Adventures, Random Thoughts, and A Little Zen

Adventures, Random Thoughts, and A Little Zen
Boneyard Beach, Bull Island, Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge, South Carolina

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas 2011

MERRY CHRISTMAS to ALL,

We hope you are rising to a sunny Christmas morning with all the excitement that it brought when you were a little one... okay maybe as much as last year then.  We decided to begin our Christmas with an argument over how many Christmas' we have spent together and I decided that we both should not have had a teaching certificate, but in the end we were both right and I reinvoked out teacher status.  

With Riverdance-like moves, Miki flitted and sprang around the kitchen as I made our traditional Sunday morning blueberry pancakes to a Celtic Christmas CD...who knew the skills she has been hiding all these years (30 or 31 depending which of us you had for math).  

Tooga greeted Christmas morning by spewing up his Christmas breakfast out of nowhere.  I learned he needs to chew his food more, but then I probably do too since I started eating my pancake 5 minutes after Miki started hers and we finished at the same time...hmmm.  Tuck didn't seem to mind that Tooga saw his breakfast twice.  Mulligan slept right through it as he celebrated his 17th birthday.

This past year has added a number of miles to our odometer as mostly documented here on Walliebloggin'.  But what was most fun of all for me was knowing that the Heyne-Winholtz nieces were on their way to new adventures as Grace and Callie started their Clemson college days, Cait finished hers in Florida and is beginning her next chapter in San Fransico,  Kayla has reached a good place with her job and friends, and they all continue to impress us with their energy and attitude towards life.  We love them bunches!

The "doghouse" sits motionless beside the house, wondering which direction it will be yanked next.  No immediate plans leave it in limbo for now, but this is about the time of year that my mind begins to wander.  Resting through it's first freezing temperatures outside, we hope all the water was drained out of its veins, so it doesn't spring a leak in the spring thaw.  

As the thermometer creeps above the freezing mark, the Celtic Christmas has turned to John Denver and the Muppets, Miki has begun making apples pies for lunch and we hope this finds you healthy, vibrant, and loving life.  From coast to coast and to Kodiak Island up north, we wish you a Merry Christmas and a most excellent New Year!  

We love you all!
Miki, Wallie, Tuck, Tooga, and Mulligan
Life is good!

My Zen from home:  It's not the number of cribbage wins you have that is important, it is the time you spend with your opponent!


Cribbage Win Count:    Miki - 10    Wallie - 4

Thursday, October 20, 2011

m r pigs... m r not pigs... m r SUP!

SUP?  According to the Urban Dictionary, SUP is a term that cool people use because they are too damn lazy to say What's up.  Well, in our quest to find more toys to play with, we discovered another meaning... Stand Up Paddling.  


Last fall we were in Cocoa Beach, Florida, waiting for a shuttle launch (pre-blog) and we saw our first stand up paddle boards.  There were a couple of guys standing on what seemed like surf boards and paddling them with long paddles parallel to the shore.  Once in a while they would catch a wave and ride it in a ways, turn and paddle back out.  Looked like work to me and blew it off.


Last June we were in North Carolina getting ready to put our inflatable kayak on the Tuckasegee River and we met a woman that had an inflatable SUP board just getting off the river.  Again, interesting, but who does that on a river?


This fall I decided to do a little Google-intel on these things and became a little more intrigued.  The reason for me is that I have a hard time exercising in the basement in one place.  So between my bicycle and paddling, I get to work both the top and the bottom of me to some extent.  I found a new start up company in the area that rented these curiosities and between the wind and the cold, we finally found a day last Saturday to check them out first hand at Lake Jacomo.


We met Jill (she and her husband began renting these this last August) at the boat ramp with her boards and paddles.  She gave us a short what to, how to, and Miki, Greg (Greg from Canada, my old P.E. teacher Greg), and I mounted our boards on a two hour trip to exhaustion.  


As I started to brace myself to stand up for the first time, the board was a bit wiggly from side to side (to be expected, after all it/we is a floating object), but after a few minutes of waking up some muscles that had been dormant and getting the paddle in the water and moving forward, what was a bit disconcerting was becoming possible.  We made our way to the next cove to get out of the slight breeze that was working against us and it became even easier.  We each had a different board from the other, so we swapped over the next two hours to see how they were different.  Some turn easier, some glide more easily through the water, some are wider and more stable, the paddles can be heavy (aluminum) or light (carbon fiber).  We paddled a while and rested a while and repeated the process until we wore ourselves slick.  At one point I realized that my feet hadn't moved from their initial position for some time and were going to sleep.  I laugh at Miki when that happens, but it is not so funny floating in the middle of a lake.


