

After that we got in a big discussion about laser eye surgery, which she’d had for a sale price of $1,500, lifetime guaranteed, in Halifax. I asked her to describe it since the ophthalmologist said I blinked too much during his exam and he thought I’d never be able to get it, but it sure would be cool. She said they put a kind of suction cup over her eye to hold it still. (I was wondering how they kept your eyes open.) She laughed, saying how her left eye kept twitching during her first operation. She said they gave her something to relax her. I asked if it put you out (you can see I want to get this done, but not be there when they do it). She described how they made these little cuts with the laser on the sides of your corneas. I’d noticed that her eyes had a narrow light blue border around the edges of her deep brown irises, which were almost the same hue as her pupils. She said that wasn’t a result of the operation, that everybody had a band of color around their pupils like that. She got out a mirror to show me that – yes, I have a dark grey band around the lighter grey of my irises. But it blends in more and isn’t as delineated a band of color as her iris, nor as great a contrast in color. Hmmm. You can see why I spent so long there. Did get my Maine friend Annie her menthol cigarettes. Only got four packs of Cravens, at $10/pack. Found out later that they really had to be Virginia Slim ultra light menthols or nothing. Don’t know what I’m going to do with $40 worth of menthols. When I smoked, I didn’t smoke menthols. Maybe on the way back, I can trade them for Benson and Hedges – no the trading post didn’t have those. Oh well.

Better get going. I seem to be into this writing thing, which is fantastic actually. Hope you don’t mind all the reading.

Got to get to Brunswick, Maine, and my friend Annie’s this afternoon. Weather’s supposed to be good. Time to check out.

What do I look like?

2007-09-04T11:29:00.001-07:00

This is a photograph taken of me in 2005 by my son Stan Schroeder off the Rim of the World Highway near Crestline, California.