karen carter's adventures

Dreams

2012-01-08T17:10:00.000-05:00

The mixed blessing of America is that anyone with a car can go anywhere. Travel is mostly about dreams - dreaming of landscapes or cities, imagining yourself in them, murmuring the bewitching place names, and then finding a way to make the dream come true.

Paul Theroux

Perdido River and Sta. Rosa Island

2012-01-05T16:15:00.001-05:00

I have often wondered who drew the lines dividing one state from another. Think about the DelMarVa Peninsula. That one might qualify as the most nonsensical state-line-drawing of all. We have been reminded almost daily while in Pensacola that we're really in LA. Lower Alabama. True, that. So, I felt pretty good the day we paddled the lower Perdido River, which forms the line between Alabama and Florida, I felt as if I was finally, officially in Alabama. It was a rare December day, warm and fast moving clouds playing tag with bright sun. I packed a picnic of left-over hand-made shu mei, brie and sesame crackers and apples. It was a quiet paddle, only one motor boat passed us, in yet another swamp that reminded me of the NE Cape Fear River without grapevines, but with giant, old red cedar trees. Afterwards, we enjoyed a frosty friend at Ruby's Fish Camp bar, where we'd launched the kayaks. Those folks were playing corn hole and downing beers at 11am, I think they'd never gone home from the night before.

We moved from northwestern Pensacola out to Santa Rosa Island National Seashore, known to the locals at Pensacola Beach and Ft. Pickens. The fort was begun during the Late Unpleasantness, and used very little. The Navy being who they are, however, kept the place spiffed and ready for attack, guarding the Pensacola Bay from invasion until the mid-20th century. Today, it is a great wind break, creating sand dunes at the west end of the otherwise very low island. There is a campground on the island, managed by the National Park Service. The fort is a great place to climb higher, and get a look across the bay of NAS Pensacola, downtown and the tall hotels at Perdido Beach. The roadbed is lower than sealevel, and we could see huge piles of freshly moved whitewhitewhite sand by the side of the road. I'm reminded of the north end Portsmouth Island, NC, where it gets very narrow.

New Year's Eve the island was almost invisible in a heavy fog. Even the pelicans were hunkered down, not fishing at all. We had hoped to see the fireworks from downtown, but that was not going to happen.

I took these pictures at 3pm...It was almost eerie, so much dense fog. New Year's Eve night, I slow-cooked ribs on the grill, and made a delicious (if I do say so!) mixed greens gumbo. We ate dinner, listening to the dripping, watery air. The campground was full, but very quiet. I think everyone was celebrating inside their own rv. I was happy to be watching the end of the year, in such a beautiful place, even if I couldn't see through the fog.

Bayou 101, Mobile, Alabama

2011-12-30T20:47:00.000-05:00

We drove over to Mobile, AL yesterday. It's only 45 miles west of Pensacola. On the way, we looked at a possible paddle site on the Perdido River, which divides Florida and Alabama. The main goal, however, was to eat at Michael's on Conception Street, and to go the the impressive Mobile Art Museum.

Michael was no longer cooking. His restaurant has been closed since not long after we were there 2 years ago, and I can only guess that his illness overcame his need to cook. What a fine meal we had with him! And, went back 2 more times in less than a week. Well, Robert is cooking in that same tiny kitchen,and presenting a fine Cajun meal. I ordered the cauliflower salad and crawfish anyway the chef would like to serve them to me. Stuart ordered the shrimp po'boy, with crawfish slaw. Ohmy! What a fine meal! My crawfish were in a tomato sauce, with cajun seasoning. The cauliflower was like a warm potato salad. He made a roux, then added the Trinity, and cauliflower. At the last minute, a little cream. What a fine meal! I ordered one of the daily specials to take home for dinner: a pork stew, with rice. I served it with some fresh lettuce from my mobile garden and bread we bought at Panera. A fine eating day!

Then, on to the Mobile Art Museum. They were showing a collection of hand-colored prints from JW Audubon. Who would have ever thought I'd see some of his work?!? He did the drawings, over many years. Two of his sons created the backgrounds, and a printer in London added the color. It was a thrill to see his work, and read a little about him. Mostly birds, but a few mammals. And, the trees and shrubs those birds were known to love. It is an exhibit I'd love to visit daily for a month, to see it all. There were other exhibits, too, including the permanent collection of glass, clay and wood, which I enjoyed seeing again. When we were leaving the museum, I spied a Bald Eagle over the lake beside the museum. Wow! Of course the eagles live here, the Mobile Bay is so huge and a perfect fishing place for the big birds. It was really a good day!

Pensacola Porches

2011-12-30T19:55:00.000-05:00

It was a few months after the awful Hurricane Katrina. Stuart and I had been to Biloxi and Pascaqoula to pound a few nails and replace a few roofs. Afterwards, we spent a few days unwinding in downtown Pensacola, where we fell in love with the porch rails. I know, sounds silly, but it's true! While we're currently reminded daily that we're actually in LA (Lower Alabama) and not in Florida, I think of the small downtown Pensacola as typical Florida. This is the picture in my head, when I think of old Florida houses. And, most of these houses have been around since the late 1800's, so there must be a good reason for the picture in my head. We spent a pretty sunny afternoon this week, walking and admiring the porches. You know we ended up at Pensacola Brewery, our favorite kitchen in the city.

All quiet in Pensacola

2011-12-28T19:24:00.000-05:00

We moved today, from Drifters RV to Pensacola RV. Thumping, vibrating noise from the neighborhood bar was scheduled for tonight, so we left. Love the new location, but we'll only be here a couple of days. Next stop: a National Park at the beach!

Homeless, homed and home

2011-12-28T19:07:00.000-05:00

This bag is a symbol of wealth for me. I have lots of bags, all them used to carry groceries, needlework, books, a few clothes, garden supplies and so many things of excess. This bag is a symbol of survival for homeless people. A symbol of wealth of a different kind: everything a homeless person owns might fit in one or two of these bags. As of yesterday, this bag is The Most Important Bag in my collection. Stuart and I went downtown to the Pensacola Art Museum, to see two exhibits: a sparse, beautifully displayed kimono exhibit, and a black/white photo exhibit. Some of the kimonos are old, some new, with good signs. Upstairs, the black-and-white photos of homeless men, women and children. Photos were taken by ej cummings, a local psychiatrist working with homeless people. In a huge gallery adjasent to the moving and emotional photo exhibit, huge pieces of 'cloth' were spread out, covering the floor. Pieces of cloth the size of a circus tent. On the walls, large brightly colored, pieces of the same kind of cloth was hanging, waiting to be cut and stitched. The cloth? Fiber artists everywhere pay attention: the cloth was newly uninstalled billboards. Those billboards are made from a housewrap-like material. Think Tyvek (brand). I can barely keep my fingers on the keys as I type this, I'm so excited about this project! Lamar, the Big-Ass Billboard Company (Babc just doesn't work, does it?) donates the finished billboards to a local non-profit organization whose goal is to help resolve the homeless problem in Pensacola. Sewing machines are donated, and the organization oversees the cutting, stitching and selling of the bags. $8. I can hear you asking. Will it help the woman with mental issues who has been living in the woods for years? Will it help the 4 year old who doesn't speak since his mother abandoned him soon after birth, the little boy and his grand mother live at the shelter. Will it help the man who traveled to Pensacola from eastern FL, leaving his wife and 2 children behind, because of a job that didn't materialize, and now has no money to return home? I don't think it will resolve any big problems, but if the sale of those bags will help pay for a doctor's visit for someone, help buy books for some children, maybe help with some groceries, then it has done a good job.

I live in a heated and cooled house, with running water, and I like to think those who are homeless can "just get a job". There is so much I don't understand. This exhibit went a long way to educating me.

The houses in the next pictures are a neighborhood Habitat4Humanity project in northern Pensacola. I walked through the houses yesterday afternoon, admiring the closets and open floor plans. Soon, people who have worked hard but can't quite make the Big Step will own their own house, thanks for the H4H organization and its volunteers and donars.

The pelican was home. He/She was sitting on the handrail at the downtown pier, waiting for a hand-out, I think. He/She never uttered a sound. She didn't have any bags, either.

Florida F A R T

2011-12-27T22:29:00.000-05:00

In a recent post on "Notes from the Voodoo Cafe" (see my fav blogs listed on the left here), Rice (can't make that thing over the e happen) mentioned the Big Ass Road Trip (or something like that) she and EGE took a couple of years ago. Actually, that BART included the occasion that introduced Rice and the EGE to me. We were all at Art and Soul Hampton, VA, spring 2009. They are both as smart, talented and funny as her blog posts suggest, and the EGE is as laid-back as she is out-going. I was building a pelican from a fabulous adult sort of papier mache product in a class, and the EGE wandered in with his camera. I never saw him that week without his camera and monopod. That afternoon, he was wearing really great jeans with zentangles all over, with a bright pink shirt. When I told him my husband would wear the same kind of clothes, he didn't really believe me. I guess for good reason. ANYWAY, this is about our Flexible Ass Road Trip (FART). It formed in our heads as a volunteer, domestic winter trip. A rental house purchase at home postponed our volunteer plans, backing us up close to the Dead Zone which is the end of the year/Christmas break. We still believed we'd be volunteers after the holiday. Stuart actually did get in a couple of days of nail banging for Habitat4Humanity here, and saw their massive operation. Then Christmas week arrived, and everyone went shopping. I didn't call the local Literacy Council, knowing there was little I could do before the Big Ass Shopping TimE (BASTE). So, we concentrated on finding waters to paddle our kayaks. We imagined we would paddle a little more than we have, but the rain or wind or cold have kept the kayaks on top of the truck too much. OK. We bought a temporary membership at a local gym. Now, that's worked out pretty well. I've been almost every day, joining group work-out sessions such as spinning and hooping. Stationary bicycle and hula-hoop. HA! I loved the hoop class, and have bought a custom-made hoop from Laney, the instructor. But, I've mostly cooked. This first photo is the collection of mostly olive oils on my kitchen counter. I think there are 5 different evoo's in the total collection. Obviously, I was cooking brussel sprouts this week...evoo and coarse salt, roasted. Yummm!

Joe Patti's Seafood Market sold to me some calimari tubes, extra-large size, $3.99/lb, for stuffing with shrimp ($1.99/lb, heads on) and spinach (Publix, in a bag). Anne Burell's Braised Stuffed Calamari recipe. Oh, my, Good!

Second pic: calamari tubes in my sink.

Third pic: calamari tubes stuffed, and ready for the tomato braising. Aren't they gorgeous?!?

Fourth pic: This white pelican sat on the rail at the downtown dock, waiting for the man who was fishing close by to share. I walked up very close to this pelican, and he was totally unfazed by my presence.

Just a few notes on our FART (flexible ass road trip). More to come.

Letters from home

2011-12-23T10:22:00.000-05:00

Apparently we're not the only people enjoying different scenery right now. Our friends, Ruby and Jack turned up at our house last week, and once again we're delighted they are there, but sad we're not. Ruby sent these pictures of the sasanquas by the screened porch. You know, when I planted them, I thought I was planting three of the same variety. Surprise! She says the little shishigashiras by the front door are as pretty. Ruby also reports that the collards and lettuce in the veggie garden are looking good, and tasting fine. I'm happy nothing is wasted, including filling the house with friends.

The Bayou with many other names....

2011-12-22T18:00:00.000-05:00

South of here, there is a tiny little bayou that flows into Perdido Bay. The Florida map calls it Herron Bayou. The State Wildlife Boat Ramp sign calls it Heron Bayou. The bridge wall is engraved, "Herrion Bayou Bridge". I think the state had a disagreement on spelling. We paddled up-bayou from the boat ramp this week. This pretty blue heron was hanging out under the pier when we arrived, and was there when we returned from the paddle. The fishing must be good under there. We both saw white pelicans and I saw three belted kingfishers. Heard more kingfishers and woodpeckers, too. The little bayou didn't go far before dribbling into muck, but it was pretty. Afterwards, we bought spicy boiled peanuts from a man by the side of the road, and had lunch at the Tarkiln State Park, under the long leaf pines. Lovely day.

I had some alone time this week, too, while Stuart pounded a few nails for the local Habitat for Humanity group. I thought this zentangled star was finished last week, but it kept calling me to add to it. I'm still not sure it's finished, but I've already begun another!

Pensacola, no more

2011-12-20T16:58:00.001-05:00

No pics this time....I don't know what's up with the Joe Patti's image. Sometimes it shows, and sometimes it doesn't. Technical ghosts, again.

We're moving on. Pensacola has turned out to be not so pleasant, even though we'd like it to be. We've moved into a small, friendly rv park, which just happens to be behind a night club with an award winning sound system. The wrong kind of award, if you ask me. There seems to be a special relationship between said bar and the Escambia County Sheriff's department, making the entire situation unsolvable. There is a very clearly stated noise ordinance, which the Sheriff's department seems unable or unwilling to enforce. Now I understand why the three houses beside the rv park and directly behind the club have "For Sale" signs in the yard. Where are we going? Stay tuned! We don't know yet...

Joe Patti's Fish Market

2011-12-18T18:35:00.000-05:00

photo by Stephanie Sikorski, a Joe Patti customer and photographer. Photo copied from Joe Patti's website, http://joepattis.com/, without permission.

I'd heard that the fish market of choice in Pensacola is downtown, a destination sort of place. Joe Patti's Fish Market and two streets over, the Joe Patti's seafood restaurant. So, late Thursday afternoon, after quaffing a couple of beers at the downtown Pensacola Brewery, we went searching for Joe Patti's Fish Market. A huge building, the size of a supermarket but taller, beside a canal off the Gulf, with shrimp trawlers tied up at the pier. I had not planned to buy fish, but we went inside to see. Oh. My. Gosh. It took a few moments for me to catch my breath. The place is HUGE, and LOTS of employees with smiles on their faces scooping up great quantities of all kinds of seafood for customers pointing and directing. An older man sat behind the very long counter, microphone in hand, constantly calling numbers and names, directing the staff in their jobs. I collected myself, and slowly walked the length of the counter, looking at all the offerings. Each item was labeled with name, price, place of origin and any other info I might want. There was every kind of fish I've ever heard of for sale, much of it local. The board behind the counter gave six or eight ways to ask for my fish to be dressed. The shrimp options made my head spin! Tuna of various colors and prices, big football sized chunks. In the back room, through the wide doorway, I could see a fish the size of a big man being tossed on the cutting table, men in white rubber boots and white rubber aprons contemplating the task on the table. Past the shrimp section, the squid and octopus, then oysters, crabs, lobsters and other shell fish. Crab meat picked out, and labeled from either Alabama or Florida: Alabama crab meat is steamed; Florida crab meat is boiled. Or is it the other way? Great stacks of everything, and great crowds of very serious shoppers, some with large coolers to fill. I walked back to the beginning of the counter, and slowly looked at the entire line again. Wow. I vaguely realized I must buy fish today, and that I needed a number for the man to call. A woman shouted out my number to the man with the microphone when I pulled number 26, and a few seconds later, the man with the microphone called, "Number 26! Darlin', is that you? Susan, get this woman some fish!". So, I bought a little piece of Amber Jack filet, and a little piece of trigger fish (file fish). When Stuart and I were scuba diving, sometimes we'd spear a trigger fish, which is a white fish, not too strong flavored. Think I'll make ceviche from part of this, I have some lemons in the fridge...

I'll come back every week, prepared the next time! By the way: they ship.

Arrive Pensacola

2011-12-15T11:44:00.003-05:00

We pulled out of Wilmington on a cold morning, knowing we'd be cold for a few more days while a cold front moved on through. The plan was to head to Charleston, SC, then through central GA, staying away from the interstate highways. To say I was disappointed to learn that having dinner in Charleston Saturday night was not an option is an understatement. One of the finest dining cities in the south, and Stuart didn't want to go out. His focus was on getting to Pensacola, and even planning to go out to dinner was straying from his plan! The next night we pulled into Laura Walter State Park, just north of the Okefenokee National Park and just outside of Waycross, GA. We discovered the Laura Walter a couple of years ago, and fell in love with that pretty place. But, it's cold and now it's raining, so we enjoyed the view from our window, at dusk. Monday morning, we had the chance to recieve help from Waycross's Finest, when the emergency trailer brake pulled out during a sharp turn, STOPping us while we blocked two lanes of traffic at a busy intersection! It's raining and cold, but our police hero guided traffic around our blockade while we found the connection and re-engaged our brakes. Our next small adventure appeared in Mariana, FL, just across the line from GA: a construction barricade scraped the side our the trailer when one of us made a very short turn. He will not be named. I'm pleased, however, to report that the warm front has moved in, the sun is shining, and the temperature has improved.

We've set up house-keeping in northern Pensacola, FL, in a small campground. There are about 20 sites here, almost all long-term tenants. One of our neighbors has invited us to the 'hood Christmas party this weekend, where we'll have the chance to meet everyone. Our first afternoon in town, after setting up and setting out the pots of lettuce I brought with us, we found the public library and applied for privileges. There are several supermarkets and a produce stand close by, and the city bus system stops one block away.

Kayaks on the roof, our goal is to paddle twice a week. There is a lot of Big Water here, but there is plenty of quiet water, too. Looking at the map, we found a boat ramp north of town. To our delight, the paved road turned into dirt, which got narrower when we found the small hand-painted sign nailed to a fence post directing us to Beck's Fish Camp. Turkey oaks, red cedars, pines and myrtles grew in the sand, and we came to a small encampment that made me hear banjo music in my head. We followed the instructions on more hand-painted signs, depositing $10 for launching our kayaks in Beck's Lake. Not really a lake, but a bayou. Not a human in sight, plenty of wood-peckers in the cypress trees along the creek. The sky is gray, and it's warm. The black water creek twists and turns through the cypress swamp, and we feel as if we're on the Northeast Cape Fear River at home...the only plant missing is wild grapevines! Stuart found a photocopy of an antique map of the bayou, printed in 1947, and we learn there really was a lake here in the late 1800's. The Beck brothers built a sawmill here, damming the Escambia River when northwest Florida began shipping virgin pine lumber all over the world. The dam washed out sometime in the early 1900's. Legend has it that General Andy Jackson may have camped his 15,000 troops right where we launched. We paddled down the bayou to the High Bluffs, and turned back. A pretty paddle on quiet black water.
We drove down some other back roads, looking for more access to the bayous feeding into the Escambia River and its bayous, but found the access totally blocked by big industry such as Exxon and other chemical plants. We'll continue looking...

Terri's Flowers

2011-12-09T09:21:00.000-05:00

Isn't this just beautiful? My friend Terri K gave me this arrangement when she and Dear Husband came for Thanksgiving. The rose hips are from her front-door rose, which bloomed with such enthusiasm this summer those few in this arrangement are not missed. We wired the arrangement to the plant stand by the front door, for security. Everyone passing through admired her artwork!

Saddling up tomorrow, heading south for a few days (or more).

Gardening inside

2011-11-23T09:27:00.001-05:00

Technically, I guess I'm not gardening inside. If gardening is the act of putting a plant or seed in dirt and encouraging it to grow, I'm not gardening. But, I'm using the results of gardening. Rising to the top of The List are instructions for making compost paper...this has been in the file since an unknown time.* So, with a full compost bucket in the kitchen and more treasure to add to it, I picked out some choice pieces and made the paper you see here:

I boiled the thinly sliced orange peels, desicated ginger root and, um, I don't remember the other ingredients, but know they came from the veggie drawer in the fridge or from the compost bucket. Then, to add a solid base, I collected a few leaves from the gorgeous dogwood tree by the kitchen window, and a leave from a finished caladium. I added the leaves to the hot pot just for a few seconds. Then, I layered the ingredients on several pieces of plain white cloth. Each compost-ition (hehehe!) was topped with another piece of PWC, then sandwiched between lots of old newspapers and put in the fabulous screw press my darling husband made for me. Key instruction: change the newspaper several times the first day! Pressing out the moisture is the goal. The second day required less paper changes, and the third day even fewer paper changes. By the fourth day, the compost papers were almost dry. I finished them in a 200* oven for 12 minutes, which is about 6 minutes too long. So, I lightly spritzed them with water, put them back in the screw press with dry paper, and they're not too crispy.Love the colors, so rich! I did apply a thin coat of matte gel medium to both sides of each one.

Now, I don't know what I'll do with these 'papers', but something will need them, someday.

The other project I've been working on is this book, a challenge piece for Betsy Parker's blog, http://clay-cloth-paper-paint.blogspot.com/ . You see it listed at the left of this blog page. I was inspired by the beautiful full moon in November, the Beaver Moon and the leaves falling from that gorgeous dogwood by the kitchen window. So, that's what I've been up to lately...

