NEW FRIEND, OLD FRIENDS, AND SO LONG TO PORT TOWNSEND

POST # 228

PART 1- NEW FRIEND

Meet my new friend, Bill.

This photo was taken on August 22nd, during our second  of three visits while sitting on the bench I like to stop at along the bike path near the beach, here in Port Townsend.  When Bill walked up this time I said, "Good morning, Bill."  He told me that I had a much better memory than he did which is probably a debatable point.  In any event, he joined me on the bench and we continued our conversation from the previous week.  Now it's time to see just how good my memory is, by writing about some of the topics that Bill and I shared with one another.

Our first visit was initiated by Bill.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see this gentleman approaching the bench, while I sat there reading.  He asked if he could share the bench in order to have a rest.  How could I say no?

After the usual comments about the nice weather etc. which seems to be a standard opening line with new acquaintances, it wasn't long before our conversation moved on to other topics.  It seems like we felt comfortable with each other's company right from the get go.  Bill had worked as a commercial fisherman up in Alaska, prior to settling in Port Townsend with his wife.  He told me that they had met in Gladstone, Australia.  She was an Aussie, but I guess Bill's charm must have convinced her that the best decision that she could possibly make was to marry him and move to North America.  Of course, that's just speculation on my part.  If memory serves, Bill said that they were married in 1978 in Australia.  So after only knowing each other (Bill and me that is) for a few minutes, we had  already found some common ground.  I said to Bill that we were both in Australia at the same time, and I also told him that we had both married Aussie women.  His marriage obviously lasted longer than mine.  He said that his wife died a couple of years ago.  If my math is correct, that would be about a 36 year long marriage.  He beat me by a country mile.  I spared Bill the details of my rather brief marriage.  But here's a bit of trivia.  As has been mentioned before on this blog, somehow I have a memory for dates, and today's date is one of those days.  The year was 1998, and I was on a visit  to Calgary from Melbourne. I made the fateful decision that afternoon to call Jennifer in Melbourne, and ask her to marry me.  The reason I remember the date is easy. August 28th in N. America is August 29th in Melbourne, which happens to be Jennifer's birthday which seemed like a good day to offer a marriage proposal.  My gut instinct at the time was that I probably shouldn't go down this marriage path, but I didn't heed my instinct.   Years later in 2012,  I would experience a similar feeling only moments before making a misstep and tumbling down a mountain.  From now on, I'll try to pay more attention to what my instinct is trying to tell me.  But I digress. Let's get back to Bill.

So now we were talking about travel in general, and Australia specifically.  At one point I mentioned to Bill, that I had originally arrived in Australia as a passenger aboard a cruise ship named the Oriana.
While I am relating this story to him, I can see that he's smiling and  getting all excited, and he begins to tap me on the arm and proceed to tell me that he had been a passenger on the Canberra, which at the time was a sister ship, both belonging to the P & O shipping line.

Amazing.  I've only known Bill now for maybe a half hour at best, and already we've got some  unique things in common.  What are the odds of meeting a total stranger in a town that you're just visiting for a while, only to find out that you both got married to Aussie women in Australia, and both travelled on the same cruise ship line?  Life's little coincidences.

Prior to Bill's departure, I asked if he would mind if I took a photograph of him in order to post it on my blog.  I explained to him what a blog is and he was happy to comply with my request.  By mentioning the blog,  of course I had to talk about the internet.  Bill was familiar with it, however he doesn't use a computer.  I told him of a book I had recently read which explains in detail how the internet is having a negative effect on our memory.  The title of the book is "The Shallows:What the Internet is doing to our brains" by  Nicholas Carr (https://www.amazon.com/Shallows-What-Internet-Doing-Brains/dp/0393339750/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1472448322&sr=8-1&keywords=the+shallows+what+the+internet+is+doing+to+our+brains)

 The book goes way back in time and tells about how humans, prior to the written word, had to have better memories because any knowledge acquired had to be passed down verbally from one generation to the next, but nowadays all we have to do is go onto the internet and "google it" and the information is at our fingertips.  It's a double edged sword.  Easy access to any and all information, has a negative impact on the brain's ability to retain facts.  Bill listened to this explanation, and he said that it made a lot of sense.

