Pacific Crest Trail

My cousin Charles, his partner Sean, and their friend Chris are hiking the Pacific Crest Trail this summer. The Pacific Crest Trail (or PCT) is a 2,663 mile hiking trail that runs from the US border with Mexico in the south, through California, Oregon, and Washington to its end in British Columbia, Canada.  In elevation it ranges from sea level at the Oregon-Washington border to 13,153 feet at Forester Pass.  It goes through 25 national forests and 7 national parks, almost always in wilderness.  

The three have been recording their adventures on their blog http://3gaycaballeros.blogspot.com/

I've been following their passage on maps I've downloaded from the Internet and printed out and tacked to my bulletin board.  It isn't easy hiking 2,663. They started out in 100 degree heat that stayed with them for a couple of weeks through the Mojave Desert.  In the High Sierras, they waded through snow.  They ran into some blow down, meaning they had to crawl over trees to keep going. (I've done that myself on the Lauterman Trail in the Nicolet National Forest, so I know how tiring that can be.)  They have been plagued by mosquitoes. They suffered through blisters, shin splints and groin pulls. They've hiked over a thousand miles and have just passed Lake Tahoe.


From time to time, they can't post on their blog when they get out of cell phone range. During those times, I worry about them and wonder if they are lost, hurt or in danger, but then they are back with several days of reports and I rest easy.  I check the National Forest Service notices to see what lies ahead.  


I've ordered books about the trail and am currently reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed, about her PCT solo trek in the early 1990's, just two years after the trail was completed.  Back then she went through days and days without seeing anyone, but these days there are hundreds of hikers.  Charles and his friends have made so many friends along the way though the crowd seems to have thinned out as novices discover how difficult the PCT is. There are "trail angels", volunteers who wait at various points along the trail with water, beer,and snacks.

Still, Strayed gives me a good description of the PCT.  Her book, plus the blog, are making me want to hit the trails again.  I've been on the North Country Trail that goes through the Midwest and on the Appalachian Trail. (I read Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods about the AT.)  Both were short jaunts for a few hours, but I got a taste of what it would be like.

I think I could handle the walk, but with my arthritic knees, the backpack would be the problem.  At the very least, the contents of a backpack would weight 35 lbs.  That is much weight would be too much.  I try to convince Gary that I could "slackpack" the Appalachian or North Country Trails, carrying just enough for a day, if he were willing to meet me at junctions of trail and highways and take me off to motels or campgrounds for the nights.  So far, he's not buying it.  My son Chris suggested I call Rent-a-Sherpa.

Fact is, I'm probably too old.  Still, I can dream.  

 

Canadian Plans

In another week, Gary and I head out on our two-week circle of Lake Superior.  I have seven performances, six of them in Ontario.  We'll be camping as we go, but it will be a bit more complicated than the tour I did last summer, when I was on my own.

Back then, I had a simple tent that I paid $29.99 for over ten years ago. If it rained too hard, I slept in the car quite comfortably. I had two sleeping bags, one for cold weather, one for hot.   I had a one burner propane stove, a tea kettle and a pot, plus a spoon.  I used the spoon for stirring the pot and also as an eating utensil. I didn't bother with a cooler at all, mostly buying food as I needed it along the way.

This time, Gary is organizing the trip.  We will be using his van, which has a bed in it, though we also will have a four person tent which we will sleep in most of the time, depending on the weather.  The sleeping bags will go on a big air mattress.  He will set up a tarp for shade and of course, there must be folding chairs.

He is organizing food as well, though I keep telling him that Canadians do have grocery stores.  There is even a Walmart at Thunder Bay and another at Sault Ste Marie.  The shores of the big lake will be swarming with tourists.  Surely they must eat something!

No matter, he loves to plan, he loves to shop.  More and more gadgets arrive via UPS weekly, things he considers essential.  We'll have a GPS system, adapters for our computers, a cook stove, and many things I don't understand at all.  In other words:  toys.

I ignore all of that and concentrate on getting my storytelling costumes ready and tuning my autoharp.  I'll do the laundry the day before we go and pack the morning we leave.  My job is to earn the money through my craft, his will be to set up campsites and organize meals.  He'll have to do this over and over, but he loves setting up campsites.  My biggest concern will be to find wi fi so I can continue to post on this blog.

I'll let him have his fun and have mine in my own way. 

Horoscope and Good News

I'm enrolled in the Muehl Public Library's adult summer reading program.  Each year, we older readers get to participate in a lovely tradition.  I so enjoy reading books then taking my card to the library to have it initialed.  It makes me feel young again.

This year's adult theme is "Under the Covers" and besides books, includes going on local adventures, such as  attending the grand opening of our new museum, the farmers market, or Music in the Park.  I must have a photo taken of me reading a book in bed which will be posted at the library.