*Some people compost their leftover vegetables, but fiber artists interested saving the planet may also want to slice up some "garbage paper," like Quilting Arts reader Sally Rorback has done. She based her experiments on the book Vegetable Papyrus by Maureen Richardson (Berrington Press).

November Garden, prefrost

2011-11-06T10:53:00.000-05:00

Late as it is, I'm just finishing up the summer vegetable garden clean-up. This was the year of "you're out of here" for under performing plants. The blackberries moved to that list. They've alternated between producing heavily (33 pounds two summer ago!) to producing almost nothing. In addition, they are a Japanese beetle magnet. So, when I put the shovel in the ground to dig them out, it felt good. A happy looking collard patch is living in part of the former berry site. Of course, that soil hasn't been amended as intensely as the rest of the garden. It's on the list. With that in mind, I've located the current compost-in-place pile in the former berry site.

I'm a lazy composter. If it's compostable, it goes in the pile, somewhere in the vegetable garden, the place that is currently most needy. This time of year, when I'm dead-heading the summer flower and cleaning up the vegetable garden, the pile is the size of a small car. It reduces pretty quickly, particularly if we get some rain. Add to that all the compostable stuff from my kitchen, and it's an efficiently lazy way to make good dirt. I mightmaybe put a pitchfork in the pile, if the sunshine is right, and the birds are singing my favorite tunes, but I don't get too concerned about turning it. Or watering it...ok, if I'm passing by with the garden hose in hand, it will get a drink. It will compost in a year, or so, without any work from me.

The carrots were a surprise. I threw out some seed in the spring, and promptly forgot them. It was a crunchy vegetable garden season, almost no rain fell in four month. The rain in early September jump started a few plants that hung on, giving them a second chance. A few more carrots are still in the ground, I doubt I will harvest more. Next time, however, I WILL photograph them outside, where the light is much nicer than in my kitchen!

The rosemary by the front steps moved to the "you're out of here" list in the spring. They weren't getting enough sun, and the huge rosemarys (rosemaries?) in the white garden are looking gorgeous. I've installed a couple of dwarf loropetalums in their place by the front door. I think the purplish foliage will look pretty with my rusty-orange front door and turquoise porch chairs. All the day lilies in the cottage garden came out, too. Too much shade and too many deer. As much I love day lilies, that was a painful decision. Most of the purple conflowers came out, too. Under performing. The rest of the list includes moving a couple of hydrangeas and some heucheras, and maybe a few of the volunteer hellebores.

The lettuce is looking happy. Some is in the ground in the vegetable garden, some in pots on the east deck. Either way, we'll have fresh greens this winter.

YSA Late Summah 2011

2011-11-05T16:36:00.001-04:00

YSA Late Summah 2011 week
For many reasons, we are all past due for this week of love and support. Seems that everyone's life (except mine, of course! Remember the Fairy Tale caption) seems to be demanding more and more. This is our decompression week. The only rule this week is that we do whatever we want to do, when we want to do it; and don't be late for dinner. We love the time we're all together in the spacious, well-equipped studio, working away at wonderfully varied projects. And often singing along with the songs on The Box.

I embroidered a belt, inspired by 2 Real Belts I bought in Guatemala last winter. I really enjoyed this project.

Martha worked with some beads, and things that weren't originally beads that she made into beads. Yep. Pretty!

Kari is working on gifts for her grandchildren.

And, the pages of a journal...this is from a class Kari took last year

Gini, I need a photo of the backpack you made!

Food, YSA late summer week

2011-11-05T16:22:00.002-04:00

Technical difficulties are hanging out with me this week! So, until I learn a little more, guess I'll post the comments ABOVE the photos. Hopefully that will work.

Late October, 2011. We're off balance this week. Normally, Ginimarthabonniekaren load up with all our supplies and a change of clothes and spend a week with Juliekari in WV. Bonnie is away, we're missing her. But, away we go anyway!

Kari picked a peck of peppers from her garden in anticipation of an early frost in MD, and we chopped and dried for three days, producing a lovely-on-the-tongue crushed pepper mixture that would rival anything at Penzey's.

The week before Halloween. Julie and Kari are inspired, and the table is decorated with spookiness and fun! I was horrified to see those delicious cookies representing tombstones stuck in a platter of dirt. Julie handed me a spoon and told me to dig in: it's ground cashew sandie cookies, peanut butter oreos layered on top of melted dark chocolate 'mud'. Ohmy!

We enjoyed a Thanksgiving feast the second night, complete with all the foods we each wanted on the table. We're pretty predictable: turkey, dressing, cranberries, sweet potatoes and more. It was yummy, and we had built-in planned aheads for the rest of the week.

Julie is working on a miniature of her husband's barn, and it is awesome! She began with a lazy susan, applied a base and began sawing logs. By the end of the week, she had the windows (real glass!) installed and the wiring roughed in. The ceiling fan is just too incredible to describe, and I have no picture of it...

Surprise snow!

2011-10-31T10:39:00.000-04:00

We woke up Saturday morning to this view:

I took this in the morning, the snow fell all day...

The husband, just back from a business trip and no other place to go, consented to come out of the basement to take our picture in the snow...

Sunday morning, we're heading home, and this is the view over the ridge...

We missed you, Bonnie. So glad for Skype!

South Core Banks, NC

2011-10-23T11:37:00.002-04:00

When I went to bed Tuesday night, it was raining. The rain fell all night. When I left home in the dark Wednesday morning, the rain was falling. We loaded the truck in the rain, it stopped long enough to grab this photo...

Captain Lanier with the Davis Store Ferry Service (252-Raw-Fish) made the 10am run to the island, and said no more today. The rain is OK, but the wind is dangerous. But, the wind calmed a little at 2pm, and we loaded in the rain and headed to the Island. Of course, half-way across, the wind kicked up, and docking on the island was almost impossible. We backed-off the ferry, and let the air of our tires (necessary for driving in sand) in a sideways rain. As we crossed Ramp 30 to the beach, the rain let up, and the sun appeared through the dark clouds. The wind and high tide kept us to the back 'road', where we found a place to camp for the night. We hung our soaked clothes on anything we could outside the truck, in no time the wind had whipped them dry.

We can see the Cape Lookout lighthouse all weekend. The keepers house/museum is open, the light is not. We drive south, along the beach, to the Cape, and back up the west side 2 more miles. The high tide and wind stop us at the jetty. It is so beautiful out here.

The island is crowded with men in every kind of vehicle you can imagine. Some non-altered trucks, but some really creative altered vehicles. An old "Lance chips" truck is a great base vehicle, and the back porches and fishing racks and water containers are all different. No pics, that would have been rude without permission.
Portsmouth Island, the next island north, is our favorite, but it's closed right now. The hurricane last month filled the ferry slip with 75 feet of sand. The National Park Service is dredging it out, we hear, and the island will reopen in about 2 weeks. We're sad for our friends Kari and Rick, who run the ferry from Atlantic to PI, who are out of business until the dredging is complete. Life on the coast is altered quickly by the weather.

Sam found this shark's tooth, the Treasure of the week.

K and Sam fish without much luck, but that didn't matter so much. There are very few women on the island, and we got lots of double-takes when the fishermen realized they were seeing three women in the Big Truck. The man from Sanford we stopped to ask about the fishing summed it up: What, no men? Hey, boys, y'all have to see this! So, our camp was named: Camp Wutnomen. And, we cook, too.

After the rain stopped Wednesday afternoon, the sky was gorgeous. After the wind calmed Thursday night, the sea was calm. The sky was clear, and we had two beautiful nights for the meteor showers. A fine trip, we'll do this again.

Rogers City to Detroit

2011-10-07T17:50:00.001-04:00

At the risk of making repetitive remarks, the Michigan State Parks are very nice! We worked our way down the Sunrise Coast, spending time on the beaches. In Bay City, we were almost the only people in the campground, and for the first time in several weeks, far enough from a railroad track to not hear a train at night.

The beaches on the lake are sandy and rocky. I was thrilled to find colorful rocks, and filled my bag with the most beautiful rocks. By the time we'd worked our way around to the 'Thumb' of Michigan, the rocks had disappeared to the sandy beaches. Ford Motor Company created a small bay on the northwest of the Thumb, Crescent Bay. In the 1930's, they dug the beautiful sand there to make windshields. By then, Henry Ford had created The Rouge plant in Dearborn, a modern manufacturing marvel, where the company manufactured many of the parts needed to assemble a car.

We loved all the small towns on the St. Claire River, and were fascinated with the tugs pushing barges up and down the river, much like the traffic we'd seen on the Mississippi River. At the recommendation of people we'd met at another State Park, we slipped into the Algonac State Park, and requested a site on the river. From that vantage, we could see the huge barges moving up and down.

Of course, there was one more Island to visit, and a bonus of two lighthouses on that island. I loved the sign at the ferry landing on the island, warning motorists to drive carefully!

Stuart discovered a campground a the Wayne County Fairgrounds, just west of Detroit. Or, DEEtroit as my daddy would have said. The campground was the closest to the city, and pretty cheap. Quiet, too. I had a need to see the Studio A and Berry Gordy's famous Motown Museum. Stuart had a need to see The Rouge. If you ever have the chance, do both!

Henry Ford was arguably one of the most brilliant men of the 20th Century. What he created in Dearborn to manufacture cars was the beginning of assembly line production. The ticket included a tour of the F-150 assembly line at The Rouge, and we could have stayed there all day, watching the parts move and a truck being built. They turn out a completely assembled F-150 every 90 minutes.

Motown was an emotional experience. To be in that studio, where the music of MY time was recorded, to see the albums lining the walls and to hear the stories...it was a perfect afternoon! We ended up in Studio A, where we sang and danced (part of the tour). We don't have to worry about being discovered.

Saturday night, after Motown and The Rouge, we drove over to Ann Arbor for dinner. The crowds along the streets told us we'd arrived in a college town on the evening of a home football game. But, a parking place appeared, and we joined the people on the pleasant street. Stuart had picked out an italian restaurant that was beautifully decorated and very busy, but they gave us a great table right away. The meal was about as perfect as any I've ever had. Afterwards, we walked down the street, and went into an art gallery to see a special show of hand-made books. I bought a box with three small books in it, a $25 splurge! We met Spooner, the crochet man www.the securityblanketco.com, on the street. He is a Character with talent!

Sunday, we spent the entire day at Greenfield Village, a part of The Henry Ford. Somewhat like Historic Williamsburg, it was totally assembled by Henry Ford. Entire houses were dismantled and moved here; demonstration farms and stores; turn-of-the-century artisans; all staffed with interpreters in costume and well-read about their 'lives'. Booker T. Washington's house, Robert Frost's house, Noah Webster's house; more...all, as if they had just stepped out for a minute. This rug is on the floor of Noah Webster's house, made entirely by hand with little pieces of wool. A real Penny Rug!

The trip is done. We're ready to head home, and we pack up in a pouring rain Monday morning, and head south on a perfectly awful road. It's as if everything unpleasant had waited for our fun trip to end. We laughed all the way to Lancaster, OH, where the rain stopped.

I just spent five days on my own boat on the Mississippi River, and then was blinded by the bright beauty of Lake Huron's sandy beaches. What a charmed life.

Lake Huron/St. Clair River lighthouses

2011-10-07T17:31:00.000-04:00

Just a few of the 28 lighthouses we saw last month, most of them on Lake Huron, a few on the St. Claire River (it connects Lake Huron with Lake Erie)...Stuart can name them ALL!

PN Hoeft State Park, Rogers City

2011-09-25T14:50:00.001-04:00

Michigan State Parks are some of the best we've every seen. After driving a short 90 miles, we set up housekeeping on the Sunrise side of the state on the shore of Lake Huron, at Hoeft State Park. PN Hoeft was a banker, lumber baron, ship captain, mine owner. In 1922, he donated 300 acres for a park, and in 1938 the CCC built a fine stone picnic pavilion. It's big park, with 142 sites. Since it's after Labor Day, and mid-week, the place is almost deserted. The beach here is sugar sand, blindingly white, and the water is an improbably blue/green. Beautiful!

We pedaled our bicycles up the coast a little to see the Forty Mile Point Light, then drove down the coast to see the lights at Presque Isle. Michigan is serious about biking, we are to learn that there are paved bike trails everywhere. Something else Michiganders are serious about is sausage. The meat markets we've seen so far are from a distant time. Many different hand-made sausages, beautifully cut meats and a small army of men in white coats and hats behind the counter to cut something for me. We bought several different sausages from the meat market in Rogers City, pop: tiny. What a feast we had for dinner that night! Corn, peppers, sausages, all cooked on the grill.

Driving across the UP

2011-09-25T14:27:00.002-04:00

After leaving Oshkosh, we found the coastal road heading north. Terrible road surface, but the DOT is working on it. We drove through about 50 miles of road construction. We'd spent some quality time on Michigan's UP in 2006, loved every minute of it, and were happy to be back in the southern part of the UP. Hey, this is where we saw Alice Cooper, live, at the State Fair in '06...that was memorable for all the wrong reasons.

We made a stop at our favorite place to buy GOOD maple syrup. I can't tell you name of the business, but it's on US 2, east of Blaney Park Road, on the north side of the highway, in a green building. You can't miss it; there is no other house or building for many miles. Susan showed us the maple syrup processing equipment, and sold us the last of the grade C stuff she had. Grade C is the darkest, most flavorful, even though most people want the Grade A. I think they're named wrong, but who's asking me? Susan gave me a zucchini from her garden, which we enjoyed that night for dinner.

Just a view of the beautiful Lake Superior...

It took us three days to get from Oshkosh to St. Ignace, just taking our time. The next day we drove north and east on MI 134, to the end of that peninsula to get to Drummond Island, where there is a lighthouse at De Tour Village (by the ferry landing) and at the far end of the island. You've got to love solitude to live on Drummond Island. It's big, it's remote and it's beautiful. It's also, apparently, a summer cottage place, lots of small houses with seasonal "For Rent" signs in front of them.
This 50-foot tall tree caught my eye. It was decorated like a huge Christmas tree, with hanging pairs of shoes! Too bad I couldn't take a better picture. At the driveway to someone's house in the woods, the owners obviously have a quirky sense of humor.

Cedarville, the hometown of my Sistah, Gypsygirl. Gypsygirl, the old hometown has grown since you left many years ago, but it's still a tiny, cold place. The gas is still the highest in the state and you can still gt your boat motor repaired, buy smoked fish and eat pasties everywhere.

on the ferry, crossing De Tour Passage, between the UP and Drummond Island. I hope I never get too 'old' to get out of the car and watch the scene when I'm on a ferry...

Alma, WI to Oshkosh, and a Big Storm

2011-09-22T18:15:00.001-04:00

After a quick shower at the marina, we settled our bill and headed out. I felt out of balance, like what we were seeing was surreal, after being on the river for five days. The unreal feeling was soon more magnified by the strange damage in the landscape. It was as if tiny little tornadoes has touched down in the cornfields smashing down little sections of corn. Big trees were twisted off 10 feet off the ground, but the damage was very sporadic. We stopped for the night in Red Granite, WI, where we saw much hurricane-looking damage: trees down, roofs torn off houses, power lines down. This morning, about 10am, a sudden and very intense storm blew through so quickly the local tornado sirens didn't have time to warm people. We were on the river when this terrible storm blew through!

We spent the next day and night with Carmen, and the ghost of my Aunt Carol. I love their gardens! This year, Carmen had several new containers, and the hydrangeas in front of the pretty Victorian house were just gorgeous! We ran into old friends Geri and Jim, their daughter and grand daughter at the downtown Farmer's Market that morning, it was as if we had come home after having been away for a few years. Carmen is gearing up for another school year, this year with only 19 piano students. It was so nice to see Carmen and catch up. Nice way to ease back into the road trip.

Last morning on The River

2011-09-22T18:04:00.000-04:00

This is the best image I could capture of a Bald Eagle....they are magnificent birds, and we saw 26 in the past four days. The defining image of my trip on the MS River will be of the two adults and one juvenile who sat in the trees across the river and hunted all afternoon on our second day out.

In the night, our last night on the river, two separate 15-barge tows came downriver, and one went up, passing us almost silently. I woke to a low rumbling noise, and when I looked out, I could see the floodlight scanning the shores of the rivers. It was a little eerie, all that big light, and almost no noise. And, no wake. There is much commercial traffic on the river, and it was exciting to see it. In the late 1800's, there was commercial traffic on the river, but it was dangerous and the channel was no always passable. Low water and rapids shortened the life of a paddlewheel steamboat to five years. When the Corps of Engerineers began building dams and locks in the 1930's, the river and it's countryside was changed forever. We learned much about the consequences of that work at the National River Museum in Dubuque, and I'm so glad I saw it all for myself!

We have a quiet little Honda generator on the back of the boat, to keep the fridge cold. A steel hulled boat wouldn't allow for a gas fridge. No way to vent it (you know I asked!). We've run the generator twice a day, for about an hour each time. This is our last morning, so we ran the generator long enough to make coffee, and turned it off. The sound, quiet as it is, will always remind me a post-hurricane days.

The rain began as we break camp Friday morning. By now, we're pretty comfortable with the process of bringing in the three anchors in the sand. Even the wing dams (we call them jetties on the coast of NC) on both sides of our beach don't worry me, now that I'm more comfortable handling the boat. I am not ready to go back to the marina, so we motor down river a little further, just to see what's around the next bend. The scene changes with every mile. It's hard to imagine the old river captains running this river from memory. The sky was dark, then light, then gray, and the rain tappered off. There is more to this little storm, we discover later in the day, but for now, we're glad the rain has stopped. We see more Eagles, and pretty views of the mountains through the mist. By the time we head back upriver to the Fun 'N Sun Marina, the sun is bright. I've wanted for years to make this trip, and it was better than anything I'd imagined!

Motoring, swimming and eating on the MS River

2011-09-22T17:21:00.005-04:00

The first day on the river was rainy and a little cool, the storm moved on, and the temperatures rose when the sun did the next day. We motored on up to Lake Pepin, about 15 miles. We passed a few other pleasure boaters, but no big barges. The Eagle Count was terrific! We could hardly believe we were seeing so many of eagles. They are Big Birds.

Lake Pepin is the second largest naturally wide place on the River. We didn't have enough time to explore the lake, it's far too huge for even two days of motoring. Anchoring on the shores is not allowed. It's a beautiful windy day, making a little bit of chop. We head south.

A view of Lake Pepin, Mississippi River, from our boat...

....

A channel marker to Buffalo City, WI....we found the beach just above the junction of the two rivers to be just perfect for a camp. A few small boats passed during the afternoon, fishermen and sight-seers. We felt like we were back on our NE Cape Fear River during Booze Cruise hour!

Cocktails and dinner on the upper deck, after a day of eagle spotting, swimming and locking through going down river...

North of Wabasha, MN

2011-09-04T18:49:00.002-04:00

The sun appeared as we cleared the Alma lock, Lock and Dam #4 on the Mississippi River. This lock is on the WI side of the river. Almost immediately, we began to see Bald Eagles. You must capitalize the name, they've earned honor with the amazing comeback since Rachel Carson's Silent Spring (can't find the underline!). Such magnificent birds. Pretty quickly we can identify them soaring and gliding over the bluffs, looking for fish. We can easily see them sitting in the dead trees, quiet and calm, looking for a meal opportunity.

One of these pictures is of our second night on the river, across from the entrance to Robinson Lake. We had motored up into the lake which was more like a shallow cove, but didn't find a good beach site. This little beach was just far enough from the main channel to protect us from the wake of most boats, and out of range of the huge barge/tugs that would surely be coming along. We spent the afternoon swimming and watching eagles. Stuart cooked dinner on the grill on the front deck, and we ate on our top deck, watching a beautiful sunset. An adult pair of eagles sat in a tree across the river all afternoon, watching their juvenile eagle hunting. I think they were watching us, too! No pictures of the eagles, too far away.

There isn't much traffic on the river. There is a big dredge project close to Great River Harbor, and the little tugs were pushing a sand barge up to a renourishment project just a few miles upriver, but above Lock 4, it's pretty quiet. Thankfully. You know, I'm a novice at driving a slab-sided vehicle with delayed response time, in moving water!

First campsite and Alma Lock

2011-09-04T18:36:00.001-04:00

Our first day on the river was so exciting and pretty quiet at the same time. The clouds moved in, the rain began. We motored a little, and decided to go into a little cove to wait the rain. These images are from our first day/morning on the river. Coffee never tasted so good, looking down the Mississippi River!

The ring beaked gulls kept us company all day, waiting for us to throw overboard something to eat. They have more hope than any other creatures on earth!

Our first lock, upriver, at Alma, WI. We radioed to ask permission to enter the lock, and they didn't laugh! I took these pictures from the boat, watching the lower lock open, and the upper lock open when we had risen 7 feet. The clouds blew away, the sun appeared the exact moment the upper gates opened, and we headed upriver.