  Shortly thereafter, we went our separate ways.  Later on that day I was thinking that it was unfortunate that I didn't ask Bill for a contact address so that I could send him a copy of what I was going to write, and I was trying to think of a way that I could somehow get in touch with him again before I leave town.  He's been living here since the late '70's so surely there would be someone in town who might recognize the photo I took.  Perhaps the library would be a good place to start, or better yet, the post office.  A few days went by as I pondered my dilemma, and then lo and behold, Bill showed up for a third time at my bench along the beach.   Once again we began to reminisce about the land down under and somehow the subject of beer came up.  Why would it not, when two blokes are talking about Australia, after all?  He told me that he still remembers paying only 12 cents for a glass of beer all those years ago.  I mentioned my most recent visit there in 2014/15 and how I had to pay $19.95 for a six pack of beer.  He probably couldn't believe how expensive beer had become in the interim, and quite frankly, neither could I at the time.   He talked about driving in the outback and remembering all of the broken glass along the highway from car windshields, which brought back another forgotten memory for me.  Back then in Australia, car windshields weren't made of safety glass, and so if a stray rock came up and hit your windshield (or windscreen as the Aussies call it), the chances were very good that your glass would shatter.  I remember driving with friends there back in the '70's and if we found ourselves in that situation they would automatically place their fingers onto the windscreen, in the hope that the impact of the incoming rock would be absorbed through their fingers.  I'm not sure if it worked or not, but they seemed to swear by the practice.  Another topic we discussed was tennis.  Bill brought it up.  He said that he used to love watching the tennis, from way back when and he was trying to remember the name of the famous Aussie player.  I said, "are you thinking of Rod Laver?", and right away he agreed.  I said that the main tennis venue in Australia now, is called the Rod Laver arena in Melbourne.  And then he told me a story of when he was living in Gladstone in Queensland, and one day he went to get a haircut.  When he returned home he mentioned where he had had his hair cut, and he said that his sister in law told him that the man who cut his hair was one of Rod Laver's brothers.  I enjoyed that story, as well as all of the stories that Bill was kind enough to share with me.

That about covers all that I can remember from our three conversations, and I'm happy that they are now on the blog and out of my brain.  Once I finish writing for today, I'll make a paper copy of this, and send it to Bill at the address which he gave me on our last visit.  Perhaps I will see him once again before I leave Port Townsend, but if not, I feel grateful to have made his acquaintance  and shared some thoughts together.  Even though we are separated in years by almost 20, we certainly seemed to have a lot in common.  Bill will be 81 on the 24th of November.

And Bill, seeing as you will be reading this soon, I apologize in advance for any errors that my memory may have caused.  I'll blame it on the internet.  Thanks for sharing your time and wisdom with me.



PART 2- OLD FRIENDS

Yesterday I had the pleasure of catching up with some old sailing friends here in town.  Actually, we had a visit on their new boat named Raven.  I originally met Jim and Karen way back in about 2006/7 when I attended a Pacific Seacraft boat rendezvous in Seattle.  At the time, I was interested in a boat that was manufactured by this company, called a Flicka.  The rendezvous was for anyone who either owned or had an interest in Pacific Seacraft boats.  In 2008, Jim and Karen happened to be in Vancouver, and one day I was at work skippering the Aquabus ferry down at Granville Island and the next thing I know, they are standing on the dock.  What a surprise.  We managed to catch up later on that day on their boat.  Since that time we've both had other adventures, and the big one for them was crossing the Pacific from here to New Zealand in Jim's Dana 24, also a Pacific Seacraft.  That particular boat is now up for sale, and they have purchased Raven.

