A cooling off trip

Murphys, Ca -- Back home in time for the Fourth of July, and 100 degree heat, I need to share a few items from our recent vacation trip to the California coast.
If you have not been to this part of the world, it is hard to imagine the variety and the beauty of the coast. That's true north and south, but for this trip we went first to the San Francisco Bay area for some sailing, and then drove north for a week or so of camping with friends and family.

Here's a rare photo of s/v Good News with Oakland in the background, heading out for the bay. It turned out to be a lot windier than we expected, so it was more exciting than planned.

The next day I decided to pull down a sail that needed minor repair, and replace it. Bad decision, as we ended up with a jammed halyard that I will have to fix next time.

I did not get our boat problem fixed, but I was able to help out a neighbor who cranked me up his/her mast to retrieve a loose shackle and lanyard. It is easy: all you do is sit in the Bosun's Chair while someone else does all the hard work. Easy in a calm harbor, that is. The top is about 50 feet up.

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We then drove north on Highway 101, aka the Redwood Highway, and made an overnight stop at  Richardson Grove State Park, along the Eel River, the first test of our new "instant" tent. It worked fine and the next day we drove on up through Coastal Redwood forests and along the coast to our destination: Patrick's Point State Park, where we settled in for almost a week with family and friends.

Here's Pat enjoying a bit of sunshine at our campsite. Just beyond the trees on the right is the top of the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, a place we visited for sunrises and sunsets.

 This is the view from just south of the camp area, looking north into the little harbor at Trinidad. Picturesque, and fully equipped with good clam chowder and colorful people.

Pat with daughter Ruth on a hike. The extended family present included 18 people! Ruth and Brian and their kids, Brian's folks and sister Tammy and her kids, his cousin and his family, and our friends and neighbors Gary and Jeri Carson Hull.

Just another stunning view.

Jeri and Gary, probably looking for the warm sunshine.

Agate Beach at the state park. Yes, you can find and bring home agates. 

On the way to and from Oregon we stopped by a meadow at Prairie Creek State Park to share a lunch and watch the elk. The new babies were gamboling on the meadow. Really.

And then to the southern Oregon coast. This is at, you guessed it, Arch Rock, just north of the California border.

Our next-to-last night was spent at Gold Beach, Oregon, where our room balcony overlooked the Rogue River very near where it meets the sea.

We drove through the Trinity Alps area, including Weaverville, spent one night in a so-so motel, and got home about ten days after we left.

The views were obviously spectacular, but the best memories are of the family and friends we were with, the new people we met and simply being together in a wonderful place and time.

We did have one serious discussion with Gary and Jeri, trying to decide what we are vacationing from, since we are retired. Gary suggested we were vacationing from volunteering, which is probably as good an answer as any other.

Happy (?) New Year!

Camp Connell, CA - The year 2011 has officially begun, and so far so good.
I know. It is only two days old.
But.
Our elected officials are all on vacation so they have done no harm -- so far.

The ski resort up the road has had a booming holiday season, which has spilled over into the local businesses that have been struggling. That's good for my working neighbors.

Everyone in our immediate family is employed -- if they want to be.

All are healthy and seem happy.
Daughter Ruth, granddaughter Delaney, and best in-law Leroy, helped celebrate my 70th birthday at the Camp Connell store in 2010
Son Zack, granddaughter Katie and Pat celebrated Zack's birthday with a cake

It will be another year of transition for me, hopefully all positive.

Some things are required.
My IRA's have "matured" along with me, and I have to do something about them in the next three months. I hate that sort of decision making, but the clock is ticking.
Like many retired couples and families this year we will learn to get along with less, as the last few years have carved down our savings. The last time I ran the numbers our savings lost about 60% of their value in the past three years. Social Security suddenly is a lot more important that it used to be.
My body requires a certain amount of maintenance which seems to entail increasing doctor visits for probes and scans and examinations to make sure I am just aging, not deteriorating at an unnatural pace.
I have never been good at the type of exercise people get by working out in gyms, so I will have to try harder to get out and walk more, whether in the snow or not. I recall vividly the advice a physical therapist once passed along" "Use it or lose it."
Fortunately, there are plenty of trails to hike, mountains to ski, and lots of wood to haul to keep the home fires burning.
We have yet to hike the trails up Mount Whitney, seen here in the Fall, above the Alabama Hills near Lone Pine