When a boat enters the lock, they ask that we go to the land-side of the lock, and the lockhands throw us a rope. Keeps the boat stable during the raise/lower process. This is a shallow lock, only seven feet, so it only takes a few minutes.

The Mississippi River float begins!

2011-09-04T18:28:00.000-04:00

Our houseboat, we rented from Fun N Sun Houseboat Vacations, in Alma, WI. This is the smallest boat they rent, they call it the Couples Boat. It is perfect for us!

We arrived at Great Harbor Marina mid-day Monday. Jim was heading out, with Eric to bring in a returning boat and invited us to join them. An introduction to the River!

We loaded our food and a couple of clean t-shirts, some cold beer, the camera and binoculars. Tonight, we spend the night on the boat at the dock. Our homework assignment is to watch a short training video (we don't), and read through some info about the river in a book (we do). Jim and Matt, another river rat, joined us for some beers, and I baked a pan of brownies for snacks later.

Tuesday morning, Matt takes us out into the main river channel, at mile 747.9, to teach us a few basics about running the boat, and how to beach it. Another, much larger houseboat went out just ahead of us, and a Corps of Engineers tug pushing dredge material is going upriver about the same time. Matt steps off our boat onto the little 'ferry', and we're on our own. Pinch me, this is real!

Pike's Peak and a 'bike....

2011-09-04T18:12:00.001-04:00

We're about 26 hours and 32 minutes from picking up our houseboat on the Mississippi River. Think I'm excited?

About two weeks ago, we began driving past cornfields. Acres, then miles. Well, miles turned into hours, which turned into days. We've been driving through undulating hills of corn and soybeans for WEEKS now. Such beautiful country.

We stopped at a roadside market to buy local vegetables, and heard about Pike's Peak State Park, just ahead in MacGregor, WI. The confluence of the Wisconsin River and the Mississippi River. This is where the high bluffs really begin. About 400,000 years ago, when this part of the continent was an ocean, layers of sand were laid down. Millions of years later, when the ice age scraped some of those layers off, the limestone and dolomite cliffs were exposed. The limestone washed away, leaving caves and caverns, which turned into mining interests in current time. The visual result is bluffs over the river, with very wide flood plains creating what is called 'braided rivers'. A braided river is pretty danged healthy, and the Corps of Engineers has seen the results of damming and un-braiding rivers. This is a seriously condensed history! But, I'm getting ahead of the story of the river. Lt. Zebulon Pike, the same man who named the famous Pikes Peak farther west, was one of the first Europeans to see this magnificent view, and this little known bluff is named for him. Of course, Native Americans had been living here for almost 6,000 years.

While we were at Pike's Peak State Park, having lunch, this man rode in on this home-made motorcycle. You KNOW I had to ask him about it! The motor and rear chassis is a 1962 VW Beetle. The front tire forks are twisted wrought iron, the transmission....I forget all the details, but it was a cool bike!

Quad Cities/Dubuque, IA

2011-09-04T11:31:00.008-04:00

Has it been a week since I had an internet connection?

Hurricane Irene has gone through, leaving very little damage in our little corner of the world, other than downed limbs and power outages. Jan and Eddie report all is well at home, and the power was out for less than a day. That's a miracle! The bad news is from our friends in New Bern...two trees on the house, much damage. And, far more damage farther north, I'm sad to hear.

We spent two days in the Quad Cities, IA area. This happy scene is at Credit Island, in Davenport, IA. Happy figures, "Sunday in the Park".

We headed north, along the Great River Road, on the west of The River. The MS River Distilling Company sits just above the river in Le Claire, IA. We didn't hang around for the noon tour, but did have a taste of their efforts, and walked away with two small bottles. Nice young man, former weather forecaster from Lafayette, LA, who understood our angst about the storm heading towards southeastern NC at that time.

The drive along the western bank of the river was beautiful, corn fields and rolling hills. We followed the train track,always busy train tracks, to Dubuque. I know, we always to to the most exotic places! We found a county park, just north of town. Eighteen miles north of town, up and down roller coaster roads, past cow barns and cornfields. Did me miss a turn? Are we getting into a place we can't get out of? The river suddenly appeared, a wide sandy beach. It's hot this afternoon, Friday afternoon. Thankfully it's early and there is plenty of room in the campground. There are only 26 sites with water and electricity, and we get a nice, level site.

This is where I get my very first swim in the Mississippi River! A Very Strong Current kept me close to the beach. The drop off was sudden: one foot deep to out-of-sight-deep. Yippee!!

Saturday morning finds us in downtown Dubuque, catching a ride up the incline car, for a view over the city. Mr. Graves lived at the top of the bluff, worked at the bottom of the bluff, making his trip home for lunch and nap difficult. It took half an hour each way to wind up the bluff in a horse drawn carriage, which meant he didn't have time for lunch, and a 30 minute nap. Of course, he can't walk up that hill! This is the late 1882. Mr. Graves is a former mayor, former State Senator and a promoter of mines and a banker. He built this incline railroad, after seeing one in Europe. He even heated it with a little coal stove. His gardener would use the coal fired steam generator at the top of the hill to lower his boss to work in the morning, pull him up to his lunch, send him back to afternoon work, and back home in the evening. He was the envy of his neighbors! Of course ( you could see this coming), the little coal fire destroyed the car about 3 years later. He rebuilt. Fire, again. No money. By now, this time, his neighbors had begun to pay him a nickel to ride up and down, and they combined financial energies to rebuild, adding a forth rail in the middle and a second car to counter balance the first car. And, most importantly, a metal cable that wouldn't burn. The car still runs today, $2 round trip, for a great view of the river bend, the Ice Harbor and city. www.dbq.com/fenplco

Just one of many sculptures on display along the Dubuque River Walk....I just couldn't resist! The head is built totally from scavenged limbs. Tomorrow, Goose Island at La Crosse, WI.

downtown and John Deere

2011-08-25T21:44:00.002-04:00

Linda and Neil: go to my house! Jan and Eddie say there is plenty of room for you two! They're looking for you...

There is a most delightful water fountain in downtown Moline, IL! The fountain heads spurt water for a few seconds, then stop and then appear again. On a hot afternoon, adults and small children were having a blast! I only wished I had a towel...

We found the microbrewery scene to be alive and well in the Quad Cities. The IPA we hoped to find at the Blue Cat Brew Pub was out, but the less-hoppy beer we drank was good. And, the logo was nice.The IPA at Bent River Brewery was OK, but the guest-brewed IPA from Fountain Brewery was very good. As was the BLT I ate with it!

Another downtown source of entertainment is the John Deere Museum. Yep, John began his business right here. Well, actually a little west of here, but within a couple of years he had moved his little black smith shop to downtown Moline. He began by hammering a new plough, a self-cleaning plow. In 1832 he was making and selling about 100 ploughs a year. By 1882 he was manufacturing and selling 100,000 ploughs a year! In 1917, the company bought a a small business making a self-propelled gasoline plough: a tractor. The next year, they sold the first John Deere tractor, very much like the one in the photo to the left here. It had two front wheels, and one rear wheel, all made of iron, of course. The seat was cantilevered over the hitch, on a spring. Modern comfort, you know. It was not painted green at the time, but this one in the museum is surely John Deere Green!

I very badly wanted to buy this hale baler for my brother. Brother, I sat in the cab of this tractor, and it's nicer than my house! Sorry, they wouldn't take my credit card. It makes those huge, round bales... You'll laugh to hear I climbed on and sat in every tractor on display. Checked out all the toy tractors in the children's area, too.

The museum did have a video game that every man and child had to try: a virtual backhoe, on a job site. I sat in the seat, and had four minutes to load as much dirt from the site into the waiting dump truck as I could. The game reminds me of the games on the Boardwalk in Carolina Beach. I'm pleased and proud to say that I loaded more dirt than any other man who tried it while I was there (OK, except for one!). But, there is no worry about me getting a job. I only loaded 3 yards of dirt in four minutes!

We also found a Road Food recommendation (the Sterns, regular guests on The Splendid Table on NPR): Lagomarcino's Chocolate and Ice Cream Parlor. We enjoyed the best hot fudge on the planet, poured generously on top of truly delicious home-made vanilla ice cream. With real whipped cream, not the canned stuff.

Tomorrow, with an eye on Hurricane Irene, we're heading upriver, along the Great River Road in Iowa. I'm thinking of all my family and friends up and down the east coast, on the rivers and beaches, who are going to have to deal with water in the next few days. Jan and Eddie say they'll put you all up at our house, not matter how many need a place to stay. The generator is filled and ready to keep the fridge cold, and the pump working. The gas cook top is always ready. I'm hoping for no blue tarps in your near future.

More locks and dams

2011-08-25T11:04:00.001-04:00

I am standing above Lock 15, at Rock Island, IL to take this photo. You can see the car/railroad bridge, and the skyline of Davenport, IA behind it.

The first of the barges is coming into the lock, heading upriver....

Some of the containers are open. Coal can't be safely covered; it produces methane, which could explode. The other covered containers are possibly carrying fertilizer. We know that because most of the traffic going upriver is moving coal, fertilizer and petroleum products. The traffic going downriver usually moves grains.

The MS River is 2300 miles long, and runs through 11 states. It is the drain for more than 40% of the US! Every tug on the river pushing 15 barges is the equivalent of a 3 mile long train, or more than 700 big trucks. Each of these piles of coal would more than fill one truck.

There are 29 dams and locks on the upper MS river. Dams are not needed on the lower portion of the river, because the Illinois, Ohio and Missouri rivers all come into the MS, keeping the water levels high enough for barge and boat traffic. The first lock and dam built on the river was here, at Rock Island, in 1932. It took 2 years to complete. Before the lock and dam was built here, moving through the Quad Cities was dangerous for some and impossible for others, because of the rapids. The Corps of Engineers dredged the channel here from less than 4 feet, to more than nine to improve navigation. But, the biggest help to navigation was the dam and lock system.

Once the lock fills, the traffic is almost close enough to touch! These men told us they were looking forward to tomorrow, when their 28-day shift ends, and they begin 28 days off. Hey Mark, does this sound like a fireman's schedule on steroids?!?

Hurricane Irene is keeping weather forecasters in a frenzy of happiness right now. We're watching. Jan and Eddie have taken the porch furniture in, moved light-weight things, and tied down the hot tub cover. We're not concerned!

We cross The River

2011-08-25T10:50:00.001-04:00

Looking upriver, from Rock Island, IL . The bridge in the photo is a double-decker bridge, with cars on the lower level, and railroad tracks on the upper. The red things, to the left in this photo, is the dam. The bridge appears to be sitting on top of the dam, but it's actually beyond it.
The tug boat, at the right of the photo is entering the lock pushing FIFTEEN barges upriver! This is where it gets interesting. The locks here are 600 feet long. The barges, tied together, are more than 1000 feet long. You might also notice that the tug is pretty close to the bridge and is taller than the bridge. Here's what we learned at the Rock Island Lock and Dam Visitor Center: the tug pushes nine of the barges into the lock. Those barges are disconnected from the rest, and the tug backs out of the lock channel. The locks close, the water level changes (depending on whether they're going up- or down-river), and the nine barges, tied together, emerge at the opposite end. They are pulled out on a roller device connected to the jetty, securing them until they can be reconnected with their tugboat. The tug then enters the now vacant lock with the remaining barges, the water level changes, and it emerges on the other side and takes control of those barges again. We were lucky enough to arrive at the visitor center just before this barge passed through.

The photo above was taken later in the day. Earlier, we had driven across the bridge, from Davenport, IA to Rock Island Arsenal, home of an active Army base where guns and armor are manufactured. The Army Corps of Engineers runs the visitor center. This tug and barges had been waiting for several hours to lock through, heading upriver. Normally, they have no wait, so there must have been a problem with the locks. Fortunate for us! This photo is looking upriver, with the tug just out of the frame on the left. The bargemen have just disconnected the nine barges from the tug-and-six....
Then, the lock closes, and water rises...this all took less than 15 minutes!

This is the first nine barges, before the upper lock opened to release them to the end of the jetty, looking upriver.

It was pretty exciting to see this happen! more, in the next post...

Summer sights and sounds

2011-08-21T11:04:00.013-04:00

As long as people have lived in communities, people have built special communities for seasonal get-aways. The cottage at the beach, the mountain cabin, summer hunting camps, fall hunting camps, winter hunting camps, fishing camps, a cabin at the river. The Kentucky River Campground, outside of Frankfort, KY is a summer camp. Of course, with modern conveniences such as insulation and electricity, it's also a year-round camp. Stuart and I had planned to spend a couple of days at the KY Horsepark Campground, in Lexington, but didn't consider the weekend get-away crowd. There was no room at the inn. The KRC was down a narrow, twisty paved road. Our host showed us the three sites he had open...all obviously previously occupied long-term.

Thursday night, as we listened to the bumper crop of cicadas singing, looking at the row of campers waiting for their weekend tenants to arrive, we realized we were looking at a small slice of American underground. I have vivid memories of the old cottages at the beach. There are postcards and photos in family albums and displays at local museums of those cottages. But, I don't know of a collection of photos, yet, of a summer campground community. There is one in almost every place tourists visit, mostly out of sight of the shopping malls and fancy waterfronts. These are the vacation homes of working class people. And, those working folks make a mad dash out of town every Friday afternoon, for the quiet of the golf carts and conversation with other travel trailer neighbors. They live outside, no matter the weather, watching outdoor tv's and walking around the campground to see who's not there. They are quick to offer advice on everything from what local sights to see, to the location of the closest Walmart. The best part is they accept us, transients and therefore foreigners, as family and friends.

KRC is on the muddy, ever-flowing north Kentucky River. They say the fishing is good. We don't know, we're only here for two nights. But, here beside the cornfield and the river, it's quiet. And, they've invited us to come back.

US Highway 421 North was a blue road on the map, our favorite kind of road. It was curvy and steep in places, but took us past fields and small towns. About 10:30, we drove into New Castle, Ky. Lots of cars parked on the side of the road, flashing lights from emergency vehicles made us think there was a terrible accident. But, it was the beginning of a parade! You know we couldn't miss this, so we found a place to park, and walked back. The African American Pride Heritage Festival parade brought out everyone in town, I believe. The high school marching band, a couple of notable citizens, and of course, beauty queesn. This photo is the 2011 Queen, being greeted by the hostest of the event. About a dozen past queens were honored just before the parade began, and sat in folding metal chairs to form the viewing 'stand'. Kentucky State University Marching Band came up from Frankfort to perform, to the delight of everyone! The three block parade was over in about 30 minutes, 30 minutes of pure delight!

The story of a Kentucky Colonel

2011-08-18T22:27:00.001-04:00

Stuart reminded me today of a piece of his history I'd forgotten: he's a Kentucky Colonel. Just like THE Colonel. You may wonder what prompted the reminder of such important history. As you remember, we just spent a noisy night at a campground barely off I-40, in Newport, TN last night. Knowing that we'd just crossed over the most difficult of the mountain roads, the section between Asheville, NC and Newport, we opted to go no further that day. The road is a miracle, according to geologists. The rock supporting and surrounding that roadbed is about the most unstable stuff on the east coast. But, don't tell the vast amount of truckers who depend on that route to get across the mountains! Our host at the Newport KOA told us the repair from the rock slide, which closed I-40, took almost two years. But, back to the Colonel. We headed north from Newport this hot morning, chosing to drive on 25E, rather than an interstate. Good choice! It's the kind of road that has the green dots on the map, indicating that it's a particularly scenic route. And, it's a route that took us through Corbin, KY. The place Colonel Harland Sanders perfected his Kentucky Fried Chicken recipe.

We followed our instincts, and a couple of signs, to find the site of the original cafe. The Colonel moved to Corbin, KY, in 1932. He first worked for a couple of gas stations, and with the Depression very close in everyone's rear-view memory, managed to buy a gas station on what was the main road from Cleveland to Florida. He quickly built a small cafe and motor lodge, serving tasty meals to travelers. In the early 1950's, with Ike's new interstate road by-passing his town and his restaurant, he took his first social security check ($105), and began traveling and teaching small business owners how to make his pressure-cooked chicken. In just a few years, he was a millionaire. And, he did it by telling anyone who'd study his method to pay him "when you can".

The Colonel is one of the originators of American fast food. His idea of frying chicken in 9 minutes, as opposed to the normal 30 minutes, and therefore giving people hot food quickly, was adopted by others. The little museum, built to resemble his original cafe, has a replica of the original kitchen, complete with a 1940-era Hobart dishwasher. Restaurant owners could take notes about that today. We ate on plastic plates, with plastic sporks. He was not only a cook, but a marketing genius. Inside the cafe, he built a replica of one of the rooms of his motor lodge. Knowing that the women would want to check out the rooms before agreeing to allow the family to spend the night was key to his marketing scheme. So, the "ladies room" was actually inside the replica of the motor court room inside the cafe! The women could see how clean and neat the room was, and would endorse the idea of spending the night there.

I don't know how he earned the Kentucky Colonel honor. I do know that in his younger days he was a politician. In those days, I believe it was earned through political endorsements or community service work. Stuart earned his through his ex-father-in-law, who was from KY, and sponsored him. Stuart doesn't expect anyone to call him Colonel. He has no clue how to fry chicken, surely won't let anyone pay him "when you can".

Birthday boy

2011-08-17T22:36:00.000-04:00

Today is Stuart's birthday. To celebrate, we've chosen to spend the night in Newport, TN. Not familiar with Newport? It's a tiny little town on I-40, north of Sevierville, Gatlinburg and Dollywood. Our KOA campground is not far from the interstate, and sounds much closer than it is. We gave up, came inside even though the night air is cool, and turned on the air conditioning to drown out the noise of the trucks.

We spent the first two nights at Tanglewood County Park, in Clemmons, NC. One memorable November in the early 1990's, we found ourselves in Clemmons the week after Thanksgiving. I was working, and feeling a little off-balance, as my darling grandmother had died three weeks earlier. Stuart made the trip with me, and played tourist in Winston-Salem while I worked. How we got into Tanglewood Park without knowing there was a Christmas light display, we'll never know! The first night, when I returned to our little travel trailer, I insisted that Stuart get out of bed, get dressed, and get in the car...I had a great surprise for him! We oohed and ahhed at the lights, and laughed at ourselves for being so unaware. That evening was the perfect tonic for my sad heart. This week, we learned that Tanglewood campground has been closed for more than 10 years. TheForsyth county park is huge and beautiful, and the new-and-improved campground is just as pretty and peaceful as our vague memory painted it.

Tomorrow, Berea, KY.

A dream on the river

2011-08-13T15:27:00.001-04:00

For as long as I can remember, I've had a fascination with the Mississippi River. Not a Tom Sawyer type of fascination, but one of incredulity at such a huge body of water. Incredulity. Is that a word? There is a scale model of The River on Mud Island, in downtown Memphis, where you get a great sense of The River's enormous responsibility. Anyway, we're headed for a dream of a trip on The River. The afternoon Stuart and I got married, 25 years ago, we talked about who/where we'd be in 25 years. I said I'd like to take a trip on The River sometime before then. Guess I've waited long enough.

We've rented a houseboat on the upper MS river, in what is known there are Pool 4. That name has something to do with the locks. We're picking up our floating home in Alma, WI, just south of Lake Pepian. The river is so wide just upriver from Alma, it's called a lake! Everything I've ever read calls this part of the river the most beautiful, with bluffs from 300 - 500 feet. We will have five days to explore the river, and the small towns close by, locking through to go either up or down the river. Here's the link for the marina we're dealing with: http://www.funsun.com/
Check out the boat we're rented, the Couples Boat.

After we return the boat, we're headed across the upper peninsula of MI, and down the east coast of MI to see lighthouses. Doesn't this sound like a grand late summer trip?

To make it even better, we've once again lucked into a house-sitting situation that helps everyone. Our friends Jan and Eddie finally sold their house. They've had their eyes on one to buy, but had to sell first. Their new home needs renovations to the kitchen and bathrooms, and they thought they'd have to rent an apartment. Well, could timing get any better?!? And, besides, I now know how to move out of a closet to make room for friends. So, Jan and Eddie are going to move into our house while they're renovating their new house. No stinky rental carpets, no noisy neighbors, and a very nice porch (if I do say so!) for breakfast and dinner. So, if the granite counter tops arrive on time, there are no surprises in the ripping out process, we'll all be comfy on almost exactly the same schedule! And, if not, there is room for us all when we return.

Stay tuned. It's going to be a grand adventure. And, who knows. We might turn into Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn after all.

Dry Gardening

2011-07-09T22:31:00.012-04:00

Rain! It was so exciting! This rainfall is so welcome, I had to take a picture. Good thing I moved quickly: the rain stopped a few minutes after I snapped this image. But it lasted long enough for me to dance in the slightly-wet grass.