We had only been visiting for maybe ten minutes or so, when Karen asked what I was doing in Port Townsend.  I told her that I was housesitting for a friend who has gone to climb mountains in Alaska for three months.  As soon as she heard that she said, "you mean Dahr?"  What a small world.  If I would have just said that I was housesitting for a friend, the connection wouldn't have been made, but  by mentioning Alaska and mountain climbing it was.  She took a photo of us and emailed it to Dahr.  Won't he be surprised.

We had a good visit for a couple of hours, but the sun was getting lower in the sky and a cool wind had sprung up, so we headed off on our merry ways.  Here's a photo of them in front of Raven.  Nice lighting if I don't say so myself.

And finally, to wrap up today's blog, this will be my last one for a little while from Port Townsend, because I will be moving on late next week.  However it looks like I may have a short house/cat sit coming up later in September back in PT but at a different house, so that may be my final blog from this town that has become a home away from home.  Hey wait a minute, I don't have a home.  I'll miss the tranquility of this place, but such is the life of the homeless housesitter, aka The Thoughtful Wanderer.


living a life of profound acceptance,


Paul
The Thoughtful Wanderer

WATER AND APPLES

POST # 227


Although I have few material possessions, the ones that I do own get used until they are used up.  My clothes would be a good example.  Once they are threadbare, it's time to make a journey to the local thrift store, and shop for a "new" replacement.  Mind you, I do hold the line at underwear and socks.  Thankfully, every thrift store I've been too bar one, in Parksville BC, don't sell recycled underwear and socks.  These two items I purchase new, however they get the same treatment as the rest of my wardrobe.  In other words, by the time I'm finished with them, they're ready for the garbage bin.

This past week I had to purchase a new item.  It didn't have anything to do with clothing however.  Here it is:

In my on going attempt to live a frugal life, when I was browsing the store's cooler, I zeroed in on the cheapest bottle of water.  And lo and behold, the cheapest appears to be the "smartest" water as well.
Why was I buying a new bottle of water?  That's easy.  When I was out for my morning bike ride one day last week, the water bottle that I did have, bounced out of the water holder on the bike, crashed to the ground, and as a result, the top broke off.  Bummer!!!  I had had that particular bottle for probably the better part of a year, if not an entire year.  It got the same treatment as my clothing.  Use it until it's used up.  The broken top ended it's useful life, and now I have SMARTWATER.  Silly me, all these years on planet earth, and I thought that there was only water, the miracle combination of two hydrogen molecules combined with a single oxygen molecule to give us this precious life sustaining liquid.   As I was curious to know what special ingredients this SmartWater had, I decided to read the back of the label when I returned home.

It's somewhat blurry, so I'll write the words out in full:

"clouds get a bad rap.  they are the unsung heroes because they contain nature's purest source of water.  that's why we copied our puffy white friends to create pure, vapor-distilled smartwater.  but we  one-up the clouds by adding electrolytes.  it's a difference you can taste...unless you like the taste of stuff that comes from underground (like spring water).

Well that it explains it.  The Smartwater people have one-uped the clouds.  How's that for the hubris of humans?  We can even improve on the clouds.  Amazing!  And ugh, you sure wouldn't want to drink the "stuff" that comes from underground, water that may have been there for thousands if not millions of years.  Perhaps the smartwater people have a point, especially if you think about the many, many places in the USA, and other places around the world where waste water from fracking for natural gas gets pumped back into these pristine underground aquifers and contaminates them.  The chemical "soup" that makes up this wastewater is a trade secret, thanks to Dick Cheney and some legislation that has come to be known as the Halliburton loophole.  It's legal don't you know.

