June 6, 2015, Princess Royal Island, BC- The ferry rocked us gently to sleep on the first night.  The second night, I decided to take my shower at night, around 11 P.M.  When I got back, a shift in the wind had brought rain onto the Solarium deck- and onto my left-hand neighbour’s cot.  So, she ended up in the closed, but warm and dry snack bar area, for the rest of the night.  My area, and her husband’s, remained dry.

This was the sole awful experience that seemed to have occurred on this leg of the trip.  The food was standard, but decently prepared.  There was rain, of course, throughout both days, but this is the upper northwest- and besides, it had been sunny up here for almost three weeks, even as it was raining and snowing in Arizona- and the rather paltry topsoil of the northwest coast was drying out.  So the rain is a blessing for the area’s people, and a minor inconvenience to us travelers.

Today would have been our thirty-third wedding anniversary.  Penny and I had sometimes spoken of heading up this way.  Neah Bay and Port Angeles, both of which I visited in 2012, Vancouver Island, Haida Gwaii and southeast Alaska were among the places in which we wanted to spend time.  My realization of these, going solo, is. like anything else worth doing, incremental.

My journeys need to result in heart connections and in the filtering out of my own barriers to growth.  These are sometimes things I can do alone, but other times are things that need to be pointed out to me by others- sometimes by friends and other times by less amiable people.  So far, this sojourn, even in tight quarters, with several rather surly people, has been peaceful.  I have made several friends, from among the passengers, and at least one crew member, who I helped bail out of what might have been a scalding hot mishap.

The mist-shrouded coast of Vancouver Island, and the smaller realms which bound the Canadian segment of the Inside Passage, were our guides for nearly two days.  Among them is Princess Royal Island, one of the homes of the Kermode, or Spirit, Bear- a white or blond Black Bear. Between 10-20% of all Black Bears are Kermodes. We did not see any Kermodes on this trip, but there is always my return trip, June 17-19.

We did see occasional humpback whales, dolphins and eagles, along this route.  Most of the time, though, it was the islands themselves which made the time interesting. So, from among the two-hundred or so photos I took yesterday afternoon and  today, here are some of the highlights.

Meet the MV/Columbia, our home for the next two days.

A look back at Fairhaven, the old port that was annexed by Bellingham.

Mount Baker bids us farewell.

Our ship’s wake lasts several hundred yards.

My space, among the teeming masses.

We passed through many ends, coves and fishing villages.

Most other vessels were fishing-oriented.  This Holland America Ocean Liner was the only cruise vessel we saw, en route, whilst passing through Queen Charlotte Sound.

British Columbia is blessed with seemingly endless coastal forests.

Majestic bald eagles abound in B.C. and in Alaska.  This fellow had taken up residence, near a fisherman’s homestead.

Coastal tribespeople extend a cautious welcome. Trust must always be earned, over time.

The majestic Coast Ranges are a major reason why there is no direct highway between Vancouver and Prince Rupert.

Timber, along with fish, is an economic mainstay of the far Pacific Northwest.  Both must be made sustainable.

A river runs through Princess Royal Island, one of the two largest in the northern part of BC’s Inland Passage.

It is here that Kermode Black Bears are most likely to be spotted.  None was visible here, when we passed by.

The cleavage left by retreating glaciers resulted in magnificent scenery, but shallow topsoil.  The forests find a way to thrive.

So, I was able to mark yet another anniversary in a way which Penny would have loved.

April 11, 2015, Eloy, AZ-   We woke today to a cool morning, a bright blue sky, reports of snakes having been in the area (but no sightings this morning) and a light breakfast, with coffee by moi.   I spent last night alone, in the men’s dorm.  It was an odd feeling, but sleep came easy.

We spent today discussing the relationship of the Baha’i community in Arizona to the wider society.  To me, this is a no-brainer.  We follow the Golden Rule, applying it to the entire planet.  We do the best we can to obey the laws of any place where we find ourselves. We do not respond, in kind, to any offensive behaviour. We consider the welfare of others, at par with our own well-being.  We act with honour, to the extent humanly possible, which means virtually all the time.  We readily make amends, to individuals, and to the community, for any offense we might commit. We refrain from making excuses, and move away from whining.

Baha’i is out of the shadows, the brush, any hiding place in which those who do not understand the progressive nature of divine teaching might wish it to remain.  We have a lot to offer, in fact- everything to offer a world in travail.  So do you.