It was a good day (all two and a half hours of it).  We visited with Jill a bit more after coming ashore and then parted ways.  The 3 of us were jazzed about using this new thing (even though they have been around for a long time).  They have Polynesian roots, but gained popularity in Hawaii in the 60's, primarily for surfing.  Now people are bringing them inland to rivers and lakes...that's right...rivers...with rapids...








It became clear to me that we would have one of these paddle boards when I started looking on Craigslist that evening after trying them out at the lake and found an inflatable one near Topeka for $50.  At first I thought it was a misprint and should have been $500, but it really was one zero after the 5.  They easily go for $700 and up, inflatable or not!  I figured for that price I didn't care if it had a few holes it it or not.  It does hold air, seems brand new, and we just got paddles for it.  It seems looking back, that adding a stand up paddle board to our arsenal of toys was inevitable.  Now... will we love it... that is yet to be seen.  Stay tuned.


My Zen from the water:  I followed my own Zen from the last post and did something for the firs time.  I usually don't walk the walk, but babble on like the Zen Master I am not. While on the water, Greg and I were talking about all the little muscles dealing with our balance to keep us from falling, without a whole lot of thought.  In that moment I began to appreciate my body for what it is capable of doing, not what I thought it couldn't. After this realization, I promptly fell in the water...just kidding!  Aloha!


P.S.  I told Miki that if I had my own paddle board store I would call it... (wait for it...)
"What SUP?"  (like "what's up" ...get it?)
Okay, I probably won't have my own paddle shop.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Pre-Blog...The Original

Last spring, Miki and I loaded our newly acquired Montana 5th wheel with food and fur (the animals... Tuck, Tooga, and Mulligan) and headed out on our first travel adventure to Yosemite National Park. We would meet up with my sisters Alice and Betty and Alice's husband, David.

Before I stumbled into the land of the blog, I emailed our daily, sometimes weekly, antics from the road. This was primarily aimed at family, so they knew what the hell we were doing, where we were doing it, and cut down on our cell phone bill.
I found a few of the emails from that inaugural trip and am posting them now, so they too can be a part of our traveling history of observations, blunders, reactions, and learning curve to our life after teaching. Some editing (like capitalization) has taken place on the original emails so it looks like I care. 

April 21, 2011
We left Blue Springs Tuesday about 11am and headed for Yosemite, dragging a 13,000 lb doghouse behind us. Being our first big inaugural trip, I thought I would have written each night, but after two nights now...not a lot to write about. Have you traveled through SE Kansas, Oklahaoma, the panhandle of Texas, and eastern New Mexico...yeah, thought so. You haven’t, because there is no reason to. There is nothing to share about what we have seen (not that it is okay to generalize!). I am thinking Dodge City, KS is looking pretty good in comparison (no offense Stephensons!)...we may look for rv parks in Dodge to winter up next fall!
I thought surely there would be great stuff to see off the highway... not, we may have a partial solution to our southern border problem...give Mexico back the land we took from them...they might not want to travel that far in those conditions??? Just a thought. 

We will stay in 3 walmart parking lots and a KOA on the way. The pets are great traveling in the truck. The cat on the floor of the passengers side and the dogs in the back. Thanks for reading, I’ll try to only pass on stuff slightly more interest as the days pass on the way to Yosemite.
Our second of three Walmart nights. We awoke to a
half dozen new friends. Some traveling, some homeless,
and I am sure a few sleeping off a really fun night. 
April 22, 2011
Welcome to day 4, of what I thought would be a never ending sea of featureless hell, but what a difference a shower can make!...and a change of scenery...and underwear for that matter! We left the comforts of our Albuquerque Walmart and headed out at the butt crack of dawn Wednesday. Not that I am wanting to come across as a whiner, but when we walked the dogs in a nearby Albuquerque park, there were fire ants the size of Volkswagons and tiny burrs that stuck to the dogs paws making them limp, for what appeared to be no reason. You can only tell a dog to suck it up so many times before you feel like you need to investigate. I guess the point is, we won’t be relocating to Albuquerque anytime soon. I’ve incorporated the name Albuquerque a number of times to impress you... the spelling of it, that is.
We arrived just west of Flagstaff, AZ (Williams, AZ) Wed. afternoon to find our KOA awaiting...this meant “hookups!” in the RV world, hookups, have a totally different meaning than in the real world. To me it meant a hot shower! (the one mentioned earlier). Hookups are your “utilities,” not your next...well, you know. These utilities we take for granted at home... water, electricity, and sewer (cable if you are lucky...not so lucky tonight).
We ended our day by hoofing it 60 more miles north, to the big ditch, the Grand Canyon...just in time for sunset. Of course, since our retirement has become all about our pets, we dragged the dogs with us and like “flat stanley,” see an elementary teacher if you don’t know who that is, we took a picture of our dogs on the rim of the Grand Canyon for them to always cherish this moment in dog years time. Have included 4 pics this time, for your enjoyment or amusement. We will be in Yosemite over the weekend, so we’ll see you next week for more adventures of Tuck and Tooga (our dogs), the flat stanleys of the canine world.
We hope you have survived MAP (state testing for you non educators) and know that the rest of your year will be awesome.... HA!...remember, its the thought that counts.