I walked out to the parking lot and decided right then and there to taste my new smartwater, and it's a good thing that I did, because I couldn't figure out how to open the cap.  Isn't that always the way, once we get used to a certain way to do things, xyz company decides for whatever reason to change the rules.  So there I am, standing in the hot sun, and getting more frustrated  by the second with this damn cap.  Finally I decide to go back into the store to get the assistance of the person behind the counter.  He appears to be the age of a millennial, so no doubt he'll be able to figure this cap out.  I sheepishly ask, "How do I open this cap?"  He looks at me like I've just arrived from another planet, takes the water bottle, and with a flick of his thumb, he has solved the problem.  Red-faced, I thank him for his assistance and hastily leave the store.

Here is a photo of the cap:

When I see it close up, it's easy to tell where the small plastic strip that caused all my grief, was located.  It couldn't be more than maybe a half inch long at the very most, and extremely thin. When a 60 something baby boomer stares at the cap, while standing in the store parking lot, and without his reading glasses handy, it was just one big plastic blur.  Saved by a millennial.  

In other news, it's been a good week for apples.  There is an abandoned property close to town, and I found out from a local that has a framing shop across the highway from the property that there is no one living there any longer.  There is a wonderful apple tree in the yard, chock full of ripening apples.  I hate to see good fruit go to waste, so I grabbed a kitchen ladder, made an apple picking tool out of a length of bamboo, an old sunmaid raisin container, and duck tape, and headed out to do some picking.    

The job only took about 15 minutes, and I had plenty of apples.  This was actually my second visit to the tree. The first time was with my friend Mary, when she came over for a visit from Bellingham, however we didn't have the special apple picking tool, so all those big sweet apples near the top of the tree were out of reach.  Not any more though.  As a thank you, I returned to the framing store the next day and gave the lady a bag full of apples.  She was delighted, and it felt good to share them around.

The Apple Picking Tool

Arriving home I decided to put the apples on the counter so that I could take a photo.

And there's plenty more where these came from.  In fact, as I write today's blog, most of these apples have been washed, cored and sliced up, and are now sitting in freezer bags in my friend's freezer.  Last night I went back for the third visit to the tree, and brought home a similar amount.  I love apples, and I usually have two per day.  They're especially delicious when picked straight from the tree, and the next best thing is that they're free.  The quantity of apples shown in this photo would cost about $50 at today's prices.

Finally for today, let's end with a good old David Bowie tune.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCgzX7vwlFk

living a life of profound acceptance,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

BIRTHDAY ROAD SIGN, GUY IN PORT TOWNSEND, THE BELLINGHAM RENDEZVOUS AND ICE CREAM AS WELL

POST # 226

Yesterday afternoon I drove from here in Port Townsend, south to Olympia.  I'll get to why in a moment, but first the road sign.  Meandering along highway 101, I came across this mileage signpost. Seeing as my destination was Olympia, at first glance I only noticed the number 55, the year of my birth, but then I saw 33 as well, which is the day and month of my birth.  What are the odds??  It's just one of those funny coincidences in life.  Naturally I had to stop, get out of the truck and take a photo, as I'm pretty sure that I'll never pass this way again.

OK, now on to the reason for my journey.  My friend Guy is on another speaking tour of the Pacific Northwest, and I was asked to help out with some of his travel arrangements, and a place to stay for the night as well as being the m/c for his lecture last night.

We travelled directly back here to my housesit location after the lecture was completed.  It was rather late, and we barely had enough time to gobble down some ice cream prior to crashing for the night.

Then it was an early start this morning so that we could get to the ferry on time.  I cooked up some of my famous fruit oatmeal(FROATMEAL), and before too long we were on our way in the fog.  There was time to shoot a quick video prior to leaving.

It was a "pea souper" all the way across to Coupeville which takes about 30 minutes, but a bit longer this morning due to the fog.  Seeing as there was nothing to look at, Guy had a chance to have a second breakfast of homemade  apple pie, that my friend Mary had baked.

What, no ice cream???

