High Summer

It's about as summery as summer can get around here. We're having a severe drought and a serious heat wave. We have one hot golden day after another, with daylight until nine at night. I'm all in on summer this year. Here are things that are letting me know it's really really peak summertime:

• Watermelon cocktails! 
• Basil in everything, including watermelon cocktails!
• Sailing! This is the first year my boat partner is also retired, meaning weekday sailing!
• Tomatoes! With basil!
  
• Dresses! With flip flops and painted toes! (and slip shorts, thanks Kim!)
  
• Peaches! Some things I only buy at farmer's markets, never ever at the grocery store. Peaches are #1 on that short list.
• Ice cream! New flavors to try! With peaches! With basil! With cocktails!
  
• Corn on the cob! Also on the farmer's market only list (except for the stunted ears I grew myself!) It goes well with basil!
  
• Shrimp on the barby! Wrapped in basil, of course!
• Sprinklers and running through the water! Every single morning watering! Dogs chasing the water! Picking the basil before it goes limp in the heat!
  
• Very early morning exercise, with slanty golden light before it gets too hot!
  
• Opening up the windows every morning, only for a couple of hours! Smelling the basil!
  
• Huddling up to the air conditioner every afternoon! Closing the blinds to keep the sun out!
• Evening happy hour in our cul de sac, with the pavement too hot to set a beer down! Parents comparing notes on the multiple camps and car pools for the kids out of school! Sharing the basil!

 

On the Road Again

This morning at Lake Artemesia

I don't exactly know how or why, but I seem to have got my mojo back on several fronts! And now, stand back, because I'm on the go!

I parked my Vespa scooter several years ago. First, I had a vertigo outbreak in the early spring, before I had put my bike on the road for the season. The vertigo lasted about a week, with two very bad days when I couldn't walk for some period of time due to total loss of balance. I totally lost confidence in my ability to deal with gravity even after the attack subsided - not a great attitude for leaning around curves on a two-wheeled vehicle! Also, the type of vertigo I had, BPPV, is likely to recur. (But it hasn't, so far.) So that took me off the road for a year. Then, no surprise, the bike wouldn't start when I tried it after sitting for a year. I bought a new battery, and last year made another attempt to get it going, to no avail. 

This spring, I determined I had to either ride it or get rid of it. I had been thinking an electric bike might be a better proposition. But I really couldn't see buying a expensive new toy while I had a very similar one parked in my driveway already. In addition, where the bike is housed is one of the sunniest spots in my yard - I was eying it as a place to put more plants if I got rid of the Vespa. A dear friend, a motorcycle maestro, came over last weekend and he got my bike to start right up! I rode around on the street and it seemed sound and appeared to be running well. At the least an oil change seemed necessary before really relying on the bike, so I made an appointment to take it to the dealer for a tune-up (no user-serviceable parts inside). 

The dealer is about 15 miles (and two states!) away, in Arlington, Virginia. I worked myself up to it riding around the neighborhood some, to get both my muscle memory and my systems memory fully back up to speed. My body seemed to know what it was doing (I first started on motorcycles about twenty years ago) but I needed to resort to the manual to remember how to work all the buttons. I really was keyed up for the ride to the dealer, studying maps and trying to memorize the routes, as I wouldn't be able to look at my phone during the trip. To get to Virginia, I would have to go into DC and across the Potomac. The District of Columbia into Virginia can be very confusing, with a plethora of roads going in very strange directions. It would be easy to accidentally end up on an expressway and be stuck there for a few miles. With a top speed of around 60 mph (and cruising capability around 50) technically I could be on an expressway, but remember, this was the trip to make sure the bike would be reliable to try to go that fast. I also certainly need more practice and confidence before doing that again!

The day of the service drop-off dawned rainy. I had scrounged through my closets and found my old riding jackets didn't fit, as the Vespa idle period coincided with my gaining 20 pounds. I scrutinized my weather apps and set off between deluges. I had an uneventful 40 minute drive, dropped off the bike to a nice Italian service guy, and treated myself to a wonderful lunch in a cafe in upscale Arlington. The DC metro has lousy service these days, with the local line closed down entirely right now, so I also treated myself to an Uber the whole way back.

