From Skates to Skis

Wow! Our Hans Brinker days are already over for this winter! Even the persistent 40 mph winds couldn't sweep our wonderful natural skating rink (the lake) clear during our 9-12 inch dump over the past 30 hours. The only skating we'll be doing for the next few months will be at a small manmade outdoor rink that is plowed occasionally. The ice was perfect this year, but the season was short-lived.  Some people are even pulling their fish houses back off the lakes already, as this load of drifted, hard-packed snow will likely put enough weight on the ice that in some places the water beneath will be forced up around the edges, flooding the ice.

Yesterday afternoon, just for fun and fresh air, we tried to ski to the store while the storm was still running its course. We figured we'd use the outing to pick up a couple slightly necessary groceries. But our heading was right into the wind, visibility was limited, and we didn't get far before we realized the -40F wind chills that were forecast had actually arrived and just weren't worth it. This morning our front door was frozen shut, it took my husband an extra two hours to snowblow our driveway before he could leave for work (3-1/2 altogether), and even medical clinics were closed for the day. One of our cats has the sniffles now and we think her ears have a little frostbite--we didn't know she was outside when we left to do some errands this afternoon.

We enjoy winter, snow, and cold temps... We even enjoy extended periods of below zero highs, with a few -40F days thrown in, because they usually mean limited suffering and the comfort of a warm fire and hot drinks on our part, plus a season of killing back the pine beetles and other insects that have been destroying our trees at an alarming rate. I love being "stuck" indoors for a season of reading, writing, sewing, and reflecting. But right now we're praying and watching with anticipation for the thermometer to rise just enough so we can get back outside and enjoy some of our favorite winter sports without jeopardizing our extremities, too. In the meantime, today I enjoyed Far Side of Fifty's photos of our recent storm and, especially, the triple sun dogs she captured this morning. I also appreciated reviewing Alicia Chole's online devotional for this week, titled "stunning but not safe," about the deadly beauty and other similarities of both physical and spiritual ice.  (If you want to read it, once you enter her site you have to click on the link in the lower right-hand corner to sign up for the free weekly online devotionals. The devotional is then emailed to you.)

God thunders marvelously with His voice; He does great things which we cannot comprehend. For He says to the snow, "Fall on the earth"; likewise to the gentle rain and the heavy rain of His strength. He seals the hand of every man, that all men may know His work. The beasts go into dens, and remain in their lairs. (Except our poor kitty!  Well, she's safe and warm in her bed NOW...) From the chamber of the south comes the whirlwind, and cold from the scattering winds of the north.  By the breath of God ice is given, and the broad waters are frozen. Also with moisture he saturates the thick clouds; He scatters His bright clouds. And they swirl about, being turned by His guidance, that they may do whatever He commands them on the face of the whole earth. He causes it to come, whether for correction, or for His land, or for mercy... Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.  --Job 37:5-14

The Walking Stick

Climb every mountain / ford every stream / follow every by-way / 'til you find your dream...

(from Climb Every Mountain, as performed in The Sound of Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein.  Okay, we just watched the movie again--part of our study of Europe--and that, plus the fact that I finally get to write about this part of our vacation, has left me a bit giddy...)

***

Our practice paid off. After six weeks of triathlon workouts (biking/hiking/swimming) for two hours every morning, we took a week off to pack, travel, and play in CA/OR with Grandma and Grandpa. But then we reached their home place, located less than an hour from my favorite mountain lake, and it was time for the test. Could any amount of exercise at our 1,000-foot elevation prepare us for a 14-mile hike at 4,000-7,000 feet???

It was to be a day hike, and we had a deadline since a special supper was planned for our return. Our alarm woke us while it was still dark. I finished loading lunch while my husband quietly rousted kids, and we snuck out before dawn without waking our elders. Our destination? My favorite lake or bust!

Over the years the trails to this lake have...evolved. When I was in my early teens we first hiked in using an arduous trail that was five miles one way, and we were more than grateful to set down our gear and set up camp for two nights before we had to pack back out. By my senior year in high school that first trail was closed, and our Backpacking Club took a new, more moderate, but longer trail in and out for a day hike. The following summer I worked for the USFS on a crew that used hand tools to maintain all the trails in the wilderness areas in that district. Along with kicking rocks and cutting out Douglas fir of great diameter that had fallen across the trails during winter, we spent one day picking rocks out of a fresh dozer trail that would one day become the trailhead from which hikers could get to the lake from the opposite side of the wilderness area. It was planned to be an easier, shorter route, with breathtaking panoramic views along the way.