 By the time we got close to interstate 5, the fog had disappeared, and we continued our journey north to Bellingham in order to rendezvous with Guy's next driver, an American lady named Christyne (with a y) who lives in Pemberton B. C.
How strange, a Canadian in America, handing off Guy to an American in Canada.  It has an almost palindromish feel to it, but maybe that's a bit of a stretch, unlike the sign I pointed out to Guy last night on the highway which is a true palindrome.  The sign reads:

NEVERODDOREVEN

This Canadian/American hand off wasn't odd and even, it was just odd; not the people involved but the Canadian/American thing.  Here we are in front of Trader Joe's just prior to going our separate ways.  Please note, that the missing ice cream from the previous apple pie photo has now magically appeared in this one.

So the Americans are now in Canada, and the lone Canadian is back here in Port Townsend.  It's been a rather long 24 hours, without much interruption from sleep.  Sleep, who needs sleep?  

And even though it was only a short visit, it was very worthwhile.  Our time was well spent, unlike some of the people I see on a daily basis now, roaming around with their "devices" and playing Pokemon Go.  This mindless/mind numbing activity is depicted in the cartoon below.

Finally, to round out today's blog, here is a photo of a bumper sticker I saw this past week.  It has a distinct "Bernie Sanders" look to it but the words really cracked me up.  Seems like pretty good advice when I think about all the hype regarding this upcoming farce which they call a presidential election.  Maybe the cartoon characters above, aren't really chasing Pokemon Go, but are instead looking at the image below on their smart phones.

living a life of profound acceptance,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

PS: Due to the fact that I am writing this while tired, I plead guilty to any spelling and/or grammatical errors

BREAKER

POST # 225

This is Breaker.

Breaker died last week.  Breaker was one of my bonehead buddies in the Yukon.  I don't like this news.  This news makes me sad.  But I accept this news.

A couple of days ago, my friends in the Yukon sent me a short email to inform me about Breaker.  I'm quite sure that they are much sadder than I am.  Breaker was a wonderful companion, and like most Border collies he was as smart as a whip.  Breaker shared his home in Bear Creek with two of his siblings, Skidder and Roxy, a furball named Trouble, and his two, two legged companions, Jannice and Terry.  On occasion, another sibling, named Deuce would come for a visit for a day or two, and when I was up there this past January to housesit, his mother Becca had moved in full time.  My friends also mentioned in their email that Becca died back in March, so now there is just Skidder and Roxy remaining, and of course Trouble the furball.

I love all of these boneheads, but for whatever reason, right from the get go, Breaker made the decision to be my best buddy.  Prior to Becca moving in, when there were just the three amigos, it was always Breaker who would try to get as close to me as possible, and if either Roxy or Skidder tried to change that arrangement, Breaker would somehow figure out how to worm his way through the other two, so that he could be right next to me.

 As I mentioned a moment ago, he was smart.  When I had the opportunity to housesit back in 2010,  I can remember Breaker the "jail breaker" as I came to think of him for a while.  My friends had a large part of their property adjacent to the road, fenced off.  It was a great place to put the three amigos, so that they could be outside but still on the property.  But the system never worked quite as well as it should have, because somehow, Breaker would find a way to get out.  This escape technique seemed to be above the pay grade of Skidder and Roxy, but not Breaker.  After two or three jail breaks, I conceded that Breaker was smarter than I was, and I gave up on the idea of trying to keep him in that enclosure.  He was trying to tell me something, that being, "I'm smarter than you, and I'd rather be with you than separated from you, even though you're not as smart as I am."  Maybe he was thinking that if he could just spend enough time with the stupid human, that some of his intelligence would finally rub off on me.  I'm not sure if he was successful.

The three amigos and I would spend many hours walking around on the frozen tailings ponds that are situated immediately behind the property.  Occasionally I would find an old stick to use as a walking aid.  With the four of us roaming around out there, we would attract the attention of Laski, the neighbour's German Shepard.  Laski was focused on grabbing my walking stick, and when that happened, Breaker would be the one to butt in immediately.  Whether he was trying to protect me, or if he just didn't like Laski, I'm not sure.  But it wouldn't be too long before, Laski would turn tail and head back home, and the four of us were left to continue our wanderings around in the snow.