I picked up the bike on Saturday ("we don't often have to remove a mouse nest from the engine!" they said in that charming Italian accent, and charged me about 20% of what I originally paid for the bike) and I had another uneventful and confidence-building ride home. So I'm ready to go! Small local errands, fun rides, perhaps even going off with the scooter gang I rode with pre-pandemic! I call it "fresh air without the exercise" and I've remembered how much of a smile this puts on my face.

But in other exciting road news, I have gone back to running! At least, I've stuck my barest toe in! 

Both knees are currently in an ok state. They hurt, but at levels I can stand. And so far, most activities have not caused them to hurt worse than they feel just sitting around. On my trip to Bellport, I walked more than four miles in sand, and I've been trying for three mile walks two or three times a week. I have a New Year's goal of making it 10 miles in one day by the end of the year. But walking takes a long time to get the miles in - a three-mile walk by itself takes me slightly more than an hour, and I have to get organized, get the right shoes on, put the dogs away, and maybe drive somewhere first. So I decided to try running again.

I've actually had a bit of a Thing about running. It seemed impossible to do again. The mechanics of running are distinct from walking, and I I couldn't make myself do it. My knees hurt, but all the muscles of my legs have been tight. Crossing the street, needing to hurry, I couldn't go into a jog. I would lean forward, then tense up and not be able to do it. I had an image of a face plant in the middle of the street from a leg collapsing under me. 

When I was running regularly, I ran intervals between walks. The length of my running intervals varied widely, from a mile of non-stop running all the way down to 30 seconds, but the technique, of running and then walking for a minute or two for recovery, is sound. The theory of very short intervals, especially for beginning runners, is that you can sustain the mix for much longer than you can sustain just running, and so your body gets more thoroughly conditioned to running. Your heart and breathing rates repeatedly go up to running levels, and then recover before you do it again. I also had a couple of sessions with a running coach who specialized in a technique known as "chi running". It is supposed to lead to fewer running injuries. The essence of the technique is to lean forward from your ankles (not your waist) and a foot will automatically lift up and move forward to keep you from falling. A fast cadence is stressed, with a faster pace leading to longer steps but the same cadence.

After hitting the turnaround point for my three mile walk one day this week, I decided to see if I could overcome this Thing and run. I leaned forward, and my foot lifted up, and then I was running! To the untrained eye, I was "just barely jogging" but to me it was everything. I could feel the muscles in my thighs waking up in surprise! "What's going on here? I remember this!" The form came back to me, and it felt good. I ran just three short intervals interspersed with walks, and then swaggered my way back home, feeling quite a bit taller and more confident. The Thing was gone.

I went out this morning to a nearby trail that makes a mile and a half loop in a pretty setting, equipped with my running watch and running playlists. I walked a lot, and ran my structured intervals for a bit, totalling two loops. I'm highly satisfied with where I am with this, even though I barely kept up with a (young) person walking while I was running. I hope to work up to doing 5K races again, but even if I don't, it's all good. My body is capable, I am capable, and if the body starts to decline, it's possible even at the advanced age of nearly 70 to recover some of the mojo.

I'll leave you with this: schedules and weather finally combined to get us out on the Bay! Yay, sailing! I'm on the go, on two wheels and four, and two feet, and by sea! Stand back, here I come!

Report Card

 The last time I published a report card was in January of last year, looking at 2022. I actually have kept up tracking myself primarily through apps and devices, and from time to time I sit down and go through the data trying to glean some meaning or insights. I haven't felt like I've learned that much recently, certainly not something worth sharing. I still haven't got any wisdom to share, and it's not that pretty a picture, but the data is what the data is, and there is a certain value in simply showing it. Keeps me honest with myself.

First, to get it out of the way, my weight is high and stable. No need to share a graph. I gained a bunch of weight in 2022 (Fuck You, Intuitive Eating!) and it's stayed on. I haven't been motivated to any kind of a big push to change it. And it's been remarkably stable - plus or minus four pounds. I do plan and track my food most days, but it's more part of planning how to spend my time than trying to morph it into fewer calories. And then, keeping me conscious of what I'm doing, to do away with mindless eating. I still weigh myself every day and it gets recorded on the internet, for whenever I feel like reviewing the history in detail. I chuckled one day recently when I got up and peed several times during the night and found the next morning I was two and a half pounds down from the day before! That's why I can't get excited about day-to-day fluctuations, the range I'm seeing is just water weight. 