But alas, I missed those views. I left Oregon that fall--headed east for college, and ended up settling in the Midwest after that. Over the years, during a couple different late spring visits, I attempted the trail, only to be forced to turn back due to snowpack. I had never made it to the lake via this newest trail. Now my family was excited to realize this dream with me.

Upon arriving at the trailhead, we ate a quick breakfast: fruit, yogurt, and breakfast bars; then took a pre-hike potty break and pix, donned our packs, and headed out. The flora in the area is very different from the species around our home, and the kids started noticing and appreciating this right away. Nevertheless, the first mile was breezy, chilly, steep, and, at this time of year, dusty. Reality dampened their excitement quickly, and it took a lot of encouragement, silliness, and photo-op stops to get our tired young trudgers over that initial hump. Once everyone warmed up and got going, though, we chugged along at a pretty good pace. We got our first glimpse of the lake from the ridge that overlooks it, and made it down to shore just in time for lunch. 

Like most of the other bodies of water in the volcanic Cascade range, this lake is crystal clear and icy cold. That means, of course, that it's enticing! Though seconds before we'd felt famished, the lake was captivating and immediately became more important than lunch. Some of us soaked our hot, aching feet... Others went swimming... I'll leave you to imagine who was in each group, but will say that my husband repeatedly commented on how comfortable his "new used" hiking shoes had been, and I got one incredible video of someone who donned her snorkel and mask, jumped right in, and...SCREAMED through her snorkel as she kicked and paddled underwater all the way across the small bay of our resting spot!

It sounded like a mama moose was charging us!

I'm sure all the wildlife in the area were fairly confounded!

It would have been great fun to share, except......I accidentally deleted it...!  :~O

By the time we arrived at the lake we had hiked seven miles and were tired, sore, dusty, hot, hungry, and had consumed about half of our water (we carried 80 ounces per person, plus had a large jug waiting back in our vehicle). Considering the time it had taken us to hike in, plus the surprise steep section of switchbacks we'd encountered on that last leg from the ridge down to the lake (this was not marked on the map--it was a "s-i-m-p-l-i-f-i-e-d" representation...), and the flagging energy of our children, we decided we had better plan some margin into our return. Thus, we figured we could only afford to spend about one hour resting at the lake before we had to start back. 

After a delight-ful/bee-free lunch (including a few handfuls of wild blueberries we found at the lakeshore--the bushes were loaded!) the kids played pleasantly at the edge of the water while I scouted and photographed the lake and scree fields. My husband lounged barefoot beside the trail, in the shade, in a large patch of huckleberry foliage, staining his shirt (and thus dubbing himself "Bear Bait" for the return hike). We all savored the solitude.

Finally I rinsed my feet one last time and sat near my husband to put on my shoes as he roused himself to do the same. Quietly he commented, "I wasn't sure this lake was really going to be worth the hike--that it would really be worth climbing the mountain. But it is--it definitely is. I wish we could stay here and camp for at least a week..."

What a wonderful, affirming, refreshing thing for him to say! I fell in love with him all over again!!!

However, the feeling of refreshment wore off quickly. The beginning of our return was at least as rough as the beginning of our beginning. Our kids must not be "barn-sour."  They were refreshed, but as soon as we left the lake the magnitude of the hike ahead of them overwhelmed them, and the "carrot" we dangled in front of them--the feast Grandma was preparing back home--was not sweet enough to empower them. They were not terribly in touch with the reality of our need to go. In the end, it took parental patience (for me that meant biting my tongue and letting my husband do the coaching...), careful pacing, and, mostly, their own personal shortage of water(!) to motivate them to climb back out and over that ridge.

Once on top, though, they were on a roll. During a quick water break our son looked around and found himself a walking stick, and this reminded him of something. Now, my husband and I are not entrepreneurs; in fact, we despise being analyzed for marketing purposes, almost completely hate shopping, and refuse to play the capitalist game. We enjoyed reading Gary Paulsen's Lawn Boy with our kids, but would not want to be the Lawn Boy...or hire him. For the most part, we like doing our work ourselves and train our children to do the same. So as the following conversation began, "Bear Bait," bringing up the rear, and I (in the lead) were first thoroughly amazed, then entertained, and finally astounded. We wasted no time shutting our mouths, opening our ears, and just revelling as we listened in on this conversation for most of the rest of our hike. It went something like this:

Oldest:  "Hey, remember our business?"

