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About gretchenwing

A high school English and History teacher for 20 years, Gretchen now lives, writes, and bakes on Lopez Island, Washington.

Road Trip XII, Days 5-10, Paso Robles to the Chiricahuas: Campering

Hi there–guess we all survived Post #666 together. Except for my mis-identifying our San Francisco son as Son One instead of Two–lo siento, m’hijos–everything worked. Let’s keep this trip going!

As the World’s Newbiest RVers, The Mate and I are learning the difference between camping and campering. What can go wrong with camping usually has mostly to do with the weather: are you too cold, too hot, too wet? Is your tent trying to blow away?

Campering, in contrast, offers an entire smorgasbord of issues. You are, after all, driving a tiny house.

Not tiny for US, you understand…but Vanna seems much less huge when compared to some of her…peers?

Fortunately, we got out of Paso Robles and escaped the Atmospheric River drenching the coast.

From the car: crossing the actual Paso of Paso Robles (oak pass)

Unfortunately, the skies were still quite wet & gloomy in Twentynine Palms (see photo #1).

Fortunately, I got enough clearing to take Liza out on her first ride of the trip. Unfortunately, she immediately got a flat rear tire. (Lots of prickly stuff in the desert, even on the roads.)

Fortunately, we found a local bike shop and did errands while Liza’s tire was getting changed.

Unfortunately, Vanna’s battery completely died when we tried to start her up to go pick up Liza.

But FORTUNATELY, we weren’t out in the middle of Joshua Tree National Park, which has zero cell service…

If this isn’t called God’s Fist, it should be.

…so we were able to call a husband-wife mechanic team, one of whom came to jump-start us and lead us back to their shop, where the other replaced our battery. And because we are driving a tiny house, we were able to make & eat lunch while all the work was done!

Next up, Joshua Tree, hooray! Camping in Jumbo Rocks, one of the premier campgrounds we’ve never been able to get a reservation for! Site 92. Where are you, 92? Oh, there you are. Why is someone else’s camper parked in you?

Unfortunately, I had written our reservation into the wrong day of my calendar. It was the night before. At least I couldn’t blame that one on machines.

Oh Site 92, we barely knew ye! (Not pictured: us)

It was a long drive out of the park and back onto Interstate 10. But fortunately, as darkness fell, we were able to find an RV slot right on the Arizona border, which, in the morning, proved to look like this:

Not exactly the Colorado River of my dreams. Another difference between camping and campering.

Despite the unimpressive scenery, the next Fortunate item was the fact that this campground was ever so much closer to our next. So when we got here…

Lost Dutchman State Park, just east of Phoenix

…we had ample time for both hiking and biking! Fortunate fortunate fortunate!

Thanks to our friends Marty & Karen for tipping us off to this place!
You just have to love desert survival archetypes!
Our own personal campsite guardian

Once in Arizona, our fortune just kept improving. We stopped at the Tucson Airport to pick up our Adventure Buddies Kate and Tom…

adorable art installation at Tucson airport

…and headed straight for our Desert Happy Place, Western Side: The Chiricahua National Monument.

Hoodoo you love?

Since we pass through this area pretty much every road trip we can, I didn’t indulge my photographic impulses as much as I used to.

Tom & Kate provided this one!

But, I mean, you gotta get SOME of the flavor of Chiricahuas 2024.

One more?

OK, that’s it–I’m cutting myself off here.

Since Vanna’s not equipped for four, we stayed in a motel, then next morning drove the LONG way around, into New Mexico and back into AZ, to the tiny hamlet of Portal and the east side of these lovelies:

Desert riparian: my favorite ecosystem!

Since our favorite rental cabin was sold, we’ve started coming to Cave Creek Ranch: quiet, sweet, gorgeous, low-key, and chock full of birds. (And birders.)

Even with only my phone as camera, you should be able to see this Acorn Woodpecker.

They even have cardinals here–yes, actual Arizona Cardinals! (State bird of my home state, NC; I’m fond of these guys.)

Amazingly, Cave Creek has a resident cat, who apparently doesn’t bother the birds. “Beauty” is HUGE…and missing an eye, thanks to tangling with a bobcat, they said.

Beauty is a beast.

But my favorite critters around this desert oasis are the wild javelina. Or as I call ’em, piggies.

Taking a mud bath, right in front of our cabin. “Have you seen the little piggies, stirring up the dirt?”

Really, though–who needs critters when you have crags?

Crags. Salmon-colored crags. O the joy!

Our first night, the full moon rose over our cabin…

…and the next morning, the rising sun lit the crags an even darker color of salmon…

King salmon? Or maybe just lox?

Road Trip XII: Chasing Sun, from WA to OR to CA (good choice)

Note/warning: my WordPress stats inform me that this post I’m writing will be # 666. Here’s hoping nothing dire happens when I hit publish. Or maybe you should just stop reading now.