First up: Activity. As always, darker is better. January was knee recovery time, and I give myself a pass for everything but workout days. My "workout days" focus on functional fitness, either in my home gym or with physical therapy (my PT experience the past couple of years has been a solid hour of working out followed by 15 minutes of massage and stretching). With PT from the knee replacement added to working out in the home gym, I was really doing a lot. It also paid off, as now my calories and steps are back to where they were last year (which was NOT a stellar year for activity, I admit). The walking mileage shown here is from taking a deliberate walk where I activate my GPS, not an accumulation of steps during the day. I'm currently pretty active in the house and garden, which keeps my steps up, but I haven't been feeling the walk as a way to spend time (and I only do short and slow training walks with the dog, not worth tracking.) I've added a new row since the last time I posted, "stand time". My apple watch tracks this - how much time do I spend on my feet all day. It seems worth looking at, since my goals involve being less sedentary. Here, I'm moving in the right direction!

Next, some health parameters. These are both controllable and uncontrollable things. The big worrying trend is migraines, which are up. I have fallen off the meditation bandwagon, and that might be a contributing factor. But my doctor thinks that perhaps allergies are acting up - and there is a connection between respiratory inflammation and migraines. So I'm trying to be more faithful on OTC allergy remedies. "Alone days" (still looking for a better descriptor) are days I don't talk to anyone. I might be texting or emailing, but it only counts if I talk to someone either in person or on the phone. I really enjoy days on my own, but I am aware it is not healthy to have too many. And besides, I enjoy my family, friends and neighbors! I continue to be a sleep champion, with a normal seasonal variation of less sleep with longer daylight hours. (These sleep hours are separate from time in bed, as the watch purports to distinguish between lying awake versus truly asleep. I am awake at least 45 minutes during the course of the night - but apparently, that is less than average for a woman my age.) Heart rate variability is meant to be an overall measure of stress, with a high number being better. I haven't been looking too much at it, but the apple watch keeps track, so I decided to add it to the list. Resting heart rate, as a reminder, measures resiliency, with a lower number better.

Lastly, how do I spend my leisure time? (Ok, it's all leisure time. I do a minor amount of volunteer work, but I'm not tracking that here.) This whole category is not necessarily "more is better", but it is what it is. I also struggle with whether the "year" column should show an average of the months, or a cumulative total for the year. It's currently a mixed bag. I've actually wanted to read fewer books this year, because I read a lot of fluffy entertainment and it gets in the way of doing more productive things. My TV watching is up recently, as I indulged myself with a season of my only reality TV show, "Below Decks". I haven't been watching movies, neither at home nor out. I have been traveling a modest amount this year, more shorter trips, which is suiting me right now. And I'm hoping for more sailing, as my partner has retired, which multiplies the number of possibilities of aligning our two schedules and the weather.

So that's the story in numbers. Looking at this does motivate me to move, so I'm off to do that now.

Excelsior!

The Home of my Heart

I've lived a number of places in the world, and visited many more, but Bellport will always be the home of my heart. My family lived there when I was born, but we moved to the middle of the country when I was five. We returned for many long summer visits, and Bellport grew in my mind as the aquatic marine summer paradise place I longed to be all the time. We moved back permanently as I started high school, and the acquisition of a sailboat cemented the deal. My high school years were not particularly happy and there certainly is not enough money in the world to ever convince me to relive them. It was the sixties, and traumas both political and personal were significant. But the place I lived was much of what made those years bearable.

I come from a family of great indoors people. Touring the great capitals of the world was their idea of an ideal vacation. My parents were profoundly bored by the beach, we never once went camping, and the idea of scrambling around a little sailboat buffeted by wind and waves was anathema to them. The year we moved back to Bellport, my mother wrote in her Christmas letter how sad we all were to leave the delights of a college town in the midwest. She clearly never checked in with me, her middle child, to find out how I felt about it.