I've lost track of the number of nights that the boneheads and I would climb up to one of our favourite viewing spots amongst the tailings piles, sit down in the snow, and just be.  Up above, a star studded sky, the best I've ever seen, and on some evenings, the Aurora Borealis would be on display, with colours and sounds that were literally out of this world.  We were content to sit there, and hang out for maybe an hour or so before heading back home.  Of the three boneheads, Breaker would be the one sitting closest to me.  Always.

One more memory from 2010.  Terry had provided me with his work van to drive to town and back, and I would usually load up Breaker, Skidder and Roxy so that they could come along for the ride.  I would open the door to the rear section of the van for them, and no matter which one  initially got to the passenger seat first, it would eventually be Breaker that somehow managed to commandeer the seat.  And, if at some point in the journey either of the other two tried to even get close to the passenger seat, Breaker would growl and sneer at them, just to let them know that he would be sitting there for the entirety of the trip, thank you very much.  Of the three, Skidder is the largest,  but even he would be intimidated by Breaker's performance, and before long, both he and Roxy would settle back down in the back of the van, resigned to the fact that for this journey at least, Breaker would keep the front seat.  This would happen on every trip, and I would get a chuckle out of it each and every time.

And finally, one more Breaker story to round things out, a story that I am not sure that my friends would like to know about, but here it is.  Normally, the boneheads sleep in the kitchen.  The master bedroom is next to the kitchen.  I tended to leave the door slightly ajar.  All the boneheads would be settled down for the night on their respective cushions, and I would head to bed.  By morning, every single one of them would be in the bedroom with me, and it would be Breaker on the bed, with the other three (this included Becca at the time) curled up in various locations on the floor.  While I was asleep, there was a kitchen conspiracy that resulted in a mass migration to the bedroom.  I made sure to do a complete vacuum prior to my friends returning home, in order to destroy any of the hairy Border collie evidence.

I have recently re-read a book that I first came across in 1981.  The title is, "On Death and Dying" by Elizabeth Kübler-Ross.  The main premise of the book is that when a loss is suffered, a person has to go through five stages of grief, those being, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance.  Try as we may, to short circuit these stages of grief, it remains key to helping the individual at some future point, move on with their lives.  The wisdom contained in this book has been very beneficial over the years.  Grief from loss is a very personal thing, and it's different for everyone.  I can only imagine what my friends are going through, as a result of losing Breaker and Becca, but maybe in time, after they have worked through the depression phase, the acceptance phase will arrive, and thoughts of Breaker, that at the moment may bring a tear, will turn to thoughts of Breaker that bring a smile and a laugh.  I sure hope so.

In the meantime, there are still these two boneheads, featured in the photo directly below, with Roxy on the left and Skidder on the right.  Maybe these two are looking at my friends as if to say, hey you guys, we're still here and we still love you.  So let's go for a walk and reminisce about our sibling and friend, Breaker.

I'll close out this blog with three short video clips that I took back in January.  The first one, takes place in the kitchen, as the boneheads and I prepare for a walk, and of course,  Breaker is almost on my lap.  The second is on the walk, and the final one, was taken just moments before I left Bear Creek.  In it, you can tell that Breaker doesn't want me to leave, and looking at it now, it brings a few tears to my eyes.

living a life of profound acceptance,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

The Videos

PRE-WALK

THE WALK

LEAVING BREAKER

ROADSIDE RUBBISH

POST # 224

If you spend enough time riding a bike along a highway, as I have over the years, you get to see all sorts of flotsam and jetsam in the ditch as you ride on by.  Coffee cups, water bottles, cardboard, bits and pieces of plastic, broken glass, smashed up car parts, old tires,  and of course the ubiquitous beer can.  Most of these items have been jettisoned out of car windows.  I guess people just can't wait to find a garbage/trash/rubbish bin to fling away their used items.