Assisted-watering is the rule this summer. It's been weeks - I've lost track - since we had any rain, even a short shower. These lilies, inside the fenced veggie garden have survived and bloomed only because they are established and they are getting water along with the struggling vegetables. The poor blackberries finally did set a few blooms, but the fruit was pathetic. Last summer I harvested almost 35 pounds of berries. This year, I picked 5 berries. The beans are looking very fine, but have no blooms. The bean rows were heavily mulched with turkey litter and leaves last fall, so the nitrogen content is high. Good nitrogen = good foliage. All hat and no cattle. I didn't bother snapping images of the the rest of the garden, it's so pathetic. Oh well, there is next summer.

Campsite at Lake Jordan

2011-06-29T09:31:00.001-04:00

It's called camping. But, I have a difficult time calling it camping...I have a queen-size bed, hot water, a flush toilet and refrigerator. If there is electricity available, I also have heat and air conditioning and a microwave oven. There is usually electricity available, for a small fee. But, it's still called camping, because we're usually in the woods some place. We like a state or national park better than a private campground, usually. Some private campgrounds, like some KOAs, are pretty fancy places. They have swimming pools, hayrides for the children, playground games and recreation halls with video games and hot dogs. Other private campgrounds, like other KOAs, have no ammenities, but have quiet, wooded sites. We usually prefer the places where we provide our own entertainment. So, the campgrounds at Lake Jordan appeal to us because the sites are large, many trees between the sites, and it is on the lake. And, there is water and electricity.

This is our campsite, right on the lake. Stuart found this one in a small cove, where we had blue herons, a bald eagle and other songbirds to entertain us. We launched our kayaks right there, too.

Our campsite, from thigh-deep water...

The sunset colors...

We drove on to Wilkesboro, where we visited Terri and Ray. Ray brought out some locally made products for us to sample! Terri served two delicious dinners, and we enjoyed the back deck one evening. Their gardens are lush, backed up to the woods. They've had rain almost daily, and I'm jealous. When they lived in Wilmington, she moved many flowers from her garden to mine, including some crinum lilies and primroses she lifted from a famous National Historic Site!

I taught a sewing class for the Wilkes County Quilt Guild, and had a great day with that group. No fear in any of them, game to try anything!

We 'camped' at a Corp of Engineers project, Kerr Scott Dam and Reservoir, and would go there again.

Clyde Jones and his Critters

2011-06-29T09:07:00.000-04:00

Stuart and I spent a few days last week at Lake Jordan State Recreation Area. Lovely, rambling, dammed lake project. The well-done Visitor's Center taught us that the lake was created in the early 1950's to provide water to the middle part of the state. The hard rock shelf prohibits water from soaking through, so there is no chance for ground water to support towns . The Haw River is rocky, but the New Hope Creek is soft. The dam was designed to back up the New Hope Creek, and it caused the water to meander into the low areas, creating pretty little coves for wildlife and campsites. There are several campgrounds, boat ramps and swimming beaches around the lake. We stayed at Poplar Point campground, which was almost deserted in mid-week.

We also learned that Jordan Lake is the MOST popular place in the US for summer Bald Eagle migration! We saw one, perched on a dead tree close to our campsite.

Wednesday, we drove over to Bynum, between Chapel Hill and Pittsboro. There, we found Clyde Jones and his Critters. When we arrived, we found Mr. Clyde driving around his outside gallery on his riding mower, hand-made trailer loaded with logs. It was hothothot that day, and he was soaked in sweat. With a wave of his hand, he invited us to 'walk anywhere, take all the pictures you'd like', and continued to unload the logs.

His Critters are life-sized and all of them have attitude! He uses found materials for eyes and ears and other body parts, and paints them in bright colors. We had a visit under the catalpa tree with him, and he told me he has pieces at the Cameron Art Museum...loves his friend Ann! We loved seeing his work, and meeting him.

last PI pics...

2011-05-23T14:43:00.002-04:00

After the little rain Friday afternoon, the color of the air was pretty and clear. I have a new camera, well, a new used camera, and I'm learning a little about it this weekend. Not a good time for a study project!

A little out of focus, but the little birds were just so bright I couldn't resist snapping this image! We watched them fishing and scampering through the waves.

Our last beach sunset, and it was pretty.

Mark, standing on the front of the ferry that will take us back to the mainland Sunday afternoon late. No vehicles coming over, but three going back.

Thanks, Worth and Karen, for a great gift!

More PI pictures...

2011-05-23T14:31:00.002-04:00

View of Portsmouth Village, from the Widow's Walk in the Life Saving Station. Terrific exhibit here, with lots of pictures and drawings of the men, boats and equipment used when a ship wrecked on the constantly shifting shoals off the Outer Banks. There were more than 20 Life Saving stations along the Outer Banks at one time. The church seen here is the Methodist church, rebuilt after a fire in 1915.

We met the current caretakers, a couple from MI, who are living at the Village for six weeks. She told us about the birds she's seen, and little more about the maintenance of the Village.

This house was so pretty in the morning light, the pink roses climbing on the picket fence. No one lives in any of the few houses left, but two (maybe more?) are held by long-term lease by descendents of former residents. There is no electricity in the Village, but there are generators and big batteries to help the seasonal workers live more comfortably.

We spent the morning seeing the exhibit in the old post office/store, and one other house that is open, walking through a graveyard, before heading back through the forest and back onto the beach side.

We met two men coming through the flats towards the Village. We had passed their camp earlier today. Several tents and 3 or 4 trucks...looks like a weekend of fishing. They told us of a sweet fishing hole at mile 4B, where they pulled them in as fast as they could bait a hook. We drove past the site, not wanting to crowd them.

Mile 8 looked good to us, so we pulled close to the high tide line, and called it a campsite. Close by are two turtle carcasses, meant to be undisturbed...this is one of them. It's nesting season, and we are close to a turtle nesting area.
Last night's brief storm had a little wind, and this pattern in the sand around the grass was pretty.

A few more pics in the next post....

Portsmouth Island, NC pictures

2011-05-23T13:45:00.004-04:00

Morris Marina runs a ferry from Atlantic, NC over to Portsmouth Island, about a 40 minute ride. The ferry crew is friendly and efficient...Mark sized up the vehicles waiting for the 3pm Thursday afternoon ferry, conferring with Rick on the logistics of putting the four vehicles on. Our truck/camper is extra wide, and will only fit in the center. There is a Toyota, pulling a trailer loaded with kayaks, and two other trucks. I do not see any way to fit all these vehicles on that small ferry, but they make it happen. Mark, in an effort to help me back Worth's truck onto the ferry, broke the driver's side mirror off the mounting bracket. Now, I'm backing an unfamiliar vehicle totally in the blind! He's a good guide, and once I'm loaded, there is so little room between the trucks I have to open the window and climb out, stepping on the truck hood to get over.

There is an osprey nest just off the marina cove, and the pair of adults are sitting on four eggs. Rick drove the ferry close enough for me to catch this picture.

After we arrive on the island, Stuart and I kick off our shoes for the next four days, and set about letting the air pressure down on the truck tires. Worth said they'd look like they'd come off the rims, and he was right! We dropped the pressure from 65 pounds to about 25 pounds. We locked the hubs, changed to four-wheel drive, and headed south.

The ferry comes in at Long Point Village, about 10 miles from the southern end. We cross over the dune and see nothing but sand, sea and birds. After driving just two miles, we stopped to visit with two men fishing. Dave and Bill, nice guys, told us they'd been on the island for 10 days. We visited a little, and drove south, to find a place where we could spend the night. The picture above is our camp... Worth has added a "back porch" of gridded metal, just large enough for a chair and the charcoal grill. We enjoy a couple of adult beverages, and cook a chicken on the grill for our first sunset party.
Friday was just gorgeous! We slept well, the ocean breeze blowing through the camper, no humans in sight. We drove on to the south end, where the island is much wider, and the wildlife is more plentiful. On the way south, we were directed to cross over the dunes, and drive on the road on the backside of the island. We were detouring around a shore bird nesting area. There are several miles of bird nesting areas and turtle nests that are closed to both pedestrian and vehicular traffic this time of year. Students from NCSU and a VA college are managing and studying the areas, along the with Wildlife people and the National Park Service. Stuart and I picked up a few shells, watched the birds, and headed north. We drove on past Long Point Village, and noted that the sand was much softer in this part of the island. After another two mile detour and more soft sand, I voted for a stop. I think we were at milepost 10, just south of a nesting area. We spent the rest of the afternoon and the night there. Lovely spot to fish, shell, walk, read. A rain shower passed by, leaving the sky colorful.

Saturday morning we drove on north, taking another detour to the back of the island, heading for Portsmouth Village. The island is very wide at the north end, mostly salt flats that flood with even the slightest high tide. It's dry today, as we drive across the flats. We have "suited up", with long pants and long sleeves, sprayed our clothes with insect repellent, in anticipation of the horseflies and other large biting insects. I was a little anxious driving through the maritime forest, slipping the Big Truck through wax myrtles and red cedars without leaving parts of the truck or camper behind. No problem!

This is the little sign at the beach side of the village. I think most visitors come by boat from Ocracoke Island, just a short trip across the inlet. The National Park Service has done a great job of restoring a few of the old houses and the old Life Saving Station.

Next post, more pics....

Portsmouth Island, NC

2011-05-18T21:14:00.000-04:00

Paradise bound! My darling brother and SIL offered Stuart and me the use of their truck/camper for the weekend, specifially for a visit to Portsmouth Island, NC. It's part of the Core Banks, some folks might think of it as the southern end of the Outer Banks. Truthfully, all the beaches in NC are islands, making them ALL Outer Banks. Portsmouth Island is directly across the inlet from Ocracoke Island. From the Village of Ocracoke, you can see the state historic site of Portsmouth Village. It was a 'ship lightering' community for more than 100 years. The people living on this sliver of land on the edge of the mid-Atlantic made there living fishing, crabbing and shrimping, and unloading the ships loaded with goods from Europe bound for the eastern US. The shoals prevented the ships from coming closer, so the people of PI loaded the goods into smaller boats, moved to the island The goods were then loaded onto other ships, and moved up and down the east coast, beyond the treacherous shoals 'outside'.

Hurricanes changing the inlets in the early 1900's changed the game, and the ships could come closer in other locations, eliminating the need for the lightering services. The last permanent residents left PI in 1971, with the death of some of the last people. African Americans made up about one third of the population of the island, but until the 1970's blacks remained marginalized by the whites. Laws prevented white and black children from attending the same school, and schools were never built for black children. The site of Portsmouth Village is now a historic site, accessible only by boat from Ocracoke and the ferry landing on Portsmouth Island, about 25 miles south. There are no roads on the island. Morris Marina, in Atlantic, operates a ferry for the park service, dropping people and four-wheel drive vehicles at the south end of the island.

So, Stuart and I have brother Worth/SIL Karen's truck and slide-in camper for a few days, and we're very excited about the trip! Pictures, taken with my new camera (hopefully!), later....

Art and Soul, 2011

2011-05-05T09:43:00.000-04:00

This is a page from a journal created by Ingrid Dijkers. I took a class with her at Art and Soul 2011, Hampton, VA. She had such great creativity, and great technical knowledge...I have several pages of notes, and a few pages prepped for drawing, after a day in her class. I also studied with Kari McKnight, another graphic artist who is very talented; and LK Ludwig, a photographer/book-binder/artist.

What I don't have is a picture of my friends! Hopefully, someone else has one, and will share with me.

A couple of things I learned:

household primer is a great 'gesso' according to one teacher and a terrible choice according to another teacher. Liquitex is The Best gesso according to one teacher, and never-to-be-considered by another teacher. Stabilo pens are awesome. Future floor wax is a great, reasonably priced sealer. Archival, too, so no worries about fading or yellowing. Gesso can make ANY paper sturdy. There is a built-in Magic Grid in most point-and-shoot cameras. When photo'ing people, you should probably take 5 steps forward; who cares what shoes they are wearing? A Dremel has four DIFFERENT colletts. Who came up with that stupid design? There is now available a universal collett. A woman demanded that sensible notion, I'm sure.

"A woman can run faster with her skirt up than a man can with his pants down", Tremmie Jewel Waller, ca 1930.

Make art every day.

April 18 garden notes

2011-04-19T08:12:00.000-04:00

The white clematis by the front sidewalk is pretty, filled with blooms! Since the rabbits, deer and voles don't eat them, I should plant more. And, they don't mind the scattered sun delivery, through all the trees.

The Pride of Mobile azaleas are behind this un-named clematis, and seem to not be on the deer's dining

trail. Yesterday, I dug up two POM azaleas, to give to a friend. They are on the dining trail, so it's time for me to choose something else to plant in that location.

These iris probably came from mama, and this year they are pretty. I've identified another location that could use iris, which will spread the joy around the garden.

The bright green heuchera's are looking good. Think I'll add more of them in one location, maybe add some here. I think the bright green and purple are good friends.

This is the pot by the front door...The last time I tried an ipomoea, sweet potato vine, the deer were very grateful! This is in a different location, we'll see if it makes it. The verbena and dusty miller are nice colors together, I think!

More photos later...

picture problems!

2011-04-07T08:40:00.000-04:00

What's up with posting pictures?!? I need some time to sort out this technical problem...

Spring garden

2011-04-06T09:25:00.002-04:00

The little pink azaleas, the little white azaleas and the white lorapetalum (species) are blooming along the driveway, and make me smile. These are the only azaleas the deer haven't nibbled, it's a gift! Many of the camelias have not been nibbled, and so far the hydrangeas seem to be OK. After 8 years, I'm finally getting in touch with reality on the deer issue! No more Gold Dust Acubua, no more azaleas. The ajuga has found several happy locations, so I will let it live where it wants to, rather than where I want it to live. I've discovered Kathy Fitzgerald's blog, Gardening with KF. She lives in Oak Island, writes for several garden magazines, including Carolina Gardener. There is a an article in the current issue about fertilizers that might be an eye-opener for those who use synthetic fertilizer. Including me! The current post on her blog suggests that NOW is the time to clean up the debris under the gardenias, to help prevent a whitefly problem later this summer. Last year, for the first time ever, I had white flies on my biggest gardenias. I vacuumed the bushes, to suck up the little flying devils. This week, I'll clean up underneath, burning the debris which is housing eggs for this year's population. The blueberries are blooming, the late daffodils are blooming, the Sombrueil rose has it's first bloom, too.

Just to the south of the the pretty pink and white azaleas and the white lorapetalum is a little bed of helleborus, which I love. The good news is that neither the deer, the rabbits nor the voles love them! And, they bloom in the dead of winter, lasting until late April. There is one more giant pot of white helleborus, a sweet gift from Martha, to go in the ground. Yet another gift: in the Monday spring clean-up, I found more than 100 little volunteer seedlings hiding under the leaves! What joy! I carefully lifted about 50 little gems from the edge of the lawn, from under the leaves and parent helleborus, and put them in a tray to grow with a little care. Fed them, too. I'll tranpslant them into a new display when they gain a little size. Considering that a pot of these precious plants will cost me about $13, I just made a LOT of money. Virtually. The squash are getting one more chance this year. I bought a pricey floating row cover, which I'll employ in an effort to stop the squash vine borers. If it works, this will be the first summer in more than 10 years I will harvest a squash. This year, Tromboncino squash. From Southern Exposure Seed Exchange (where I buy most of my seeds). The Yamato cucumbers are up, and transferred to larger pots. Other seeds sown: loofah, bronze fennel, castor beans, coleus, parsley, moonflower vine, Giant Okra, basil. Tomatoes: Cherokee Purple, Principe Borghese, Hungarian Italian Paste, Brandywine, Green Grape, Stone. Peppers: Carolina Wonder, Aji Dulce, Doe Hill Golden Bell, Little Colorful Ornamentals, Sweet Banana, and a tiny hot pepper from a man in Oaxaca. Most of these seedlings are up, but some are not showing signs of life, such as the okra and the parsley. Old seeds, I think.

Beach Week

2011-04-05T21:36:00.003-04:00

Rule Number One for Sistah Week: Do what you want to do . There are no other rules.
One chose to look for shells...

One chose to cook and iron....

One chose a mid-day nap.....

One chose to bend metal....

one chose to read on the beach....

A lovely week at the beach!

YSA North Topsail

2011-03-28T17:44:00.005-04:00

The YSA women are at the beach for the week. Julie and Kari drove down from WV and MD, Gini, Bonnie, Martha and I came from Wilmington. We have a really perfect house at North Topsail, with GREAT light. We immediately moved the furniture against the walls, set up our work tables, put on our baggy clothes and began to laugh and work. We celebrated Martha's birthday...this is the 'cupcake' birthday cake. I can't post the picture after we lit the candles, it was too bright for the camera! Carrot cake, complete with carrot tops garnish.

The house is on the beach. Since we're experiencing the last gasp of winter, we have a "refrigerator annex" on the porch. Perfect for the leftover lasnagna, cake and unopened wine that won't fit in the fridge. I've seen more pelicans than I've ever seen in one place. The first afternoon I was here, I saw a flock of what appeared to be 100 pelicans, heading north. What a sight!

The cover of my Oaxaca/Guatemala journal....Stuart and I fell in love with San Marcos, on Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. I took pictures of the 'street' signs in the village, and covered the front and back of the journal with those photos.

I'm quilting the huge log cabin quilt top Bonnie gave me last year. Bonnie and Julie are working on jewelry making and metal work, Martha is collaging and enjoying her books, Kari is sewing various projects, Gini is sewing and quilting. Oh, cooking and wine drinking, too! Lovely week, even if the wind is too cold for to allow beach time. The week is young...

Charleston

2011-03-18T09:35:00.001-04:00

No pics today, maybe later....

I just returned home (yet again!) from Charleston, where I spent a few days with a life-long friend, Kathy, who's husband is recovering from brain tumor surgery. He's had a few rough days lately, as has Kathy. She's sleeping in the chair by his bedside, and after 17 days of that routine is a little tired. I'm thankful that I could get her out of the hospital for a little bit, to enjoy the sunshine, and walk past a few gardens. We had a couple of meals outside the hospital, too, and she slept one night at the hotel with me in a REAL bed! Sam appears to be improving, and we're all cheering for his grumpy personality to return soon. Poco a poco, little by little.

In my gardens, Veona's March Pinks are blooming; some daffodils are finished, others are beginning; the early forsythia is finished, and the late forsythia is still glorious. The helleborus' are gorgeous, I'd like to plant more but they are too pricey to buy plants. I'll look for seeds! I bought a few pots of thrift, which will get planted on the ditch bank by the blueberries...I think that will be a beautiful sight in a couple of years! The warm weather veggie seeds are in dirt inside, and the peas are sown in the garden. The cilantro volunteers are up...I leave the seeds where they drop each spring, they sprout at the Perfect Time the next spring, without any assistance from me. Lovely system, isn't it? The timing is always perfect with the cilantro.

I've come up with a system for plant rotation in the garden, after reading an article in Mother Earth News from last fall. A system that will work for me, it allows for spontaneous planting. I think.

The pollen has begun in Charleston, so will start here next week, I believe. Counting the days until we can clean the porch, and move outside for the summer!

Peeps Week

2011-03-10T21:22:00.001-05:00

Peep Week, at Myrtle Beach. Stuart and I got home Wednesday morning, and I left again Saturday morning. Thank goodness I had left a few things in a stack, in anticipation of this trip. After having been gone for three months, I had no idea what I'd been working on in my studio!

Joanne is settling into her new apartment this week, and taking care of Roy. We are missing her. Karen and I are in the two ocean front rooms, and I'm sleeping very well, with the sound of the waves in my ears all night. Bev and Kathy are just down the hall...

Thursday. This is the SECOND day we've seen a rainbow this week! If you look closely, you'll even see a fainter, second rainbow just to the right of the Big One. The light was beautiful, the seagulls on the beach were glowing in the almost-gone sun.

Daffodils in my White garden. The March Pinks (flowering almond) should be blooming pretty soon.

I fully intended to get this gorgeous quilt top quilted this week. But, I didn't bring thread, so it will wait until next week. It is sandwiched and pinned, and the quilting design is worked out (in my head, of course!). All the prep work is done, I'm ready to stitch. This is the quilt top Bonnie worked on, during Retreat, for several years. It's beautifully pieced, with fabrics from many friends. It's huge: 100" x 100". It's going to be perfect on my bed....THANKYOU, Bonnie!

The late day light is so pretty. I took this from our 4th floor balcony; the tide is high, and wind is low.

It's been a good week, but too cold or rainy most days to spend time on the beach. That's OK...we can hear the waves all day and night!

Almost final stuf....

2011-02-27T21:18:00.001-05:00

The penultimate cocktail hour...