Still here? High-5! (and thank you, SF’s Golden Gate Park)

Road Trip XII got off to a rocky start. How rocky? Try broken emergency brake release lever…in the ferry line…in the dark…in the rain. That’s all you need to know. That, and the fact that wonderful Lopez supplied enough community magic to get Vanna Grey unstuck and off the island, eventually.

And we were off. Thanks to an appointment with our Darling Dentist of 30+ years, Dr. Norooz in Tacoma, we didn’t aim ourselves further than southern WA for our very first night of RV camping. Specifically: Paradise Point State Park.

A tad hyperbolic, the name, but the E. Fork of the Lewis River was pretty.

Because it was our First Meal in Vanna…

The stuff in the ziplock? Homemade bacon from Lopez piggies!

…I had to capture it for posterity:

Could I have cooked this outside? Yes I could. But not comfortably.

I won’t go into much detail about our RV learning curve: it exists! But I think talking about it might be pretty boring, except maybe to other RVers. Suffice to say I’m already surfing the blogosphere of other Roadtrek owners to answer my gazillions of questions, trying not to overburden our kind sellers by asking THEM. But this is a travel blog, so I prefer to focus on the places, not the transport. I covered that topic last post!

Next day it RAINED. ALL DAY. We took it slow, not expecting to get further than Crescent City, and we didn’t. The federal/state Redwood Park campsites were either closed or full, so I had reserved us a site at my very first KOA.

I call this “KOA Sunrise.” Because that’s what it is.

So far, so good. Vanna’s doing fine; we’re learning the art of downshifting on steeper hills without causing terrible grinding sounds. But really, all we’re longing for is…

…this.

Redwoods are why we road-trip. Also waterfalls, cliffs, crags, hoodoos, flowers…you get the idea. But just stepping into the forest at Prairie Creek (between Crescent City and Eureka, CA) is–well, it’s all we need.

They don’t even have to be fully alive redwoods! Except they all are.

In that place, even the non-redwoods assume some extra glory:

To be fair: you don’t need to go to CA to see maples like these; WA & OR have their share.

Fully soaked with beauty, we persevered on through several hours of truly HORRENDOUS rain and wind, including a scary crossing of the Golden Gate Bridge, to San Francisco and the current home of Son Two.

Amazingly, Son Two found us parking on his street along the Panhandle of GG Park…just three spaces up from our old baby, Red Rover the Subaru! Awww…

Immediately, it was damn the raindrops, full speed ahead! to get a speedwalk in Golden Gate Park, shedding the tension of all those driving hours.

Nothing like a little Street Whale to reduce tension! (Or Street Narwhal maybe?)

That park is such a blessing. I didn’t photograph the Great Blue Heron I took for a statue before it flew, but I did capture this guy trotting across the street:

No roadrunner. Just coyote!

This being San Francisco, I had to take a picture of a driverless car, because, really, can you think of an easier, flatter, more open city than SF to experiment with one of these?

Waymo stupid than it looks, even

This morning we left SF (once more in driving rain) for points south, and as I’m writing this (Post #666) I can affirm that the sun DID come out, and we DID receive its rainbow promise. But it was a pale version of this Tree of Light in the park near Son Two’s house:

a video does it more justice–google it and see!

Road Trip XII: Introducing…Vanna Grey

When it comes to vehicles–hell, when it comes to MOST things except politics–The Mate and I are pretty conservative. Comfy with routine. Change-averse. Sure, we have our “ooh, shiny!” moments…but they’re mostly about stuff like new rain gear or boots. Maybe lawn mowers and nice casserole dishes.

“Who, me? Your devoted Red Rover who just got passed from Son One to Son Two?”

We’ve owned a good number in our nearly 45 years as a couple, and we’ve usually hated every minute of buying them. Our favorite moments come when our car hits that comfy-old-shoe phase. That’s our sweet spot.

Pictured: a sweet spot (Road Trip VIII, Great Basin NP, Nevada)

Since 2011, when we began our annual Road Trips from Lopez Island, WA to Durham/Chapel Hill, N.C. (where I grew up and where The Mate and I met), any car we buy becomes our official Road Trip vehicle. Starting with our then-car, Kiwi the Ford Escape hybrid:

R.T. I, hangin’ out at Jumbo Rocks in Joshua Tree NP…

She served us well.

It was cold enough in Zion NP, back in 2012, we considered sleeping inside Kiwi!

At the end of 2012, Son One’s hand-me-down car broke down once too often, so he inherited Kiwi, and we treated ourselves to the first-model Subaru Crosstrek. Who knew what trendsetters we were! You’ve already met Red Rover, but here’s one more look at her doing her Road Trip thing:

“Road-tripping to Vermont in March, REALLY? Who ARE these people?”

Lil’ Red drove us faithfully every year from 2013 to 2020–the year we headed home super-quick, in the middle of the first wave of COVID lockdowns, fearing our island might be quarantined by the time we got home. Later that year, Son One had to leave Costa Rica and refugeed on Lopez near us, so we used him as an excuse to hand-me-down Red Rover to him…and told ourselves we were doing our part to boost the economy by buying a Toyota RAV4 hybrid.

In 2021, of course, RAVie didn’t get out much. Vaccinations were just beginning. Her first road trip had to wait till 2022. But she got there!

RAVie in the Badlands: “So THAT’s what this road-trip gig is all about. I’m in!”

Today, RAVie is a sprightly four years old, roomy, running great–the perfect road-trip car. What’s NOT perfect: my back. Even after surgery, sitting hour after hour has proven to be…a challenge. Add to that the fact that, road-tripping in February and March, our camping gear only gets used a handful of days despite being lugged around the country for 6-7 weeks, and you get…

...the great Camper Search. Yes. Once The Mate and I decided a campervan would be the best solution to keeping cross-country road trips in our life, and once we’d gotten over our sticker shock of even USED vans (forget new ones!), I started looking at vans. So many vans. Van porn, it felt like. Facebook Marketplace and TheVanCamper.com never had such a faithful viewer.

Example. Here’s the pair of new slippers The Mate got me for my birthday, because I specifically asked for them:

They’re Tevas, and they’re amazing.

But now go ahead and ask me: “Gretchen, for WHICH birthday did you receive those slippers?” I will tell you: “2021.” And if you follow up with, “So WHY haven’t you worn them yet???” I’ll respond:

“Because my old ones haven’t actually worn out yet.” Yep–over 2 years after I thought I’d need new ones, these are still going strong.
Vanna Grey: more than a new car. SO much more.

To say we are a little intimidated is putting it mildly. We’ve never been RVers; our learning curve is STEEP. Bring on that comfy-shoe feeling!

“Just remember, if Vanna’s too much for you…you can always come back to me! Unless one of the Sons gets there first…”

British Columbia Road Trip, Part II: The Bestest, Closest Part

The second half of our BC road trip reminded me of that old children’s book, “Fortunately, Unfortunately.” Except the other way ’round.

Unfortunately, the mid-part of BC that we had to drive through, East-West from Revelstoke to Pemberton, is very dry (which is why it’s so vulnerable to wildfires).

Fortunately, it’s also lovely.

Unfortunately, when we got to Pemberton, so did the rain.

Fortunately, waterfalls don’t care much about rain.

And I thought this hole was just as intriguing as Nairn Falls.
Ditto for the mosses, and the river “potholes” in the rock!

Just above Pemberton is Joffre Lakes Prov. Park, which I’d heard was special, so I decided to make the drive up there. Unfortunately, this meant 20 miles up an evilly steep and twisty road. Fortunately, I learned ahead of time that you can’t even peek down the trail without an online reservation.

Oh…maybe that’s why the reservation?

Unfortunately, it was still raining. But fortunately, that meant fewer people competing for reservations, so I was able to get one. (And they’re free.)

Unfortunately, the hike is STEEP. But fortunately…I’ll let the photos do the talking now.

Middle Lake
Lil’ ol’ waterfall you pass on your way to Upper Lake
First glimpse of Upper Lake
Holy cow, am I looking right at a glacier?!
Yep. Glacier. How else does that water get that color?

Unfortunately, I had to hike back down, and next day we had to leave BC and head homewards.

But fortunately, we hit a couple more pretty Provincial Parks on the way down Rt. 99, past Whistler, toward Vancouver: Brandywine Falls…

…which is also an easy hop-on spot for Canada’s exciting Sea to Sky multi-use trail.

Unfortunately the trail was a bit too steep and mountain-bikey for us,

but Fortunately walking your bike is good exercise…and it was still gorgeous!

Or make that “gorge-ous,” as in this one, which hosts a bungee-jumping bridge!

Unfortunately we accidentally drove past Garibaldi Prov. Park, one of the biggest in the province, because we didn’t think its raggedy access road could actually be the right road, and then turning around on the freeway got complicated.

But fortunately I got a nice consolation walk at Alice Lake, the definition of serenity:

So, yeah, unfortunately we finally had to leave “Beyond Compare” BC,

but fortunately I brought THIS image home with me, so I can transport myself with a glance…like right now.

Canada’s BC: An Acronym in Search of Worthy Words

The Mate and I have always had a huge crush on British Columbia. We’ve meandered up the Sunshine Coast, used Harrison Hot Springs as a base camp for checking out multiple provincial parks, thrilled ourselves with the Discovery Islands, and last September, spent two weeks exploring the lower half of Vancouver Island. And that’s not even counting the many times we’ve driven through on our way to the Rockies, murmuring, “Why aren’t we stopping here?

Pictured: “Here,” a.k.a. some throwaway lil’ waterfall along Rt. 23

Beautiful Coastline? Best Countryside?

We started in Manning Prov. Park, especially of interest to me because it’s the terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail, of which I’ve hiked many sections.

Note the “You are Here” triangle up top

Since we were camped at Lightning Lakes, it seemed only fair to hike around them.

“2,400 miles–no thanks. 4 is fine.”

Bear Country? Bewitching Conifers?

The weather window started closing behind us at Manning, with snow predicted the next night, so we kept moving, down toward the flat(ter) Okanagan. We’d heard of the famous Kettle Valley rail trail, and in Princeton we did ride a section of it, but we also checked out trails in the community reserve of China Ridge, just above the town.

Thanks to the lovely woman at the Info Centre who sent us here! We’d never have found it.

The trails were more mountain-bikey than we usually ride, but we enjoyed our short stint up there.

Aspens! LOVE aspens.

Biking Country? Best Camping?

Next night we camped by the Kettle River, right where the rail trail crosses. Having had two rides that day, we just strolled some of it; the river was the best part. Notice the burned area in the back left? That’s from a 2015 fire. We were hyper-aware, this whole trip, of the fires still burning near Kelowna, and made sure to avoid the area.

Burning Cruelly? (unfortunately that “BC” could apply many place)

Following lovely Rt. 3 (the Crowsnest Highway) to Castlegar, we once again met up with the Kettle Valley River Trail, and rode another section…along the Columbia River. Yes, THE Columbia River–what we Washingtonians, and probably some Oregonians too, tend to think of as OUR Columbia River.

Horribly lowered by drought, dammed to within an inch of its life, clogged with industry…”Roll On, Columbia,” and good luck!

Behold Columbia? (That one at least makes some sense!)

After that ride, we swung north on little Rt. 6 to the tiny town of Slocan. We’d chosen Slocan because of its proximity to Valhalla Prov. Park, whose photos looked more national-park level than provincial.

Zooming in on Gibli Peak–gorgeous, but pretty inaccessible

But we soon discovered how hard it is to get INTO Valhalla.

It’s really a backpackers’ park, and we hadn’t come to backpack.

We ended up just hiking the bottom left portion of the lakeside trail, and that was PLENTY.

Big Cop-out? Maybe. But luckily for us, Slocan boasts its own rail-trail, which follows the Slocan River as it flows out of Slocan Lake.

Oh, OK. We’ll settle for this.

Slocan itself is a sweet, quirky little town with rainbow crosswalks and helpful volunteers in the library. We’d go back there in a minute, and maybe ride all the way down to some other simpatico towns on Rt. 6 with hippy-sounding cafes and bakeries.

Bakery Central? (I guess that applies to lots of places too) Biking Capital?

Even rockslides don’t stop these folks. You can hike right through this one.

Leaving Slocan, we decided to loop around a bit. The plan HAD been to camp 2 nights at Glacier National Park…but that weather window slammed shut, and we didn’t want to camp in snow. With an extra day before our hotel reservation in Revelstoke, we followed Rt. 6 back west in a squiggly semi-circle that took us back to–ta dah! The Columbia.

Or more accurately, ACROSS the Columbia, by FERRY.

They don’t even call it a river there, they call it Arrow Lake! Seeing that mighty river so abused brought us no joy. OK, a little joy. It was still fun ferrying across.

Burdened Columbia?

But that afternoon cheered us right up. First we got to ride yet another rail trail (Okanagon) along Laka Kalamalka, an honest-to-gods, true-blue, undammed stretch of watery glory…

On & on, just like this!
Looking across at another Prov. Park I wish we’d stayed in

…and then, that evening, near the lake, the Mate and I got our first Glamping experience, on a hydroponic farm!

Don’t worry, I didn’t know what a hydroponic farm was either.

Doug, the friendly owner of Utopia Feels glamping, gave us the full tour, including veggies:

Inside that white tube-tower, it’s raining!

…critters:

Silly & Billy, the goats, and Bad Bunny, enjoying veggie trimmings

…and of course, the glamping tents!

If anyone’s looking for an AMAZING wedding venue, I highly recommend this place!

I can’t say we’ll ever do this again, but it was a hoot and a half to do once!

And this is a SMALL tent. Some sleep up to six!!

Bountiful Campgrounds? Bodacious Comfort?

Bunny Cuddles?

Leaving the Okanagan behind, we turned north and east again, as if heading for the grand Rockies. But this time we stopped short, in the town of Revelstoke, home of…

…Columbia?! Is that really you?

…you guessed it: the Columbia River. Still dammed (just upstream from town), but looking closer to a real mountain river than I ever dreamed it could.

Beautiful Clarity!

Revelstoke nestles into a whole batch of mountains, including Mt. Revelstoke, which has its own national park. Clear skies were in short supply when we drove the single road in and up to hike toward the summit:

…but we got the idea.

Over the next couple of days, as the rains moved in, we took advantage of little breaks to revel in local awe (Revel? in Revelstoke? See what I did there?).

Creek showing glacial silt
glaciers of Mt. Begbie, part of where that silt comes from

Just up the road (literally, up) from Revelstoke is Canada’s Glacier National Park, and it KILLED me to be so close and not go. But we were disinclined to drive in possible snow & ice. So…next time, B.C.

Best Choice?

But Revelstoke was quirky enough for us. Examples: Woodenhead, apparently carved decades ago by some dude for the fun of it, and adopted by the town:

Not creepy at all!

…and this Indian-German fusion restaurant we found.

Curry mit spaetzle? Jawohl!

He’s Worked For Peace in Gaza. He Can Probably Help Your Family.

It takes a lot these days to pull me back into the blogosphere, but my friend David Hall is a lot. A child psychiatrist and peace activist for multiple decades, David has just published the second edition of his 2001 book, Stop Arguing and Start Understanding: Eight Steps to Solving Family Conflicts.

This is a person and a book I thought many of y’all would appreciate knowing about.

As David’s blurb puts it,

“At the heart of Hall’s approach is the empowerment of readers, encouraging them to embody greater tenacity and compassion in their interactions. By addressing family conflicts with a fresh perspective, readers can transform their dynamics and pave the way for a more fulfilling family life. Hall’s emphasis on recognizing the unique viewpoint of each family member is a pivotal cornerstone of his methodology. Through this lens, the book offers practical and actionable steps that lead to genuine understanding and resolution.

Full disclosure: My own family has never sought counseling, nor have I ever purchased such a book. But as I found myself thinking, “David’s is a book I would buy,” I also felt like digging deeper: why is that? Which led me to this brief interview.

DH: I was a Goldwater Republican when I entered Harvard as a freshman in 1964. I’d been my high school’s student leader of an all-school mock political convention for which Bill Miller, Goldwater’s Vice presidential nominee, helicoptered into our school for the keynote.

As I came out of a lecture hall, a SDS [Students for a Democrative Society] leaflet asked if I knew who was the personal hero of Nguyen Kao Ky, South Vietnam’s then Vice President. The answer? Adolf Hitler. That leaflet set me on a new course of understanding the war in Vietnam. As I approached graduation, I studied the selective service laws and eventually applied and was granted a Conscientious Objector deferment based on the Gospel of Matthew.

  That led to my being drafted halfway through the Master of Arts in Teaching program at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. I ended up working for the next 3 years in the Treatment Program for Habitual Sexual Offenders at Western State Hospital south of Tacoma. Deciding on a future after that led me to medicine and child psychiatry, wanting to get to kids BEFORE they offended.

DH: My last decade of full-time work was at Island Hospital in Anacortes three days a week. I had a full schedule from 9am to 5pm working an hour at a time with kids and families ranging in age from 2-1/2 to 80. We’d sit facing each other while I listened carefully to their concerns and hopes for change. The process built on collaborative creative problem-solving exercises looking at new strategies that might replace interactive patterns of communication that continually led to conflict. The challenge was often finding ways to address longstanding histories of family conflict and sometimes significant trauma for parents and their parents, so we focused on breaking the grip of this cascade of intergenerational distress. A key was maintaining a no-fault, no blame approach to any of the emotional or physical trauma, establishing a trustworthy and nurturing environment in which the work could take place, and helping participants to be honest, articulate, and hopeful about healing their soul wounds.

DH: Several years into private practice of child psychiatry, I spent a year with Dr. Tom Roesler’s Montlake Family Therapy Institute learning strategies for dealing with family systems, which became the foundation over the next three decades for engaging conflicted families in healing conversations. I knew from my work with habitual sexual offenders that almost always family trauma lay behind their fractured personalities, often with parents whose fractured personalities continued what I came to call the cascade of intergenerational violence.

DH: My travels grew directly out of my awareness that how children are treated makes a huge difference in how they behave as adults and as participants in governing politics. My first international trip was to Tashkent, Seattle’s sister city in the 1980s. I went as the trip physician with a group of 15 teenagers who spent three weeks with 15 Russian teenagers putting together a “Peace Child” musical, which we performed in the local park at the end of the trip. Subsequently Anne and I took our church youth group on separate trips to Haiti and Tanzania.

          In 1993 we traveled with Washington Physicians for Social Responsibility to Chelyabinsk, Russia, the Soviet Union’s plutonium production region, and to conferences of International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War in Stockholm, Worcester, and Beijing. Following that meeting, we went up to Lhasa, Tibet, then already under Chinese occupation.

          Also in 1993 we began a series of medical visits to Israel, the West Bank, and Gaza, where we eventually focused on bringing outside medical training and accompaniment to physicians isolated by the Israeli occupation in the open air prison that is Gaza. I have come to see the way Israeli politics plays out with their immediate enemies in the Palestinian territories directly parallels the way the United States deals with its enemies halfway around the world.

David and Anne Hall in 2016

DH: I think 8 trips to Gaza beginning in Oct 1993. Our latest was just as COVID was breaking. We arrived in Gaza in late February 2021 then on March 5th we learned that COVID was likely to close the Ben Gurion Airport, so we got together and decided to leave the next day.

DH: This award is in recognition of my core leadership on the WPSR board for 38 of the last 40 years. I served 2-year terms as chapter president in 1991-2 and 2003-4. 

When I retired briefly during our move to Lopez in 2011, the WPSR chapter president died, and the chapter collapsed. I was one of three who put it back together in 2013. 

I also served on the national PSR board in the 1990s and was president of that board in 1997. I describe PSR/WPSR as my home community, the third leg of my personal grounding along with family and child psychiatry. 

Working for justice in 2019

DH: My early child psychiatry family therapy experiences nudged me to summarize what I learned from the families I was working with. 

The core lesson was learning to listen deeply and patiently, understanding that I didn’t really know these people until I could guide them toward more honest and open disclosure of their true feelings and experiences. 

From my several years leading a peer-confrontation therapy group of convicted sexual offenders in the Washington State Treatment Program for Habitual Sex Offenders at Western State Hospital, I’d learned to listen empathically to their childhood stories of maltreatment, ostracism, and humiliation. 

Dave and Anne recently on Lopez

DH: The choice to recognize conflict and deal with it is personal and belongs to every parent and family member. It’s when someone in the family says things need to change that I have a window of opportunity to be helpful.

And just in case you haven’t yet, click here to buy your own copy of Stop Arguing and Start Understanding. This man knows what he’s talking about.

Mamma Mia, Here She Goes Again: My 88 Year-Old Mom’s Track Meet

“That’s amazing!” said most folks, hearing of my sisters and I road-tripping to cheer on our mother as she raced the 800 meters and the 1500 at the international Masters meet.

I disagree with that assessment. Admirable? Definitely. Humbling? Yes. Pride-inducing? Hugely. But amazing…no. If you know my mom, Martha Klopfer, you would not be at all AMAZED at her racing. You would EXPECT it.

True to form (finishing the 1500)

Martha’s been running since the late 1960s. So have I, for that matter; our whole family formed early part of that first big Fitness Wave. But MY knees called for retirement about four years ago, in my late 50s. Hers still work just fine. My mom has literally outrun me.

Since COVID interfered with my 60th Birthday Sisters Weekend a couple of years ago, I lit on the idea of turning Mom’s race into a way to spend quality time with my sisters. So my Texas sister & I both flew to my Michigan sister, and from there we three “girls” drove down to North Carolina…

Did someone say ROAD TRIP?? Quick stop in the lovely Hocking Hills of southern Ohio

…via Ohio, West Virginia and Virginia…

Another quick stop: New River Gorge in WV (& highest suspension bridge in the western hemisphere, we learned)

…for 48 hours of family…

Family always includes dogs

…and track. While Martha did her stretches in the shade…

her fans braved a sweaty July afternoon to cheer her…

Carolina Friends School Principal Karen Cumberbatch (in CFS tee) brought family members,
showing their support for one of CFS’s founders!

through the 800 meters (2 laps)…

They combined all the age groups from 70 up. The woman second from left
set a world record for 75 y/o’s in the 5k the day before, 22:41!!!

When she finished (in 5:49), I was so proud I did something I almost never do: took a selfie.

But Mom? She and Dad watched the video I took of her race, then watched it again, like coach and player, and both agreed: Not enough up on my toes. Better try a different pair of shoes.

Believe me, this man would be out there too if his legs would let him.

I didn’t need to take a selfie for pride this time. I had Mom with Medals.

Can I get some pancakes now?

If this were a different blog post, I might write more about my first-ever Sisters Road Trip. I might even mention the buffets we hit in West Virginia, both south- and northbound.

Or the bath I gave my hot feet in the Huron River in Ann Arbor

MFA in LA, Part III: Intertwined Inspiration

One year ago, I was soaking up the sights and sounds of Culver City on my daily walks to the campus of Antioch University for the first residency of my MFA program in Creative Writing. Mostly I was dazzled by the Southern CA flowers.

Oh, this old thing along the bike path? I just threw it on…

What I should have used as a photo was a full-blast firehose, because that’s what Residency #1 was like. Back home, I likened my new venture to a switch from hiking to rock-climbing. Not long after, I chose to step away from blogging altogether, devoting all my precious writing time to my most precious writing. Residency #2, last December, received no analysis.

But this summer, riding along that same bike path, I was stopped by a new metaphor: this rainbow tangle of flora:

Whose story is this? Everyone’s! Whee!

You gardeners will spot pink and red oleaner, scarlet bouganvillea, orange trumpet vine and blue morning glory, all rampaging joyously over a substrate of purple jacaranda. What I see? A message to stay focused on more stories than mine.

YES, I am writing a novel. YES, it requires my time. But not so much to keep me from this blog’s renewed mission to AMPLIFY voices for justice and understanding. Which is why it felt so perfect, on the same day I took that picture, that I turned on a car radio and discovered House/Full of Blackwomen.

Nighttime Procession, March 2017, Photo by Robbie Sweeney

CreativeCapital.org describes the group this way:

House/Full of Blackwomen is conjure art, the insistence movement, activated in store fronts,  streets, houses, warehouses, museums, galleries and theaters of Oakland, California. House/Full began as a two-year project and morphed into an eight-year process of 15 public “episodes” which unexpectedly appeared as street processions, all night song circles, secret rituals of Black women resting and dreaming, sacred ceremonies on the track, and multi-media offerings. Black women gathered around a dining room table to recall, rage, rally and restore themselves, while creating ritual performance strategies towards shifting systemic evictions, displacements, erasure and the sex trafficking of Black women and girls: all driven by the core question, “How can we, as Black women and girls, find space to breathe, and be well in a stable home?”

Dreaming Blessing, March 2017, Photo by Robbie Sweeney

As I listened to Episode One of The Kitchen Sisters’ podcast on NPR, which describes the group’s mission, I was filled with excitement, hope, awe, empathy…and the immediate desire to share all those feelings.

So here you go! The above description, not to mention the podcast itself, says more than I could about the power of this group of 34 women. All I want to do is steer you toward them. Creative Capital says,

The final episode of HouseFull, Episode 15: this too shall pass will premiere March 4–12, 2023. Performance times, venues and details can be found hereAll events are sold out, but you can sign up for the mailing list to learn about future performances and project iterations.

And me? I still have a few more days in LA. I still plan to drink from that hose–a little more carefully now, sipping the drips, letting them soak in. Or, to go back to florals, I plan to gather some individual roses as they offer themselves…

Stop and smell me.

…be they writing advice or part of the more tangled, brilliant stories around me. Please join me in discovering House/Full of Blackwomen!

Of Moose and Meaning: When Politics Meets Mountains…Mountains Win

Hmmm. Turns out I’m feeling a little conflicted about this getting-back-to-blogging thing.

Seriously? After just two weeks? Why?

Because…I went on a road trip.

So?

So, I’ve always blogged about my road trips! I loved sharing pictures and stories. I think I’m secretly a travel blogger at heart.

What’s wrong with that? You love travel blogs.

Yeah, but I just made a commitment to blog regularly about some of the social causes I care about…making amplification my this-is-all-I-can-do-right-now “contribution.” I can’t just interrupt that for travel photos, can I?

Why can’t you do both?

Nah. It’d be weird.

How d’you know until you try?

*sigh*

Yeah, you’re probably right. Forget I suggested it. I don’t think you could handle the balance. I mean, it’s not like you’re studying writing right now or anything…

FINE. *deep breath* Listen up, people! The Mate and I just took a 2-week discovery jaunt through Wyoming and Idaho, two states that don’t tend to support the progressive political agenda I support. But they do have three things I DO support, wholeheartedly: mountains…

…wild critters…

…and flowers:

OK so far. Now let’s see you tie that promo in with your “progressive political agenda.”

Okay…See, along our camping, driving, and motel-ing way, I stayed in touch with the Common Power Institute. Wherever we had wifi, I was catching up on videos I’d missed during its May 17th 24-hour Teach-in on Truth in Education. This talk by Dr. Harry Edwards especially caught my attention, as he was the mastermind behind the 1968 Mexico City Olympics protest that got Tommie Smith and John Carlos stripped of their medals.

(photo courtesy Wikimedia)

Seriously? You’re just gonna shove Dr. Edwards’ talk into your post like that, then go back to the nature pics? Who’s gonna watch it?

You’d be surprised. I think there are a ton of folks out there like me, folks who love mountains, critters & flowers just like I do, but who also want to keep educating themselves about how to be effective anti-racists, like I do. They may not get to this video right away; I didn’t. But when they have time, they might come back and learn more about “history with eyes wide open”, as Dr. Edwards says.

If you say so. Can we see some trip pics now?

Oh, twist my arm. Ahem. On our way out of Washington, The Mate and I stopped to ride our bikes in Spokane, and marvel at the majesty that is Palouse Falls.

I was SO sad that the bike path bridge was closed for construction!

Our main destination was Grand Tetons National Park. But it turns out, one of the best ways into GTNP is through this place…

Yep, the Grandmother of all NPs: Yellowstone herself

We’ve both been to Yellowstone several times over the decades, and I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t even bother taking photos of their bison and elk any more. (Here’s an old blog post to cover that.) But I COULDN’T stop taking pictures of those prismatic pools.

No diving!
No words.

As planned, we only spent a day in Yellowstone, which was so crowded we remembered why we love traveling during the shoulder seasons (not Memorial Day weekend, for goodness’ sake! Who planned this trip?!) But when we drove across the park border into the Tetons, it was time for us to sit up and take special notice. THESE mountains were something NEW, at least to us.

Nary a foothill in sight. Just a sagebrush plain and then…BAM!

After a fews days of (rather WET) camping, we moved into a motel in Jackson, finally answering the question: what’s the difference between Jackson Hole and Jackson?

Answer: Jackson’s the town…
…whereas Jackson Hole refers to the entire region, the valley filled by the (not pictured) Snake River.
Now you know. But if you’re from Wyoming, you probably don’t give a shit what the rest of us think.

The Mate & I were very favorably impressed by two other aspects of Jackson (besides its proximity to GTNP): its community bike path system…

We saw a TON of bikes at all the public schools. Kids and parents really use these paths!

…and its bakery, Persephone. (Aren’t bakeries and bookstores the best tests of a town, really?)

Just doing research for my own employer, Holly B’s on Lopez Island! 🙂

One more way-cool thing in Jackson: this vertical, rotating greenhouse built into the side of a very tall parking garage. Never seen anything like it!

The company’s called Vertical Harvest. The lettuces looked happy!

Our most prized hike of the trip came on a day when we got up early in order to be the first on the Tetons trails, and were rewarded with a moose AND a bear, in the same video! (You’ll have to take my word for it; it’s not YouTube quality so I didn’t bother uploading.) But here’s the moose:

Not pictured…barely!…is the bear that’s actually lurking just behind and to the right of Ms. Moose

Leaving Wyoming’s western side, we passed into Idaho and took a quick tour of Craters of the Moon National Monument.

I found the dead trees as entrancing as the dead lava.
Anyone else see a monster here?

Thunderstorms were forecast, so we decided against camping and added a night to our motel in Hailey, which is the cheap(er) town 10 miles from swankier Ketchum and swankiest Sun Valley. The Mate & I were pleased to find all three towns connected by bike path…

Heading over the Wood River, which was running HIGH

...and Liza and I rode pretty much every inch of it, including up & around a ski hill.

Definitely helps that Liza’s an e-assist bike! My knees are grateful.

But it wasn’t bike paths that led Liza and I to bumble into the most amazing “superbloom” of wildflowers I’ve ever seen outside the Cascades–it was a plain ol’ dirt road.

Are you for real, Idaho?!
Yes. Yes you are.

Those flowers? They followed us into the Sawtooth Wilderness, our last spate of camping right smack in the middle of the state. I mean, yes, the mountains were just as striking as the Tetons…

Still reppin’ Holly B’s!

…but the FLOWERS!!!

I didn’t know Larkspur came in so many shades of blue!

We had more adventures than pictured, of course: elk and antelope and lakes and crags. But I think you got the idea. And I want to leave you enough time to go back and dip into that lecture of Dr. Edwards’, if you feel so moved. But whether you do or not–thanks for bearing with me all this way (or moosing with me). Here–I got you flowers.

Be the Challenger II: Yes, Virginia, You Can Be a White Civil Rights Activist

“I was a typical young Southerner, born and raised in LA—Lower Alabama.” Meet Bob Zellner.

I got to do just that, last October, when Bob and his activist wife Pamela joined my Common Power Team NC canvassing group. Over big plates of BBQ, I got to ask Bob questions about events I’d read about in his book, The Wrong Side of Murder Creek. Like the time Bob was beaten badly on the steps of the town hall of McComb, Mississippi, in a march led by Black high school students. But in the New York Times article, they called Bob “the leader” of the march–because he was the only White guy there.

You could call Bob the White counterpart of Representative John Lewis; they grew up quite close to each other in Alabama, both poor, both country–but on either side of the color line. Which explains why Bob started life from a KKK-supporting family, before becoming the first White field secretary of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) in the 1960s.

In Bob’s interview by Dr. Hasan Kwame Jeffries (History Professor at The Ohio State University, and, incidentally, brother of Congressman Hakeem Jeffries), you can hear him explain how, “That was the way you got accepted in SNCC–you go to the dangerous places and do what the people were doing.”

Bob’s a folksy guy; like a lot of Southerners, he’s not into drama. Just tells it like it was–and is. His mission today, he says, and for the rest of his life, is to tell young people: “You can be White, and you can be a Civil Rights activist, and you can survive.”

Come to think–that’s a pretty good message right there. Reading Bob’s story, not to mention rubbing shoulders with him, reminded me how ordinary these extraordinary “ACTIVISTS” can be. Maybe a teensy bit braver than I am…

I hope you listen to Bob or check out his book. Pass it on!