Mt St Helens and Mt Rainier

Thirty years ago I was deep in diapers, day care, little people giggles and tears, and work. I made time for myself by studying calligraphy and learning to love the form of letters and words. Barely aware of the greater world, the explosion of fire and rock at Mt St. Helens only glanced off my consciousness. Now the power of this mountain has become clear. Over the millenniums she had been shaped by fire from deep in the earth and molded by glaciers on her surface. April 1980 it happened again. In a single eruption, 1/3 of the top of the mountain was blown away, including the whole north face. Magma flowed, steam billowed, fire erupted. Ash up to 7 feet deep covered everything for miles and, caught by the winds in the stratosphere, circled the globe. In Maine I noticed beautiful sun sets in my small world.

We viewed the mountain from Windy Ridge to its east. What was grey and lifeless 30 years ago is now becoming green, sprouting wildflowers, alder shrubs, new growth spruce, pine, and fir, grasses and sedges. The north face, still missing in the circle of the crater, gives glimpse of two lava domes which grow inside her center. The mountain itself, giving off steam and magma on the inside of the crater, supports glaciers on the outside. Our day with Mt St Helens was one of sun and fire, magma growth and power. No more glancing off the power of mother earth!

There are other days when we receive gentle gifts. A hike in the alpine meadows east of Mt Rainier offered sun and cooling wind, open meadows of flowers clinging to the sides of hills. Alpine lupine painted the meadows with purple hue. Spotted with the vermillion red of Indian Paintbrush, yellow hawkweed reaching its heads above grey dry soil, ubiquitous pearly everlasting, pink and white heather, broad leaf corn lily, and so many other small flowers, the meadows were a gift of joy. Below us small ponds reflected the mountains and steep cliffs through which we walked. It is pure joy to be in the mountains, to see grand Rainier in all her glacial garb, and feel the intimate splendor of the flowers and trees, cliffs and lakes which cover her sides.

These day trips, guided by Kay’s Sister-in-law, Sarah, and shared with Sam (Kay’s brother), Imrose and Amit (friends from India), were an introduction to the Pacific Northwest Mountains. Now, following a few days in Tacoma to outfit the RV (thank you St. Vincent de Paul thrift store), fill her with food, find the things we so carefully stowed two weeks ago, Daryle and I are off on our own, camping the first night in the William O Douglas Wilderness area, east of White Pass, next to a small fishing lake. Weather has cooled down in the mountains, enough for us to want another blanket at night. Our journey of two begins… I am thankful for the chance and am humbled in my efforts to be open and fresh and present as we move on.

A few selected photos...

Mt Hood

Week One of the Journey

Having dragged what seemed like an enormous amount of clothes, books, cameras, computers, and other in sundry things thru JetBlue to Portland, OR last Thursday, we arrived and settled into our little moving house last Friday. It was exciting to feel that the long thought-about adventure was beginning. By Friday afternoon we were tucked in, Aaron had given us the first in a myriad of lessons on how the RV systems work (oh, lessons like… check the levels in the waste tanks often and when you dump them, let the ‘black water’ go first, then the ‘grey water’ – don let any of it splash back at you!) and we had met up with Kay’s brother Sam, wife Sarah, and daughter Lily. Along with Summit the big dog, we would all spend the week together celebrating Aaron’s graduation on Saturday and then camping in and about Oregon.

Of the graduation – it was well appointed. Set outside on a day that was close to 100 degrees, the big shade trees on Pacific University campus did their job in cooling. Speakers came from the graduating professional students… short statements of the hopes and dreams of their peers. Later in the day the PA Program class recognition ceremony was held downtown in what would be a wonderful space if only it had been air conditioned. Oh well! Heather says Daryle and I drag hot weather with us wherever we go – not totally true but it felt that way Saturday afternoon.

By Sunday we were ready to play! Sam had arranged a rafting trip for all of us for Monday so Sunday we headed up the Columbia River gorge to Hood River. What a glorious place. Moving through the green lush river valley, punctuated by precipitous cliffs and mountain ranges lined up to the east, we then turned away from the river at Hood River and traveled south, toward Mt Hood, through dryer agricultural area, fruit farms and wheat fields. The land forms in the Mt Hood valley were totally honest. Steep rolling hills dry brown with stubble of recently cut wheat - contour farming marking the shapes of the hills, sage brush rubble on the slopes too steep to contour, and fruit trees where irrigation was available. I was taken by the grey-blue-green of the sage against its dry, stony ground, black stems snarly and dry, random in their twists and bends, left behind after the green sage withered. Sunday night we watched the half moon rise and the sun set on Mt Hood in clear, warm air.