However, the other day as I was on my morning ride, something different appeared in the ditch, a couple of miles from home. In spite of its mangled condition, I recognized it as a smart phone.  I decided to stop, and go back and pick it up. Why?  My first thought was to take it home and open it up to see what it looked like on the inside.  As can been seen by the following images, I don't think it is repairable. :-)

Back in the days when I flew airplanes, one of the first items on the check list after sitting in the cockpit was to look at the maintenance card to see what work may have been done on the aircraft and also to see if there were any unserviceable items, and if there were, these were marked U/S which denoted unserviceable.  From the appearance of this smart phone I would definitely have to say that in my professional opinion,  it is well and truly U/S.

Then, a couple of days later as I was on my homeward bound journey, I saw this item in the ditch.

Again, I rode on by, but then my curiosity got the better of me, and I turned around and stopped to pick it up.  It was obviously a battery of some sort.  I got back on my bike and had only peddled a few more feet along the road when I saw this.

Both items were manufactured by Samsung. Hmmmm, I wonder if they fit together? Sure enough, I popped the battery into the back of the cell phone and voila, it powered up nicely, and I now have myself a working phone.  But now what to do?  I guess I could keep it, but I don't want a cell phone.  I doubt if I could ever find the owner.  That would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.  And besides, why would someone throw a cell phone out of their car window?  In fact, it appears that two separate individuals threw two separate phones out of windows on two separate days.  What are the odds?

How ironic that the man who choses to live life without a cell phone, now has two of them.  The smart phone will be heading for the garbage, but I am not quite sure what to do with the Samsung phone.  Perhaps the owner will call, and I can drop it off somewhere for them.  Who knows?  Seeing as we live in a world where people seem to have their entire life wrapped up in their cell phone, I imagine that there is someone out there who would like to get their phone back.  I guess I'll wait and see if it rings, and take it from there.

On a totally unrelated matter, July 25th was an anniversary of sorts for The Thoughtful Wanderer.  Back on that day in 1991, at the Brighton Town Hall in Melbourne Australia, I became an Australian citizen.  The town hall was packed with a number of people like myself all becoming newly minted Aussie citizens, and there was a gallery of friends and family members in attendance to witness the proceedings.  Although celebratory, the mood was also very serious, serious that is until my friend Jacqueline while watching me accept my citizenship certificate from the Mayor, yelled out, "Good on ya mate."  That brought the house down in fits of laughter, and I think it was appreciated by all in attendance.  The ceremony was followed up by a party back at my place, with plenty of friends, plenty of drinks, and plenty of Aussie foods.  It certainly was a memorable evening.  Wow, an entire quarter of a century ago.  You know you're getting older when...

Time now to head back out to the garden to continue working on my latest project.

living a life of profound acceptance, 

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

MY DAILY BIKE RIDE

POST # 223

There's nothing like my daily morning bike ride here in Port Townsend, and I find I am at my happiest when I am riding.  My friend Dahr was kind enough to leave me with a wonderful bike to ride, and I've taken full advantage of it during my time here.

The weather has cooperated as well.  On most days there is a slight overcast which is great because it keeps the temperature cooler for riding, however this morning it was all sunshine and blue sky.

I roll out of the driveway usually around 9:30am and peddle down the gravel road to the highway.

On some mornings,  the neighbour's dog,  "Tank" is out in the yard so I say good morning to him as I ride on by. But today, Tank was returning from a walk with his owner, as I was coming in from my ride, so I had the opportunity to take a photo.

I enter on to the highway (Hastings Ave) just before mile marker post 4, and I'm on my way.

Soon after my entrance on to Hastings Ave, I pass by a horse boarding farm on my left.

