Sunday, September 22, 2013

Good Bye to Summer

Saturday was the last night of summer, 2013.  Considering how summer flew by, watching the Vaux’s Swifts swirl around Chapman School served as an appropriate good bye to summer.

Swifts congregate in large groups for their winter migration to Central America and Venezuela.  Thousands and thousands of them pass through Portland.  Several years ago, the Swifts decided the old chimney at the Chapman School, in Northwest Portland, was a good Motel 6. 

When people first noticed it, they had to work out what to do.  Do they fire up the furnace?  How can they manage the school and be kind to our feathered visitors? 

Years later, people congregate for the show.  The atmosphere is like any of the other free summer events – concerts in the park or movies in the park.   Some people bring blankets, chairs and food.  We all wait in eager anticipation. 

Then, the birds arrive. A few, at first.

The swifts fly around ana around.  Some look like they are about to descend into the chimney.  But, not yet. 

More swifts arrive.  The fly ‘round and ‘round, clockwise.  First, it’s a wider circle, like a carousel.  At the end, the circle tightens like a tornado.


video
Just like when people sit for fireworks, an occasional “ooh, or ahh” erupts spontaneously.  Last night, that happened when the peregrine falcon sped toward the chimney looking for a quick snack, scattering the swifts for awhile. 

The swifts fly above and behind the falcon, for safety, I suppose.  Then, they form up again, and swirl into the chimney until the falcon takes another run at them and they scatter again.

As the Chapman Chimney proves, once swifts find a good rest stop, they return year after year.  Once the humans find a good free show, we return, too.   


Saturday, August 17, 2013

Bird Creek Meadows, Mt. Adams on the Yakama Reservation

Click to enlarge photos.

Bird Creek Meadows on Mt. Adams is not a one-trick pony.  Stunning wildflowers are the main attraction.  At times, they are so gorgeous that it’s easy to forget the other magnificent attractions:  creeks everywhere, waterfalls and hundred-mile vistas to Mt. Hood and beyond. Today, what I noticed were the sounds. 

When the sound of one creek faded, the sound of a waterfall kicked in.  When the sound of the waterfall grew faint, the next gurgling caught my ear.  In those few places in between water sounds, wind rustled the trees or jays squawked and junco trilled.  Duh!  Maybe that’s why they called it Bird * Creek * Meadows. 
Hell Roaring Overlook


“They” is an interesting question.  The Feds allowed the tribes to keep this area under the 1855 treaty as part of the reservation.  In 1908, Teddy Roosevelt mistakenly included it into the Mt. Rainer Forest Reserve.  Later, it became part of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest.  In 1972, President Nixon corrected Roosevelt’s mistake and ceded control back to the Yakama Nation.  I’m guessing that the US Forest service named it Bird Creek Meadows. 

Today, we took the trail up and up one mile to the Hell Roaring overlook, then down to the meadows area where flowers are often crazy.  Peak bloom was about two weeks ago, but flowers still delighted in parts. 

Trail 9 took us to the big waterfall (not to be confused to numerous smaller waterfalls).  Down to Bird Lake, and over to Bluff Lake, were we found some huckleberries to snack on.

I posted more photos here.    
Bluff Lake

Huckleberries !

Monday, July 29, 2013

God's Little Jewels


Long horizons are hypnotic: the ocean, the sagebrush steppe in Southeastern Oregon, and the farmlands of Central Illinois.

It’s been decades since I’d cruised heartland roads.  An old barn here or a farmhouse there punctuates the golden tassels blowing in the breeze under big clouds.  The clouds catch the last colors of the setting sun.  These were scenes from my youth, except for soybeans rotated into the mix and, of course, the massive wind turbines, which add movement and perspective miles away.

Whood-a thunk after this drive through the flat fields, past Peoria, past Pekin, and past Canton, I’d share the sunrise with a Great Blue Heron and Cedar Waxwings along the wooded shores of Lake Wee-Ma-Tuk.

Lois White has some 43 hummingbird feeders on her farm down the road in Smithfield, a couple miles from Spoon River.  "Hummingbird Haven," she calls it on the handwritten sign.  We sat in  four of the dozen or so chairs along her ranch house and watched the ruby-throated hummers buzz around.

Pat has developed a fond relationship with Lois, and she was very generous with her time, showing us the nests and answering my questions.

Lois must be well into her seventies.  She developed her interest in hummingbirds from her Grandma, who called them, "God's little jewels."

When Lois's one-room schoolhouse finally got the Encyclopedia Britannica, little Lois begged and begged her teacher to borrow the volume that had a picture of a hummingbird.  “Hummingbird!” she instructed her grandma. 

“Well, they’re still 'God’s little jewels.'” 

Back at the lake, we piled into the pontoon boat with Jim, a gem of a man, and Karen.  Jim is responsible for the O’Flahertys’ association with the area.  (A story for another day.)

Jim graciously educated me on the history of the area.

High-sulfur coal and International Harvester fueled the boom times, back when the mascot for Pekin High School was the “chinks.”  High-sulfur coal went out of fashion, as did insulting ethnic mascots.  Now, Dragons is the Pekin mascot, and discarded holes of mining companies have become a mini Land-o-Lakes.

Kendall and Cheryl made it dinner for eight.  Camo gear makes sense if you are a dog trainer, including for hunting and field trials.  He was one of the thousand people who tried for the 30 hunting blinds for a nearby area. Good people; full-time residents in the land of characters immortalized in Spoon River Anthology nearly 100 years ago.  

Monday, July 15, 2013

StayCation Grand Finale - Maryhill Winery Concert with Best Friends


It's a picnic, it's a concert, and it's a scenic overlook all in one.  

The Columbia River Gorge National Scenic area starts just east of the Portland Metro area and extends to about Maryhill, Washington.  The contrast in climate and scenery is stunning.  In the west, waterfalls spill through Douglas Firs.  In the middle, mixed conifers, snow-capped volcanoes and kite boarders catch the eye.  Out east, golden, treeless rolling hills stretch forever.  

Randi, Dale, Tim and Michelle met us at Maryhill Winery for food, wine, The Wallflowers, and The Counting Crows. The amphitheater offers a welcoming, lush lawn to spread a blanket and share food.  Because it is such a laid back atmosphere, people feel free to talk, like at a baseball game.

We left before the encores, a concession to work the next day.  So, we enjoyed recorded hits of the Counting Crows as we sped back after sunset but before total blackness.  The last light of day created the silhouettes of the rocky cliffs diving into the wide Columbia.  Above, stars and a crescent moon shown in the midnight blue.  Washington Highway 14 is curvy and hundreds of feet above the river out there.  It's the kind of road ad agencies use to sell BMWs.  As Tim once said during daylight hours, "It's like driving in a painting."

Sometimes, ya just gotta be grateful.  

Trout Lake Art Festival and Tour

Trout Lake Festival of the Arts
The Trout Lake Festival of the Arts has been raising money to promote the arts in the area for a couple of decades.  It was our first stop on Ann's private tour of the valley.

Next, we took her to the Zen Buddhist Abbey / Druid Sanctuary.   You see, the zen leader and druid leader chipped in to buy the  B & B that is now their joint home.

Click to Enlarge
Last, and probably least, we stopped at the Alpaca ranch and store.

Ann's visit was way too short.  But, 23 hours is better than no visit at all.


Mosquito Lake, PCT and Ann.

Mosquito Lake, Gifford Pinchot National Forest

July 13, 2013.

Saturdays in Trout Lake means waking up to 50-some degrees.  Then, we close the windows to bank the cool against the 80-something afternoon.  

This Saturday, we awakened with a vague plan to hike somewhere new.  So I studied the forest map over waffles and coffee, looking for a trailhead where we thought there would be no mosquitoes this time of year.

Ironically, we headed up to Mosquito Lake because our neighbors kayaked there last week and reported it bug free.  It’s a pretty little lake that reminds me of Minnesota’s Boundary Waters Canoe area because it is flat and pristine – no mountain view.  Then, we took off up the Pacific Crest Trail for a while.  

The PCT north of forest road 8851 is nothing special.  It is a gentle grade with no major ups and downs.  It provided us a simple walk in the woods, which suited us way better than a treadmill.   

Ann visited us on short notice, which meant dinner at the Country Inn instead of an Allyson-home-cooked feast.  We love visitors, especially Ann.  

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Gathering at the White Salmon River

White Salmon River (click to enlarge)

The White Salmon River has transported pure water and salmon to the Columbia River since time immemorial.  The Columbia River Gorge area was a vast gathering place for First Peoples, the epicenter of which was The Dalles, Oregon, where the volcanic rocky slabs narrowed the Columbia (before we constructed The Dalles Dam).  In the narrows, Native Americans netted the salmon swimming upstream to other parts of Washington, Oregon and Idaho.  Native Americans socialized, gambled and even created rock art as they harvested the salmon and processed what they could not eat today it into pemmican for the months ahead.  Studies of thousand-year-old bones indicate that salmon may have constituted nearly 50% of the diet of the Klickitat, Chinook and other First Peoples.     

I’m not sure when I first met Jim.  Maybe we attended Mrs. Cavanass’ kindergarten class together.  Maybe we met some time later at Madison Elementary School in Elmhurst, Illinois.  Either way, the time span is rapidly approaching 50 years.  Not exactly time immemorial, but give me a few more years towards Alzheimer’s, and I’ll need this journal to remember things. We discovered that we both lived in Portland a couple of years ago, thanks to mutual Facebook friends. Friday, we got together with his wife Jill to raft the wild and scenic White Salmon River.  

Zoller’s operates rafting trips from BZ Corners.  After they fit all their customers into wetsuits, booties, splash jackets, life jackets and helmets, they start instructing us on how to raft safely.  The instructions seemed to last forever.  -- “If you fall out, don’t stand up you might break a leg.  Float on your back with feet up.  If someone falls out, grab him by the life vest and yank him back. Don’t grab the arm or wrist; might break something.”

Finally, we march down and down and down the stairs to the bottom of the canyon and step into the rafts. It’s cool down there by the rushing river and the mossy rock wall.  Jim, Jill, our raft mates and I received an extra dose of instructions, cautions and war stories. That’s because ours was the last raft to launch.  So, Ben, our guide, kept talking.  He made sure we knew where to jam our feet for maximum holding power.  But, no one ever told us where to put our keesters.

The Middle Gorge of the White Salmon runs fast and cold.  Whitewater dominates.  It is a wild and fun ride.  It is too wild for Allyson.  She did not join us because, last time, she fell out of the raft.  When I yanked her back in, she looked up at the high canyon walls and realized she had to continue the bucking bronco ride.  There was no way out.
Rafts launching on White Salmon River


At long last, we launch.


Ben has been doing this for years and years:  over 400 trips down the river.  If someone pops out of the raft, his boss fines him $5.  Ben was an entertaining guy.  He kept talking the whole time.  He told us about nature; he showed us the nest of an American Dipper.  Ben had not lost a rafter all season, so far. Ben showed us where he has found Native American artifacts along the river. He never told us where to place hind ends.

You guessed it.  Someone fell out of the raft.  We fished her out with no broken bones.  Then, Ben tells her, for future reference, where on the raft she should’ve sat to avoid falling. 

Overall, it was a terrific trip.  Zoller’s offers people many places to get wet, whether it is paddling the raft upstream into a rapid, jumping off a 10-foot wall, or trying to survive Husum Falls.  We skipped the falls, thinking that the potential for spending months rehabbing body parts was not worth the thrill.

Four rafts full of people tried it. People paddle fiercely towards the roaring drop off.  Then, they drop down to survival position, and let fate take its course.  The rafts dive into the water below, submerge mostly or entirely out of view, then pop up like a cork.  The suspenseful question is whether they will land bottom down with people aboard. Most made it, with only a couple of people falling out. (No fines to raft guides for losing people at the Falls.)

After the falls, the river mellows out some.  This permits less focus on paddling and allows more time to enjoy the scenery until our exit.  

Later, we met Allyson at a brewpub in White Salmon, WA for dinner.

So, as it was centuries ago, the Columbia Gorge area provided a gathering place for socializing around food and river activities.  I had a lot of fun with my old / new friends, and we look forward to getting together again soon.  

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Bicycle to the Zen Abbey

Click on photos to enlarge.

A gorgeous, lazy summer day in Trout Lake.  We got on our bikes to burn off the waffles. But, instead of our normal 11-mile route over the rivers and around the farms, we detoured to the he Mt. Adams Zen Buddhist Abbey.


As we were looking around, the Rev. Kozen Sampson greeted us, welcomed us, and encouraged us to explore the ever-improving grounds.  He's done a wonderful job of building beautiful spaces and landscaping.

Bicyclists pause over the White Salmon River

Road to the Abbey







UFOs in Trout Lake, Washington


Trout Lake, Washington is known for UFO activity.  With clear skies and very little light pollution, Trout Lake offers good stargazing.  In just 40 minutes the other night, I spotted a couple of satellites plus a shooting star.

But, UFO’s? 

ECETI stands for Enlightened Contact with Extra Terrestrial Intelligence.  The Eceti Ranch is just down the road from our own Mt. Adams Base Camp.

James Gilliland, ECETI’s founder, has a theory, and he’s sticking to it.  Why would ET’s, who must be vastly superior to us, want to engage with Earth brutes who possess weapons of mass destruction?  Would you, for example, want to sit down to a chat with a hungry crocodile?  Of course not.  So, a prerequisite to benevolent contact from ET’s is an open mind and a loving heart.

What about Pope John Paul, II or President Obama, they both seem to have loving hearts and want to do good?  Why would ET’s chose James Gilliland over them?

His answer, “The benevolent ones do not want to further any one agenda, government or religion, which answers the question why they have not landed in the Vatican or the White House lawn.”  Mr. Gilliland continues, “They do not believe in structured truths which create separation, division and sometimes war in endless power struggles. They have transcended all religious and cultural boundaries into a profound love for all people and all life.”

So, ET’s select Trout Lake over Mecca or the Vatican.  I live in Trout Lake.  I have profound love for people that transcends any religious dogma.  I do not believe, for, example, in stoning to death insolent children, and I certainly disagree with hiding women under burqas.  Maybe my universal love of women and others is helping to draw ET’s to Trout Lake. 

According to Eceti.org,  “An unprecedented event is unfolding in a small town known as Trout Lake, Washington. This event has the potential to change the course and destiny of Humanity and the Earth. The people of Earth are being offered a chance to join the rest of the universe in peace.”

Uh oh!  This could be bad.  Will we have 10 million seekers rivaling the annual pilgrimage to Our Lady of Guadalupe?  Will there be hordes as in Lourdes?  I don’t want traffic jams driving north on WA 141 as millions visit.  I like the peace, quiet and bucolic character of this excellent community.

Fortunately, our Reporter possessed the requisite open heart and open mind to obtain an invitation for a private visit to the Eceti ranch, so I can get some insight.  He took Allyson.  I did not go.  I did not qualify because of my skepticism, born of logic and my ability to understand the English language.  Logic often disables people from following love gurus.  As the Bhagwan Shree Rashneesh said, “Logic ridicules love, and love smiles knowingly at the whole foolishness of logic.” 

Listen to the ET believers' videos and read their papers with a knowledge of English, and nothing makes sense.  Damn law school!  Damn my Vulcan logic!  I'll miss out on the upcoming world-altering events.

The Eceti Ranch consists of a beautiful 70 acres, if you don’t look too hard at some of the run-down structures.  Eceti’s “Field of Dreams” has a full view of Mt. Adams and a nearly horizon-to-horizon window to the star-filled sky.  

Our Reporter and Allyson saw many satellites and some shooting stars. 

The guy with the tattoo of a feline-like alien, with whom he has contact, saw something different. The woman who has had Ayahuasca treatment in the past saw things.  Believers and James Gilliland declared that moving objects were “powering up.”  THEY could distinguish "the motherships" from the "scout ships."  Those airplanes overhead must be keeping an eye on the Eceti Ranch and not merely be transporting people.  Lights on the mountain could not be backpackers overnighting before climbing Mt. Adams. “Why would they be looking this way?” “That’s 13 miles away; lights would not go this far.”

Well, our Reporter is into science, not fantasy.  Satellite speed depends on distance from Earth.  The ones farther away are not "powering up" – they go faster.  Allyson knows that campers look around in every direction, which would include the direction of the Field of Dreams.  Could it be that Eceti folks' shining lasers at moving objects attract attention from backpackers on the mountain with headlamps?

In conclusion, CarpeSummer’s intrepid reporters could not confirm any UFO activity.  That does not mean UFO’s do not visit Trout Lake with great frequency.  If our reporters had stayed until sunrise, maybe they'd have made contact.  Just because goofy people believe in something does not mean that it does not exist.  Maybe our reporters just missed contact by a night or two.  Maybe Allyson did not possess the requisite open mind. 

So, without ET contact, we have no way of disputing Mr. Gilliland’s experience with ET’s, and I do not want to dispute his hope for universal peace and love.  He wrote, “They all carry a universal message. Their focus is universal peace, brother / sisterly love and to honor the Creator in all creation. It is the same message handed down by every enlightened master that ever walked the Earth.”

Friday, July 5, 2013

Monte Cristo Trail Hike.




If it is early July in Trout Lake, then it is time to get to the Monte Cristo Trail. The trailhead is very hard
to find, which explains why we never see people on the trial, which explains why nature is taking back some of the trail (as pictured here).

Monte Cristo Trail, Gifford Pinchot Forest, Washington State
This time of year, one can see at least 2 or 3 dozen different species of flowers in bloom, two or three mountains, and "Sound of Music" views.  
We enjoyed clear, blue skies overhead as we saw a weather front of clouds to the West, over Camas and Vancouver.  Strong, blustery winds buffeting us on exposed ridges. .

Mt. Hood from Monte Cristo Trail
Monte Cristo Trail view of Mt. Adams

Great exercise walking up and down hills for over three hours, which made our dinner of homemade, grilled pizza taste even better.  

Day One for Trout Lake StayCation


We started our long stretch in Trout Lake with a creative meal entirely on sticks / skewers, thanks to Rob.  Get this. 

Caprese Salad on a stick (not grilled):  alternating tomato, mozzarella and basil leaf, then drizzle good balsamic vinegar.  Why don’t vendors hawk that at baseball games?  “Cold Beer!  Cold Beer! Caprese Salad!”

Next course:  Sectioned corn on the cob with red bell pepper in between, seasoned with olive oil, salt and pepper and grilled.

Next: Grilled Brussels sprouts on a skewer.

Main course on a stick:  Grilled chicken, onion, and pepper.

Dessert on a stick (not grilled): soft fudge brownie, with raspberries with a drizzle of a raspberry, sugar and Grand Marnier reduction sauce on top. 

That provided plenty of energy for a fast walk along Trout Lake Creek before stargazing later.

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Mississippi evening marks the true start of summer in Portland.


There’s the calendar, then there’s the feel.  Friday night felt like summer, so did last night and this morning. 

N. Mississippi Avenue offers a few of the most vibrant blocks in Portland.  From about Skidmore to Freemont, the avenue is packed with restaurants, bars, ice cream shops and people on a summer night. 
This is a change from just two or three years ago.  The vacant condos have been sold, the storefronts have filled in, and some of the less successful operators have been replaced.  Now there is a density of attractive places.  We stopped for a beverage at Interurban, then grabbed food at the Koi Fusion food cart next to Prost!.  Prost! is smart enough to offer an attractive deck with stairs into the food cart pod, and it welcomes people with food from other places, so long as they buy booze from Prost!. 

From that north end, we meandered south, enjoying the warm evening, people watching, and, eventually, some really good ice cream from Ruby Jewel Scoops

Saturday morning found us relaxing on our deck with our coffee and tea.  Saturday evening, we joined an impromptu dinner at Gilt with 7 others before checking out the new wine bar called Remedy on the North Park Blocks.  So new, Remedy still had the faint smell of paint.  That commercial condo had been for sale for a while.  Remedy did a terrific job building it out to a very attractive setting.  We ended up at the McSordyl Condo, a/k/a “Party Party House.”

This morning, back on the deck with coffee, birds, flowers, clear skies and the forecast of (1) 90 degrees and (2) work on a Petition for Writ of Mandamus to the Oregon Supreme Court.  Because, after all, all play and no work would make Jeff a dull boy. 

Monday, June 24, 2013

Converting "We shoulds" into "We dids."

How often do we say to  friends or friendly acquaintances, "We should get together."  It happens more times than I can count.

Often, Allyson and I say it when we run into people at events, "Let's go out to dinner some time."  And "some time" turns into years with everyone's busy life.

Other times, to out-of-state family or friends, "You should come out to visit.."

This past weekend, we converted some of those shoulds into dids.  Friday night, we finally met another couple for dinner.  We run into them now and then or talk briefly on the phone.  But we never seemed to actually put a date on the calendar.

Then,  Allyson's best friend from high school had a couple of nights in Portland on her way between So. Cal. and Canada.  It's been so long that her kids are now 17 & 15 years old. It was great to see such a pleasant family.

Sunday evening, I let the other adults talk among themselves by taking the teenagers out for a long hike in Tryon Creek State Park.  I had a great time listening to what's on their minds and explaining what we were seeing along the way.  Matthew saw his first woodpecker. and by the time we trudged back to the car, they could distinguish a cedar from a fir.   (I think they were so tired that their strange, motel beds were no impediment to sleeping last night.)



Sunday, June 23, 2013

Comedians in the Family


Before Comedian Auggie Smith was “Auggie,” he lived downstairs from his uncle on Burnside in Portland’s Laurelhurst neighborhood.  (I’ve known his uncle since 1980.)  Uncle Tim encouraged the boy to give comedy a try, and we watched him at the open mic at a Silver Dollar Pizza on NW 21st.   Since then, Auggie’s hit all the comedy clubs and many colleges in the U.S. of A.  In 2010, he won both the San Francisco and Seattle comedy competitions.

Last night, it was good to see Auggie headline and kill at the Helium Comedy Club in Portland.  Satire, irony, and current events are his stock in trade.  Wild-eyed rants are his vehicle.  He’s married now,  and they settled down in Los Angeles last year.

Now, my niece Rachele is giving comedy a go.  She’s hosting at the Laugh Factory in Hollywood, CA next weekend.  Which begs these questions:

At the laugh factory, do Chinese comedians sleep upstairs in triple-high bunk beds and toil every day cranking out jokes?  “Did you hear the one about the Beijing Barber who . . . ?  So Confucius, Buddha and a Shaolin Priest walk into a sooty bar in Jiangsu Province . . . .“ Are there suicide nets to catch the jumpers from the Laugh Factory sweat shop? 

Which reminds me of one of my dad’s jokes, “Did you hear that 1 in 4 children born in the world is Chinese? So, my wife and I stopped at 3 kids.”

Okay.  I’ll stick to serious law and forget comedy, except in a cheerleader role.

Heeeeeeeeeere's Rachele Friedland on Youtube.

and heeeeeeeeeeeeere's Auggie:





Thursday, June 20, 2013

Dandy Warhols kick off the Summer


Summer began at 10:04 p.m. with the The Dandy Warhols playing their third or fourth song of the night at Portland’s Wonder Ballroom.

With general admission seating, we figured it might make sense to get in before the 8:30 start time.  Ha!  The old hall was nearly empty when we arrived.  Hmm.  Either the band has no fan following despite all of its hits, or we don't know how things work here. Yep, we were ignorant.  Warm up band until about 9:10, and the first Dandy song started at 9:49.  Now, we know.  We also know not to go to concerts at the Wonder Ballroom.  You'd think a concert hall might care about acoustics, but I guess not.

So, we learned a couple of things to start the summer.  We learned that the Dandy Warhols have some good songs, we learned not to go to concerts at this venue, and we learned that we should ask around to see when bands start at different places.

We also confirmed that we enjoy getting out together and trying new things on a weeknight.   

Good bye Spring. Hello summer.