No matter what a person’s faith is, the world needs you.  The only world order that will fit the Divine Plan is one which results from universal participation.  So, the first thing that needs to happen is abandonment of prejudice. The second thing is willingness to listen and to learn from others.  The third thing is to maintain a humble posture of learning.

These are things I contemplated today, at Desert Rose Baha’i Institute.

As I am using a borrowed computer, I will make this short.  The battery on my laptop is DEAD, kaput.  You will next hear from me when I get to Amiens, in a few days.  I am in Brest, France at the tip of Brittany, and am using a cyber cafe loaner.  I am otherwise fine, but no photo posts from Paris onward, until I get back to the States on June 29.

I made two very distinct stops, during my first visit to New York City in nearly 20 years:  The headquarters of Slow Food USA, in Brooklyn and the emerging Liberty Towers in lower Manhattan, on September 9.

Slow Food USA is an outgrowth of a movement which began in Italy, several years ago, as a reaction to the proliferation of fast food restaurants in Rome and the cities of the north.  Today, many countries have Slow Food movements, promoting the gathering of people around a carefully-cooked meal, preferably one with fresh ingredients.

I joined the HQ team, arriving at the tail end of their lunch break, as the younger members began to move back towards their desks.  The following photos show the area of Brooklyn near the Headquarters, and the office itself.

Once back outside, I took a few moments, while walking along Brooklyn’s busy streets, to admire a community garden, across the street from Slow Food, and a few tall buildings, en route to the subway.

Below are some views of Santa Maria SS Addolorata Catholic Church, in a still heavily Italian neighbourhood.

A few other spires caught my eye, from a distance, just outside Mocha Bagel Shop, near the Carroll Street subway.

Upon arriving in the area of Ground Zero, I sought solace in St. Paul Chapel.

Memorabilia of the horrible day are on display in the Chapel.

I found looking at the site, a good deal less daunting than I had anticipated.  It is still jarring- a work in progress, where once, there had been majesty and strength.  Now, at least, there is resilience.

Somehow, whenever I feel trepidation, or any other time I have needed it, one of these shows up- on the sidewalk, on the trail, or in a rock formation.  This one is of oak bark, and I found it on a Brooklyn sidewalk.  Someone looks out for me, all day, every day.

Here are several more specific scenes of Step House, which is the self-guided portion of the mesa.  Long House, which I will visit sometime in the future, is only accessible via guided tour.

Then, it was time to climb back out of Step House Canyon.

In the end, a lone bird made the statement that nature is the most resilient of forces.

So, another fine visit to Colorado came to an end, following dinner at Jack and Janelle’s, in Cortez, on August 1.  Ironically, a second such visit will end on Thursday.

I am sharing this one on Facebook, as well.  I have many friends on that medium, and other sites, who are in a very tender emotional state, for reasons of their own.  When they take a risk and share their grief, which, by the way, they don’t have to do, they are sharing the most private areas of their life experiences.  I love a good many of these people, as if they are my own family.  I believe, to the core of my being,  that we each have a bounden duty to follow the Golden Rule, with regard to one another and with regard to our expectations of ourselves.  I have several snarky friends, who are mostly of good sense, in honouring people who are clearly in a dark place, emotionally.  If they can be civil, so can every one else.

This will be a very short post.

 In 2011, after losing my wife, I made one moderate change in my life.  We had two homes, one in Phoenix, the other in Prescott.  I moved out of the first, into the second, and sold the Phoenix house, through a short sale.

I gave myself one year with no major decisions, other than the above.  I believe every time someone suffers a catastrophic loss, he or she deserves to be given at least a year’s respite.  Some people need two years, or more.  That should be okay with everyone who says they love that person.

I had to calm some of my family members down, when they were overly concerned with a temporary cash flow problem I had, in late Summer, 2011.  It worked out.  Transitional issues surface, the survivor handles them, sometimes with help, and moves on.

The person left behind, no matter what the loss, is a strong person, a survivor, a thriver.  S(he) deserves to be able to set the rules, and to have them be honoured.  That’s all I can say, at this point.

More important than lists of places and acknowledgement of people, in the long run, is- “What did you get out of this trip?”  My wife would have asked that; in fact, she has, in the manner of spiritual thought.

There are three things I learned, between Sept. 6- Oct. 3.