Carmen's River, where we sailed

Bellport gave me the freedom to go places and do things as an adolescent I couldn't have done in many other places. It was a small rural and prosperous town back then, with some summer people, but not with ostentatious wealth or fashion. Alone or with friends, I could bike through small roads and over a bridge to the beach on Fire Island. On weekends, we would go birdwatching with some avid adult birders, hanging out in marshes and on beaches throughout the east end of Long Island. Even more delightfully, my friends and I could sail to Fire Island, or other destinations along the Great South Bay, one of the best small boat sailing areas in the world. It has the steady and strong ocean breeze, but very sheltered water so no big waves. Even better, at least half the area of the Bay is so shallow that if a boat capsizes you can stand on the bottom to right it! Astonishing to me now, my friends and I were allowed to take a family small sailboat each summer for up to week, cruising along the Bay and tying up to shore at night. Our boats were completely open with no toilet or cooking facilities aboard, but the Fire Island National Seashore provided docks to tie up to and places to put a small campstove for cooking. Generally there were also payphones, and we tried to remember to call in each night to assure them we were still alive.

I left to go to college (in the midwest, ironically) in 1972. I never spent a whole summer back in Bellport afterwards. But my family was dug in there, until my mother moved down near me in DC in 2006. Even then, she and I would go back for visits, once or twice a year, until about ten years ago when we went back for the funeral of one of her best friends. Her declining health and declining pool of friends decided against any more trips.

So it was a lovely surprise when I got an invitation to the eightieth birthday party for one of my close friends there, and realized the calendar was free and I really wanted to go. The birthday girl was also a close friend of J, my boat partner who was my friend in high school, and who actually moved back to Bellport (well, ok, Brookhaven, a mere hamlet to Bellport's village) as an adult for about a decade. She decided to come as well - she hadn't been back in nearly 30 years!

The Birthday Girl, Jo, is about a dozen years older than me. That was perfect when I was in high school. I think every adolescent can benefit from adult friends to show alternative ways to be in the world, something different from the parents. Jo and her husband, Phil, provided a safe place to hang out, drop in, drink tea, and sometimes meet other kids from the next town over where Phil was a teacher.

The beach

We had an uneventful but tedious nearly seven hour drive up to the island on Friday. We went directly to Smith Point beach on Fire Island, as Friday had the best weather forecast of the weekend. One of our objectives for the weekend was to walk along the beach to where Superstorm Sandy had made a breach in Fire Island, letting the ocean in directly to the Bay. The breach has since filled in with sand, on all but the highest of high tides. It was a bit of a hike - 4 1/2 miles round trip - but we took our time and watched some birds and stood in the very low spot where the ocean had been washing over the sand. We had spent many many hours in roughly the same spot, and sailing over the waters of the bay just inside the barrier beach, so it was fun to spot landmarks on the far shore. Many of them were just the same.

We stayed in a bargain Airbnb just outside Bellport. I think we may have been the fourth set of guests to stay there - we were the fourth folks to review it, anyway. It was very clean and very basic. I would guess the owner had done the work himself (or hired a friend) because it was not skillful work. There was no weather stripping on the outside door, and when the wind blew the puffs came in. There were stripes of wall paint on the ceiling where the taping wasn't sufficient. There was no book of instructions or local area tips. It had a fancy coffee machine, ground coffee and mugs, but no sugar or cream. The fridge was entirely empty. No ironing board, no hair dryer, sparse furniture. But comfy bed, plenty of bedlinens and towels, a decent shower. It did the job. We left some suggestions on the private feedback, and stressed the positive on the public review.

Friday night, we ate at the fancy Bellport Restaurant. We had no reservation, and we were shuttled to a back room, away from the hopping main part where very attractive people were socializing between tables and the bar. But we asked our server to let the head chef know we were there (using the first names we used back in the day which is not how we are now known to friends). The head chef is the son of the birthday girl, and we used to change his diapers! He came out, astounded, as his sister the party organizer had elected to keep our attendance a secret. So we got excellent food and service and a discount on the drinks. It was fun to see him as an adult in his element - the last time J had seen him, he was babysitting her children! 