Claire took a one-day cooking class at Los Naranjas, a fine nuevo cocina restaurant in the neighborhood. She learned to make this delicious first course, plantains in salsa. Plantains must be cooked, and I'm in love with the dessert presentation: sauted and served with crema. And, I picked up another way to serve them at Ganesh Cooperative, in San Marcos, Guatemala. But, this was totally different, and I love it! Claire, Jim, Stuart and I had sunset cocktails, with popcorn of course, and she shared the largese from her class.

Slice the plantains into thick coins, leave the skins on. Bring them to a boil, simmer for 10 minutes. Drain, and let cool. Peel, mash. Add a tiny bit of flour, and form into a ball. Refrigerate for 15 minutes.

Griddle roast two tomatoes, 1/2 onion and 1 or 2 serrano chiles. Peel, reserving the juices. Whirl in the blender until smooth. Set aside.

From little balls with the plantain/flour mixture, press a piece of quesillo, or rope cheese into the ball, and roll into a small log. Saute each log in a little olive oil. Serve on top of the salsa. Delicious!

Paul, Stuart and I walked out to the city cemetary one recent morning. Stuart I like to go there to see the artwork and enjoy the quiet. The cemetery was begun in the small pox epidemic in the 1840's. At the time, the cemetary was far outside the city. Then, a cholera epidemic hit the city in the 1870's. The city hired an architect to build a wall around the growing cemetary, which was still far from the city. The wall is beautiful, and boasts 100 arches, creating a covered walkway around the perimeter. There are vaults built into the outside wall of the wall. Of course, now the cemetary is in town, and has expanded to several times the original size.

This photo is of the original center of the cemetary. This cross has what we think are masonic symbols, Mayan symbols and christian symbols scultped in it. The base is thick with wax, from the most recent Day of the Dead celebration.

Later that same day, Arlene met us, and we had the best memelitas in town for lunch. Small, hand-made tortillas, curled up at the edges, swiped with asciento, bean puree and, in this case, avocado, cilantro, tomato and onion, all chopped.

The weekly State Symphony concert was moved to the beautiful Macedonia Alcala Theater, just one block from the zocalo. The threat of teacher demonstration cancelled the concert last weekend, and apparently they decided to take no chances today. It's the last concert of the regular season, but I understand they play occasionally during the summer. The Alcala Theater is almost as beautiful as Thalian Hall, built about the same time, and in the same style. Lolita, Arlene, Paul, Stuart and I walked to the theater together, meeting the rest of the 'hood on the way. We laughed, as we all headed upstairs to the box seats, to get a good view, and we all ended up side-by-side. They put on a wonderful last show, just for Stuart and me, I believe! Paul recognized the Missoursgky as a piece that Emerson, Lake and Palmer covered on a 1971 album...they also played one Bach, one Chopin, a Glenn Miller medley, and a piece by a Cuban composer whose name I don't remember. We love 'our' little maestro, he has so much energy and animation!

Paul, Arlene, Lolita and Stuart in our box at the concert.

We've had several "last supper's", not just evening meals. Today, we had breakfast at our favorite, Marco Polo, by the Llano park. A pretty, garden restaurant that is popular with the locals. Yesterday, we had a last tlayuda, a sort of mexican pizza, at our favorite puesta in the mercado, and a last nieve after the concert today. Tuna and coco, flowers of the cactus called tuna, and coconut.

We've packed, not too much work. The food left, not much, will go to Manuel and Josefina, and I'm giving Josefina the blender I bought. The neighbors are stopping by this afternoon to say goodbye, but we'll probably see them in the morning, we leave at 9am. Now, time for our last sunset cocktails on the roof, and then esquites on the street for dinner.

Adios, Oaxaca!

San Augustin Etla

2011-02-24T12:03:00.001-05:00

The Tuesday Hiking group trip this week was to San Augustin Etla, one of the many "Etla" villages north of Oaxaca. There is no bus service to these villages, so we caught a colectivo at the second class bus station for the 20 minute trip. The main road into San Augustin Etla is dirt/rock, surprising to gringos because there appears to be some monied people living here. It's a pretty village, with lots of water, new houses with swimming pools and views of the valley to envy. One of our neighbors plays golf here every week, too, but I've never seen the golf course. This is also the home to the old yarn spinning factory turned into art gallery, thanks to the generosity of Francisco Toledo. That beautiful old building alone is worth the trip, and there is always a good art exhibit on display.

We gathered in the square by the Toledo gallery, by one of the beautiful ponds, and started the climb up the hill. The first 15 minutes were up steep streets, to the city reservoir. From there, even though we were climbing steadily, the gain in altitude was so gradual we didn't notice. The picture to the left is the beginning of the aquaduct.

It took almost no time before we were out of the village, with breathtaking views of the village and across the valley. The aquaduct is cement, less than 3 feet wide and about 3 feet deep. The water was rushing, proving that we were climbing! The trail was one person wide most of the way to the spring on top of the mountain, but in a few places was only one footprint wide. Stuart is walking on the rim of the aquaduct in this image...the Snuffy Smith trail!

This is the magnificent view we had for the two hour hike to the top of the mountain. Here, the trail is very narrow...those with a fear of heights had turned back by this time.

There is an old power generator building at the top of the mountain, no longer in use. Apparently there is a road up to the building, but I didn't see it. I'm very respectful of the people who built this aquaduct, having to haul cement up here to build and maintain the canal. We saw cement markers with various dates as we walked, the oldest dated 1882.

We reached the top of the mountain in 2 hours walking time. The stream was free flowing up here, and I took advantage of the time and the rocks to dip my feet into the water. I'm not sure if it was cold by comparison, or really cold. But, it was refreshing! This was the best of the hikes, even though I'd only been on three this trip. Stuart did several more. Joy and Rick, the hosts for the hikes, and Stuart and I agreed that this was the best. And, our last hike here, we leave next Monday.

Four of the hikers took the 'low road', following the stream, back to the village. I was too hungry, and took the viaduct trail back, thinking about comida! After lunch, Joy and Rick, Stuart and I toured the current exhibit at the Toledo Gallery, which was hand-made paper and drawings on that paper. Oaxacan artists and Japanese artists showed their skills.

This is my favorite piece in the exhibit, even though I liked some of the drawings very much too!

Tule and Barbacoa

2011-02-20T22:31:00.000-05:00

Y'all, we had barbeque today. The whole, er um, sheep. Barbacoa in Santa Maria El Tule (yes, another village with three names) is a Sunday tradition, one that we love. So, about mid-day, we caught a bus out to El Tule. There are several barbacoa restaurants in the little town, and we've tried several of them over the years. We're never been disappointed. Today, we sat down in Antonio's restaurant, and he promptly pulled up a chair to talk to the only gringos in town. He was very proud to tell us, in his 25 words of english, that he had lived in Arizona and Minneapolis. We all shuddered with the thought of being there right now, with all the cold and snow! But, he was happy there, made 'good money', and is glad to be home.

Antonio soon brought our plates, piled high with barbacoa and hand-made tortillas. He told me that the sheep is cooked whole, with onions, tomatoes, garlic and mucho hierba buena, a distinctive herb used often when cooking beans here. It's not similar to anything at home, but will grow in SENC. The entire animal is put into a pit, with the hot coals underneath, and it is covered with banana leaves, and burlap and more hot coals. I think it is all covered with a piece of tin, but I'm not sure about that. It cooks for 24 hours, and is delicious! They save the head, and other choice parts for special dishes. It was tender, tasty and memorable.

After lunch, we waddled across the street to see the largest tree in the world. The one with the largest circumference, that is. It was measured in 2005 by some Official People, and was prounced to be 119 feet around. It's age is reported by the locals to be more than 2000 years old, but those same Offical People, after some testing, believe it to be 1400 - 1650 years old. It's a cypress, and there are several others, not as large or as old, on the other side of the church courtyardwhere the Big One lives. School children can be seen, on spring days, giving tours to people, pointing out the animals that really live in the huge tree, and the images that the bark creates.

Believe it or not, we had room for a nieve, this time a Beso de Oaxaquena, Kiss of Oaxaca, and we ate it sitting under one of the pretty ficus trees in the square. Lovely afternoon, as you can see from the intense blue sky in the photo.

San Jeronimo Tlacochahuya

2011-02-20T12:01:00.003-05:00

San Jeronimo Tlacochahuya. Many towns in Mexico have three names: the name of the patron saint of the town, and, in Oaxaca, a Mayan or Zapotec name. There are many towns called Etla, so it's necessary to use all three names in order to identify the correct one. Mostly, though, locally towns are just called by one name. This is the famous church in Tlacochahuaya. I didn't take a photo from the front gate...the courtyard around the church is fully walled. In three corners, there are small arched roof, open air chapels where the Dominican padres fully intended to convert all the local savages. The courtyard could hold about 5000 people, telling the size of the village when the Spanish arrived in this remote place.

They Spanish began building this church in about 1542, completing it a few decades later. The indigenous paintings covering almost every surface are delightful, full of color and imagination. The ceiling is covered with paintings, too, much like most every church built in the 16th century, but this one is not quite as formal as most of the others. Right now, the church is undergoing extensive renovations, paid for by a private corporation, and some of the retablos have been removed for repair. The two most famous ones are still in the church: a Christ on the cross figure that has something to do with corn; and a series oil paintings depicting the legend of the Virgin of Guadalupe, with the last one showing the roses miraculously tumbling from Juan Diego's cape.

For me, though, the best part of the church is the bright painting, and the colonial period organ upstairs. The organ is now only played by guest musicians, but it's pretty paintings match those of the rest of the church. The bellows are the size of my dining room table, and require two men to operate! The pipes of the organ, above the keyboard, are painted, too. The air vents are painted to look like the mouths of a saint!

Behind the church, and attache to it, is the exconvento, being restored, too. After touring the church, we walked through the park beside the church, and met Juan Carlos, JC, who had just returned to his home after being in LA for 15 years. He was all smiles, talking about how much he loved being in LA, and would probably go back. Often, locals we've talked to who speak pretty good english have been in the States. Some want to return, others are happy to be home. JC could only talk about going back. When we asked him about the danger of going back, he only said that taking luggage was a problem. After several conversations like this, I believe the men who travel illegally don't worry about the danger of travelling to the States, just the inconvenience. JC's mother stood in the shade of the church while we visited, proud to have her son home.

Dainzu, Tlacolula

2011-02-19T21:20:00.001-05:00

Saturday morning, Stuart and I walked down to the periferico, and caught a colectivo headed towards Tlacolula. (note: if I come back to live this life again, I want to be the conductor on a Tlacolula bus, because that word is so much fun to say!) I asked the driver to let us off at the road leading to Dainzu. Stuart came here a couple of weeks ago, when I was in the embroidery class, and said I must make this trip, too. Dainzu is a Zapotec ruin that is visible from the main highway through the valley. One of my favorite places in the valley is the ruins of Yagul, which are close by. But, today, we're visiting Dainzu. There is a restoration effort underway, and the state has the familiar signs giving a little history of the place, and a little about the site. The signs are written in spanish, Mayan or Zapotec, and english. I always read the spanish part, to test my comprehension. It's a short walk up a badly paved road to the site. It's early, it's Saturday, and there is no one here. Soon, though, the caretaker finds us, and with a smile asks for the 31 peso entry fee, which we are happy to pay. He points out a couple of things we might want to see, and wanders back to his shade tree and daily paper.

These ruins are not far from Monte Alban, the ancient government capitol. At it's height, Monte Alban is said to have been the home to more than 40,000 people. This site, however, is not a large city, but a religious ceremony center. It's apex was about 500 b.c.e. - 300 a.d., and about 1000 people lived here. It was built not for strategic purposes, I believe this built was before the warring began, but for the beautiful view looking north up the valley. The highest point is the ceremonial platform, about three sets of steep steps up, and it's tucked up close to a small mountain. From up here, we can see the ball court, and the only other building being interpreted now.

There are probably more ruins, they seem to be scattered along the valley like toys. In the photo below taken from the top of the ceremonial platform, I can see one side of the ball court, and barely the village of San Jeronimo Tlacochahuya in the distance.

In tomb 7 - I've noticed that all ruins seem to have an Important Tomb 7 - there is a carving of a jaguar above the door. The animals arms hang down, creating the sides of the door. I took this picture by holding the camera through the bars that prevented us from getting any closer...

The caretaker pointed out the covered portion of the site work that protects about 30 stones with bas-relief carvings of ball players. I wished I had some newsprint and some chalk! What rubbings I could capture here! This is one of the larger sculptures, more complete than some of the others, too. The stones were literally part of the mountain, with a rock wall built around them.

It's a little cooler today than last week, and we leave the ruin site by walking west through the site. We find an animal path through some low brush, and with the bell tower of the San Jeronimo in our sight, we walk through some empty milpas, corn fields, then some fields that are being irrigated and growing corn, beans and garlic. The path eventually intersects with a dirt road. We see a few people working in the fields, and take a break under a big tree to have some bagel/cream cheese/smoked salmon left from last night's card games with our neighbors. When we begin walking again, a man meets us from his alfalfa field, and we talk a little. Jose tells us not to miss seeing the beautiful church in his home town, and we assure him that it's our intent to see it. His english is very good, but speaks spanish with me when I tell him I'm studying, and corrects me. We walk on, leaving him to supervise a small group of men who have just ridden to the fields on their bicycles.

Dia del amor

2011-02-15T09:30:00.000-05:00

No pics today, lo siento. Yo empece (I began) spanish class again this week, five days, 3 hours a day. Past tense! No longer will I have to jab my thumb over my shoulder when I stumble through something in present tense, but mean past tense. OK, give me a couple of weeks to remember a couple of past tense verbs. I'm once again getting a week to be totally humbled with the aquisition of new knowledge. The first two weeks of spanish class were attention getter's, and the week of embroidery with Nativdad was a true lesson in patience and humility, but I've learned in all the classes. There is hope!

Maria, our sweet landlady, gave everyone in the 'hood tamales for comida, lunch, yesterday She had them made by a friend. One was filled with chicken and mole, traditional, and the other was filled with peppers, onions and chicken. Both were delicious! They were delivered, bagged and ribboned, still warm. Stuart also gave me gifts: a helium balloon and a beautiful embroidered blouse. Several friends admired his good taste, the blouse is golden yellow with multi-colored embroidery. I'm cooking tonight, my gift to Stuart. A chicken dish that is traditionally served at weddings.

A quiet week, sure to mostly filled with study for me. But, I'll make time for a cup of chocolate, for sure!

Around la Trucha

2011-02-13T13:54:00.001-05:00

From the cabana, the view east, of the restaurant and one of the fish tanks...

la cabana...

Some flowers Noel planted. There are roses, calla lillies, giant geranium, even gianter begonias, and other flowers I can't name...

Stuart and our evening entertainment...we needed the warmth, too.

Tomorrow, we'll go back to the Big City, and leave this pretty paradise.

We woke up in the clouds Saturday morning! There is even a slight drizzle. By 9am, the clouds had moved east, and even though the day was cooler than yesterday, it was sunny. After hugs and many thanks to Noel, we found a colectivo, a group taxi, for the one hour ride down the muy sinuoso , very curvy road back to the City.

flora and fish pics

2011-02-13T13:48:00.000-05:00

This little bloom, out of focus, looks a little like an orchid, but it's not.

Pinecones from two different elevations...

A huge bromeliad, one of thousands we saw today. This must be an amazing sight in the rainy season.

Concepcion, with my dinner, which she just 'fished' out of the tank. I'll eat this fish in less than 30 minutes.

At the Summit

2011-02-13T13:35:00.001-05:00

Noel predicted our hike up would take about 2 - 2.5 hours. Not being a professional guide, he didn't know that folks who live at 3 meters above sea level would have a hard time breathing at 3000 meters above sea level! Stuart and I, thinking that we're in pretty good condition, found we were struggling to breath. It got better, but it was tiring.

At the summit, there is a sign posted by the ecotourism group, that tells us we're at 3150 meters. It explains that some of the plants growing here have been growing here since the time of the dinasaurs; that for the ancient Aztecs, this was a main highway across the high mountains. I can tell you that today, the trees growing at this elevation are stunted by the cold and the winds. With this one exception, pictured at the left.

I think this is an oak tree. It is eerily hung with golden moss, and is by far the biggest tree up here. We're in the cloud forest, a remnant island of the Ice Age flora. Many species, such as wild begonias, ferns, dwarf bamboo, liquid ambers and many others have a common ancestry with the flora in the mountains in the southeastern US. I see several plants that grow in 'our' ancient Smokey Mountains. The cloud forest covers the Gulf-facing northern slopes at altitudes between 6500 and 10,000 feet (2000 - 3000 meters). I look around for the Disney sign that points out that this is a good photo location. The rest of this mountain top is equally surreal looking!

Both Christopher and I only hesitate a second before racing each other to climb the tree! The problem, as always, is not getting up but getting down.

Another 100 meters (this is the LAST part of the climb!), and we find a tall, metal tower, and we climb another 50 steps to the top, for this view....

We're above the clouds! There is a village under these clouds, one where bananas and coffee are grown. On the horizon, we can see an even taller bank of clouds. Noel tells us that Volcan de Orizaba, Mexico's highest mountain, is hiding underneath. The view, along with the altitude, takes our breath away. It's cold up here, but we're in the sun, and we sit on the metal platform for lunch of tortillas, queso, fruit and water, which Noel brought in his back pack. There is no better lunch place on the planet right now!

We enjoy the view, and lunch, and realize that we're rested and ready for the long hike back. It's after 3 when we start down the mountain, but we pause on the opposite side of the mirador, for the view to the south and west. These trees suffer from a combination of cold, wind and pine beetle. Across the valley, there are several thin bald spots on the mountain. Noel tells us those trees were cut to save the rest of the forest from beetles. They are burned on site, and the committee has already begun replanting. This forest is managed as carefully as a one-acre tomato field.

The hike back down to la Trucha is much easier, and quicker. We make it back in about 2 hours...in time for Noel to feed the fish. He turned on the water heater for us, and we order dinner before showering, which allowed the two women time to cook and close the restaurant close to the usual 6pm normal.

Our feet are tired, but we are energized by walking the ancient road, the views and the idea that we hiked uphill at 3000 meters, about 6 miles one way. All without seeing another human, except 4 people in the distance, replanting a hillside above the reservoir.

Rich in Diversity

2011-02-13T13:04:00.000-05:00

Ix is the Aztec word for the fibers of the maguey plant. A particular maguey was grown for the fibers, which were used to weave many useful things. Now, a different maguey is King Crop Oaxaca, but it's for the hearts which are used to make mezcal. In the Sierra Norte, there is almost no maguey grown, neither do you see nopales, the host plant for cochineal. But the people here grow a lot of wood. The thick forests covering this part of the Sierra Norte. The cut very little, and replant quickly, which keeps the forests alive with a wide range of both plants and animals. Orchids and bromeliads grow here, that don't grow any other place in the world. Ferns and mosses, too. And, all species of Mexican native cats (jaguar and mountain lion), spiker monkeys and tapirs live here. Many of these animals have disappeared from other places in Mexico. The diversity is so great that a group of experts with the World Wildlife Fund have rated the local forests as one of the world's 17 outstanding biodiverse systems.

Ixtlan is the capitol of its own governmental district. The village owns all the land, and gives the residents permission to use what they need. The money from the timber profits are shared, and pay for village services. Right now, the streets are being dug up to replace water lines for the entire village. The village also manages the ecotourism, providing guides and offering remote cabins for rent. Noel had to visit the office our first morning, before coming up to la trucha, to get permission to take us into the forest. I think he was not allowed to charge us, we just sort of deduced that when we declined payment the next day. We gave im a 'tip' instead!
We began by walking up the hill behind the restaurant, following his water lines from above. A little way up the hill, we came to a concrete building, with a huge water line coming into it...the water source for the town is the same spring he uses for his trout. There is electricity up here, and I think he could get a line down to his restaurant, if he wants it. A little further beyond the reservoir, we stepped into an ancient foot path and began seriously climbing. We're walking on the Camino Real, the old road the Aztecs, Apotec and Mixtec traders used between the Gulf Coast and the Valley of Oaxaca. I get a shiver from the thought that this trail has been in use for probably 1000 years.

The heavy rains last August have caused landslides all over this part of the world, we saw much damage in Guatemala. Here, we can see washes, but the forest has protected the soil. Still, there are a few small slides, with downed trees. Noel shows us a plate mushroom from under a specific kind of tree (oak, I think), that is used for carving when it's dry. He took a few photos, documenting the damage in a few places, for his use and the use of the forest management team.

Today is pretty special for us all. Noel's son, Christopher, is out of school, and this is the first time he's hiked this trail. Christopher is 8 years old, and grinned all day, taking photographs of everything in sight. Here, we're passing through a flat section of the trail. You can see a small wash in the middle of the ancient road.