April 27, 2011
Oh my god! No, I don’t have texting yet, but we hiked to the top of Yosemite Falls today. A mere 3.5 miles, one way, yet a staggering 2500+ feet elevation change…straight up. Let’s have some perspective here. This is approx. ½ mile up (½ the depth of the Grand Canyon), some 60+ switchbacks, through some small, yet slippery snowfields, all while telling your legs they can lift you up one more time, over and over again. The first hour wasn’t too bad. The second hour was doable, because we had most of the switchbacks behind us. And the third hour we kept going only because it was farther to turn around and go back down. Hitting the top was awesome though. There was a rock climber who had strung a rope across the precipice at the mouth of the upper Yosemite waterfall. At first, we thought it was some kind of stunt like a tightrope walker. It was just a couple of guys doing their rock climbing thing…anywho… after an hour on top for lunch, we headed down for another 3 hour punishment, targeting another group of muscles. It wasn’t too bad starting out, but then the bottom never came. Those 60+ switchbacks seemed to have doubled. Knees, feet, thighs started to scream. Hikers that came too close could have been punctured by my hiking poles (the only thing that saved my knees from totally giving out…sort of)…had they uttered, “How’s it going?” one more time. Eventually we made it to the bottom and hobbled back to the car and home for some pizza in town! Spectaclular views (see photo). The pic is of the upper falls, I think I sent a pic of the lower falls already. I think each of you has a twin out here, due to the fact that I think I have seen you all at one time or another…not to mention I had a school dream last night, but that is another story.
Hope all is well. We head home next Monday. 
P.S. Send a few positive thoughts, since I won’t be able to walk normal for a few days…or wish me more pain since I am here and you are there, I’ll take either.
P.S.S. In the pic, we ate lunch on top left of the falls!








Back to present time:

Well, if you didn't get these reports last spring, the void has been filled.  Shortly after the Yosemite trip, I discovered blogging and have subjected you to it every time we've hit the road since, and then some.  I have a love/hate relationship with blogging, but more love than hate, so I will continue to put it out there when the rubber meets the road again.  Until then I will leave you with a post, first, Zen from the the road...

My Zen from the road:  The first time you do anything, there is a certain amount of stress, unknowing, and excitement.  This has been a year of firsts...our first time being retired, first time buying a 5th wheel, first time dragging a 5th wheel across the country while being retired.  The important thing to remember here is that there needs to be that first time, so there can be a second, a third, and so on.  So do something for the FIRST TIME!


Friday, September 16, 2011

Colorado - Sept. 2011 - All good things...

Within the first year of being unemployed (by choice), Miki and I have been to both coasts twice, Michigan, Canada, and now Colorado.  Each trip had a purpose, but Colorado was the first real time we had no agenda, no real purpose, and was very freeing.  We hiked, biked, fished, and relaxed.  The dogs got their chance to rise to the challenge of high country chipmunks and expand their encyclopedic sense of smell.  


Today we hit the farmer's market one more time this morning followed by our last hike.  The weather cleared enough to take the dogs for one more up hill walk.  The Meadow Creek trail starts right on the edge of Frisco, along I-70 and heads toward the Gore mountain range.  In retrospect I went to a different trailhead, but all goals were still accomplished.  got the dogs out, fished, and hiked our butts off, all without getting rained on (well not too much...got sprinkled on).
We head up the trail, and up, and up, and more up...
I guess you do that in the mountains though.  Why am
I surprised we begin each hike this way?
I am relishing the sun at this moment of rest, it was more
cloudy than sunny...and even more, I am sucking oxygen!
Job well done, proud puppies.