Saturday was kind of drizzly, but we made a pilgrimage out to see my mother's building. Back in the year 2000, a local health center was renamed in her honor. I wouldn't have been surprised to see it renamed or even the whole building repurposed, because it's been twenty-five years. I was really touched to find it is not only still a community health center, but even though it's under new management and has a new name, they kept the "Marilyn Shellabarger". 

It's still her building!

 

We took another hike, through a wildlife refuge and along a marsh, seeing more birds and wildlife. We also visited all of our former houses and favorite places in a driving tour, commenting on the changes, not always favorably. Highly enjoyable!

The birthday party was fun! Jo has many many health challenges running back over many years, but she is still gutsy and independent and sharp and funny. Of course, the food was excellent, because not only is her son a fancy chef, but her daughter is a professional baker. There were not lots of people there, but an unexpected treat were the couple who lived behind my parents' house. Also eighty years old, they had sold their house last year and moved back to their old neighborhood on the upper west side, and driven out for the weekend. They were both very bent over and walked very slowly with canes. Also still sharp and funny and highly opinionated, I enjoyed talking to them both. 

Sunday morning we got up early, hit a diner for breakfast, and were off the island and to the NJ turnpike by 9 am. The trip home was uneventful, and a full 90 minutes shorter than the trip up.

I don't know that I will ever go back to Bellport. Jo and her family are my only people links to the place. Being there, I feel both at home and a stranger. I go to a familiar place, but nobody knows me and knows that I belong there, though I feel strongly that I do. The first time I played the game of "what will I do if I win the mega-lottery?" the first thing that popped up was "buy a place in Bellport". But that's really the only way it would happen. 

Maybe it's better to just keep it in my heart, and not allow myself to be disappointed by any inconvenient realities.

The Dog Watch

Sadie in a bad patch

Few things are sadder than a sad dog. All of my empathy cells vibrate to the sight and sound of a dog in pain. 

Sadie, my girl's dog who lives with me when she is out of town, has been having issues since mid-March. The tiny little thing is doing much better now than she was, probably no longer in pain, but not back to her vigorous self.  She has been having some kind of muscular-skeletal issue, probably caused by pinched nerves in her neck. At her worst, she could barely walk, and the pain caused non-stop shaking. There was a fairly quick onset of initial symptoms, followed by progressively more aggressive interventions with steriods and other medications. After each intervention, she got a bit better, then got even worse as soon as she started to feel better and moved around again. The one bright spot is that I was referred to a relatively new and close emergency-and-specialist vet practice that I really like. I have twice left there with a bill under $100!

Sadie in her living room cell (I mean kennel)

Now, we're on a long, slow, taper of steroids (and other meds) and her activity is strictly limited by me. She literally has a kennel in the middle of my living room, and another pen in the backyard. She gets time snuggling with me, often outdoors so her little nose gets stimulated, and a little leash walk each day. In an effort to keep her from jumping (and inevitably falling) I can't leave her loose in a room where she is used to jumping on the furniture. Blocking her in the kitchen while I'm there works as a change of pace from the living room kennel. She is used to being fed in her little spot in the living room, and the steroids are driving a big increase in appetite, so she willingly returns to it when she gets a chance. I have food puzzles for her, to give her a bit more
stimulation.

My two assistant cooks, drugged

Meanwhile, Bixby, my dog of roughly the same size, has been anxious since he first came to live with me. He is afraid of intruders at the house, and afraid of any people or dogs seen while out. Often times, his fear turns into barking fiercely and non-stop. At its worst he goes into what I call "Rumpelstiltskin mode" where I think he will burst out of his own skin, turning circles and unable to stop himself, showing the whites of his eyes and trembling. Other times, he goes into "autobark" where he just keeps barking, without any outside stimulus to keep him going - not so frantic, but again, in a loop, unable to stop himself. We've been working with a trainer on counter conditioning for over a year. Sadly, his "trigger point" where he gets hyper-activated has been very high, and so my alternative positive association (ie, physical comfort and/or treats) fails to catch his attention. While of course I find the barking annoying and sometimes embarrassing, I have been more concerned about his quality of life - it can't be comfortable to feel under threat all the time, to feel that hyper-vigilance is your only possible mode of survival. 