Orchids and bromliads growing in every tree, it seems. At one point, we begin to see the bromeliads growing on the ground, too. They are everywhere! This one, on the ground, was blooming. Most of the orchids were not blooming, and while I took lots of photos, none are good representations. Noel stopped to point out many plants to us, and to Christopher. We stopped often, to let the gringos breathe, too. Ixtlan is about 9000 feet, and we're climbing higher with almost every step. Noel has mistakenly predicted it will take us about 2 - 2.5 hours La Pozuelos, the summit offering a spectacular vista. About 3 hours into the hike, we begin to question our fitness, but rest again and keep going.

This was a point of interest for Noel...his water lines are very close to this small slide. We talked about the possiblity of the trees coming down and damaging his lines. He was paying attention to every detail as we walked. Nothing escaped his notice! If you look closely, you can see a bromeliad growing about 5 feet off the ground, on the trunk of a small, broken tree.

We climbed through various zones, the plants and trees changing all day. We didn't see any animal life, but in the dried leaves, we made about as much noise as a marching band. Interestingly, Noel didn't know the word for moss. And, there is much moss of all kinds, growing in the trees and on the ground. He pointed out a plant, much like mistletoe, that is called muertogado (I think that's what he said!), which means killer. It sucks the life out of hardwoods, growing in the top branches.

Thankfully, there was a little cloud cover. We were working hard, and even in the cool fresh air, we were sweating.

more....

Ixtlan de Juarez

2011-02-12T22:09:00.001-05:00

After three days of discussion about HOW to get to Ixtlan de Juarez, we finally just went to the second class bus station and got on a bus. Everyone we asked about 'how' had a different Truth about getting there. Ixtlan de Juarex, pop. 8000, is only 37 miles from teh city, but those miles are up a very curvy, climbing road. Some said the buses only come back to Oaxaca every three days; others said you can't get a bus, you must take a taxi or colectivo. We just wanted to get to this reportedly beautiful village, high in the Sierra Norte, close to the home of Benito Juarez, and enjoy the clean air and some hiking in the mountians. The bus

delivered us to the corner by one of the churches in about 1 3/4 hours After a stop for gas, and lunch for the driver.

There is an ecotourism office here, and it's closed. We hope to get one of the remote cabanas, cabins, they offer. After asking around, and hearing the office might open at 4pm, we found some lunch on the pretty plaza. Afterwards, we went into the main church (there are at least 5 others, smaller churches). The Templo de Santo Tomas Apostol was begun in 1651, finished 100 years later. It's justifiably famous for the ornate wood carvings and gold covering almost every vertical surface. I counted sixty five 17th century paintings, and I'm sure there are many more. I didn't try to count the statues. We've seen lots of 400 year old churches in Mexico, but this one is pretty spectacular. This village must have been a very important Mayan religious center, giving justification to the Spanish to build such a big monument.

Ixtlan is a Mayan word that means 'land of the fibers of the maguey plant'. People don't grow much maguey around here anymore, instead they carefully manage a huge municipal holding of timber, thick forests that cover the northern Sierra mountains.

We caught a taxi down the mountain 3 miles, to the village where Benito was actually born, San Pablo Gelatao. It's a sleepy little village, where we find this enormous monument to the well-loved President. There is a little lake, with another bronze monument close by. We did not go in the museum... Back in Ixtlan, the ecotourism office is still closed, and we need to act in order to find a place to sleep. We heard there are cabanas for rent at the trout farm about 2 miles up the hill above the village. Dan and Tere came here recently, and raved about the place, but I don't remember them saying anything about cabins. We stop a tuk-tuk driver, who says there is a cabana for rent. And, do we mind if his novia rides up with us? At times, I'm not sure the little motor-cycle cab is going to make it up the steep, rutted dirt road, but they must make the trip often. The fare for La Trucha, the trout farm, is posted on the roof of the tuk-tuk: 30 pesos.

A young woman comes out of the open air restaurant, and agrees there is a cabana for us. In the kitchen, Noel Pacheco, the owner, is cooking over an open fire. He and I talk about how many nights: if we can't get a guia, a guide, to take us into the forest, we'll go back to Oaxaca tomorrow. No one is allowed in the forest without a guia. He says he can take us, so we'd like to stay two nights. Then, Noel begins to speak beautiful english! And I was doing so well in spanish...

The view from the open-air restaurant, looking north. The village communally owns all the land as far as we can see. The cabana is not ready, of course, and he suggests we sit by the ridge looking north while he cleans. Concepcion, who is 15 years old, brings us a couple of beers. We pinch ourselves, wondering if this is a dream! The sun is close to setting, there are flowers everywhere, the air is clean and clear, the sound of water running into the circular fish tanks is pretty...and we're going to be spending the night where there are no lights to cloud the stars. It's a two-beer cleaning job, and Noel leads us up the hill to the cabana. There are five doors opening off the porch: four with beds and one for the bathroom. Our bed has two thick blankets on it. There is no electricity up here, so the restaurant closes at 6. Noel suggests the trout with mushrooms and queso for dinner. It arrives, wrapped in foil, served with giant tostados.

This is the fish I ordered the second night, it just made a prettier photo! After we finished dinner, the sun was behind the mountains, and Noel offered to build a fire for us by the cabana. It's cold now, and we've put on our jackets and hats. There is a half moon, directly overhead, but even with the moonlight flooding the sky, there are millions of stars visible. There is running water, straight from the spring 4 km away, and it's cold. We brush our teeth by moonlight, and crawl under the pile of blankets, letting the water running in the ponds put us to sleep.

Our beautiful hostess....

2011-02-08T22:57:00.000-05:00

....Maria Garcia, owner of Villa Maria. She was dressed up for the book signing party for our friend and neighbor, Tom Feher. None of us had ever seen Maria dressed so beautifully, even though she always looks pretty. She was a very proud friend of Tom's that night!

Mescal in Mitla

2011-02-08T18:01:00.000-05:00

Mezcal is the State drink of Oaxaca. Not quite as smooth, or as famous as Tequila, which is made a little farther east of here, but still very good. In moderation, of course. Mezcal is made from the heart of a specifi agave, not the same agave that produces sisal fibers. After lunch in Mitla last week, having passed at least a dozen fabricas de mezcal, mezcal manufacturers, we decided to stop at one. Our luck guided us to el Maguey Espadin, just outside of Mitla.

The mule was harnessed to the mill stone, walking in endless circles, while two men took turns raking the chopped hearts down to be crushed. Not too difficult for the men, but a heavy job for the mule when he was stopped and had to start again.

Hearts of agave, waiting to be coarsely chopped, and then crushed. The spikey leaves of the agave are ground and used for compost in the fields, nothing is wasted. The fields all around the valley, and up into the mountains, are being planted with the magic plant these days, taking advantage of exports to other states in Mexico, whose thirst for mezcal is pretty good.

The burned hearts are then put into big tanks for ferment for about several weeks, and the liquid is then cooked, and cooled. The entire process takes several months to complete. Then, the mezcal is stored in wooden barrels, like bourbon or wine and is aged. The younger the mezcal when bottled, the lower the quality and the lower the price.

Our hostess, Rosi, I think she is the daughter of the owners. She lined up the bottles of mescal according to age, after the short tour and explanation of the process. She's not smiling in this photo, I just caught her off guard, she was laughing with us the entire time. We sampled, and sure enough, bought a few bottles. Rosi described the ages as: ninos, muchachos y adultos. Babies, young men, and adults.

What Rosi really wanted, though, was english lessons. Eshkie's spanish is the best of our little group, even though I understood most of what Rosi said. I told Rosi that I need spanish, and we agreed that we'd make a great intercambio team!

I'm glad we stopped at el Maguey Espadin. And yes, Stuart and I did buy a bottle.

Day trip to Teotitlan

2011-02-08T17:25:00.001-05:00

The Gringos Tuesday Hiking group met at the second class bus station this morning. Destination: Teotitlan del Valle. Teotitlan is a wool rug weaving village about 20 miles out of the city. The work is perfectly done, and every family in the village is involved in the weaving process in some way. Teotitlan is not, however close to the city it might be, easy for many people to get to. You can take a taxi, which is pretty cheap compared to US taxi trips, but for here is pricey: 200 pesos or more. Most buses do go in that direction, but don't go all the way to the village. There is one bus that makes the curcuit, not the usual 'bus every few minutes' schedule, though. The village is about 4 km from the highway, not a bad walk if you like to walk. Colectivos are hard to find. We've been there several times over the years, always taking the bus. Each time, when we got off the bus and began walking, someone would drive by and offer us a ride. No problem! But, today, about 20 gringos showed up for the walk around the resevoir above the city. We eventually got everyone in a cab, down to Joy, Rick and Stuart and me. We found a bus to Tlacolula, we'll walk in from the highway. Or, I pointed out to Joy that when we get off the bus, there will be a truck waiting to offer us a ride. I just know it. And, just like magic, when the bus dropped us at the road to Teotitlan, there was a colectivo waiting for us.

The resevoir, the pedra, was built in 1968, by the village, for the village. Until then, water had to be hauled from the river. I'm not sure how it's delivered now, but I'm sure they don't drink it. The day was perfect: cool and sunny. Stuart and I took the "stitches and britches" trail at one point, crossing the cow pasture to cut off the boring walk on the dirt road, and separating ourselves from the group. We had to cross a couple of little creeks, but we didn't get wet. The mountains around us are gorgeous, and the air is clear and clean. The hikers had broken into 6 or more small groups, walking at a pace that worked for everyone.

Back in the village, Stuart and I visited the church. The last time we were here, the church was under renovation. It was built in 1751. The ceilings and walls are painted in tromp l'oell (I can't spell that!), and all the side altars were covered with fresh flowers. It smelled so good in there! All the side altars had signs identifying the saints, along with the normal small, locked boxes for you to drop in your money. The floor was pasta tiles...those tiles that came from Italy as ballast, and were salvaged once in Mexcio and used for flooring. They are seen everywhere in Yucatan, not so much this far from the Atlantic coast.

Yet another fence, this one to keep the cows in. I don't think they'd wander far, however. There isn't much water away from this little river and the resevoir. We found this shady spot the perfect place for a little snack.

This is recycling at the most perfect level. When the bed is no longer comfortable for sleeping, the inards are used for fencing in many places. Free and available!

Stuart and I found a courtyard restaurant back in Teotitlan, where there aren't many restaurants. Soon, a few of the other hikers returned from the hike, and shortly the entire group had reassembled for lunch. Serendipity! Just about the time we finished eating, the bus came through town. We had about 10 minutes to pay our bills, while the driver turned around.

On the bus, I sat down beside two local women who were wide-eyed at the group of gringos. Three women almost missed the bus, and as they got on, I looked at my seat mate and said, "too many gringos", in spanish of course. They broke up with laughter, and we chatted during the trip back to the city. Another day, another conversation in spanish...

Fences

2011-02-06T11:26:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking about fences lately. We went to one of our favorite museums in Oaxaca last week, la Casa Oaxaca, where we discovered some fences I hadn't thought about. La Casa is in an old colonial spanish building, don't it's history, that's been beautifully restored. La Casa now houses galleries for changing exhibits, libraries of research books on topics such as art and old churches and Mayan history in the area. Pienso que, I think. The exhibits in the downstairs gallery and in the courtyard are usually edgy, modern pieces. Once we saw an exhibit of over-sized woven pieces used for walls and dividers, woven from sisal and other dried plants. The current exhibit is digital collage, social comments from the artist. The work spilled over into the courtyard, where the light is very nice. Upstairs, there is a fascinating exhibit on the restoration work in seven centuries-old churches in the Valley, restoring the retablos.

But, the real reason we went to La Casa was to see the mapo en piso, the map in the floor. There is a huge satellite photo of the city, taken in 1996, of the city, and when you step into the dark room, the lights on the floor begin to turn on, illuminating the historic center of the city. The first time we were there, we crawled over that floor for a couple of hours, fascinated with the view. There is a new map, another satellite photo taken in 2006. The floor of the room is now completely filled with photos. On the walls are some photos taken in 1932 and 1957. The city, in 1932, was a few blocks square, I can see the city cemetary outside of the city. By 1957, there are still a few fields inside the city, the city is getting bigger, but the wall is still around the Sto. Domingo church. I'd never noticed that wall in the photo before...the wall around the church and plaza is not there now. Then, I began to see other walls. The city is built in typical spanish style: the buildings come right to the sidewalks, and the rooms of the house/building form the periphery and there is a central courtyard. In the 1932 photo, I see walls with nothing inside them. Maybe they were used to house horses or cattle? Each block of the city was a secret behind those walls.

The city blocks are still a secret. In the current photo, I can see clearly the trees shading many courtyards, much like the trees in our courtyard at Villa Maria's. The old walls now have driveways behind big metal gates, the places that horse-and-carts used to enter. Those big metal gates have smaller people sized doors, like the old churches with small doors cut into the big wooden doors. Sometimes when we're out walking, if a door is open, I stop and look inside. I've even peeped through small gaps in the metal, or through crumbled bricks, just to see! The pretty places, the private places, cars and hammocks and plants, the junkyard places behind those walls are secrets. The fences, or walls, are there for privacy, and some say security. The decorative wrought iron on all the windows keeps a small community of welders in business in the city. But then, security walls sometimes are made of blue plastic, not metal or wrought iron. On the corner of Fiallo and Rayon, six days a week, a young woman sits at a table with a glass case on it. Underneath the table are plastic buckets holding the food she's prepared at home. She's selling tostados. One night we passed by her 'business' after she went home. The entire 'business' was covered with a blue plastic tarp, tied with some pieces of rope. Security of a different kind. On a corner of Pino Suarez, on the northside, there is a building we've been watching for several years. The stucco facade is crumbling off, but there is still enough to see that the building was lovingly restored sometime. The windows are gone, replaced with boards to cover the street-side openings. I can see through a crack, interior walls deteriorating under a mostly-gone roof, but a hammock and a table in the weeds indicate a home. One night, I saw a light between the cracks. Pirated electricity, even if it's only one lightbuld. Another secret behind a fence.

We went to the Jaguar Zoo this week, with Eshkie and Gerry, and a friend of theirs, Allan Goodin. Allan is a long-time gringo Oaxacan resident, editor of the informative Jaguar Speaks website. When Eshkie invited us to join them, my instincts said "don't go!", but with their company, I ignored my instincts. We drove out beyond Tlacolula, to the zoo. The zoo is in the south end of the valley, on what appears to be several miles of land. The animals are in a sad state, I'll say no more about the animals.

The fences were deep ditches, bamboo, wire or cactus, depending on the animal. Much of the zoo was visually fenced with a centuries-old material: cactus. The cactus created a barrier, to keep animals from seeing each other, and to lead the tourists in the correct direction. The cactus spires are stuck in the ground, and they root. It's the dry season here, a time of stress, many of the cactus are blooming.

The picture below, here could be titled, "Riding Fences". Two men drove up on the cart, which had a small load of cactus. They were preparing to mend some holes in the fence around the camels and giraffe. The horizontal pieces attached to the cactus are bamboo, which grows wild along the arroyos in the valley. The light is so beautiful, even in the brilliance of mid-day.

We drove into Mitla to the Hotel Don Cenobio for comida. We sat in the central courtyard of the hotel for lunch, the only guests. The gold/red color scheme of the hotel was outlined in the courtyard with a bamboo fence painted bright blue. The fence was not for privacy or secrets, not even for stopping traffic...there was an opening to allow us to walk in the grass. It was purely decorative.

On the rooftops in the city, I often hear dogs barking, frustrated because they can't get to all the activity on the streets below. This fence is on the rooftop across the street from Villa Maria's. A recycler! The fence is made from just about any metal material imaginable, wired together or stabilized with gravity.

I have some fences at home, too. Stuart made some from chicken wire, to keep the deer from nibbling at the azaleas and hydrangeas. Not so pretty, but functional. We built another fence, from marvelous plastic mesh, around the vegetable garden. It's invisible, and allows me to hang pretty, rustic gates on the posts. So far, it's kept the deer out, but not the raccoons. Another fence holds up some roses, it's made of wood. The original "mexican" fence along our driveway has been replaced with duller colored, decorative pickets, but Stuart cut each one by hand, providing decoration without paint. There is also a fence for privacy, decorated with sculptures and birdhouses, the virginia creeper vines are slowly softening the view. The other side of our house is fenced with trees along the creek, a fence planted by the birds and the winds.
I think there might be some experimental fences in my near future. But there will be a way to see the secrets behind the fence, I promise.

Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name

2011-02-04T16:22:00.002-05:00

Last week, Maria Crespo, the proprietress of El Diablo y La Sandia, (the deveil and the watermelon) a B&B in centro historico came by the Textile Museum to invite the class to a catered lunch in her pretty courtyard. The meal was delicious for both the tongue and the eyes! A few days later, I contacted her, and made arrangements for Wednesday breakfast with Tom and Jo Ann, our neighbors and friends. She's a Oaxaquenan who speaks english, but was kind enough to speak to me in spanish while making the arrangements. Talented cook, gracious hostess.

This ashtray, from her parents home, was the inspiration for the name. Maria had deliberated with friends and family for weeks, looking for a name for her new business. Her brother, walking into yet another conversation about the name, picked up the ashtray on the table and said, "Why don't you name it el Diablo y la Sandia and be done with it?!?"

Maria's B&B has about 5 rooms, all tastefully decorated. After lunch last week, she showed us a few rooms. This bedside table caught my eye: it's a very commonly used charcoal grill, covered with a sheet of glass! Perfect. The rooms rent for $60US, a very good price, and a very pretty, quiet, convenient location. Oh, there is a rooftop patio, too.

The kitchen is partially outside, making is a place you want to just hang in. And, it was huge, with what seemed like acres of counter space. The tables for the class lunch were decorated in white and bright colors, and she did the same for Jo Ann, Tom, Stuart and me for breakfast.

Our neighborhood at Villa Maria's is as varied as any neighborhood in the States. Tom and Jo Ann, from the west coast, have been coming to Oax. for more than 10 years. We'd never met, we were here at different times. He's a photographer (did the photos for the Miramar weavers book); she's a bead artist. We've hit it of with them, from the first. Lolita, who has lived here for 3 decades is my other-side neighbor, she's away traveling right now. A not-so-young anymore woman with amazing energy! Above us, Bill has returned for the 15 or 20th time, from the midwest. Bill's wife died 15 months ago, and we all miss Ann's laugh. He's a walker...logs several miles across hill and mountain daily. Arlene and Paul, from the northwest, are here for the 10th year. We'd met several years ago, and they are our regular sunset cocktail partners, with conversations ranging over many topics each evening. She's a great cook, too. Eshkie and Gerry, from the northwest are back for the 6th year...we met them the first time we stayed at Maria's. Lover of movies and books, Gerry is always bringing us something new to read. Eshkie always has a group trip planned! Across the courtyard upstairs, Steve and Karen have moved to Oax permanently. We haven't seen much of them, but have laughed over drinks a few evenings. Ross and Sandy, a couple of Canadians, birders extraordinaire are here for a repeat visit. She told me the names of the two hummingbirds that live here full time: Dusky and Berrylight. A single man, whom I haven't met, and a new couple just arrived to stay in the little #11 we've all stayed in at least once. They replace our new friends, newly departed, Rita and Wayne. Al was here, with them, staying in the front apartment. The visit with them was too short. Below, across the courtyard is Marian and Tom, two more Canadians. We'd met them on other trips, nice people. Dave and Carol just arrived from the mid-west, for their 10 years+ winter stay, and other 'repeat offenders' we haven't met are arriving this week, they'll be in the last vacant apartment in the 'hood. It's a very congeal group, with lots of laughter in the late afternoon, when everyone returns from their day's adventures.

The joke is about The Box. Maria allows those who return year after year to store boxes of personal things here. When they arrive, the boxes are waiting in 'their' apartment. Decent sheets, pillows, cooking utensils and appliances, clothes, jackets and radios are some of the things people leave. Stuart and I have never started The Box, never knowing if we'd come back. Our neighbors laugh at us, saying we're in denial. It just proves that we can live with far less Stuff than we think we need. OK, if I can just have a couple of decent knives, a good skillet, a set of sheets that you can't read the paper through....we're not leaving a box again this trip.

Jo Ann, Tom and Stuart, enjoying breakfast of memelitas con nopales and chiliquiles, freshly squeezed juice, fresh fruit, home-made bread and jam, and coffee.

The sign at the entrance to El Diablo y la Sandia has a line from a Rolling Stones song, ..."pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name..." This is truly the town to meet locals, and other travelers.