One of the twelve tasks is to read my horoscope and take it to the library.  I don't take a newspaper and don't believe in horoscopes, but I printed one out from a website.  This is what it said:

You are eager to discuss your thoughts and plans with others at this time and you may have a very fruitful brainstorming session, a spirited debate, or a very active meeting with others in which things really get accomplished.  You are verbally assertive and can present your own plan or idea quite convincingly.

When I printed out the horoscope, I wasn't really thinking about the rest of the day, but it happens that Wade and I met to discuss Black Coffee Fiction  http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com our weekly short story blog.  Wade brought his latest story, which will be posted tomorrow to be critiqued, but it was already in good shape.

I picked out the story I will post a week from tomorrow and must polish before I leave on the Canadian tour.

Just like the horoscope predicted, we were brainstorming ideas for the e-mail and print collection of our stories we intend to publish at the end of September.  We selected the stories we intend to include and debated what needs to be done to polish them.  We decided to include a novella from each of us and save some of the stories for future collections.  In another year, we'll have enough stories for a joint Christmas collection, and I should have a separate book of love stories.

Indeed, it was a fruitful brainstorming session.  The highlight was Wade's announcement that he made his first writing sale.   "Daniel's Keep" was accepted by Encounters Magazine for their September issue. I was practically jumping up and down I was so excited for him.  Writers hang out together because when there is good news like this, we like to have others around who understand the long solitary hours that go into the success.  


Wade's second blog is "It's a Long Way to the Top" http://wadepeterson.wordpress.com in which he writes about his struggle to become a full fledged author.   As I told him, with this sale it is no longer that far to the top.

Maybe there is something in this horoscope thing.

Independence Day

All over the United States there are picnics, parades, and fireworks to celebrate the 4th of July.

Not so much in Seymour.  Our citizens mostly leave town on Independence Day.  Many of them have cabins "up north" and others are at campgrounds.  There are no fireworks displays here so anyone who wants noise and color go to Bonduel, twenty miles away.  Seymour has a big parade to celebrate Burger Fest a month from now so why have one today?  

So here Gary and I are on an unbelievably hot day (temperatures approached 100 degrees and not a breeze) in a very quiet neighborhood.  I think all but two houses in the block are empty.  

Gary and I started talking about Independence Days past. 

I think about a Fourth of July thirteen years ago when Tisha and Chris were married.  Tisha wanted to marry on a holiday so Chris would never forget their anniversary and he hasn't.  They were married at the Moravian Church at Heritage Hill State Park in Green Bay.  Later, we all went out to her parents place in the country for a big picnic followed by a big fireworks display paid for and presented by her father and brother.  They even had to get licenses to do it.  My favorite memory of the day was of Chris and Tisha sitting on her grandmother's quilt with the light of the fireworks shining on their faces as they looked at each other instead of the light show.  It was a perfect wedding. 

When Chris was around six or seven, over thirty years ago, he and I joined my brother Carl and his wife Sue on a camping trip at Laura Lake but spent the day and evening of the Fourth at Goodman County Park for a day of games and picnics and a spectacular fireworks display over Lake Hilbert.  I never went back for the celebration, which still goes on every year, but Laura Lake has been part of my life ever since.  

My mother grew up in North Dakota, raised by her grandparents.  Every so often, she and her brother would take a trip to visit them, always for a week or two in June. The timing was everything, because they could drive back through South Dakota which had absolutely no restrictions on fireworks.  They would come back with boxes of rockets, the really big ones, and set them off on our farm.  We had bigger displays than any of the towns in the area. I remember the hot nights, the smell of new mowed hay, and the fireflies, which were a show of their own.   

Now it's quiet and I don't mind one bit. 

Floral Memories

Despite the heat wave, I ran out and did some gardening in ten minute segments, doing some weeding and some deadheading before I had to retreat to the air conditioning.

Gary's pump (an electric fake, I'm afraid) gurgled along as I worked.  The pump keeps mosquitoes from breeding so it makes sense.

He arranges branches across the water to serve as perches for the many birds that inhabit our back yard.  They are a noisy crew until suddenly they stop warbling and squawking and quiet reigns.  Then I know the sharp-shinned hawk has arrived.  The hawk looks at our back yard as a fine restaurant, filled with prey.  When he can't find anything, he goes to the suet feeder and eats there.

Again, as I worked, the flowers brought back memories.

On the trellises leading to Elaine's property, I planted sweet peas, now climbing and blooming a lovely rose shade.  They are a memory for Gary, whose Illinois grandmother always planted them.

Another memory is the hydrangea bush.   

Lee Johnson was an elderly gardener east of Main Street.  Whenever I saw her, I admired her beautiful garden in great shouts, since she was terribly deaf and never wore her hearing aid when she worked outside. She was always with three legged Toby, a rescued dog.  When she was 93 she offered me a three inch hydrangea plant. She told me the doctors informed her that she only had months to live.  She lived on for another three or four years. Because Toby was so old by then he was put to sleep. His ashes were buried with her.  The hydrangea is now as tall as I am.  I think of Lee every time it blooms.