Youngest:  "What business?"  [This was a good question.  They're not like their parents in this respect. They have MANY capitalistic ideas "in process."]

O:  "You know--the one where we carve walking sticks to sell to people."

Y:  "Oh ya--that one.  I didn't know it was our business.  I thought you were just doing it with your friends."

O:  "Ya, I am. But you could be in it, too."

Y:  "Really? What would I do?"

Much brainstorming followed--over an HOUR of brainstorming. Very early on the youngest revealed her incalculable worth and was appointed Vice President, and then they introduced, discussed, and resolved every element of business with sober judgment beyond their years, from research to production to marketing to expansion to...investing?!?. Let's listen in again right there:

O:  "What should we do with the money?'

Y:  "Help the poor people."

O:  "Which ones, though?  I mean, there're all kinds of poor people."

Y:  "First we should help the ones that don't even have a house--the ones that just live in dumps, like Melvin in Honduras."

O:  "Okay.  Then who?"

Y:  "Then we'll help the ones like Gregor [Gregor the Overlander, in Suzanne Collins' fictional series], who have to live in tiny apartments and don't have enough money and only have a closet for a bedroom."

O:  "Um, ya, that's good.  Okay, and then who?"

Y:  "Then we'll help everybody else--rich people who just might need a little food or something."

Hmmm...investing in...people...  

Oh yes!  Truly a mountain worth climbing!

Magic Ice

Yesterday my friend, Far Side of Fifty, posted a reminiscent blog called "Magic Ice." I've only experienced ice like this one other time, when I was a teenager visiting a friend on her ranch in Oregon. And that time I didn't know how to skate. Just looking through the ice at the weeds and life carrying on below was thrilling enough, though. 

This year our ice is even clearer...so far. It unnerves me a bit to walk level on nothing but water as I watch the ground gradually falling away beneath me. Faith, Lattice, faith... I think I can now relate a lot better to Peter's anxiety as he stepped a few paces away from the boat!  ;~)

Our kids have never experienced perfect ice before. Often the wind blows too hard during this season, making the ice build in uneven ridges; or it snows as the water freezes, forming a huge sheet of jagged crystallized bumps littered with hollow pockets in surprising places, all hidden beneath a blanket of white powder. But our kids love to skate, good ice or bad, and for the past month our son has used at least one of his breaks during the school day to run down and check the depth of ice on our small swamp. A week or so ago it reached four inches, which was enough to walk on safely (the more daring were prob'ly driving ATV's on it by then), and as we've been studying the Scandinavian countries and watching Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates, the kids' excitement was at fever pitch and we nearly had a family incident by the time I dug out the skates this past weekend!

The kids were content on the swamp for two days, but then yesterday afternoon I walked to town to do some errands and detoured by the lake on my way home. There were two men on the lake, 30-50 yards out from the shore, removing small boulders that someone had thrown on the ice to check it's strength. Everywhere else the ice was a perfect smooth sheet. I trotted home as quickly as I could, knowing the swamp was never going to seem "enough" after this. No matter--this was not a gift to be left unopened! 

Everyone at home was up to their eyeballs in home projects, but I called a 30-minute recess, grabbed skates, camera, and kids, and headed back to the lake for some quick fun and fresh air. By the time we got there, the men were gone and the whole lake was ours. Within two minutes the kids were skating the entire length of our summer beach, stretching their wings and trying new tricks.

"Thanks, Mom! That was THE best skating I've ever been able to do! That ice is perfect! Will you take us again tomorrow, and bring your skates, too?"

...Well, yes, I think maybe I will... And I don't know if we might have inspired anyone who happened to be watching through the windows of their lake home, but like the Gospel, this news is too good to keep to ourselves. We invite you to join us...