So now I've got Bixby on anti-anxiety meds. The plan is to lower his trigger points and overall anxiety level, during which time I'll intensively work on counter-conditioning (trying to change his response to a stimulus.) After two weeks, he is sleeping more, (peering anxiously out the window less) and has only had a couple of melt-downs into full Rumpelstiltskin mode in the house. I can usually calm him quickly by touching him. On walks, I'm still avoiding as best I can other dogs. Sadly, the drugs seem to have put him off his appetite, and so treats are less effective on walks. I've taken away his food bowl, and he has to work for all his food, which helps. But sometimes, he doesn't even get excited about a kong filled with frozen canned dog food. I will probably seek more advice, and consult with the vet on the meds.

Daily med administration

I've got a full blown dog-medication station in my kitchen, for the twice-a-day administration to each dog. Multiple pills have to be sliced into tiny pieces for tiny dogs, and stuffed into a soft pill pocket. Sadie gets five different meds, different morning and night, with a quarter of a tylenol tablet added if she is having a bad patch. Bixby gets two meds, at least they are the same morning and night. I have a routine turned into almost autopilot, designed to minimize the possibility of getting these multiple drugs for each dog wrong. I'm hoping this is temporary for both dogs, but each of them is having a better time now than a month or so ago, at least.

Totality!

I made a quick, last-minute, trip to the Midwest to see the eclipse.

A year ago, I read in the morning paper about how there was going to be a total eclipse of the sun in April 2024, crossing a wide swath of the United States, including the midwest and northeast. I decided this was probably my last chance to see a TOTAL eclipse, which I had heard from a friend is completely different from a partial eclipse. One point of the newspaper article I read was that accommodations were already being booked:  make your plans NOW! So I did, and wrote about it here.  

I didn't think about it again until I received an email in November from Airbnb, saying the place I booked was now off Airbnb, and my reservation was cancelled. I immediately browsed possible replacements, and I booked another, nicer, place just a few blocks away for a bit more money. Then, early this year, I got a very nice email from the owner saying he was converting the spot to a long term rental (better for affordable housing market in Cleveland, bad for my eclipse prospects). I decided it just wasn't going to happen.

Then in early March I got the first of several long emails from my very close friend J in Ann Arbor. He sent it to a couple of dozen people, talking about organizing a day trip from Ann Arbor down into the wilds of Ohio to the path of totality. I was interested, but this coincided with my life being taken over by doggie healthcare (something which persists to this day). So I stayed on the communications list, but made no reply.

By Easter, I decided I really wanted to go visit my friends and see the eclipse! Little Sadie dog was doing somewhat better, and my local nephew agreed to watch her (and the more robust Bixby) while I went away. I talked to J, and found to my delight that another couple of old friends (now residents of Bristol, England) were also going to be staying there, so only the couch was the bed on offer. But J rolled out the red carpet for me, insisted on airport rides, and found me a spot in one of the 9 cars signed up for the caravan!

I go way back with these folks. Most of them are a few years older than me. I met S and J while I was an undergraduate and they worked at the University, and S and I became roommates a year after I graduated. J was part of our friend group, and a couple years later he and S became an item. The three of us rented a house for the next three years, and after I got my masters and moved to Ohio S&J tied the knot. 

Roughly five years later, I was living in the Chicago area and bought a house in Evanston. Coincidentally, G, part of that Ann Arbor friend group, was just starting grad school at Northwestern in Evanston. He moved into my house for a few years. He met a woman who worked at his department, C, and they fell in love! When G got a job in Bristol, C went with him. Eventually they married and became UK citizens. I visited them there once, but we fell out of direct contact (though kept up news of each other casually through my besties, S&J). This all happened in the days just at the dawn of the internet for common use, and email was not truly a thing yet, so it was much easier to lose touch. So it was a real treat to catch up with them in Ann Arbor ("so, what have you done in the last thirty years?").

