July 30, 2024- The intrepid bicyclist said he’d taken eight days to make the trip from Tucson, to his former residence. He happens to be a paraplegic, with pretty solid looking steel prostheses. He told me a few stories about the stately eight room home, with two stone “horse quarters” on the property (which are rented out as apartments). He lived in one of the horse quarters, but was now just waiting for the property’s owner to show up, that he might spend a few days there. Eric had come home.
I am ever in awe of people who don’t let life’s mishaps deter them from going on. Most of us plan carefully and are having to make a modicum of adjustments in our daily and long-term activities. As long as we are careful with our health, things go on as normal. The presence of those who are “differently abled”, then , can be initially jarring, but also can serve to affirm the greater goodness of all that is here for us in this life. So, we watch the Paralympics and encourage those with artificial limbs, developmental challenges and loss of sight or hearing, to the best of our abilities.
Having lived with a woman who could no longer walk, and eventually, no longer move a muscle, I can say that the inherent worth of human beings never diminishes. The love we have for each other does not depend on physical presence, or even, as I am finding out, on proximity. Our souls are ever present, until the day they are carried by our spirits to a place just on the other side of a thin veil. Baha’u’llah said that the departed souls are “closer to you than your life vein.”. Penny was always able to communicate, to the time of her departure. So, in a more limited way, was my mother. They still do, from the other side.
When I came back along, after stopping in at Raven Cafe, Eric was settled in for the night. I wished him a safe evening. He replied that he was where he needed to be, and would stay right there. Indeed, we are each, at any given moment, where we need to be.
July 29,2024- It was once known as the “Loneliest Highway in America”; not any more.
Several times today, an “intrepid” driver would attempt to pass several vehicles, along Nevada’s long section of U.S. 95. Most had to be let back in, either a third or half-way through the queue, usually with an approaching semi-trailer truck as the impetus. At least the drivers had two things going for them: 1. They weren’t trying to pass on a a double yellow; 2. There was no ad-hoc scold trying to block them from re-entering the line.
Back in the day, we were taught not to try and pass anyone on a two-lane highway, unless there was at least a half-mile of visible clearance: No approaching vehicles on a straight shot; no curves or hills; no animals or road debris. That was still mostly in evidence, yesterday, but there were also the heat (not everyone has quality AC), schedules (“I need to be in Las Vegas by 5 p.m.!”) and cranky family members, who couldn’t be necessarily counted on to be patient until Eddie World, or Circus Circus, was reached. There was also the detour effect: Many travelers were on this route because I-5 and I-84 (the major north-south routes in the West) were closed in spots, due to raging wildfires. So, too was US 395, essentially from Mono Lake northward, due to the smoke from the Park Fire.
My route between Prescott and Carson City has usually followed U.S. 95, with several favoured stops in the routine. They were made today; Breakfast at Red Hut, on Carson’s south side; lunch (which doubled as supper) from Beans & Brews ( a small cafe run by students and staff from Tonopah High School), an ice cream break at Eddie World (Beatty’s answer to Buccee’s) and a gas pit stop at one of three stations in Metro Las Vegas. Others, like wildlife viewing at Walker Lake, checking in at the Alien Store, Amargosa and a meal at Westside Lilo’s, Seligman were foregone.
It has been a rewarding and affirming series of visits, even if not all problems were resolved to the satisfaction of everyone I visited, but life is a process, not an event, and I, albeit an eternal optimist, saw positivity.
Now my focus is largely on Home State matters, on downsizing at Home Base I and making sure all is ready for my 1-2 months across the Pacific.
July 28, 2024, Carson City- Little Man wanted to learn the simple game, which other members of the family were playing. So, he was given a seat at the table and the process was explained very simply. He’s a bright child, so it didn’t take long, and he was fully participating in the game-actually doing quite well at it. Allowances were made for his attention span, so he came and went-taking care of other things that had his interest.
His older sister was involved in the game, and played more consistently. A household chore took her away from the table, and that was more than okay. Peace in any house depends upon respect, across the board. When it later came time for her to spend quality time with her father, as well, that took priority.