• I can navigate, without always relying on GPS.
• There is always someone who will help me get where I need to be.
• No matter how “end-of-the-line” a place seems, its people invariably are connected to someplace even further.

There are some ways in which I have changed, as a result of this journey.

• I felt it easier to cry, when my spirit was deeply affected by memories of Penny or by the intense spirituality of a moment.
• I was more flexible inside, when a message came to me to change my schedule or my itinerary.  I did not, once, grudgingly go along with changing circumstances, but rather embraced them.
• Imagery, both waking and dreaming, was much clearer.  I could see into the future, as well as observe images more current.

Now, I am very pleased and honoured to take each item on the agenda handed me by the Universe, each day, and move forward to where this life journey is taking me, or where it’s having me stay.

The Ponderosa Motel, in Goldendale, is one of the most welcoming places in which I have taken a room, so far this trip.  Operated by a cheerful young couple, with help from a grandma, the place offers large, comfortable rooms, at bargain prices, with a real breakfast- no packaged goods at inflated prices.

I checked out the Goldendale Observatory, but as it didn’t open until 2 PM, I photo’d the grounds and went back to town to do laundry.

Goldendale has its share of nice little shops, many of which close at Noon on Saturday.  I did get a slice of Sheena’s apple pie, to go, before she and Shane went home for the weekend.

Yesterday and today, I had lunch at neighborhood bars.  In Wenatchee, that was The Igloo.  Here in Goldendale, it was The Top Hat.  Both had good food.  I was the one drinking iced tea. Leaving Goldendale, I passed through the stark beauty of the Columbia Plateau, which would surround me clear to Maupin and the Deschutes River.

Three miles south of Goldendale is the Maryhill Museum, which features Native American art, the works of Rodin, an exhibit on the Fin de Siecle American entertainer Loie Fuller, some decorative art exhibits and a hall devoted to Queen Marie of Romania, who ruled the country with her husband Ferdinand I, in the 1920’s and 30’s.

 Outside of the museum, one may enjoy fine views of the Columbia River Gorge.   Below, on the left, is John Day Dam.

I spent about two hours in the museum, which does not allow flash photography, and my camera has no shut-off on the flash.  No matter- I learned a great deal about each of the themes.  The museum itself was founded by Samuel Hill, a merchant from Illinois.  Maryhill is named for his wife, Mary. The Hills were good friends of Queen Marie and King Ferdinand, and the royals were key benefactors of the museum.  Queen Marie, a granddaughter of Britain’s Queen Victoria, was a member of the Baha’i Faith, and, though British by birth, thoroughly immersed herself in Romanian culture and language, becoming one of the country’s most revered rulers.  Being committed to world peace, she became fast friends with Sam and Mary Hill, who were Quakers. The Museum’s Native American collection is, naturally, emphatic on Columbia Plateau, Great Basin, and Northwest Coast art, but has items from all other regions of the U.S. and Canada. The Rodin collection features all three of the artist’s media:  Sculpture, paintings and sketches.  His concern with Dante’s Inferno is well-presented, as are his great works, such as The Thinker. A delightful section has two rooms devoted to chess pieces.  There are an amazing variety of chess sets, from all parts of the world. Finally, there are illustrations of six Grimm Fairy Tales, by the British artist, David Hockney. After leaving Maryhill, I focused on a couple of other areas along the Gorge- Horsethief Butte and the bridge to The Dalles, Oregon. Here are two views of Horsethief Butte- South Ridge, then North Ridge.

Leaving Washington State gave me mixed feelings, but I enjoy Oregon also, so on we went to The Dalles.  This is The Dalles-Dallesport  Bridge.

The Dalles has a fine frontier-themed museum, Fort Dalles.  It was closed when I arrived, but I took some photos of the buildings.  First is the Anderson House.

Next is the fort’s Headquarters.

Fifty miles west of The Dalles is Mt. Hood, seen far in the distance below.

My final photos of the day came into focus at Maupin, OR’s Deschutes River Park.  This is a major rafting center, and the white water looks fabulous.

I stopped for supper at a rest area about ten miles south of Maupin.  Finding all the restrooms clogged, three of us called the ODOT number.  Within ten minutes, two crews showed up and got on the task.  That’s not too shabby for a Saturday night.

Now, I am settled in at a KOA in Culver, OR, between Madras and Redmond.  Things keep going well on this “about face”.