I don't make New Year's resolutions anymore, but two things I want to do more of this year are sailing and get back to working on the family history.
The family history project, which my grandmother began in 1935, may move ahead thanks to Pat's gift of a subscription to an on-line genealogy service. It is an amazing tool and saves hours and hours of research. Now I just have to start writing.
"More sailing" has been an unrealized goal for several years. We love our boat, but it sits tied to the expensive dock in Alameda most of the time. Why is it when you retire you do not have time for things you claim you want to do?
So far we have decided to keep the boat and try to use it more. But each year we come closer to the inevitable decision that the cost and effort are not worth the ultimate pleasure. But owning a boat has never been logical, so do not expect a logical move in this area.
The other decision out there in our future is when will we have had enough snow and ice in the winter and need to move down the hill. Travel to warmer spots helps, but that has been limited recently by economic realities.
We will not leave the mountains, but the idea of living somewhere in the winter where we would not have to wait for the snowplow, shovel the deck, or worry about the power failing, well, that seems pretty attractive some days.

But for now the snow is falling prettily, the temperature is not bad, and the fire is going strong in the wood stove.

And whether I am ready or not, the new year is here.

Retirement scorecard -- Give me a B!

Camp Connell, CA - I had simple goals when I retired six short years ago after 42 years working as a journalist:

-- Avoid wearing ties and suits;

-- Read more;

-- Complete a family history project begun in the 1930s by my grandmother;

-- Avoid meetings and committees;

-- Be outdoors more, and --hopefully -- use hiking and skiing as a way to stay in decent physical condition;

-- Go sailing more often;

-- Play more music;

-- Do something positive to protect the environment for those who follow;

-- Watch the trees, and my children and grandchildren, grow.

Here's a report on what I have done, with my wife's help, and the things that still need work.

I rarely put on a tie or suit. Almost never. They gather dust in the closet, and I am glad. I believe I actually am averaging once a year: four funerals and one formal dinner. In our mountain community we wear shorts to church in summer and snow boots in winter. If this were graded, I'd demand an "A."

I have read a lot of books. Currently I am reading two books a week, sometimes three. I was reading five a week but couldn't remember what I was reading! Most are paperback fiction by popular authors. I've read or re-read almost all the Tony Hillerman books about Navajo country, lots of Dick Francis' horsey mysteries and every spy/intrigue/cop novel I can find. I also have read extensively on the history and cultures of Scotland and Ireland, read about the history of the Mother Lode region where I live, and even read about Tristan Jones' sailing adventures, Bill Bryson's travels in Australia, some Leon Uris and MacKinley Cantor and "The Shack." A lot of my books come from the neighborhood used book store, and I have a paper bag full of books on my bedside table. I am currently reading a yellowed 1941 edition of an unusually well-written book called "The Last Frontier" by Howard Fast.
Lots of dead Lamonts in the churchyard near Dunoon, Scotland

My lack of progress on the family history project is an embarrassment. I've done more research, including trips across the country tracking LaMonts from earlier generations, and visited Scotland where the graveyards are filled with dead Lamonts, and Ireland where no one remembers them because they left for America in 1740. But despite good intentions, I have barely begun to write any of this into readable form except for a biography of my father which I posted as a blog. Maybe this winter. (I know, this deserves a "F.")

For the first few years after retirement I did quite well avoiding committees and meetings, and then I started volunteering for things that seemed interesting. At this point I am serving on two committees, two non-profit boards and one search committee, all of which I care about. I have mixed feelings about meetings, but once committed I tend to stay with it. (For mental health, I play poker with friends on a regular basis. We are definitely NOT a committee, though it is a non-profit endeavor.)
Not so hard at work in the South Grove of Big Trees

I have definitely been outdoors much more than in my office-bound days. I did a lot of beach-walking when we stayed in Florida for two years, and since coming home to the mountains hiking is a part of my routine. In the summer I probably hike (or saunter) 12 miles a week, sometimes more, most of it as a volunteer doing patrols or guided walks at the local state park. The average drops in winter when the snows come, but I still manage to ski and snowshoe fairly often. But my manly physique tends to portly, and the only changes I have made is that my belly has moved lower with age, and my butt seems to be disappearing. But I am OK with that.