There was a calm and very civil air in the house today. I sense it has much to do with the departure of some rather troubled and uncivil neighbours. Toxicity can spread, almost unannounced, insidiously. It was the first time, in quite a while, that the head of the household felt comfortable working in his own back yard, and the relief was palpable. These are good people, who have much love to give to their children and to extended family.
We are each individuals and will always have a sense of separation from even those closest to us. At the same time, we need one another, and pretending otherwise just leads to an unnatural divide. Coming together requires respect, in both directions. Miscreants can be brought into the fold, but on the terms of those who are practicing virtuous behaviour, not the other way around. There is a story that an early Baha’i told, of a saintly man and a ruffian. The saintly one told the ne’er do well that he could help him turn into a respected member of society, “in a month’s time”. The thug replied, ” I can corrupt you, in less than a day.” Both were right, underscoring the need for virtues to be instilled in children, and modeled in a consistent manner, by all significant adult role models in their view. Fortitude and self-discipline are needed, in withstanding the temptations thrown out by such as the miscreant in the story.
I am relieved that the two children, who I love very much, will no longer have to endure the nefariousness next door-and that everyone will be able to show the love for one another that has never been far below the surface, even in times of tension. This has been a wondrous cap to a very fruitful journey. Tomorrow, I head back to Home Base I.
July 27, 2024, Susanville, CA- The river that was named for Susan Roop is flowing nicely. The town that was named for the daughter of the area’s first settler is thriving, despite the fires that plague its surroundings. It is a sprawling, but comfortable town; auto-centered, but fairly easy to walk, as long as one doesn’t mind the 3/4 mile that exists between cross walks, along U.S. Highway 395, in the downtown sector.
I am comfortably ensconced in Apple Motel, with an appropriate scene outside my back window.
Chinese apple tree, Apple Inn, Susanville
The reserved, but kindly, couple were almost apologetic, but requested a cash payment for tonight’s lodging. A fire, started several days ago, by a deranged man who wanted to destroy the forest, is still far from here, but its smoke has limited visibility and activity, from just east of here, southwest to Quincy, and north to Bartle. It has rattled the residents of Paradise, which burned to the ground six years ago. It has closed Lassen Volcanic National Park and is threatening some iconic structures in that national treasure.
I was intending to re-visit Lassen today, along with several dozen other people, but a lunatic had other plans, and so we adjust. I was born under the fire sign, but have spent my life determined to use fire properly, as a tool and not as a weapon. The Wabenaki, from whom I am partially descended, employed fire carefully, to keep forests in order and in a state of health. I have taken that lesson seriously and have acted accordingly, in my own dealings with the element.
This area, from Mount Shasta to Pyramid Lake, strikes me as being sacred ground. It ought to be a place of reverence. Many of the people here in Susanville certainly feel this way-including the owners of this motel, the operators and wait staff at Kopper Kettle, the family restaurant where I got enough food to last me for three meals and the young people who were out and about, making the best of the slightly smoky downtown air. The sense of reverence was clear, in downtown Weed, from which Shasta may be seen, in its glory.
Mount Shasta, viewed from the north.
Reverence was ubiquitous in Old Station, a spot along the Pacific Crest Trail, where through hikers can get a good meal, shower and do laundry (I took advantage of that last one). It even showed in the confusion that a solitary driver expressed, when I signaled to him to turn back on the road to Lassen. It was most evident in the five wildland fire units that headed towards the national park, with the aim of defending places like Manzanita Lake and the Mineral Museum.
Lassen, Chico, Bartle and all threatened points in between, will rebuild from any fire damage-as communities most often do. Paradise has, and will again, if the Park Fire finds its way there. Lahaina is making steady progress, and so are the communities around the Mediterranean that have suffered great loss, in the wildfires of 2022-23. I am an eternal optimist and I am not alone.
July 24, 2024, Kent, WA- The fiords are both forbidding and welcoming at the same time, and I can imagine that the navigators taking us safely to port today must exercise the same caution, around rocks, shoals and marine mammals, as had the kayakers who first came here from Alaska, thousands of years ago, or the various Europeans in their great carracks and frigates, in the final stages of the “Age of Exploration”, in the Eighteenth Century.
It took forever, it seemed, to leave Saltery Bay, the southern edge of the district of Powell River. Someone got carried away and overbooked the late morning ferry, resulting in dozens of people having to wait until the 2:30 sailing. I was one of those who got there after the cutoff. So were the demure woman in the car behind me, and the boisterous, overwrought guy behind her, who blared his car’s horn at the slightest provocation, until the gate guard informed him that he would be asked to find another way to get to his destination, if this were to continue. 2:30 came, though, as 2:30s always do, and we were looking at the scenes below, in short order.
Approaching Earls Cove, on British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast. (Above and next three photos)
Before too long, I was in Halfmoon Bay, the blowhard having zoomed past, at his first opportunity and the sweet lady just going on, once I turned left, onto this property.
The little bit o’ heav’n, Halfmoon Bay, BC
My hosts over the past two days present a reassuring picture for the next two decades of this life. David and Carol are keeping active, both physically and mentally-adjusting to the challenges that advanced maturity, as I prefer to call it, bring to the best-lived of lives.
My hosts, on the Sunshine Coast
I spent much of the past two days in their company, going along for an errand trip to town and joining in a devotional, yesterday morning. Our meals were simple, but David is a healthful cook and presents balanced fare. I can’t top his fish, ginger and rice porridge.
My assistance was with the few things that they cannot do on their own. A key to being successful, in the ninth and tenth decades of life, lies in not giving up those chores and actions that are still within one’s power-even while facing the limitations that nature imposes. I visited with Carol, in her quilting studio and helped with a small item-putting a new battery in her wall clock.
A quilting studioHeirloom embroidery. The calligraphy is in Arabic script: “God is the All-Glorious”.
The small flower beds add the ambiance of the British countryside. This is not hard, as things grow easily here-despite the thinness of the topsoil in a rain forest environment.
Shrubbery and forest co-exist. The shrubs actually help the soil become deeper and more stable, when the leaves fall and are left to become humus. Evergreens need this sort of symbiosis.
I took a short (5 km) hike in the surrounding area, above Halfmoon Bay. The loop road offers a fine cross-section of mainland rain forest, akin to that on Vancouver Island, as well as those of southeast Alaska and the Olympic Peninsula, of Washington State.
Gateway to Trout Lake RoadRain forest off Trout Lake RoadBritish Columbia is increasing fire-wise education, as the past several years have brought horrendous wild fire, even in the rain forest. (As I was hiking in Halfmoon Bay, yesterday, there was a massive wildfire wreaking havoc in Jasper, Alberta, in the Rockies, well to the northeast of here, but still gripping attention across Canada-and beyond.)A local teen hangout, on the Bay side.
Halfmoon Bay also has a small beach, and a general store.
Some surprising items may be found here. I picked up a package of Filipino spring rolls, for David and cashew cheese, for Carol.
Around 9 a.m., it was time to head down to Langdale, and the ferry to the Vancouver area. Again, in short order, I was back in the land of hustle/bustle-but no city stopover ensued, until I got here, to the suburban climes of Kent.
Here are a few more scenes of the Sunshine Coast>
Norwest Bay, from lower Sechelt, BC.Horseshoe Bay, just northwest of Vancouver. (Above and below)
Onward I went, past the city of Vancouver, through the US Border, with minimal ado and stopped at the delightful Newsroom Restaurant, in the border town of Lynden, WA. Two lovely servers, working as a team, brought a small basket that satisfied my fish and chips craving. I passed on the ice cream, though I’m sure it’s delectable.
Bypassing crowded I-5, I took a more leisurely drive down WA Highway 9, only encountering rush hour between Redmond and Kent. Oh, well, some things can’t really be avoided. Golden Kent Motel is spacious and clean,and I have the joy of a kitchenette. Tomorrow will see me further down the road towards Astoria, which is still calling.
July 23, 2024, Halfmoon Bay, BC- The excited children swore they had just seen harbor seals diving down to get fish, near the closed-off Amphitrite Point Lighthouse. It well could have been, as humans can’t get close enough to the actual lighthouse to disturb any marine animals, but the field of vision is certainly clear enough.
Amitrite Point, UclueletAmitrite Lighthouse, Ucluelet. It is rather compact, but from its vantage point on the headland, the job got done.
Just north of Amitrite is Little Beach. From this small cove, one may gaze out southwestward. This is not the southern edge of Vancouver Island-that would be Victoria, from which one could see the Olympic Peninsula, on a crystal clear day. From Little Beach, there is nothing but ocean, all the way to Japan-from which the currents brought debris from the Fukushima earthquake and tsunami.
The westward view, from Little Beach, UclueletLittle Beach, UclueletA lusher view of Amitrite Point-the trailhead of Wild Pacific Trail. Lighthouse Loop, which begins at Amitrite Point, is one of two segments of the “WP”, and is 2.6 km. The other segment goes from Big Beach to Rocky Bluffs (5 km, each way) and has a 1 km spur to the Ancient Cedars. I had a ferry to catch, so Yes, I “missed the Ancient Cedars”-though not entirely. Cathedral Grove presented a second chance, en route to Comox.
First, though, was a fine, lightly-milky bowl of seafood chowder, at Cedar Grill. Soup lunches have hit the spot lately, and this was no exception. It had the feel of Puget Sound-style chowder, with halibut, clams, scallops and lobster in the bowl.
Cathedral Grove, near Kennedy Lake,BC. Pardon the sideways view-WP has no provision for rotating.
Once past Port Alberni, I was back on the eastern shore of Vancouver Island. Around Deep Bay, there are several spots to enjoy the calmness of the Inside Passage.
Rest area, near Deep Point, Vancouver IslandBuckley Bay, looking towards Denman IslandOnce at Comox, I was able to relax a bit at the ferry terminal. Here is the jetty, pointing eastward. It was a smooth ride, and a trio of us spotted a bowhead whale spouting, off the starboard bow. The whale was almost guiding us.
As it happened, once in Powell River, Sportage was the first vehicle off the boat, and so I bid farewell to Vancouver Island and hail to the Sunshine Coast. I was soon at Marland Motel, and in a clean, comfortable room, despite Google trying to tell me that the place was closed! Not so, according to the owner, who was grateful for those of us who checked in and stayed the night!
July 22, 2024, Halfmoon Bay, BC- The earnest young guide touted West Coast Trail, a strenuous 75-mile trail that incorporates just about every skill a wildland fire fighter, or candidate for the Survivor reality series, would need in order to meet with success. He is in university, and so has not set aside his own time to do the trek-but I could see in his eyes that the will is there. The trail’s northern terminus is near Bamfield, southeast of the Ucluelet-Tofino main segment of this Reserve. Its southern trailhead is just northeast of Port Renfrew, which itself is 110 km west northwest of Victoria. The route is on par with Newfoundland’s East Coast Trail, Ireland’s Wild Atlantic, the Florida Trail, Rim-to-Rim in the Grand Canyon and Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula Trail. It would be a good prep for an Appalachian, Pacific Crest, Continental Divide, Colorado, or Arizona Scenic trek.
My own short hikes today gave me a good sense of what a dedicated exploration of the area would entail. Stops were at Radar Hill, Grice Bay, Combers Beach, Rainforest Trail and Kwisitis Visitor Center (where the young man was touting the trail.)
Here are scenes from those spots.
Approach to Radar Hill. This site has the remnants of a World War II era Canadian Forces radar station, which kept watch for any Japanese incursions into Canadian airspace.
Canada was a key member of the Allied forces in the Korean War, as well. This plaque commemorates the Canadian Forces’ landing at Kapyong.
Commemorative ciinul for Radar Station. Like indigenous people in the United States, First Nations people in Canada were all-in, for defending the homeland during wartime.
Grice Bay lies about three kilometers east of the main Pacific Rim (Tofino-Ucluelet) Highway. It’s a major recreational fishing area, as one might expect, and there were quite a few boats being launched, while I was checking the place out.
View of Grice Bay from the west.Southwest view of Grice BayDolphins were moving about the bay-also looking for fish.Incinerator Rock is a spot popular with surfers, just north of Rainforest Trail and Combers Beach.
The trail to Combers Beach has several elements of the rain forest, in and of itself.
Looking at these giant ferns transported me to the Silurian Era.Huckleberries abound at Combers Beach.
Driftwood forts are everywhere at Pacific Rim. Combers Beach reminded me of Kalaloch, Washington, in that respect. (Next two photos)
This looks like a fair shelter from a storm.
The surf at Combers looks as enticing as any I’ve seen, north of Doheny. The beach is famous for its riptides, and guidance on how to handle a riptide is prominently displayed here.
Incoming tide, Combers Beach
Next up was Rainforest Trail. It was not really redundant, after the Combers experience, reinforcing the importance of recognizing the fragility of both the water table and the soil. Water storage is not strong here, because the soil is so thin. For communities like Tofino and Uculuet, this means taking strong conservation measures, despite the high average yearly rainfall. Rainforests endure more droughts than one might think.
Canopies help to preserve water, by limiting sunlight.
Red cedars, Rainforest Trail, Pacific Rim.Sitka spruce coexist nicely with red cedars.Saplings, springing up, guard the soil’s moisture even more.
Finally, at Kwisitis, there was a feast of driftwood and black basalt.
Wickawinnish Beach, KwisitisBasalt outcroppings, Kwisitis
In this Visitor Center, we learned much about the sacredness with which the Tla-o-qui-aht and neighbouring nations approach the whale hunt, to this day. The bowhead is taken with the same reverence that other Indigenous hunters approach the hunting of bison, deer or elk. The entire animal is put to use, once the kill is made, and there was/is a strict limit on the hunt.
The balance of nature weighs on the minds of all who wish to see our Planet thrive. The Nuu-cha-hulth-aht, of Ucluelet, are no exception.
July 21, 2024, Powell River,BC- I must have looked like a duck out of water, clad in t-shirt and shorts, in 55 F (12.7 C) and cloudy weather. A Tofino pull-over hoodie presented itself, and so the duck was back in the water, in short order. The few small children present appeared to breathe a sigh of relief. The adults, being the flinty sort, were more “Well now, that shows there’s a light on upstairs, after all, eh?” Thus it goes, when one finds slivers of foggy dew, after days of high heat, even ten kilometers inland.
Tofino, and its sister town, Ucluelet, are the north and south anchors of Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, western Vancouver Island’s well-visited gem. I first heard of the place, when sent a recording of a young girl prodigy from there, and was drawn to its artsy vibe. Friends who had been to the area corroborated this rather laid back aura, but said it was getting somewhat more commercialized. So, as with any other place that sets forth competing reputations, I had to go see for myself.
This brief break from Baha’i-centered visits took me to Whalers on the Point Guest House, at Tofino’s north end. The name refers to the whale hunting traditions of the Tla-o-qui-aht (“Clayoquat”, in English parlance) First Nation and their neighbours along V.I.’s west coast, as well as of the Makah people, across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The large and comfortable, family-friendly hostel was a beehive of activity, especially in and around the kitchen. The ambiance, though, was most welcoming.
Between an evening sunset stroll (at 9:45 p.m.) and a longer walkabout in the downtown area, this morning, I got a sense of Tofino life. Here are some scenes.
The salubrious hostelClayoquot Sound, on a foggy Sunday morningThe entrance to Tofino’s children’s parkSalvage art, part of a display by Pete Clarkson, a marine debris collector. His Washed-Up Workshop has several pieces in this unique downtown garden.Another of Pete’s piecesCiinul (totem pole), with explanation below:
So I found this earnest community, of First Nations people and eclectic artisans. Now, it was time to check out the National Reserve itself.
July 20, 2024, Tofino, BC- I will forever consider myself blessed, when it comes to family. I can talk with my son, any of my siblings and any in-laws, with no qualms or trepidation, at a moment’s notice.
So many friends don’t have that blessing. I have heard from friends, recently, about being cut off from adult children and siblings-most often not because of anything they did, but because of third-party interference. This may, or may not, be part of the story, or even the whole story. I know there are those who prey on disaffected youth and actively work to turn them against their parents. There is a special place in the world of retribution for such monsters, but I digress.
No one can turn a person against their loved ones, without that person’s consent. In the end, though, there is loneliness. Chances are, the manipulator won’t be there for the lost soul. The person who is disaffected from their parent(s) or their children will have outlived any usefulness to the predator-who is most often seeking power, in a neurotic manner. So often, the predator will use mainstream religion, or cult membership, to appeal to the prey. Only when the troubled soul wakes up and reconciles with those s(he) has cast out, can there be any chance for real recovery.
I thought about these things, whilst en route to the exquisite Pacific Rim, of west central Vancouver Island. Earlier in the day, after a marvelous rest at Turtle Hostel, in Victoria’s Hillside/Quadra district, I had pleasant meetings with two dear friends, and was glad to be able to offer them support. Regarding Hillside/Quadra, it is ringed by churches and Victoria’s Conservatory of Music-and as I mentioned in the last post, is a haven for unhoused people.
Alex Goold Performance Center, Victoria Conservatory of MusicAnglican Church of St. John the Divine, VictoriaFirst United Church, Victoria
Each of these institutions does what it can, to help its unhoused neighbours. As is the case back at Home Base, Prescott, there are soup kitchens and active efforts to clothe the people. There, but for the grace of God……
In the next post, I will focus on the cathedrals of a different sort: The majesty of the Pacific Rim and the edge of Clayoquot Sound, particularly in Tofino and Ucluelet. Here is an example:
July 19, 2024, Victoria, BC- The distraught woman was yelling, at everyone and at no one, as I walked toward Bold Butchery and Grill in search of a falafel dinner. She was adamant that “he” had no business telling her to clean her room. The “room” was a small dome, that actually looked quite tidy. I saw no male around there, so who knows whether the “boss” was present, or was an unwanted memory of a past overlord. There are about twenty-five people living in tents along and adjacent to Quadra Street, down a bit from Turtle Hostel, where I am spending the night. There are about twenty-five of us in the hostel. Only four walls and the ability to pay for lodging really separate the two groups.
Joseph Campbell, in “Myths of Light”, describes the primal cakra of kundalini yoga as muladhara, the “root lotus”, the most basic urge to hold onto something which represents one’s identity. We see this in everyone, from a politician holding onto an office to a soldier fighting to the death, to someone living on the street and guarding personal space, along with the few possessions that are there within that zone. I tend to exercise reasonable precaution and care of my possessions, so that I have what I need, day to day. Obsession with them left, quite a few years back, as the realization set in that there was nothing that couldn’t be replaced-except my life. It has also been thirty-two years since I was homeless, and even then, my little family and I were not living in a tent, but in a motel-and that was only for a month or so. I wish smoother sailing for the folks in this little community, who do seem to take care of one another. There is even a “mayor”, who lives in an RV that is parked across the street from the ornate Conservatory of Music. He was making the rounds this evening, seeing who needs what basics, which he will try to find, when he goes to the Farmers Market tomorrow.
I will meet a Baha’i friend across town tomorrow morning, spending a bit of time along the waterfront, and praying for another friend, who is laid up a bit. That has been the nature of this journey-to connect with members of my Faith community who have felt a bit isolated, of late. So far, it has worked out, and if there are no Baha’is to visit, I have been able to connect with other old friends who I haven’t met in person.
I left the incomparable Bayside Motel, on Bellingham’s commercial strip, after getting Sportage its overdue maintenance check. All is well, and the lead mechanic remarked that the vehicle is in tiptop shape. Lord knows I pay attention to it. Bayside is a reasonably-priced establishment, that keeps up with the chains, when it comes to things like breakfast and a guest laundry room, as well as the sheer comfort of the sleeping room itself.
I got to the ferry terminal at Tsawassen, a bit early, and so had to drive around a bit, then return to the gate. The computer system resets on the hour, so a 1 p.m. check-in does not mean 12:55. Once in queue, there was plenty to do, in passing two hours-between lunch, writing to my resurfaced friend and organizing what I could of still-damp laundry, drying in the car. (Long story short, the dryers at Bayside were taken up by one family, and check-out happened before the clothes could be finished. At least they’re clean!)
The ferry ride was smooth, I napped for a while and it was easy to find Turtle Hostel. As indicated above, this is a somewhat artsy area. It also has several Mediterranean restaurants, which is good for my palate. Bold Butchery and Grill has several varieties of hummus to go with its excellent falafel. I chose the turmeric version. After dinner, it was easy to connect on a Zoom devotional, then segue into a section of Myths of Light that talks about the seven bodily cakras.
Smooth sailing depends on self-knowledge, so I am definitely interested in continuing to learn what Joseph Campbell had to say about the upper cakras.
A Sagittarian Seeker 