It's daisy season, too.

I think it was Pat Seidl, a gardener from the north side of Seymour, who gave me the seeds that led to these big swaths of daisies.  She also taught me how to keep them going.  When the daisies are done, she said, you wait until the heads have dried, pull the entire plant up by its roots, turn it over and "whap, whap, whap" it against the hole.  The seeds fall on the dirt and voila, the next crop of daisies is ready.  Most years, I get an early summer crop and second crop daisies in the late fall.

So many memories at every corner.  The garden is a work of love, even if it is for only ten minutes at a time this week.  

 


 

Monday

Another steamy day, at least in July where it belongs.  I started gardening early while it was still cool.

Once the peas are edible, we stop eating the asparagus.  I figure we have enough for a week and by then we'll start eating beans.  There are two "pregnant" zucchini.  The first flowers on the squash produce nothing but later on there will be a bulge under the blossom and that bulge will become a zucchini that we'll harvest after we get back from Canada. Around the same time, the pole beans will have climbed to the top their tower and there will be even more to eat.  

The tomatoes have been in flower for a week. The first tiny tomatoes have formed.  I have nine Roma, beefsteak and Rutgers plants in the vegetable garden, all from seeds I planted indoors in February and March.  There are three more Rutgers tomatoes in pots around the garden. Finally, there are three tomato plants that came up uninvited in the pea patch, probably from seeds dropped from last year's planting.  They could be Roma, Big Boy or cherry tomatoes.  We'll have to wait and see.   

Besides weeding this morning, I was cat wrangling.  My neighbor is gone and I am keeping an eye on Mittens and Koala.  Mittens is easy, he goes with me everywhere, but Koala has a mind of his own. 

In the cool morning, I let both of them out to explore.  By 10:00 I thought enough was enough, it was getting hot.  Mittens zoomed home just as I directed.  Koala hid in the gazebo and refused to do what I asked. He continued to refuse throughout the day.  I put a bowl of water out to keep him from dehydrating and tried to catch him every hour. 

Then Chris, Tisha and grandson Evan arrived to go swimming and took me with them to the aquatic center.  Gary would try the rest of the day to convince that stubborn Siamese in but had no better luck than me.  

It turned out that the smaller pool that Evan wanted to use was in use so we had to use the big pool with water over his head. He pouted at first, saying the water was too cold.   Then he started asking about the diving board.  Could he jump off?  Sure said Chris, if it's OK with the guards.  I think he thought they would nix the idea but no.  They put a life jacket on Evan.  He climbed up the ladder to the big board and without hesitation went right off into the diving well where his father waited to pull him out.  Evan doesn't swim well yet so that was a demonstration of either bravery or lack of fear, two widely different things.   Tisha tried not to watch.  

Not only did the little guy like diving, he went at it again and again.  I was so impressed. 

Later, we were able to get into the smaller pool where Evan, with only a suggestion from Chris, started doing underwater somersaults.  He was a fish, only opening his gills when absolutely necessary.  

A proud grandmother watched it with amazement.  Perhaps Evan, at age 7, has found his sport. 

Then it was pizza at Gallaghers and finally I came home.  I immediately went over to Elaine's and said in a very loud voice, "Last chance, Koala.  I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

The cat took the hint.  We are all locked in for the night.  

Time

In their hurry to be the first to report the Supreme Court's decision on the Affordable Healthcare Act, CNN got the result wrong, announcing that Obamacare was overturned. A mere eight seconds later, the Fox News Network reported the same thing and went into fast and furious reporting about what this would mean to the nation and to the political future of the President.

They were, of course, wrong.   In their rush to get their scoop, the reporters had not taken time to read the full opinion.

It reminded me of the AT&T commercial of a couple staring at their cell phones so they would be the first to know everything.  When a neighbor said a young couple had their baby, she was told "That was so 29 seconds ago."   Throw the baby out, people, it's old news.

Somewhere along the way, time became our masters, shallow knowledge our necessity.

Instead of watching a glorious sunset, people stay inside to say they watched the latest episode  of some TV series as if it won't become a re-run within a month or two.  Instead of spending time playing with their children, they have to know the second it happened who won on Dancing with the Stars or American Idol so they can report it on Facebook, though the result will be on You Tube within  24 hours.  How does it alter anyone's life to miss out on the exact moment things happen?

When I go out camping, I know nothing of current events.  Two weeks later, when I return, they are history and more accurate for being so. 

Why should anyone wait in line to see a movie when the same movie will be in the $2 movie theaters a month later, on DVD a month after that, and on Netflix within six months?  

Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden:  "Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life?  We are determined to be starved before we are hungry."  

And  "Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the rails."

And "Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.  I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is.  Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains."  

Which is a better use of time than either CNN or Fox News managed.