Meanwhile, it turns out there was a core group of serious eclipse fans organized by J. A few of them went to Turkey, twice, in the early oughts to view total eclipses. In 2017, they did a short trip to the center of this country and viewed the eclipse at the centerline by simply pulling over to the side of the road. For our trip, J had a spreadsheet of every one going, with drivers and riders. I was assigned to ride with a couple I know from visits to Ann Arbor and also several international trips we have taken together. J and a couple of friends took a scouting trip to Ohio a couple of weeks in advance, and found two locations. Each was a couple of hours (normal traffic) from Ann Arbor, one towards Cleveland and the other due south in the middle of nothing. They set up and tested text groups including everybody going, and then also got a conference call number that would be able to be open for the entire day. J built download-able google maps directions for each location, with "highway" and "backroad" alternates. Based on news stories about possible crowds, J recommended each car be self-sufficient with food and drinks. A gas stop with restrooms had been selected close to each of the alternate locations, but J recommended in an email that perhaps each car might want their own roll of toilet paper.

The night before, J and a couple of his friends pored over the weather maps and forecasts, and selected the due south location as most likely to have clear skies. The die was cast!

Our group

The morning of, all the cars rendezvoused at a parking lot near the expressway entrance, and off our caravan went. I rode shotgun in my car, and dialed into the conference call. I kept it piped directly into my ears, so as to allow normal conversation in our car.  The first car in the chain reported on traffic conditions (medium slow as far as Ohio where totality began, and then thinning out) and gave tips about routing on the call. The first car reached the municipal park we had selected as the rendezvous, and reported the town was welcoming: open bathrooms, the adjacent school closed, a food truck, tshirts for sale and childrens's games available. We had considered driving on to the exact centerline by the side of a rural road, but we voted to stay put (3 miles from centerline) based primarily on the bathrooms.

Most of us arrived around noon, set up our chairs next to some bleachers, laid out a picnic lunch, and got out tripods and pinhole cameras, made our eclipse glasses and viewers ready to hand. Many of us had downloaded an app that provided updates in exact time based on GPS location, and J hooked his up to a bluetooth speaker. The eclipse began around 1 pm, totality was around 3, and it would be over around 5 pm. The app noted out loud when the eclipse began, gave a couple of updates on progress, and counted down to totality and end of totality.

What a fun time! There was lots of visiting and catching up. I had met many of the folks over the years, and G&C from Bristol were the celebrity guests. We all spent time gazing up through our glasses as the sun got smaller. I realized I didn't have any sunscreen on my face or arms, a real oversight in such a lovely, sunny day. There was a high haze, but no big clouds anywhere nearby. I wore sunglasses all the time I wasn't wearing eclipse glasses, until a couple of minutes before totality when I switched to my clear glasses.

During totality, edited to see people

Totality really is a big deal. The difference between 99% coverage (silvery somewhat dim light) and totality (dark) is stark. We had just under 4 minutes of totality, time enough to both look up at the sky and spot stars and planets, and also around at surroundings and the horizon, and to feel and listen. It got cooler as the eclipse progressed towards totality, and there was stirring of the wind. There was a palpable intake of breath from all of us at the moment of totality. Eclipse glasses came off, and we could look directly up. I have no pictures of the sun, because I wanted to just experience it.

Just after totality

After totality, we hung around for a while (a couple of toasts) and then people started packing up. We headed back north about a half hour before it was over. Going home there was a lot more traffic, but there weren't any big choke points of bridges or tunnels or mountain passes, so traffic just flowed north at medium speed via multiple straight, flat, 2 lane roads. For a while, every time the GPS recommended a new route, we took it, but after a while our driver decided to just slug it out on the expressway directly to home. Fewer decisions for a tired driver. It took about 3 hours (in contrast to the 2 hours down), not bad at all.

I stayed another day, so I had a chance to spend more time with my friends. We visited some nostalgia dining spots, walked many dogs many miles, and just hung out. Flights to and from were uneventful. I returned home to sad dogs, but I was very happy for the break - and the spectacular celestial event!

On the Road Again…

Sunset from the wharf;
Arrow points to my motel room

 I went to California to see my girl, but to be honest, this trip is at least as much for me. Adventure, going out and seeing and doing new things, is a big part of my self-conception. In the past couple of years, I’ve felt my life shrinking down. I love being at home. I love days where I am totally on my own, just doing things around the house and sinking down on the couch with a good book or three. But I don’t want to succumb to lowered expectations. I want a bigger life. And so here I am, in beautiful Santa Cruz California, ostensibly to see my girl but also to push and test myself. 