  After I pass the horses and say hello to them, I come to a slight uphill grade, which is a good opportunity to get in the groove, and concentrate on some deep breathing to help power me to the crest of the hill.   This is followed by a coast down to Cape George Road at which point I start heading in an easterly direction towards the beach.

 A little less than two miles along this road and it's time to veer off onto the Larry Scott trail.  I stay on this magnificent tree lined trail all the way to the beach.  Here is a video of part of the trail.

https://vimeo.com/72697552  (the bench I rest at is shown at 2:53 of the video)

Somewhere along the trail, I have made friends with a local furball that comes out to greet me occasionally.  I never know when he's going to be there, but if he shows up, I always take the time to stop.  I appreciate spending a bit of time with him, and I think that he enjoys it as well.  Today, he was a no show.

Continuing on, the trail crosses underneath highway 20, and then it slowly descends the remainder of the way to the seaside.  I have my favourite bench to sit at, and it is here that I take a break, open up a book, and spend about a half hour or so, reading.

 I'm always entertained by the seagulls plucking shellfish from the shore, then flying upwards in a steep trajectory, letting go of their catch, so that it falls back to the earth, and hopefully cracks open, so that they can have a feed.  Sometimes it takes more than one try.  Once they've accomplished their task, they are immediately surrounded by a group of crows, looking for a free lunch.  The typical m/o for the crows is to surround the seagull, with one crow sneaking up from behind to nip at the seagull's tail feathers, which may or may not allow one of his buddies to then jump in and get some of the seafood.  It's always fun to watch, but I don't imagine that the seagull enjoys being ganged up on.  Aside from these feathered friends, there are always plenty of swallows around which nest in the cliff side.  They are wonderful flyers, and it is a pure joy to watch their skill as the dart and weave through the air.

After I've had a snack to eat, and a bit of a read, it's time to once again mount the trusty treadly* and begin my journey home.  The gentle outward bound downhill run to the beach is now reversed, so I get a better work out going home.

A sign by the side of the road on my journey home reminds me that there are still people out there  that think that voting actually makes any difference.

In total,  the round trip journey takes me about an hour on average,  25 minutes outbound and 35 minutes inbound.   A quick stop at the mail box which is located on the highway to check for any mail, then it's back on to the gravel road and home.

The round trip distance is 12 miles, just over 19 kilometers which is 133 kilometers/week.  It's not much but it is every day, so there's something to be said for that. When I road down the west coast from Vancouver to Los Angeles, I averaged about 100 kilometers per day.  However, that was 29 years ago.  The body seems to endure more at the age of 32 than at 61.  I guess the only way to find out if I could ride 100 kilometers/day again, is to give it a try.  I'll have to really think about that.

  Time to cool off now and have a well deserved breakfast, before I continue on with my day, which at the moment still includes some major weeding projects.

*treadly: Australian slang for bicycle


living a life of profound acceptance,

Paul
The Thoughtful Wanderer

MASTER WEEDER AND A BABY DEER

POST # 222

Two two two.  There's a number with symmetry. And a palindrome as well. I wonder if this blog will still be going at the number 333? That would be approximately two years and three months from now, give or take.  Only time will tell.

Enough of that.  A postcard arrived in the mail today, from my friend who is in Alaska at the moment, while I housesit for him.

It's a photo that includes an albino seal pup. As a funny coincidence, the photo was taken on St. Paul Island in Alaska, as shown on the postmark below.

While my friend spends his time galavanting in Alaska, I have been busy working on becoming a master weeder back here in Port Townsend.  It's now a part of my daily routine, and surprisingly I am beginning to enjoy it.  As there seems to be no end to this task, it's good that I am having fun digging in the dirt.  Here is just one of the projects currently underway, on the east side of the house.

Slowly but surely, the task is coming to completion.

It's looking better by the day.  Time to get back out there and get my hands dirty once again.
But to finish off this blog, here's another video with one of the deer babies, which I took just a few hours ago.  I get plenty of laughs from these wonderful creatures.

Happy Trails,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer