Looking for Cedar
With everything so expensive these days, I doubt my dream will be fulfilled, but I’m looking for some skinny cedar logs, like these on Shaw Island, for building a log cabin on my flatbed trailer. Something in the neighborhood of ten inch diameter would be perfect. I considered 4×4 milled cedar, a compromise in size, but I thought I’d start small just so I wouldn’t croak from sticker shock. I asked at Browne Lumber about 4×4’s which the clerk snorted out the price of $6.19 a foot! I say ‘snorted’ because he was as aghast at the high price as I was!
The light weight, rot resistance, and easy working characteristics I desire are the same traits the Native Americans and First Nations cultures in Canada looked for from the cedar tree in the Northwest. My wish is to carry on that tradition in, no doubt at my age, my last new home I’m building. It has to go on a trailer because my new parcel of land is too narrow to build on, what with offsets and easements. Fortunately, I already have a heavy-duty trailer that I restored two summers ago.
I’m putting the word out in search of these rare trees. It’s not something found in everyone’s back yard, so wish me luck.
Deep Freeze
The Port of Friday Harbor usually turns off the pump on this pond-waterfall-pond set up they have in the Fairweather Park on the waterfront, but this year didn’t, and a cold blast out of Canada (that country has been very generous with its cold air this winter for 80% of the U.S.) created this ice sculpture.
Dory Story Time
Geoff, a friend of mine, has a large boat on a new trailer. He’s named the boat #44, and recently I asked him why, to which he replied, “It’s the 44th boat I’ve owned.” Makes sense, but it frustrated me because, while I’ve owned a number of boats, that number is unknown!
My brother used to keep a list of all the cars and trucks he’s owned. I asked him recently if he has kept the list current, and he said no, there were just too many to keep track.
I envied Geoff in a way, because he could recount the genealogy of his boat family (and to boaters they ARE family) and by doing that, had a chronology of his nautical interests and affairs. After all, they call boats ‘she’ for a reason.
So this dory caught my eye one day at the Port of Friday Harbor. It had a fresh coat of paint and a clever engine well and smooth transom that appealed to me. The most intriguing part was the for sale sign inside.
I’d never met Bill, the owner, but found him a fascinating character, gentle spoken, wildly experienced in life, with a nautical grey beard and wild but tidy wind-swept hair, the caricature of a seaman. I met him at the coffee shop to discuss the sale/purchase of his creation, and immediately felt cozy, tucked into his gentle manner.
I offered him $225, and his first reaction was a crooked smile and the simple question, “Why that specific figure?” but he was a pleasure to dicker with, compared to some horse-traders who feel that dickering is an act of war. If you watch “American Pickers” on the History channel, you have seen a few of which I speak. Both types.
I bought the dory (for $225!) and put an electric outboard on it. Oh, such a pleasure is an electric outboard. This one, a salt water MinnKota I bought online from a doctor on Cape Cod, was so quiet and easy to operate, compared to most cantankerous gas motors.
My favorite voyage with this boat went like this: My wife and I had taken our 40 ft. motorsailer to Blind Bay on Shaw Island. My favorite island anchorage, good holding ground (for the anchor), and a lovely setting sun to garnish the experience.
BUT, we wanted to go to Friday Harbor to attend a talk at the Grange of some residents of Easter Island, who were touring the west coast. Well, we purred (there’s not “Putting” with an electric motor) up Blind Bay at dusk to the ferry landing, getting easily heard compliments from fellow boaters we passed (and that’s always gratifying for a small boat owner with a pretty, classic style boat), then caught the inter-island ferry boat to town, had a blast at the lecture, hopped the ferry back to Shaw Island, then, by starlight, found our way down the bay to our floating home on a glass-smooth sea, the stars over head and mirrored in the water.
Ah, life is good in paradise!
Blind Bay sunset.
Windy Day Recreation
Where were these toys when I was young enough to use them? This kite-boarder (I’m assuming that’s a viable term, since I’ve never seen these before) was really scooting across Jones Lagoon adjacent to Jackson’s Beach on Thursday, January 9th. This photo appears to catch him hanging from a cloud, while in reality, he was completing a sky hop, letting the kite yank him at least 50 feet into the air above the lagoon. Like a whip’s tip, it snapped him into the air, and I could almost vicariously experience the thrill of flying with him as he soared, then fell like a stone back into the water. He had to be quick on his feet (board?) because the kite was still sailing and ready to pull him out of the water, a maneuver he accomplished at least six times while I watched and photographed him.
I find it an affirmation of life, that people keep coming up with new means of entertainment, healing, growing food, creating energy, all with the grey-matter we were given (and often a magical dose of inspiration), so that decade after decade, generation after generation, men and women turn the simple word “create” into the masterful genesis of a new concept.
Digital technology is one of those ideas, and is great sometimes, and troublesome other times. In this situation, I couldn’t get the auto-focus to find something to focus on as he sailed through the air, so by the time the camera had made up its mind, the jump was completed, and I was left wishing I had my trusty old Nikon F3 without auto-focus!
The photo below simulates the speed this boarder was able to attain. He passed me where I stood watching, traveling at 25 or 30 miles per hour, but only ten feet from me. Being that close magnified the impression of speed, augmented with the ‘whoosh’ of the water in his smooth wake.
Just another sunset in Paradise
When Elder McKay and I go on our one mile trek (hopefully each evening, but with the short days lately we haven’t made that goal) the inspiration to take my camera is significant, and other times…no inspiration, but plenty of regret when a scene opens before me begging to be photographed, but I don’t have my camera.
I’ve tweaked the saturation a bit to more closely represent the impression in my mind of the glorious sunset I’m experiencing.
Denny shared this thought; that so often he shoots something like this and isn’t able to edit the results in his files, that is, throw out a single one, so he ends up with huge numbers of pictures that are trying to capture what his brain is seeing.
This one was taken January 5th, Sunday, at our usual track site at the old gravel pit above Griffin Bay. Again, so often on these walks the sky shows off in glorious arrays of nature’s spender. While to the south, Mt. Rainier was visible in the crisp winter air. Rainier, the tallest and largest mountain in the state, is a loooooong way away from the San Juan Islands, and so is seldom seen.
Busiest Seaplane Harbor in the Country
I’m told that Friday Harbor has the most flights of any “water” airport in the country. During the kayak voyage described in the post below, I had to get out of the way of not one but two seaplanes from Kenmore Air out of Lake Union in Seattle.
This large photo shows one of them just powering up on take off with the north shore of Brown Island in the background. I could feel the throb of the engine and propeller in my chest, I was so nearby.
Winter Adventure
There is a 176 acre nature preserve directly across the water from Friday Harbor, owned and administered by the University of Washington, and next to one of the most pristine, favored anchorages in the islands. If you’re familiar with local features, you may think I’m referring to the UofW Labs preserve and the bay next to it, popular with boaters in the summer. In a county replete with bays and preserves, I’m thinking of Parks Bay on Shaw Island, and the nature preserve next to it.
With hazy sun overhead, and not knowing how long it would last, I determined mid-morning the day after Christmas to make something of the day by man-powering my bike to the Port of Friday Harbor where I keep my kayak.
Somewhere amongst the peddling, I decided I would make the trip a true daily-double and venture out beyond the marina where I normally exercise on the water, and into what I’ve always called “The Pond,” that body of water directly outside Friday Harbor where lonely Reid Rock buoy sits between Friday Harbor and Shaw Island.
I’d had an interest in the nature preserve for years, but had never gone there. It’s like the park near your house that, perhaps because it’s so close, you’ve never gotten around to visiting.
On a calm sea with no tide rips, and after a 45 minute paddle between launch at the Port and haul out at Shaw’s west coast, I was warm and ready for adventure. And nearly two hours later, I returned to the beach where I’d left the kayak, tired but sated by the discovery of mossy knolls, tiny bays, and dark, still groves of cedar trees feeding my spirit, grateful that I had stepped outside my comfort zone to explore unknown terrains. There are no man-trails in the preserve, so I had to follow deer trails to get through occasional thick patches of salal, making so much noise there was no hope of seeing a deer. I did, however, find this one that was past caring how much noise I made.
By comfort zone above, I mean that I’ve always been frightened by the tide rips in the channel. I’ve seen whirlpools in that very area where the center is a good foot below the edges, where the power and noise are not only scary but deadly. On my return trip, near Reid Rock buoy, the current bouncing off a ledge underwater caused a vertical surge of water about eight feet in diameter to bubble up just a few feet in front of my kayak. Many thoughts coursed through my brain: a submarine is surfacing right under me; I’m going to die as my tiny boat slides off the sloped edge of the bubble and rolls me under like a strawberry in a blender smoothie. The main thought I need, and force to the surface in my fright, is go to the center of the bubble so I won’t get thrust to the side by the powerful surge. I try, but am not completely successful, since the bubble appeared just to the right of my path. I slid to the left in the current and a wave splashed up and over the coaming as the boat hit the edge of the surge, but by leaning to the right, I was able to prevent a roll-over. I can assure you, that’s one way to keep one’s heart pumping.
False Bay on a flood tide
Taken the same day as the photo below, this calm scene is False Bay as the tide comes in. The rocks sticking up out of the water show how shallow this bay is. I’ve never seen a boat in the bay in the 42 years I’ve lived here, it’s just too shallow and rocky. Our weather this November has been superb with calm days and very little rain.
False Bay
This telephoto scene is towards the Olympic mountains above the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The little island left-of-center is Memaloose Island off the mouth of False Bay. Ed Hannah told me around 40 years ago that as a kid (likely in the teens of the last century) he would row out there and collect arrow heads, and even then there were other remnants of Native American burial sites.
Lawson’s Pond
Interesting how in summer we yearn for fall. Then fall comes and we yearn for warmer and longer days. Already Pacific Standard Time is causing havoc with our walking schedule. We’re not supposed to use the gravel pit trail after dark, but my plan is to use headlamps and leave a note on the windshield of the car for the Sheriff Deputies that it’s not our fault that the sun is setting earlier than our scheduled outing, and that we’re fine and will make one circuit of the trail which takes approximately 17 minutes. With my luck they will try to build a case of perpedness (a ‘perp’ is a bad guy, a law breaker) and lock our butts up for extreme malfeasance.
I told the residents riding the van this afternoon that my dream has always been to spend half the year on San Juan Island and the other half on St. John Island in the Virgin Islands. The names are the same, just in different languages, so I’d really be on the same island, just different locations. Oh, to spend the winter snorkeling in crystal waters and hiking the trails of the national park on St. John!
Instead, I’ll continue with my seven day a week on-call arrangement here at the Village. Beats paying rent.
Foggy False Bay
Airports would call this zero visibility. I call it art! My regulars that ride the Village van every weekend sometimes ask me if I fly. I respond that if God intended man to fly, He would have given us wings. The truth is, and I’ve admitted this to them as well, I would kill myself accidentally due to stupidity were I to try flying any kind of aircraft.
Seagulls probably can fly slow, and are maneuverable enough to fly in this soup. I wonder if they have any other guidance skills like dolphins? Nah, probably just instinct but who’s to say about intelligence? It’s said that crows are among the most intelligent animals out there, and they have a bird (sized) brain, for sure.
And then there was the parrot “Alex” who was studied for over thirty years by its human companion, Dr. Pepperberg, who had switched her line of study to animal intelligence when she came across this young African Gray parrot and was astonished at what it could do with cognitive reasoning and speech responses.
We are only one to two percent different in DNA from our nearest primate, the chimp. What if there are any hominid aliens out there that are more intelligent than us, differing in DNA by only one to two percent? We’ll assume they have come to us, which automatically makes them more advanced, thus, we’ll assume, more intelligent. Will we appear as basically under-achievers to them as the chimps appear to us? Here’s Dr. Tyson’s interesting four and a half minute response to that question on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxfJfv9tirU
Fogbow
The region has been under a long-lived high pressure system and fog has been our norm for nearly two weeks. Since I’ve done four van rides for the Village this week, I’ve had to get inventive as to where to go so there was something to see.
On one of the more clear days I headed for False Bay and the fog was just creeping into the south end of San Juan Valley from the bay. This unusual non-rainbow was the result, and the residents aboard enjoyed my calling it a “fogbow.” You can barely make out the colors from the refraction effect. I’m assuming it’s a bit subdued due to the smaller water droplet size of the fog.
The highest tide
Jackson’s Beach did not always exist. The north end of Griffin Bay came in all the way to shore with no lagoon. Over time the prevailing wind and currents moved sand grain after sand grain from the moraine left by the glaciers (the gravel pit), eventually building a berm between there and a rocky island where Jackson’s cannery now stands. You can see that rock between the fuel tanks and the cannery in this photo.
Shown here is the berm separating Jone’s Lagoon from the tail of bay behind the cannery. This berm is ‘down wind’ from the rock, a logical location, and was also formed by winds off Griffin Bay, assisted by the currents flowing in and out of the lagoon. Typically, these tidal lagoons are eventually filled in with soil and become salt marshes, then meadows.
I’m currently watching a continuing-education class on DVD about geology, and am amazed at the time nature can take to accomplish something like building these berms, or moving the crustal plates about the globe, or even the billions of years it took to form the earth from bits and pieces of dust from which we, and our solar system, are made.
Cosmology (not cosmetology) is the science of how the Universe evolved. For instance, a new star is born from the dust and elements created during an earlier star’s supernova explosion at the end of its life cycle. There are some cosmologists who, considering this life cycle of a star, theorize that our star (the Sun) is actually the result of a third cycle of star birth, life, and death via supernova explosions. All it takes is time, more time than we mere humans can grasp, but easily possible in the nearly 14 billion year history of our universe. Stars ‘live’ anywhere from a few million years for the biggest and hottest, to around 55 billion years for the little yellow ones that are the Eveready Batteries of the Universe.
This huge log sits about half way along that latter berm, and as big as it is, a very large storm tide must have carried it that high on the berm. I suspect that log will remain on that beach long after I’ve left this mortal coil, but if it doesn’t rot away first, will likely be carried out on some freak high tide in the future.
Falling leaf
At Roche Harbor on the north end of the island the red maples (well, they’re green in the summer, but turn bright red in the fall) are losing their leaves. I happened to catch one as it fell, the motion causing it to blur.
The lower photo is of a young deer feeding on the leaves as they fall in the gutter at the side of the road. That reminds me of when I was a kid, I loved the red candies the best. The JuJu beads, the Necco wafers, and the JuJyfruits. Oh, and the Dots, and, of course, the Life Savers! Later came the gummi-bears and the Skittles.
I wonder if the red color of berries (and apparently leaves) are more attractive to wildlife. I’ve heard tell that red is a favorite of guys. That supposedly is why lipstick is attractive on women, so it’s not just the flavor of the red candy that we like.
The Water Cycle
The science of clouds fascinates me, but obviously so does the art, the majesty, the drama of these collections of water vapor and droplets as light plays amongst them, shadows playing tag with happy splashes of sunlight.
The next time you watch a movie, I’ll wager you’ll find clouds are used in many of the studio’s logos. Watch for them, there are at least five studios that incorporate dramatic clouds into their corporate clip, the most dramatic being DreamWorks and Columbia/TriStar.
Adventures with the Seattle Yacht Club
This simple cabin on Jones Lagoon near Jackson’s Beach was a surveyor’s office back in 1971. One of the surveyors was a former Commodore of the Seattle Yacht Club living on San Juan Island, and was asked to interview myself and the mrs. for the position as caretakers for the club’s Henry Island Outstation. We had moved to San Juan Island only a few months before and Phyllis was pregnant with our first child.
The Henry Island Outstation was relatively new to the club, and had had only one other couple serving there, islander Rob Erickson’s parents, whom we replaced. This outstation was, at the time, the only SYC facility in the San Juans, and consisted of the house, docks, and twenty acres of wilderness through which I established a nature trail for the enjoyment of club members.
We actually ended up serving the SYC on Henry Island two different times, and I sometimes have dreams that I’ve returned yet again. The life there was challenging but very unique. The club had recently had OPALCO power installed on the property, so we not only had a very comfortable four bedroom brick home with hardwood floors, and leaded glass French doors into the dining and living rooms, but electric heat and lights. Water was from a cistern and dug well, put in when the house was built in the 1930’s by Henry Bressler, a retired boat builder. This opulent house was unusual for one of the outer islands, and only a portion of the basement was used as a club house and showers for the SYC, the other two floors were ours to use exclusively. My brother Dick and his wife, Phyllis’s sister Linda, were caretakers on nearby Spieden Island at the same time during our second tour of duty on Henry Island, so we had similar jobs, coming and going to our island homes by boat.
Every time I glance at this small cabin on my trips to Jackson’s Beach, I think how it was the location where we began our adventures with the Seattle Yacht Club.
FHFF
Recently I was manning a post at Market Place, our local grocery store, attempting to evaluate and generate some local interest and awareness of the pending Film Festival (FHFF) next weekend here on San Juan Island. The first question I asked strangers was: “Do you like documentary films?” My strategy was if they don’t care for documentary films, they’ll likely not be interested in paying to attend a rash of them even if we bring the films to them here on the island.
Fortunately, the number of people unwilling to expose themselves to “reality” films is small. I’ve actually been very impressed by the enthusiasm locally for this first effort to bring important messages to our archipelago in the Salish Sea via films. Of course, the residents of San Juan County are an enlightened group that I would expect to prefer reality movies to reality TV, the scourge of the entertainment industry.
The frustrating, sometimes depressing, message of these films can be upsetting, which is likely the purpose of the film! I watched “Blackwave” last evening, a film about the corporate lies and government lack of oversight that are the foundation of our mad-dash quest for energy. It was a downer! Sometimes in life we turn a blind eye towards the sufferings of our fellow man: I’m-fine,-the-rest-are-outside-my-realm mentality. THAT is the value and purpose of documentary films, especially social justice and awareness-themed movies, where we are knocked off our fences of obliviousness.
The power of documentary films to enlighten a population is great. It’s just too bad those at the helm of corporate North American energy companies are more interested in their “bottom line” than the legacy they are leaving their (and our) grandchildren. Of course, we’re the ones driving the cars and trucks that suck up the energy, and we’re the ones demanding all the goods and services in our prosperous lifestyle, that promotes and encourages that greed!
So this photo of a lighthouse on San Juan Island illustrates the attempt we are making locally to open the eyes of those on the fence. A lighthouse’s purpose is to warn ships of danger. It’s the job of the captain (representing all of us) to steer clear of that danger. Are we as drunk on our consumptive greed as the captain of the Exxon Valdez was when his ship hit the rocks?
My Music Man Experience
Tim Pope was slated to be the bass in the Music Man quartet, but wasn’t available for all the performances of the play, so I was his understudy. I’d never done anything like that before, and it was a stretch to climb out of my shell to act and sing in front of a huge audience.
Funny thing was, I was actually fairly good in the role, at least if the accolades of my fellow crew members was any indication! I had a chance to ad-lib in places, and whatever I did seemed to fit the spot perfectly.
I’m on the left, if this smallish photo isn’t telling you that. Fortunately for me, the night I performed in Tim’s stead was the night the videographer shot the play, so I’m in the video of it as well!
Weekend Safari
I live and work at the Village at the Harbour, THE premier assisted-living facility in Friday Harbor, Washington. This van is used to transport residents about town when family members aren’t available, and we do four scheduled rides about the island each week.
I refer to them as “anti-cabin fever” outings, and I do the weekend rides, while Jose does the Tuesday and Thursday rides.
We don’t, unfortunately, stop and wander, for most of the riders are not that mobile, but with large windows and a knowledgable tour guide, we make the rides interesting, even if the rain and fog are waiting for us. No point going to the vistas at the south end if you can’t see much!
On a recent rainy ride I entertained the residents with audio clues to how hard it was raining: I’d park in the open and have them listen to the drumming on the metal roof, then I’d pull ahead under an oak tree and they could hear the heavier drops off the tree, then I’d pull the van under a gas station over-hang and the noise would go away completely.
The day in the photo we were out at False Bay at low tide (see photo below.) The island is only about eight miles wide and just under twenty miles long, so there are only so many places to take the riders, but with the tame deer out at the Friday Harbor Labs, or the foxes at American Camp, I seem to usually find something different at which to gander. And another saving grace is that the memory retention of many of the residents is not that great, so what to me is repetitive, to them is fresh and interesting. In this case, that’s a good thing!
Reality show
I purchased this poster on the internet and had it on my boat for a few years because it reminded me of paradise. We joke about the San Juan Islands being paradise, and in the mind of city folk, it might appear that way, being so different than their day to day reality, but paradise can be wherever one finds oneself, a state of mind more than of place. In fact, I’ve heard of an individual using that premise to partly negate the bad side of a concentration camp. He was a bigger man than I am!
I still ponder the possibility of moving to the Hawaiian Islands, but paradise isn’t always what our dreams and hopes paint it to be. Reality can taint instead of paint, were I to turn poetic. And it’s said that we carry our own perceptions with us, even as we change locale, so even warm air and pretty scenics may not be enough to create our personal paradise.
Still, the photo is lovely, and evokes “greener pastures” pondering.
Custom made hammer dulcimer
Made in Alaska, this cedar hammer dulcimer (sometimes referred to as hammered) was taken in trade for some printing I did when I had my commercial print shop. I had dreams of learning how to play in, and hopes of getting into that back-to-the-land groove that so appealed to me.
As Thoreau said about the materials gathered in one’s youth to build a castle in the sky (where dreams belong) I ultimately sold this to a hippie on Orcas Island. Hopefully he was able to tune it and find some hammers to play it.
Phases
Gone, but not forgotten. I used to own these two beauties, but now I’m free of both the opportunity and the obligations they presented. I bought the smaller boat to use as a photo chase boat for my Yachtshots business I never did, and though I lived aboard the larger boat for a few years, I never pulled it together in the way I intended.
So, I name this post “Phases” because that’s what life is for me, different phases of attraction and rejection, intention and failure. I’m not despondent about that, just resigned. As Popeye often said: “I yam whats I yam.”
Island PhotoProse 