Pinthila wrap-up

2011-02-03T21:43:00.002-05:00

Karen and Natividad, at the end of the class. I'm glad I stayed with it. By the end of the third day, I began to feel comfortable, and by the end of the week, I was stitching in every direction, with much more control. Natividad has been doing this for 25 years, I can't expect to be as fast or as controlled as she is in 35 hours of work!

Michaela's work. She really moved quickly, and created a beautiful design.

My design at the end of the fourth day. By Friday evening, I had filled in the rest of the shape, and the quality of the stitching was much improved!

We commisserated when we heard a cry of, "No, no, no"! That meant that someone had accidentally pulled out the last few precious stitches. Those cries became fewer and fewer by Thursday.

We had a 'cutting' ceremony at the end of the evening. Maria asked Natividad to walk through the gallery, and talk about a few of the pieces, then asked me to join them, too. I didn't understand much of what was said, but a few things were clear: she loves what she does, and felt a deep attachment to both the art and the process.

It's been a long week. I'm proud to have been in the class, and proud of what I learned. Will I do more? I don't know, but do know that her work has inspired me to look at embroidery in a very different way.

Salud, Natividad!

Am I nuts?!?

2011-02-03T21:31:00.000-05:00

By the end of the second day, when Jo Ann and I walked home, we were both questioning the use of our time. We're working from 10 - 2, and from 3 -6, and both of us are struggling just to form the stitch. The class hasn't even begun to talk about textures or creating a design! Jo Ann and Jeannie both drop out, I keep going.

This is the group working at another table. In spite of the humbling process, we're all beginning to talk and laugh. I'm working beside some very talented women this week!

The museum is open, and as people walk through the exhibit, they want to watch and ask questions. It's not distracting, and we take turns answering questions.

Maria Conception, and Michaela, my stitching table partners. I called them my spanish teachers. While they didn't speak any english, they were very willing help with my spanish all week. The only other english speaker in the class also spoke beautiful spanish. Cecelia was helpful, even though she worked at a different frame.

Each day we encouraged each other, and laughed at each other's troubles.

The last day, some of the class went to El Diablo y La Sandia (The Devil and the Watermelon) for lunch. It's a B&B close to the Museum, and Maria catered a delicious and beautiful lunch in the courtyard. By now, we had formed a bond with each other, as people in a common cause do so often, and it was a nice way to end the week. The woman sitting beside me in this photo is from Mexico City, and owns an antique clothing store. She, like Michaela here in Oaxaca, re-works old clothes and makes them wearable. Very talented woman, and very funny.

After lunch, we returned to the Museum, and worked almost 2 hours later than we had all week. The museum staff even found some lights, which allowed us to keep working after dark.

Lunch at El Diablo y La Sandia. Avocado soup with home-made croutons; iced tea without ice; veggie lasagna that was do die for, served with a fresh salad (almost unheard of in Oaxaca; and bfread pudding with chocolate sauce and pureed orange/tangerine served on the side. Delicious!!

Learning to stitch, step one

2011-02-03T20:51:00.001-05:00

Learning to make the stitch

The Pinthila class had 18 participants, four of us spoke English as our first language. This is language baptism by fire! We jumped right in, stretching some cheap, polyester satin in a frame, much like setting a quilt in a hand-stitching frame. Natividad, at left in this photo, is showing us how to stitch the fabric to a muslin strip, nailed to the two long sides of the frame.

Nati, as the local women called her, and I stitch the fabric on the second side. After two sides were attached at each of the three frames set up in the courtyard of the Oaxaca Textile Museum, we pulled them tight, and reset the huge nails we were using as pins on the cross pieces of the frame.

Nati then showed us how to hand-stitch strips of cotton to the ends. By ripping the strips lengthwise, we had two pieces to tie around the ends of the big frames. The fabric was as tight as we could get it. All this took about an hour, and the three tables were ready to begin stitching. I pulled up my stool between my friend Jo Ann, and Jeannie, a British artist who now lives in Bali but is travling in Mexico for a couple of years. I need a piece of paper and pencil for that story, too! Across the table sat Michaela, a local artist who owns a shop selling womens clothes that have been re-worked from their original designs. It's a cooperative, and sounds like a place I can't wait to visit. Maria, an embroiderer from Aztompa, a suburb of Oaxaca sat across from me; and Veronica, another local embroidery artist who just couldn't understand my bad prounouciation, and we never did have much conversation, but she did very nice work, and had a quick smile.
The only supply we were asked to bring to class was a size 14 crochet hook. The hook is so tiny, I can barely see it! We used polyester machine embroidery thread, held in the hand below the stretched fabric. In my right hand, I held the hook almost perfectly straight up. Natividad showed us how to punch the hook through the fabric, and with our left hand wrap the thread around the hook, and pull the hook back up through the fabric without catching part of the cloth. A loop is formed. Move the hook, repeat the action. Sounds so easy, and watching her make about two stitches per second, it seemed easy! Oh, what a lesson in patience we are all about to learn!

I spent most of the morning just 'pacing' back and forth, as you can see from the photo here. After a while, I felt a little more confident, and thought I needed to learn how to stitch in every direction, so I began the geometric design. This is the photo I took at the end of the SECOND day of class, after about 12 hours of work. This is not easy! There is not much conversation at our frame the first day, we're so focused on forming just one stitch. By the end of the first day, Jo Ann and I are questioning our capabilities.

Natividad Amador

2011-02-03T20:03:00.002-05:00

Pinthila. Nombre de 'pintura' y 'hila'.
Pinthila. A contraction of 'painting' and 'thread'.

That's the description Nativdad Amador gives her medium. From the brochure for the show...." Nativdad studied fine art at the Autonomous University of Oaxaca. At the end of this process, in which she produced graphics and paintings in the fashion of the Oaxacan Painting School, she still had a big concern: "my painting is missing something" she said. With that deliberation she went back to her homeland, Juchitan, and she proposed to focus on the uniqueness of her culture and then assimilate it. She found what she was looking for in the typical Isthmus textiles in it's chain stitch embroidery; also known as 'tejido' (weaving)."

Natividad wanted to work with the people she considered the masters, either because they were her tutors or because she deeply admires their accomplishments. The translated the work, paintings, of those artists. Some of the work is directly translated from a painting, other piecs are a collaboration, with Natividad working in the artists studio to resolve the piece. In other cases, the artists gave her a 'sketch' and let Natividad freely make the piece. The other artists included in the show are Alejandr Santiago, Arnulfo Mendoza, Demian Flores, Eddie Martinez, Francisco Toledo, Gabriel Macatela, Gilberto Aceves Naavarro, Jose Villalobos, Juan Alcazar, Luis Zarate, Miguel Angel Charis and Victor Chaca.

All the pieces shown here are stitched by hand. The cloth is totally covered with stitches. Most of the pieces are about 25" x 30". I think there must have been more than 30 pieces, and here are just a few pieces from the show.

When I look at the texture in the stitching, I'm amazed at how she creates that illusion. It's all about changing the direction of the stitches. Just covering a piece of cloth with stitches alone would not deliver the same results.

While I walked through the gallery that first day, mouth hanging open in awe, I fell in love with a few pieces...more attraction to some pieces than to others, and it was because of the composition. All the works showed great technical expertise, and successful compositions (imho!) This piece really caught my eye, I think because of the subtle color choices. Below is a detail photo. To get some of the subtle colors needed, Natividad used two threads at a time. A great, old masters trick with paint; and technically very difficult to stitch.

Next post, I'll tell how the stitch is formed, and post a few pics from the class...

Miramar Weavers, book signing

2011-02-01T13:24:00.000-05:00

Our neighbor, Tom Feher, took the photos for a book, written by Judith Radke, about a small village of weavers high in the Mixteca region of the state. The women have formed a cooperative, and are working on marketing their beautiful weavings. The work is all done on the typical Mayan backstrap loom, and is very intricate and complicated. Judith, who lives part of the year in the Boston area, has a beautiful house up towards San Felipe. She and her husband hosted a book signing party for the new book.

This is the two Edith's, both master weavers and both daughters of master weavers. They made the long, difficult trip from Miramar to be at the book signing.

Judith, wearing one of the beautiful shawls. I wish you could see the detail in the weaving...very intricate. And, the fringe on all the pieces was gilding on the lily! This piece in particular caught my eye, and Judith modeled for the photo. The Mirarmar weavers wanted more training in fringes, so they arranged to swap training sessions with a group of Zapotec weavers. The Miramar taught some of the patterns they weave; the Zapotec weavers showed them new fringe patterns.

It was a very nice evening...we met other travelers, and I saw a few old classmates from my Spanish class. It's really a small town!

This is my friend Jo Ann, my neighbor and the wife of the photographer; and her friend Suzanne. You have to love their embroidered blouses!

Judith and her husband Warren renovated this old building, creating a beautiful space with great outside areas. I snapped this image, the view from their bedroom looking north. The giant, folding glass doors are in every room, blocking the weather when needed, but keeping the outside close by all the time.

It was a nice evening, and we walked home, stopping for a snack on the way.

More Aztompa pottery

2011-02-01T13:04:00.000-05:00

Enedina, son and husband, in their gallery in Aztompa.

Later, at the artisan's mercado...I love these big pots! No way to get it home, however.

The colors are as pretty as the colors of the valley. In these pots, I see the sky, the mountains and the flowers.

Aztompa, pop 5,000, is on the edge of the mountains. While it's close to the city, it's still in a different time. We watched this man move his cows through town, one car patiently waiting for them to turn off to the pasture.

We met a couple from NY, and after some conversation invited them to join us for lunch of quesdillas at the restaurant by the artisans mercado. We ordered drinks, and waited for what seemed like an hour. Later, we learned that Jesus, our waiter, had to go fetch the woman who cooks. There isn't enough business for her to hang out at the restaurant all day. She brought her children along, and they played a game at a table nearby while she cooked and we ate.

We got on a bus to go back to Oaxaca, the bus was still on it's outbound direction, but the driver laughed when we told him we'd like 'the tour'. He drove through the little village, where the pavement ended, and we drove through a valley towards a new neighborhood. Cement, two story townhouses, 1,000 of them. Exactly alike, same colors, same floor plan. The driver turned off the bus, and began to sweep and clean. We talked to his wife, who was riding in the front seat with her new baby, and eventually headed back to the city.

Aztomp, Oax.

2011-02-01T12:51:00.000-05:00

We've been 'home' for a couple of days from our Guatemala trip, and our neighbors, Eshkie and Gerry invited us to join them to go to Aztompa. There are many things we love out being here: so many arts; so many villages where specific art is made, very close to the city; the food; our little community at Villa Maria.

Aztompa is just west of the huge, important ancient Mayan city of Monte Alban. We can see one of the Monte Alban structures on the hill from our rooftop garden. Aztompa spreads over the western end of Monte Alban, where there are acres and acres that haven't been excavated. But, the city is not looking at it's past so much as looking forward to making more beautiful pottery. The city is known for it's distinctive green glazed bowls. I think every restaurant in the city has several sitting on the burners in the kitchen! These days, however, the artisans are making multi-colored vases, many with holes cut in them. The more skilled artists are making these unglazed figures. Eshkie had the address of one very accomplished artist, Enedina Vasquez Cruz.

Five people (and the driver) will fit in a colectivo, a compact car, and we were six (Rita and Al were with us, too), so I hopped in a separate colectivo. We later learned there was a bus from the central. The trip is just across the river, about 15 minutes away. I had no idea where in the little village we were going, so got out in the center. The others, thank goodness, saw me on the sidewalk, and stopped. Enedina's shop is just around the corner.

This piece, with all the roses at figure's feet, is the second copy. The first is now in a museum in Mexico City. Enedina is recognized all over the country for her skills, and has earned many awards and recognitions. I didn't ask any prices, but am sure this piece was marked at several thousand pesos.

The faces on her sculptures are so sweet! This figure caught my eye...I love the bowl of fish in her hands.

Rita wanted to buy just one of the figures of this group but it's not to be broken up (detailed photo, too). There is time! Enedina will make another one...Rita choses another figure. Some of the work on display in the tiny gallery is the work of her husband and 10-year old son. But, her work is the reason for the gallery, and she's very gracious. I didn't buy anything, but was surely tempted!

Later, we walked to the artisan's mercado, and I'm glad we saw Enedina's work first. The stuff here is fine, but the quality of the work was far below what we saw at Enedina's gallery. I'll post a couple more pics...

The trip back to Oaxaca

2011-01-30T22:06:00.000-05:00

Our last lancha captain, Rollo, who poled us through the shallow water and wanted to learn to say, "How are you?" in english.

The colectivo to Tecun Uman filled pretty quickly, and I was soon sitting on a box, facing backwards with my knees under my chin, as we passed more banana plantation. In Tecun Uman, a man advised us to use a tuk tuk to get the few blocks to the border, because we're gringo tourists and the drug scene is unpredicatable here, even for a Sunday morning. The old man has a hard time pedaling us, with our bags, but gets us to the border. A stamp in our passports (not necessary but she has to earn a tip), a propina of 20Q to leave the country, change our quetzales to pesos with a dude on the street, another tuk tuk to cross the river into Mexico, another stamp and a big fee we can't pay (we'll pay the land-entrance fee at a bank when we get back to Oaxaca). There is some confusion because we just converted our quetzales to pesos, but the tuk tuk driver wants to be paid in quetzales....no one has change for a 50 peso note (worth less than $5), so we give him the 50 pesos. The tuk tuk driver, this time really a pedicab, has just crossed into Mexico with not passport of fee. But then, he's a local. The river, who's name I don't know, is crowded with people washing clothes. There is no fence here, just a fence along the bridge. Who makes this stuff up?!? ANOTHER tuk tuk driver, a pedicab, takes us to the bus station in Ciudad Hidalgo, we're back in Mexico. Stuart is very tense, he's not good on travel days, particularly when he can't speak the language. But, I'm doing OK, and we get where we want to be.

The colectivo drivers in both countries play a game: how many adults can they fit in a mini-van? At one time, between Ciudad Hidalgo and Tapachula, I counted 24 adults! Can you say, "too many people"? I watch the conductor, who is hanging out the side door, giving signs to the driver to tell him how many more he can squeeze in. Thankfully, the trip is short, about an hour.

We pass more of the screaming yellow trees, that the women on the bus several days ago tell me are called palo
blanco. When I said, "they're not white, they're yellow", the woman shrugged and said "that's the name".

There is a bus from Tapachula to Juchitan seven hours from now. There is no luggage lockerer at the bus station in Tapachula, so we sit, taking turns walking around the block to stretch our legs. The bus leaves on time at 7pm, and we arrive in Juchitan at 2am. We buy a ticket to Oaxaca on a bus leaving in about 9 hours, so we find a hotel room and sleep for a little while. All the bus stations we've stopped in on the way are busy, brightly lighted, with food vendors on the streets around them all. We notice that the taco vendors in Juchitan are closing up shop as we walk past at 2:30am.

The hotel is over-priced, but there aren't many options within walking distance. We wake early, too early, and find time to walk off the road jitters before heading back to the bus station. There isn't much to entertain us in Juchitan, as we learned at the beginning of this trip.

We find this beautiful mural on a side street in Juchitan, seems perfect for the end of our trip. We buy a sandwich, fill our water bottles and get on the last bus. The trip to Oaxaca is about 6 hours, and we when we cross the last mountain ridge and head down the valley into Tlacolula, we giggle and feel like we're home! We've made it home from Tilapita in less than 48 hours but we're road weary. We must have a local's attitude, because when we get off the the bus in Oaxaca, no one tries to sell us anything. We catch a 4.5 peso city bus to our street, familiar with all the streets and shops, and walk into our calm, peaceful courtyard, to receive hugs from Manuel, Josephina and our neighbors. It's nice to be home.

Leaving in the broad daylight

2011-01-30T16:01:00.001-05:00

We headed east in our little lancha, it's early but the sun is already hot. We motored past the dock where we left Tilapa a few days ago, and pretty quickly we saw another small island, with a hand-made bridge crossing the lagoon. In the middle was an narrow arch, to the lanchas to pass. A small crowd of people was crossing the arch, with musical instruments on their heads. It's Sunday, Evangelical churches are the best place for music here, and I suspect there is some good music in their near future. We motor on, and the water gets very shallow.....

A few huts on the other island, and I can see a power pole, so there will be speakers for the music that's about to begin.

The water is very shallow, and our captain stops the motor and begins to pole through the shallows. Another boat is heading in the opposite direction, and that captain points out a path that is a little deeper. I hear some shouts,and see four wagons pulled by mules begin to cross the lagoon. The boys are racing each other through the shallow water! This picture, with the cell phone towers in the background, seems to be an image that is confused....

I should crop these pics, for a closer image... by now, Stuart is helping pole, and I'm suggesting that I get out and help pull the boat by the rope. I tell our young captain about the times my daddy would run us on the sandbar at the beach at home, and I'd tow us through the shallow water, rope over my shoulder. He laughed, and suddenly we were in water just deep enough to start the motor again.

He begins to ask about a few english phrases, and I help him with, "How are you?" and, "I'm fine, thank you!". He knows "please" and "thank you" already. He asks me how much $20US is worth in quetzales, and is surprised at the answer. When we reach the town of Ocos, he grabs Stuart's bag (of course!), and walks us up the deserted, paved street to a corner. Here's where the colectivo will stop for us, and in about 5 minutes, the bus arrives. I give him a piece of paper with his new english written on it, give and get a hug, and we're off to Tecun Uman, the border town. Our Guatemala adventure is almost over.

Last day at the beach

2011-01-30T15:43:00.002-05:00

Our room is pretty basic. It has two beds and a floor fan that makes a lot of noise, but is necessary. There is one light bulb, by the door. No chair or table. One of the mattresses is store-bought, the other is hand-made and stuffed with grass or leaves. I'm not sure which, but can tell you it's hard! Oh, there was an electrical outlet, thankfully, where I could recharge my camera batteries. There was no hot water, but the water tank was on the roof, so the water was warmed by the sun. The toilet, surprisingly, had a seat. Many toilets here, don't. Alex also provided two thin pillows, two very thin sheets, and two well-used towels. We were set! I ask: how much time are you going to spend in a hotel room in such a beautiful place?

One day, I locked our only key in the room. I asked Alex to open the door, and he said his son would unlock it when he returned later. The son returned, went to the back of the hotel and brought into the breezeway a hand-made ladder. He propped it against the wall, walked away and returned with a long piece of pvc pipe. He climbed the ladder, reached over the front wall of our room (it didn't meet the ceiling, providing for a little air circulation) with the pipe, and pushed against the door latch to open the door. They don't have another key to the room! I noticed that some of the other rooms had padlocks, which means that the door keys have all been lost, and Alex just added a hinge and bought a padlock. I love a simple answer.

Our European friends spent last night on the beach. It's a birthday celebration for of one of them, and the Birthday Girl wanted to wake up on the beach, at sunrise. We found them the next morning, groggy from the night, but very content.

This is the little sunrise celebration the Birthday Girl built in the sand. The tall sticks are sparklers, which they burned at sunrise.

It's time for us to begin the return trip to Oaxaca. We don't know how long it will take, but at least 2 days, probably three. It all depends on the bus schedules. We spend our last day enjoying the beach, the children, the hammocks and the good food.

Alex will get a lancha to take us to Ocos tomorrow morning. We arrived from the east side of the river, at Tilapa, but will depart from the west side of the river, because it's a more direct route for the bus to get us to Tecun Uman, close to la frontera, the border.

The dutch woman and Stuart chatted, and she knows a child's song that Stuart's mother sang to him when he was a child, a song in dutch. She wrote the words for Stuart, and the three of them sang for him. It was very sweet, and we all had tears in our eyes when they finished. Our lancha captain arrives, Victor takes Stuart's case, and we walk down the sand street to the path to the lagoon.

River tour

2011-01-30T15:18:00.001-05:00

Three young women, two from Belguim and one from Holland, appear at the hotel one afternoon. They are all three doing humaitarian work (as are many other young Europeans) in Guatemala for a year, the two Belgians at an orphanage in Tecun Uman. The Dutch woman is in Xela. They all speak beautiful english, in addition to beautiful spanish. We five ask Alex about a tour of the river, and he lines up a captain and a boat for the next day.

Two small boys ride on the bow of the lancha, warning the captain of unseen snags. We motor up the river for about 30 minutes, and into a small creek. The river smells and looks like our Northeast Cape Fear River in North Carolina, except for the mangrove roots growing from high above the high tide line. We feel right at home! It's quiet, except for the birds, and there are lots of birds.

I can easily see the tide line on these roots. We see many ibis, herons, kingfishers, some small, dancing shore birds, flying fish with four eyes and lots of scavengers I can't identify. We hear a loud bird in the trees, sounds vaguely like a woodpecker, but my spanish is definately not good enough to ask about the birds! The young women have no clue about birds.