Rafting trip on the Deschutes River… great experience. Todd, the guide, managed us well. Of the six of us, only Aaron had rafted previously. Class IV rapids looked scary as we drove up river to the put-in place but the 100 degree temperature of the day rendered the water very inviting. Adorned with all the proper equipment and a good amount of adrenalin reserves, we pushed off for a 14 mile ride. It was a RIDE! Some smooth stretches which allowed time to look, lots of other boats which were quick to greet us with water cannons (of course we responded in kind until a truce was called), and then there were the rapids. Todd took us straight thru the largest waves, raft bending ford to aft as if it would fold in half, sidling up on the edge of eddies, and rolling around a tumultuous hole in the currents. Those adrenalin reserves powered our howls! Great fun was had by all. Even Daryle, who traveled without his glasses or hearing aids, enjoyed the adventure.

On then for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday to Astoria at the mouth of the Columbia River and to the Oregon Coast. We were all becoming comfortable camping in the RV and tent. Ate way too much food, biked and hiked. Aaron, Daryle and I spent Thursday at Ecola Point, the place where, in 1806, Lewis and Clark reached the Pacific. This is temperate rain forest extraordinary with precipitous cliffs, bounded by sandy beach - craggy pillars of rock in the water. Rain forest friends included Queen Ann Lace, thistle, ferns with their twisting fronds, white fox glove, trees with bases so large that a person could sit between the root extensions. The beach, like beaches around the world, were populated by dogs and surfboards, waves and kites, silhouettes of families, children dancing into and out of the cold water, bright blankets flying in the wind as they are laid down, children lost in imagination of their own making, running, stretching, laughing. Sun warm and wind gentle; frisbees fly and bodies reach, instant beauty in the gesture. Stick boats sail and sink and are resurrected again. The wave hole on the far cliff is pounded, explodes with spray, and settles with no regard to the human play on the beach. And the march of surfers goes on, surfboard under arms they walk up beach to find one more wave to sail down current. As we left for the drive back to Portland, the enormous size of the trees with their moss covered branches and the sun filtering thru in speckles made clear just how unique this rain forest is.

Now, writing quietly in the RV, parked in Sam’s driveway in urban Tacoma, homeless folks walking past from the night shelter to the day programs. Life seems like such enormous contradictions.

First Tooth Sailabration

August 8, 2010

Dear Nathan,

What a glorious week this has been… its time to Sailabrate your first tooth, a remarkable achievement. Since you’ve not had a Sailabration, a little introduction will help.

You remember WonderfulWooly the Dream Catcher, don’t you. He has been spreading Dream Dust every night to help you sleep and grow and smile your happy hugs onto Mommy and Daddy. I’m sure you remember that WonderfulWooly sleeps in the cat closet during the day. His Twitchy Tail can just be seen behind the vacuum cleaner. In my last letter I told you Wooly gets grouchy if he is wakened during the day. Well that is true… but not totally true. You see, he loves First Tooth Sailabrations and would be much grouchier if we had one and didn’t wake him up. So first we have to wake Wooly and invite him to be part of your First Tooth Sailabration Extravaganza.

There’s a special way to wake him. You will find him all curled up in a tiny ball, his tail twitching just a bit. Tickle the tip of his tail while you giggle and sing “da, da, da” ever so quietly. You’ll see. He will wiggle a bit, stretch out, open one big eye slowly, and hoot the First Tooth Sailabration Song… that’s where you come in. Wooly’s song goes like this… its really for you to sing…

Oh my tooth,
My Cheerio Chomping tooth,
My watermelon munching tooth,
My ‘Mommy and Daddy are so proud of me’ tooth,
My ‘I made it myself’ tooth,
My ‘I’m sailing into new waters’ tooth,
Oh my tooth, my first tooth
We’re off to a new adventure my tooth and me.
YEA for MY TOOTH!

Wooly will fly up, turn a summersault, hoist sail, give you a nod, and together you will jump into the Sailabration boat.

Hold tight to WonderfulWooly till you get your sea legs. Feel your little boat, MolarSomeDay, catch the east wind, head past SoreGum Cove and Drool-on-my-Shirt Harbor and set a true compass course direct to GrowingBoy Land.