There’s something about California light on a sunny day that is special. No sooner did I pull out of the rental car garage than I had to pull over and put on my polarized dark sun glasses. At once, the scene so full of brightness as to be dazzling, became manageable but beautiful. A zillion shattering shades of green clarified into recognizable plants. Deep inpenetrable shadows popped into focus. Flowers were blooming, skies were a deep bright blue. I took the single winding road that led from San Jose, at the south end of Silicon Valley, up over the mountain ridge and down to the coastal community of Santa Cruz. 

Art on the wharf

While I love exploring, there is also comfort in going back to a place where I’ve spent at least a little time. Far from feeling at home, but not truly foreign, either. I am so happy I sprang for the extra cost of a beach-front motel, instead of the perfectly adequate but not special place I stayed last summer. The place is a low-slung two-story building built close to the cliff road along the water, with its back firmly towards the road and its face enjoying the water. Once through the gate and onto the property, there are unrestrained views to the town beach, wharf, boardwalk, and out across the large Monterrey bay, all set off by nice landscaping and spots to sit and watch the beach and water. From my room I can not only see the surf, but hear it. Yesterday morning, sitting on a terrace overlooking the beach, I realized the other noise I heard was seals barking from the wharf. The wooden structure under the flat top of the wharf is beloved by them, having many support beams that are comfy places for them to flop around. On my first visit here, I spent a long time watching them, enjoying the dynamics as they constantly shifted around and challenged each other for the nicest spots.

Watching beach life from the motel terrace

This location is also convenient for places to eat and shop. The first night I had a bowl of clam chowder sitting at a bar on the wharf, watching the sun set and chatting about the local brews with a couple of software bros in for the day from Texas. “Downtown” is a mile away, and I’ve walked there a couple of times for meals, with and without my girl. Any random glance in this place would make it clear we’re not in Maryland anymore. Palm trees and succulents, mission and arts and craft architecture, signs proclaiming “anarchist garden spaces” (ok, I might find that last in Takoma Park!). 

My first morning, I woke shortly before 5 am local time and decided I might as well get up and drink coffee. I’m not really going to be here long enough for it to be worth adjusting to the time zone. First light was at 6. First, there was an orange glow above the hills on the horizon. It expanded, shaded to bright yellow, and kept on growing both horizontally and vertically. Finally, with an intense brilliant yellow shimmer, the sun peeked and then rose into a circle about the horizon, centered in my window. Wait, what??!! I’m in California, this is the goshdarn Pacific bloody Ocean, why am I seeing a sunrise, not a sunset? I had to get out my tablet and Google Earth, and set it up so that I could get oriented. Santa Cruz is at the north end of Monterrey Bay, a big scallop in the north-south coastline of California. I’m positioned to look across the Bay, facing southeast, hence the sunrise. The sky took a couple of hours to deepen into the brilliant blue from the day before. I don’t think I’ve seen such a spectacular sunrise since I was at sea on my way to Bermuda in 2021.

Much of Santa Cruz town is flat, sitting on a plateau above the ocean, with steep cliffs down to the water. The walking is great, around town and on a path along the cliffs. The campus is up a mountain above the town, heavily wooded. There is a lovely arboretum, where my girl and I spent a nice time in the brilliant sun wandering and talking and looking at exotic flora. Tbh, ordinary California flora is pretty exotic to me, but I guess this stuff, from similar climates in Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa, are special. My knee is still recovering, but it’s holding up well. I’ve had more steps yesterday and today than any day since my operation, and except for needing to stretch it, I’ve been fine.

Otter and kelp; art on a traffic island

The first day and yesterday were brilliant blue; today is grey with occasional drizzles. Sitting on a terrace overlooking the beach yesterday (while my girl took care of some school business in the motel room), I watched beach volleyball, surfers (all in wetsuits), and a bevy of women swimming in the very cold water. The air temperature was in the 60s, but the unrelenting California sun made it very warm (and I slathered my exposed skin with sunscreen). Santa Cruz is said to be where Hawaiians introduced Californians to surfing - it has a surfing museum and several Hawaiian restaurants and bars. (I plan to get some poke tonight). 

Things are well with my girl, and increasingly, I’m sure they will be well with me. Such a nice trip!