We passed a couple of other boats, fishermen, some with small nets, some with hand-tossed lines. Some boats had motors, but most were hand paddled, like this one. The current appears to be not too strong.

There is no other traffic, or sounds to remind us of humans, and we soon turn into a creek that feels like another century!

Does the captain look vaguely familiar? Alex confirms, with a laugh when we return, that the captain is his padre! El capitano's hat got caught on a low-hanging limb, and even though we saved it, it was wet. When we headed directly into the late afternoon sun, I gave him my hat to shield his eyes.

Quality beach time

2011-01-30T15:03:00.001-05:00

Each morning, we walk on the beach, before the sun gets too hot. We see pelicans fishing every day, but no other people until Saturday morning. Apparently, this is a weekend beach destination for folks living in Xela. The young men gathered on the beach early, for coffee and a visit.

The palm trees created the prettiest reflection in the pool. One morning, I watched Alex scatter, by hand, some kind of white powder in the pool. Chlorine, I guess, but I surely could neither smell nor taste it. People action powered the circulation!

Alex, our host. He kept a tab of our daily charges, which included our meals and beers. We helped ourselves to beers, and told him how many at the end of the day. We paid him each evening, he charged us 100Q per day for our room. He told me that the dining palapa, the one with the concrete floor, was just finished in the past few months. The busy season is semana santa, Easter week. So far, we're the only people in the hotel, but he says that week he'll put as many as 10 people in each room, charging 100Q per person, about $12US a night! I guess they sleep in shift, there are only two beds in the room. From that week, he makes enough to survive the sparse guests the rest of the year, and he saved enough to build this nice place. The roof, made of banana leaves, costs about 1 Q per leaf, and will last about 15 years. He has a second pool under construction now...he says that during semana santa the pool is so filled with people that it sloshes out much of the water!

Alex's oldest son, who appears to be in his early 20's, told me that the water in the tap is clean...we can drink it. This would be the first place in Mexico or Guatemala that the water is drinkable, but it makes sense, since they have their own well here. I'm still drinking bottled water...

One night, Celia brought me this baked fish, mojarra. We call it snook. She put some herba santa and salt in the foil with the fish, and cooked it over the open fire, her only heat source. It came with the usual sliced tomatoes, onions and cucumber, and some roasted potatoes. Celia is a good cook! Life at the beach is pretty good.

Art Day

2011-01-30T14:28:00.002-05:00

Stuart, in the hammock.....

There is no pavement or grass anywhere, just sand. The children, chickens, pigs and trash all share the sand around us. The children giggled at Stuart in the hammock, fast asleep!

This pig wandered back and forth, between the water dripping at a palapa next door, and the trash pile burning behind the hotel.

After lunch, I tore out the last few unused pages of my paper journal, my mapa de libre, and Fatima (the five year old) called her friends over. She found a few stray crayons, I spread my pencils and water color crayons on a table, and we spent the afternoon drawing and laughing. A few more kids showed up, and Celia found some shelf paper in her kitchen, it had one waxy side and one lined, paper side, and everyone had paper. We drew maps and flowers and people, and everyone encouraged everyone else. It was a perfectly perfect afternoon, and the kids laughed and lined up for multiple hugs when all the coloring was done. Victor, the 12-year old insisted that they all give me their drawings...I wanted them to give them to their mothers, but he insisted. He's the luggage-carrying kid from our arrival, and, we learned he's Alex and Celia's youngest son.

Afterwards, they begged for a walk on the playa. I think they don't get spend much time swimming in the ocean, maybe it's too familiar.

The boys clowned for this photo, and the girls rolled their eyes at their silliness. Bremner is standing, the two small boys lying in the sand are his brothers.

One more, more sedate, photo on the beach.

At the beach

2011-01-30T14:13:00.001-05:00

Alex spent much of his morning in one hammock reading the paper, and I took the other. There is another palapa on the other side of the rooms, with more hammocks, too.

We took a walk on the beach before breakfast. Our new friend, Manchi the Dog, walked with us. We headed to the inlet, which appears to be deep and fast moving, then back around the lagoon side. The rains last summer, the same rains that washed away all the roads in the mountains, washed away much sand on the northwest end of the island. We climb over a couple of fences, and walk back along a shady street. The sun has warmed the sand to Burn temperature already!

When we get back to the hotel, Celia brings us a cup of hot water and a jar of Nescafe. We're pretty surprised, but realize there is no use asking for real coffee. She also brings us enough eggs and beans and tortillas for a basketball team!

One of the shady streets on the island.

We saw two people on our walk, and passed a little tienda, in name only. Under the palapa beside the tienda was a pool table! We met William, a local man with a USMC tattoo on his arm. He told us that he served 14 years in the marines, and only got out because his father wanted him to come home. He has three children in the US, all of whom have graduated from prestigious colleges. One son is a professor at Harvard!

We spend the rest of the morning in the pool, on the beach, or in the hammock. At some point, Alex asked us what time we wanted lunch, and told us we were having ceviche....

This was to become our daily lunch, and it was delicious! We spent our afternoons in the hammock, with a swim in the ocean late in the day. A pretty good routine, if you can get it.

Our host at Tilapita

2011-01-30T14:02:00.000-05:00

Hola, Linda and Cristy! You'd recognize this river: it smells and looks like 'our' river....

The Hotel Pacific Mar is owned by Alex and Celia. He's the Front Man. Alex shows us our room, we're the only guests. The dining palapa has a cement floor, and three bare light bulbs hanging overhead. Alex shows us the cooler, and we make ourselves at home. The question about meals is quickly answered. He asks what time we want to eat, and tells us what Celia is cooking! Fresh fish, it will be ready in an hour. Later, I peek in the kitchen, and see Celia and their oldest daughter cooking over two wood fires. The floor is dirt, and the table is covered with a clean plastic cloth. I give Celia the remains of a loaf of banana bread I bought yesterday, and get a smile and hug in return. She's not a bit offended that it's not a whole loaf. Stuart has a small, curious crowd of small, barefoot children staring at him when I join him at a table. I have my paper journal, and the children are very curious about it. I show them the map I drew of Lake Atitlan, and they have no trouble identifying the volcanos I drew. My libre de mapa , map book, they call it. We talk a little, some are Alex and Celia's children, other's are neighbors. When Alex brings our fish dinner, they disappear like the wind. Apparently they've been told to leave guests alone while they're eating.

Late in the evening, I see Alex unplug the cooler with soft drinks and beer, just before he turned out the three lights in the palapa. There is another palapa with a sand floor, beside the pool, with a hammock with my name on it! The pool has no pump or filter, but it's clean and clear as drinking water. I can't wait to try it, tomorrow.

My pack got wet early today, in the boat crossing from San Pedro to Santiago. When I asked Celia about a clothesline, she pointed to the barbed wire fence around the pool. Works fine!

The Christmas decorations are still hanging. Pretty, hand-made decorations. Celia and the children painted styrofoam cups, cut them in a spiral, and attached a piece of ribbon inside. You can bet I'm copying this idea!

Tilapita

2011-01-30T13:43:00.001-05:00

Stuart and our Captain, on the Ocos lagoon. The captain beached the boat on the backside of the island, and he carried Stuart's bag up the sand path. He called to two boys playing close by, and they giggled and fought over who would carry it a little further along the sand path to the hotel. Boys start that macho stuff early. I walked behind, happy to have my toes in the sand, and smell the salt air.

We dumped our bags at the hotel, grabbed a beer from the cooler, and walked out on the beach. This is the first time I've seen black sand, volcanic sand. The sand is as coarse here as our white sand beaches in NC. We've arrived just inn time for sunset on the Pacific...

Backing up a little....this is the backside of the island. The only transportation here is a little boat, some owners are lucky enough to have a motor. Others use short, home-made paddles.

Our first sunset at Tilapita...

A highway song....

2011-01-29T18:12:00.002-05:00

This is the intersection where we find our final bus of the day. This is not our bus. But, I'm getting ahead of the story....

I could hear the Allman Brothers tune in my head all day. We easily found another bus in Cocales, a crossroads town. I talked to the conductor, with map in hand, and told him where we wanted to go. He worked out a way to get us there, and tossed our bags to the roof of the next chicken bus. This time, we weren't so lucky, and were standing, butts and belts in someone's face. Eventually, I got a one-cheek seat, beside a man, woman and child. I eventually figured out they weren't together. Edwardo (probably spelled Eduardo) began asking questions, and I learned he had lived in Lousiana, not far from Lafayette. He worked in the sugar cane fields a little, but mostly worked as a landscaper for a cardiologist. He was very proud, and showed me his friend/employers card. The doc had just been to Guatemala for visit. When I asked Eduardo if he'd go back, he said probably not. He liked the money, but missed his family. In front of us, another man heard us talking, and as the bus began to empty, he wanted to talk, too, but in English. We laughed as he practiced, and wanted me to stay in this town and be his teacher. I got a hug when he got off the bus.

The bus pulled into a parking lot in Mazatenango, and parked. I'm puzzled, I thought we'd go further on this bus. The conductor searched for us in the crowd as we collected our bags from the roof, and gave me 40 Q. The bus was having mechanical troubles (we couldn't tell!), and he owed us a partial refund. He said, 'wait here', and disappeared in the crowd, leaving us with Eduardo. Stuart bought a sandwich from a street vendor, and the three of us shared it while we waited. I think Eduardo was surprised when he saw us eating street food, and he and I talked about food and cooking while we waited. The conductor returned and, he and Eduardo led us by the hand through the crowd and confusion to another bus, where they both argued with the conductor of that bus about the price. Eventually, all was agreed on, as Stuart and I just stood there trying to understand, and our bags were stowed. We gave and recieved hugs and kisses, and boarded the bus. Eduardo watched, and I waved, until the bus pulled out of the lot.

This bus is not a chicken bus, but a Pullman. That simply means that the seats are 'fitted', and if you're lucky enough to get a seat, you don't share it. There was a stack of plastic stools in the back of the bus, and they were passed forward for people to sit in the aisles. It's not better: Pullman seats are always broken down, and miserably uncomfortable. My seat mate was a local woman who spoke beautiful English, but didn't want to chat, which was fine with me. I wanted to look out the window and take a few notes. The man behind me, however, did. He and three friends were traveling from Honduras to Mexico, to find work. We're down off the mountains now, and it's hot. The windows don't open much, and we're traveling behind a truck hauling something dead. Or rotten. Or both. Finally, the bus gets a chance to pass and we all laugh with fresh air. Soon, however the bus pulls over to the side of the road, mechanical trouble of some kind. A few of the men get off, in true Mexican/Guatemalan style, and look under the hood. After about 30 minutes, they climb back on, and we drive on. My friends from Honduras are fascinated with the small map I have, and we talk about their route and where they live and where they are going. A couple of them have big machete-type knives, like many men who work in the fields.

We pick up and drop off more people, pass again through Retalhueleu, and then Coatepeque. Somewhere, we change buses again, but by now I've lost track of the route. Our conductor asks where we're going, and tells me he'll let me know when to get off. After a while, he comes to the back of the bus, where I'm sitting, and begins to talk. He's lived in Houston (or was it Dallas?), and has a friend there. He, too, made good money, which he sent home, and is happy to be back in Guatemala. He asks me to send a text to a friend in TX, in English, saying he's working on a bus, making money, and all is well. I almost finish when he calls for us to get off...I get yet another hug and kiss, as I give him instructions to finish the text!

By late in the day, we find ourselves on the side of the road, at an intersection marked with a couple of food vendors set up under a huge avocado tree and a mango tree. See the first pic in this post....Literally an intersection in the middle of nowhere. Again, we're 'adopted', and are told to wait, this young man selling cold drinks will let us know which bus to get on. Because we're gringos, we're pretty curious, and as always, people stare and smile when they're caught. Not many gringos travel by bus, we're learning. And, we're wwwwaayyy far off the tourist track here. After about 20 mintues, a smaller bus, a colectivo stops, and we're shoved on board. My notes from that afternoon say, "I don't know where Stuart is, but trust he got on the bus. I threw my pack to the dude on the roof, pushed my way on board and shoved my personal pack under a seat. Two women made room for me between them on the back seat." Later, I see that the driver has made room beside him for Stuart. A front row seat, of sorts. He's sitting on the transmission hub, but he's sitting!

We're paralleling the coast now, and we pass miles and miles of banana plantations and a few tiny villages. At one stop, I heard the conductor on the roof, and a loud noise. He passed down a 4 x 8 sheet of corrugated metal to a man, who put it on his head and walked down a dirt path. Guess he's getting a new roof patch tomorrow. A little while later, we stop in front of a house surrounded by bananas. A woman hurries out of the house with a huge stem of plantains, hands them to the driver who hands her some money.

This is a pic from the back of the bus. You can see Stuart, who has now moved to a real seat, and the bunch of banans by the driver.

The two women I'm sitting between want to chat, and tell me about their children. They tell me about working in the plantations, and ask where we're going and what we're doing. One tells me her sister lives at the beach we're headed to, and that we can stay with her. Just get to the island and ask for Lily, she says. Must be even smaller than I thought.

We're the last on the bus, since we're getting off at the end of the line. Tilapia. A tiny, quiet, clean village, with paved streets, on the Ocos River. We load our packs, and after asking for directions, we walk down a very quiet street past chickens and pigs and babies in hammocks and little houses with outside kitchens, towards the dock. A litter of puppies 'attacks' Stuart's rolling case.

It looks like low tide, but what do I know? It's close to sunset now, but we find a man waiting to take us across the lagoon to Tilapita, the beach across the river/lagoon. A man sees us coming, and as always, grabs Stuart's rolling bag, never asking if he can take my back pack. Neither does Stuart ask! We board the little lancha, the man knows where we're going. There is only one hotel on the island. It's a beautiful, 10 minute boat ride, in a little boat that reminds me of my daddy's hand-made wooden boat. A 15-horse Johnson powers it.

Leaving the Lake

2011-01-29T17:24:00.001-05:00

The wind has been blowing for two days and the lake is white capping. The locals tell me this happens occasionally, but not usually this time of year. We sadly pack our bags, and leave Aaculaax before breakfast, trying to get across the lake as early as possible. We don't really know how we're going to get to the coast, but will figure it out poco a poco (little by little, or step by step) and hope to put our toes in the salt water this evening.

We stop, briefly in San Pedro for breakfast, and catch a tuk tuk to the other pier, where we'll catch another boat to Santiago, on the southeastern side of the lake. The southern road from the lake twists between three volcanos, an easier route than trying to leave from the north shore, because we're heading a little south and west.

This is the Santiago dock. Just in the left corner of the photo you see a brick wall. That's the city park. It's under water, along with all the stalls for the vendors who normally sell here. The dock is also not the normal dock; the normal one was swamped probably pretty quickly after the late summer rains. There are a few buildings along the shore here, too, that have water washing against their front walls.

The lake is so churned up by the wind, we almost decide to not board. I threw our bags to a man on board, and another man held tightly onto each of us as we boarded the lancha. There was a big step down from the shaking pier. The trip to Santiago was very rough, and one woman was sick. Thank goodness the 'windows' were screened with plastic, otherwise we would have been more soaked than we were. The four men sitting on the front bench held a blue tarp over the front of the boat for the one hour, rough ride. Their arms must have been tired, but they all declined to let me take their place. Machismo is alive and well in most Central American countries! All the bags, in the floor at our feet, got wet. We were all splashed, but there we no complaints. It is a beautiful day. The captain did a good job of steering into the waves, but our destination was almost sideways to the wind and the waves, and eventually we had to turn. It was a slow trip.

Santiago. It's the most developed of the villages on the lake, pop. 32,000.

I couldn't resist taking this photo...a sign on the street, across from the bank in Santiago, just a little way from the town market. We waited on the curb there for about 20 minutes for the bus to leave...

"It's prohibited to urinate, defacate, throw trash anywhere in this place. By order of the government of Atitlan". So, there!

I don't know what this man was hauling, but it was heavy. The big baskets covered wtih nets of some kind are used a lot around the lake. I saw many people carrying goods like this. If the women were carrying the baskets, they were usually on their heads.

The bus originates in Santiago, and even though there is no bus station, everyone knows what time the bus leaves for Cocales. It's parked beside the bank. I watched the driver's wife leave a bag of lunch on his seat, while he was busy in conversation with someone else. Luckily, we were the first ones on the bus, and had the front seat with a good view. No crowd. Yet. We drive around the southern edge of the lake, climbing and giving picture postcard vistas, past miles of coffee plantations and a few very small villages, eventually turning more south and west. As always, there is very little vehicular traffic. At one little village, a tuk tuk driver had left his tuk tuk parked on the narrow street, blocking traffic. Not usually a problem, since there is so little traffic. But, the bus couldn't pass. The driver leaned on the horn for a long time, no one appeared. The conductor and the driver, with great disgust but much patience, got out of the bus, and lifted the tuk tuk to the sidewalk. We drove on...

A few random notes about San Marcos...and Guate in general

2011-01-27T23:07:00.001-05:00

...this is a photo of the shower at Acculax. It's built right into the rocks, out of the image is a boulder that juts out for a low table. The towel bar is a bit of coffee wood. Everything in Acculax is made local material, and no two rooms are the same. Of course, they were all built one at a time, with the next addition fitting where it would. Elegantly done, thoughtfully done.

This is the house beside Posada Bosque Encantado, where Cecilia and her husband (we didn't meet him) and children live. I love the doors and the balcony!

The single, tall thing in this photo is a tree. San Juan la Laguna, from the San Pedro dock. I didn't see another tree as tall and straight as that one!

We've met a lot of young Eurpean, North American and South American men and women, taking advantage of their winter break from college classes. But, most of those travelers have gone home now. The travelers we're meeting now are mostly older people, looking for adventure, with a little bit of comfort. A hotel with hot water, transportation that someone else arranges, good food. All in an exotic, remote location. Oh, and warm weather!

In between all the travelers, we're spending time talking with locals. Often, a man will strike up a conversation with one of us. If Stuart is the object of the question, he'll call me over, and I do the listening. Many of the men we've talked to have been in the US for a short time. Two things strike me about their stories: they are VERY proud they've been to the US; and they are VERY proud of the jobs they had. Many worked in landscaping and construction jobs. I asked them all about their jobs, if they were good jobs. The response I got, each time, was a big grin, and an emphatic yes. I usually heard how much money they made, too. $10/hour. That's more than some people earn in a day. I also learned they are VERY happy to be back home, and always grinned when I said, "Bienvenidos a Guate!" (Welcome to Guatemala!) When I asked if they were considering going back to work, the answer was always no. It's too expensive. I never heard that it was dangerous, and if I asked about the danger, I got a shrug in response. A coyote cost $5,000US, we heard several times. And, that's from the Mexican/US border; they have to travel through Mexico first. I met three young men traveling together one day, they were from Honduras. We spent time looking at my Guatemala and Mexico maps, talking about their plans and dreams, and they practiced their little bit of English. They told me they were heading for the Mexican border, in Chiapas, where they heard there was work. I can't imagine the desperation that would cause someone to illegally cross two international borders, just to find work.

More than once, I was asked to write down some basic English words. They wanted to be able to say, 'how are you?' mostly. 'please', 'thank you', and 'good morning' were also requested. One man asked me how much his quetzales are worth in US dollars. They all told me about their families: siblings and parents, spouses or girlfriends sometimes, and children. They asked about our families and jobs, where we were going, and how long we'd be there, and if we liked their country. Basic stuff, but with genuine interest for us all. I have to say that the Guatemalan people are genuinely the warmest, friendliest people we've ever met. We felt like they really wanted us to love their country. It surely wasn't hard to fall in love with such open-hearted people.

Last Supper in San Marcos

2011-01-25T10:17:00.001-05:00

Brad and Stuart, our last night in San Marcos. When we walked up the steps, Brad called us by name, as he did every other person who walked in. He's a good business man, but laid back at the same time. He's a corporate lawyer from LA, tired of the rat race, who landed here. He farms coffee, sheep, chickens and veggies in season, and has cultivated a fine group of food people. A perfect place for him, in this stopping point for curious people from all over the world. In his place, we've met people from all over the world, some just passing through and staying longer than they intended, and some returning for long periods, some here for the meditation and yoga schools, and one man who is here to farm. An ecclectic mix of people in this village.

We learned a couple of days ago that those cell towers we see at the top of the village are not working. They village leaders allowed them to be built, but decided, later, to not allow them to be turned on. They're afraid the village will change too much. There was one internet place in San Marcos....

I found these two canoes by the lake one afternoon. Typical, wooden boats locals use for fishing...If you look carefully, you'll see the pilings from someone's pier, in the background.

Yet another view of the lake, coming from San Juan. Our village is just beyond the low ridge...that's the high rocks where I found the Mayan ceremonial circle, and where the nice swimming rocks are.

A field of onions. The village in the background, facing west, is San Juan.