Our time for sailing has suffered from too much other stuff, and distance. But we still have our sailboat Good News docked in Alameda, and we get down onto the water when we can. It's great therapy.

I am not satisfied with the time I take for music. I am just lazy. Unless I have promised to play guitar or sing somewhere, or attend a music function, the instruments remain encased. I do own three more instruments, having gained a mandolin and a dobro, and a "boat guitar," but I can't claim to have made much progress. This is true even though last weekend I sang "The Mississippi Squirrel Revival" with friends as a warm-up act at a local concert. Progress still needed.

I am spending a lot of time on my local environment, working in different ways to try and make things better. Pat and I both volunteered for six weeks of work in Yosemite National Park with the Yosemite Association after a 30-year love affair with that most beautiful of national parks. And we work regularly as docents at Calaveras Big Trees State Park. I lead guided walks among the Giant Sequoias and break trail for snowshoe walks in winter. This year I began working on the Trail Maintenance Crew. We normally work two days a week clearing trails (neglected for years by the idiot legislators who can't understand the need for park maintenance) and doing minor repair work. We have a great team filled with energy and spirit, and have managed to clean up every mile of every major trail in the 6,000 acre park this summer. It is enormously rewarding and a great learning experience. (Who else gets to see a bear in the wild on the way to work?) Our group includes experts on everything from biology to botany, wildlife to construction, so I learn something new every day I am in the woods. Join us when you are ready.
The work in the park led me to serve as a board member for the Calaveras Big Trees Association, the outfit that raises money for the park (so it won't fall apart due to neglect by the state). Concerns about my neighborhood in the forest also prompted me to serve on the board of a grass roots group called Ebbetts Pass Forest Watch which promotes good forestry practice, not the clear-cutting rape-the-land type practiced by some of our neighboring timber companies. I've learned a bit about Timber Harvest Plans (almost always approved by the state), and biodiversity and habitat protection. I just hope it is not too late.

Finally, Pat and I have had a wonderful chance to watch our grandchildren, and their parents, grow. Shortly after Pat and I moved to the mountains daughter Ruth and her husband Brian and children Delaney and Connor moved only 20 miles away, and we see them frequently. Then our son Zack moved here for a job, and last Spring his daughter Katie came to live with us. Katie and Delaney attend the same school, and Zack and I are co-coaches for Connor's soccer team.
So we now have our own family village.

I hope I have miles to go before I sleep, but I have no complaints. I just hope Grandmother LaMont's ghost will forgive me for not getting on with that family history project.

Not a bad place to do a little "work"

Retirement benefits

Doing my park docent thing at Calaveras Big Trees Park

Camp Connell, CA -- "All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts..."

I don't know if Shakespeare had it right about there being seven stages of man, or woman, but he certainly nailed it on the head when he wrote that there are stages of life we go through.

I've been in the retirement stage of life for more than five years, and life could not be more different than when I worked every day for a living. I still do what I call work, but it is a whole different thing.
I am not ready to vacate the stage, incidentally, but I am enjoying this penultimate act I am experiencing.

The benefits of retirement are many, and not listed in order of importance:
-- I can stay up late, whether in productive pursuits or playing computer games, and it doesn't bother anyone. That's a luxury, and a source of pleasure.
-- I don't attend meetings unless I want to, and -- no surprise -- usually, I don't want to. My life for decades seemed driven by an endless series of meetings, most of which accomplished very little and left me irritated and falling behind in my real work. Now I attend if I can learn something, or offer something.
-- I learn something new almost every day, and that is a source of joy. It may be a lesson in wilderness survival in the winter, the wisdom of a grandchild, or the Latin name of my favorite tree. Or it may be, thanks to the New York Times' continued availability online, some lengthy article about an obscure subject I find interesting.
-- I actually share my days and nights with my wife. We really like each other and enjoy being together, so much so that once in a while we can comfortably enjoy individual pursuits and quiet times without feeling cheated. We have time to be together. And knowing and enjoying my children as adults enriches my days.
-- I am free to attend my grandchildren's events, such as school sports and scout ceremonies, and I don't have to go if I don't want to. They are loving children and are glad to see me, and secure enough not to worry about it if I don't show up. That takes the pressure off. I always enjoy their company.
-- I work with my hands and stay outdoors a lot more than I did before retirement. I chop and stack wood endlessly (we go through five-to-six cords a year here in the snowy seasons). I shovel snow. I make our home fire-safe. I helped rebuild kitchen countertops, erected a snow shed, varnished and unvarnished our sailboat, and am currently painting our home, something I hadn't done in 30 years. These are rewarding activities, and injure to no person.
-- I get more exercise, because I want to, not because someone makes me do it. I hike, ski, and sail. I have given up tennis (no partners) and golf(I am too lousy) and rarely watch sports on television, but don't miss any of it. Except, maybe the tennis, which was really a gathering of friends.
-- I read more, lots more, than when I worked for a living. And I read what I want, which includes fun stuff as well as serious stuff, books as well as the Internet. I don't read much about journalism or the newspaper business. Too depressing.
-- I volunteer my time for things I want to do, such as leading nature hikes in the state park or helping visitors in Yosemite. Both include elements of teaching, which is fun and a great way to learn new things. I can help with music at church or in the community, which is probably sinful because it is too much fun.
-- And I am very slowly working on a legacy for my children and grandchildren, which is a family history project. I want them to know where they came from, and the history and influences that shaped us all. I'm a little behind schedule on that.

Oiling the teak on the deck of S/V Good News

This stage of retirement also includes some things I am not too wild about, but that list is shorter than the advantages:
-- I spend to much time going to and from various doctors, and I'm not even sick!
-- I worry too much about the distant future, more for my children and grandchildren than for myself;
-- I've become more cynical about politicians, the present President excluded, which is a shame. I just don't trust most of them to do the right thing;
-- I no longer have faith that this country, or even this planet, will survive. I'll reduce my impact, but I'm not sure it will help.
Skiing into the big trees on a nice winter day

Enough negativity.
In summary: retirement is great.
I miss the occasional expense account dinner. But generally, I'd rather have a peanut butter, banana and mayonaise sandwich at home anyway.
With Pat, Ruth, Delaney and Connor in Yosemite National Park

Sacramento goes Mexico

Here I was hard at work in the dining room of Casa de Sanza, also known as Joe Santana's home in LaManzanilla. The message I am sending says: "Having a wonderful time."
Photo two is Capt. Michael under the casa's palapa taking a picture of Admiral Sylvia looking at the sun setting over Tenacatita Bay. In the distance is the location of their soon-to-be-built retirement home.


Photo three is Pat, Scott, David, Lily, Michael and Jen, awaiting breakfast on the beach about 200 feet from the crocodiles' location. Where else could you see a teacher, mechanic, banker, corporate executive, college professors and law school student (and a former journalist) having a good time and not talking about business, but about the quality of the food, friendship and last night's rest.

Photos four and five are the members of the group either making music, or eating, something we did a lot.


Maybe it's because of the warm days and cool nights. Or perhaps the sunsets. Or the beach. Or the food. or the friendly people. Or the cerveza.
But for some reason the weat coast of Mexico seems to attract a lot of peope from Northern California, particularly from the Sacramento area.
The pictures show some of the strenuous activities required.
Missing from these photos are a former Bee photographer, Dick, who we caught up with in Puerto Vallarta aboard "Solitude," Dustin, former Sacramentan who now lives in PV and works as a marine electrician, and Dan and Lorraine who we caught up with in Barra de Navidad and sailed aboard s/v Zephyrus to Tencatita. (Check the next blog for those pictures).

And if you are thinking this is only for the rich, think again. A decent hotel room in LaManzanilla costs $37 a night with private bath.
The temptation is to return and go native, but the natives won't buy that when I try to speak my version of Spanish. But all you really need to know is "gracias," "por favor" and los banos?" That'll get you by.
We're all home now, watching the weather forecast (nice Spring weather, but cooler with a chance of showers later this week), but we haven't forgotten this.