Mommy and Daddy will be there to greet you. So will your Grammys and Grampys and Uncle Aaron. They will be watching you and Wooly coming down the waves, flying your mainsail and jib, you with a firm hand on the tiller, and a gentle wind behind. Everyone will join your Sailabration with hugs and hoots and fine Cheerios to chomp.

So sail on Nathan, to GrowingBoy Land and beyond. May the winds of love be your guide and the waters of life be ever kind…

Oh, and by the way, you might let WonderfulWooly catch a nap below deck so he will be ready to spread Dream Dust after the Sailabration. The Dust will keep your compass course true and will help Mommy and Daddy keep the sad bears out of your path.

Lots of love. Sail On

Grammy Kay

65th Anniversary of Hiroshima – A Commemoration

August 6. We lie down on the cement patio in front of the Peirce Memorial at Bangor Public Library. Firsthand stories of the Hiroshima atomic bomb and a deep felt hope for a nuclear free world have been shared by Masanabu Ikemiya, a family member of survivors. Letters read from others. The message of reconciliation voiced as a word of hope. Honoring the thousands of individuals who survived the bomb blast only as a shadow on the pavement where they had stood, people lay down there in the sun. Outlines drawn around the bodies… I lay there on that beautiful Maine summer day, warm, protected from heat by clouds drifting overhead, eyes closed, thinking about what it must be like to experience your city/community in flames. Ilze Petersons would ring a bell at the end of the remembrance and invite us into the Library for a story and film. Almost on cue as we lay there, clouds moved and the intense heat of the sun pierced through. It radiated from the cement, burned from the sky, penetrated the pores, giving a glimpse of how intense heat can be. “Ring the bell that still can ring, there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in…” The bell was slow to ring… time to wonder what the bell asked of us… time to think about hope and the power of reconciliation…

The bell does ring, we get up leaving our shadows on the ground. We are present, able to celebrate the crack which lets the light in, able to be ambassadors of nothing more than the joy in living, nothing less than hope for a nuclear free world, and nothing more earnest than a quest for gentle living on this world planet. So many things we don’t know as a people… the mystery of living, of the unseen, of the source of being, and yet we don’t need to know the mysteries of the wind to sail effortlessly in the world. We need only ring the bell that still can ring, leave shadows of our work, be part of the symphony of hope.


Well, life has its irony too. It did not go unnoticed to me that as we lay on the cement, just a few blocks away, Bangor’s newest music festival was getting underway… Wouldn’t you know it is called the KAHBANG Festival! What’s the probability Kahbang would start on August 6, the 65th anniversary of the Hiroshima bomb. Gotta love life as it comes! Oh, and then there was the disappearance of the shadows on the cement. Leaving the library after the movie “Railroad of Love, Spanning Australia and Japan”, one noticed that the chalk marks had been erased. Nothing was left on the ground from the remembrance. I guess we need to ring the bell loud and hard to keep its sound alive over the din of Kabang!

Ring the bell that still can ring!

We sent our bikes to Oregon last week and packed our cool weather clothes into a duffel to take with us. This trip is becoming a reality in spite of how unreal it still seems… that’s a contradiction in thought! The process of disconnecting from daily life in Maine is interesting. It is similar to leaving a job or moving to another location. One needs to push a large crow bar into the millwheel of daily life and stop the gears which otherwise keep on turning… cancel the papers, clean the kitchen, play with friends, and then let go. It is a freeing process. Deciding what to take on the journey and what falls into the category of ‘things I never thought I could do without but am leaving behind’ opens the mind.

So, what is going with us….
• A book of poetry by Mary Oliver
• Sketch book, pens, pencils, watercolors, and a large bucket of time and commitment to look, see, draw, think;
• Maps, glorious maps;
• Computer, Google, Face book, Skype;
• Howard Zinn’s book, A People’s History of United States;
• Bikes, boots, and wet suits – for all manner of adventure…

And what’s left behind…
• Friends
• Our daughter, son-in-law and GRANDSON – won’t see them until late October; Nathan may be walking/talking/reading/riding bike (who knows) by then – oh dear!
• Wonderful Women With Wings
• Vibrant Voices for Peace
• My beautiful studio and work space
• Home base

We go on this journey, expecting adventure, focus, fun, and the opportunity to see the far reaches of our beautiful country, and then return to Maine where life and community nurture us. A song has been running in my head of late reflecting the theme of preparations…

Forget your perfect offerings;
Just ring the bell that still can ring;
There is a crack in everything;
That’s how the Light gets in.