Watson Falls

Mist filters past us

Driven by playful puffs of wind

Collecting on angel noses,

Dripping off ecstatic chins

From dark to open light

With rainbow rays of praise

Dancing around shadows

Swirling deep with timeless phrase

Forever tumbling, sparkling

Finding paths of least resistance

Heading t'ward full oceans

From some expansive distance

Sheer curtains of endless power

And opaque, dynamic glow

Merge in rhythmic, cyclic cadence

To pound loudly far below

And through the chaos at the bottom

Order is restored

Settling out 'round mossy boulders

Resumes a stream that we can ford

We spent the next several days of our trip in my old stomping grounds--the southern Cascade Mountains in Oregon, around Crater Lake NP. I spent my earliest "hidden years" there, climbing trees, building forts, running up and down game trails, romping around our secluded hydroelectric power camp. There were ten houses in our camp, plus the building where my dad worked, a school for the 40 1st-8th Graders who lived in our camp and the USFS camp a few miles up the road, and housing for our two teachers and the principal/teacher/bus driver/janitor/Phy Ed instructor and his wife, the librarian. There were three classrooms, the library, a gym, a playground and a ball field. Since there weren't very many of us, we had to modify game rules in order to play sports, and we square-danced for Phy Ed every Friday (so that was dress day... By third grade I was a total tomboy and hated to wear dresses, but my mom made me a square dance dress I loved!). We had all music and band classes on the same day of the week--the day the music teacher came to camp. Town was 60 miles away.

For me, it was an idyllic life. I liked to read Pippi Longstocking and Nancy Drew tales (our small library had almost all of Carolyn Keene's series), but I really connected with sweet Heidi of the Swiss Alps, reading her story over and over. I agreed with her that high in the mountains was the place to live, and I was steadfastly resistant (on the inside--had to acquiesce on the outside...) when my parents chose to move us to a large town just before I started 6th Grade.

Watson, Whitehorse, and Clearwater Falls were just a few minutes' drive from camp, and we visited them frequently. Huckleberry season, morel and coral mushroom season, deer and elk hunting, fishing, and wood-cutting season all beckoned us their way. I guess we were hunters-and-gatherers, living simply in the midst of some of God's most spectacular scenery.

But I was completely grown before I ever actually got in Watson Falls. I had long dreamed of daring it, but it's not an easy act. The water plunges 272 feet in a sort of "cathedral amphitheatre" of columnar basalt, landing in a shallow pool strewn with boulders. It's perfectly clear and paralyzingly cold, and the pelting curtain moves--a long, slow swirl, kind of like water swirling down a funnel (except pelting!). In an exhilarating, kind of "last act" together before my brother got married and life changed, he took my hand, pulled me up and past the trail, and led me straight into the torrent at the bottom of the falls. That dousing was defining--one of the most freeing, joyful experiences of my life. It is standing in the presence of Almighty God and being washed clean! I danced... 

And it was on my "must do" list to pass that experience forward to our kids during our recent trip. They were quite eager and intrepid to do this wild, extraordinary thing, and we had a blast. But it illustrated a different concept for them. It gave them a whole new appreciation for the concept of honoring their parents. My husband and I have since enjoyed being viewed as a valuable part of the fabric of the umbrella God provides to protect them from our enemy's fiery darts!

Umbrella

A picture is worth a thousand words, but for the rest of the story, click here.

Common Decency

He stirs up the sea with His power, and by His understanding He breaks up the storm... Indeed, these are the mere edges of His ways, and how small a whisper we hear of Him! But the thunder of His power, who can understand?  --Job 26:12, 14

The conclusion of the election process seems like a natural break--a perfect place to refocus and finish journaling our vacation lessons. Now let's see...where were we? Oh yes--we had just arrived at the vast, powerful, massive piece of creation known as The Pacific Ocean! (Which is just the mere edge of His ways??? The small whisper we hear of Him...? Wow!)

My husband and I have each lived a small part of our lives on the ocean, and wanted to help our kids take in and savor their "very last first time" there. We coached them in safety concerns before we left the hotel, then borrowed a bit from an idea set forth in James Michener's novel, Space. He says to first look at the stars with the naked eye, then binoculars, and then, finally, a telescope, pacing oneself to enjoy each layer of revelation...  

Our kids started first with just a glimpse of the ocean (easy to accomplish since it was foggy). Once we parked, they stood for a moment just outside our vehicle to take in the panoramic view, first scents, and sounds. It was nearly high tide, so the small dunes with strange new vegetation were more impressive than the slim offerings of the beach (just a few broken shells and no tide pools). After a bit of dune exploration, we approached the frothy outskirts of the tumbling, churning waves. First we snuck up just close enough to run away from them. Finally, we clasped hands tightly and tackled them head on!

What ecstatic fun! What energy!  What freezing temperatures!  After racing and jumping waves at Samoa Beach for most of a very gray morning, we were nearly hypothermic. We changed clothes (no Far, we did NOT need scissors!--we held up damp beach towels to change behind), crowded into our vehicle and turned the heat on full blast, and relished the warmth as we meandered a few miles north of Eureka, CA, to have fresh seafood for lunch at a merchant's marina cafe'. After ordering hot drinks all around, I went to wash. In the women's restroom there is a sign that reads:

"California state law and COMMON DECENCY dictate that all employees wash their hands before returning to work."

The sign is probably common to the people who work there, but I found it refreshing!  ;~) Common decency... Isn't that really just another term for love? Makes me think of God's second greatest commandment: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."  Even washing our hands is a loving thing to do, for others as well as ourselves!

After lunch we played at two warmer, sunny beaches before meandering through the gentle giants in Redwood National Forest on our way north to Crescent City. We arrived at suppertime, still shivering but also glowing.  As we checked into the motel where we had reservations, my father noticed a little sign on the counter:

"You must report any pets traveling with you. There is an extra charge for small dogs.  Note: California state law prohibits leaving pets in vehicles."

Another "sign of love?" When I called to make our reservations I was asked if we'd be bringing any pets, but it never dawned on me, a month ahead of time from here in MN, that my parents out west might bring their two Australian Shepherds with them.  Even if it had, it wouldn't have dawned on me that I needed to notify the motel. For my whole life my parents have either found caretakers or traveled with their dogs as circumstances dictated, but they've never lodged them in a motel. They provide padded mats for the dogs to lie on during driving or sleeping at night; bring along their leashes, dishes, food, and a supply of clean water for them; make frequent stops to meet their needs; and always leave the topper's windows open for adequate ventilation. My parents care for their pets as responsibly as they care for me, but they do not lodge them in motel rooms...

We reported our pets to the desk clerk, and then we were ALL in a real pickle. The dogs were too big to be allowed into the motel room, the law prohibits lodging them in the vehicle, and it was too late to cancel our reservation without having to pay full price for the rooms. Besides, there was no place else to go. The clerk resolved the issue by charging us the extra pet cleaning deposit even though the pets wouldn't be in the room, and telling my father to park in an out-of-the-way space in the parking lot, make the dogs wait for their evening constitutional until after dark, and hope the dogs didn't bark and attract anyone's attention. After getting our wet, sandy clothes washing in the Guest Laundry and taking a quick hot shower to warm up, I found my father in the parking lot taking care of his dogs. It broke my heart when his face crinkled in frustration and his voice cracked when he spoke, "I feel like such a criminal, sneaking around out here!"

Later we learned that such laws are not limited to California. It is illegal to leave pets in vehicles overnight in our state, too. In my world, animals have never needed the government to protect their rights--they've had caretakers with common decency, and that was enough. But I guess activists somewhere have found people who need Big Brother to tell them how to be responsible owners. Whether lawmakers are fanatical or just trying their best to enact reasonable laws, animal rights seems to be an issue where balance is hard to find. My parents were unfairly charged, and forced to break the law, because they brought their "over-sized" dogs with them. And yet they brought them because of...common decency.

Besides that we were spending time in environments those dogs LOVE, playing with people those dogs LOVE, and that they both enjoy traveling, one of the dogs had recently contracted a horrible eye infection. Her vet prescribed medication that had to be administered to her eye several times a day, and the elderly neighbor who usually cares for the dogs when my parents have to leave them could not manage the job. Bringing the dogs along was the most reasonable, decent choice my parents had.

We left Crescent City the next morning, mentally battered but thankful that at least in the previous election the proposed CA state law that would have limited pet travel to only 1-1/2 hours per day did not pass!

What a simple yet complicated concept is "common decency." How hard it is for us to account for all eventualities and set boundaries that truly define love. There are as many choices to make about loving as there are ways to blog. Perhaps that's why God didn't get overly specific in His commandments, and admonishes us to avoid legalism.  His plan is for us to be free to love.

Not my will, but Thine...

"...there's no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God."  

Romans 13:1

It's late, and we already know who won the next presidency.

It's seemed like natural foreshadowing the past couple days to substitute the name "America" for "Assyria" as I've read through the short book of Nahum... (If you try this exercise, don't give up in the middle!)

The peoples' choice is not my choice, but okay, Lord, You are God and I am not. You've put me in this position of surrender before, and You were faithfully full of surprises then...  Your ways are higher--much higher!--than mine...  Thank You for staying in control and implementing YOUR perfect plan.

(Note: If you viewed this blog in its original form you will notice it's now changed. This morning the Lord convicted me that while it was a little catchier with my tongue-in-cheek thoughts, my attitude was out of line.  It reflected resignation but not true surrender to Him. I apologize.)