Some old beaver ponds were my target for some
afternoon fishing.
We eat lunch in a meadow beneath
towering peaks...the boys enjoyed a
strip rawhide.
My first cutthroat on my line.  These beaver ponds were
full of these guys waiting for each fly I tossed their way.
Our descending trail overlooking Frisco and Lake Dillon.
Plenty of signs that fall has arrived in the mountains.
Back to the doghouse once more to see another
rainbow (not the fish this time).
As we prepare to leave this area, we know we'll be back, because there is so much more to do...both in winter and summer.  So Frisco...til we meet again...it's been a good thing.


My Zen from the road:  Like the old saying goes, "All good things must come to an end." Unless we modify it to say,  "All good things should be repeated!"  It's a good thing.


Cribbage Win Count:    Miki - 2    Wallie - 4

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Colorado - Sept. 2011 - B*I*N*G*O

Wednesday was a work day (and the hair on the back of my neck stands up as I type the word work).  Break the doghouse down for a trip to the dump station (I suspect no need to go over that again), clean the (dog)house, a visit to Frisco's laundromat (tiny, small and clean), and just putz around.  And after a day like that, there is only one thing to do when the sun goes down... B-I-N-G-O Baby!  Ass right.  If it's Wednesday night, it's BINGO somewhere.  That somewhere was Silverthorne Elks Lodge #2561.  After a tasty dinner of hot dogs, beans, and potato salad to prime us for an evening of high frivolity and angst as each of what seems to be a billion numbers as called by a silver haired, mullet sporting Elk.


We arrived with minutes to spare, before the first number is called.  We plunk down our $11 a piece for the 4 regular bingo cards for the evening.  What we are unaware of is that throughout the evening, other game cards are sold.  By the time my wallet is worn out from opening and closing all night long, we've spent another... well let's say we could have paid to get the mullet cut off.


With a total of 26 lonely hearts sitting with anticipation of winning the big money, the first number is called.  We get off to a slow start and the first few games close without a Heyne/Winholtz voice shouting above the others, that 5 letter jackpot name-O, that Old MacDonald called his dog.  But the night was ultimately dominated by the couple from the campground.  Miki won $30 and I BINGO-ed with another person for $100 ($50 a piece), so we walked out at the end of the evening with $80 minus the amount of a haircut.  A good days work.


Thursday we awoke to a light blanket of snow on the surrounding peaks, mainly above tree line.  This was after the first winter storm warning of the season was issued (last night) for parts of the Rockies.  Below 11,000 feet, it was just drizzly.  
So what do you do when it is a soggy, fall day in the mountains of Colorado?  Get in your four wheel drive vehicle and search for aspen turning yellow.  With the recent precipitation and cooler temps, we could see the aspen in the campground showing signs of turning.  So, we had to get high (so to speak).  Our choice for a quick altitude gain was Boreas (Bore-ays) Pass, just south of Breckenridge.  A fairly well maintained gravel road that will take you to about 11,400+ feet above Charleston, SC.  Mostly a narrow, 2 lane road that will not rearrange your innards, unless you are in a real hurry.  It didn't take long as we climbed above the condos, cabins, and lodges of Breckenridge, to find aspen in varying stages of yellows and oranges.
Hints of yellow.
A little more.
We came around a corner and booyah!
If the conditions are right, some will
go to orange after yellow before
turning brown and falling off.
We love the light colored bark of aspen.
Remnants of the rain.




The colors turned a few heads...


Low hanging clouds covered the peaks.  You can
make out a few ski runs at Breckenridge on the right.
On Boreas Pass, Miki gave the dogs a
break and we ate lunch.
You could say we got a BINGO this day as well with the discovery of the turning aspen, high above Breckenridge.  What do you say to that Old MacDonald?


My Zen from the road:  
Look forward to what's around the corner.
Cribbage Win Count:    Miki - 2    Wallie - 4

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Colorado - Sept. 2011 - Cutthroat

The title to this entry does not refer to Miki in cribbage, but to one of my favorite trout, but I digress.  


Monday - 7:30 a.m. - We are heading out, leaving the dogs to rest from their big hike yesterday.  Our destination is Mohawk Lake (actually plural, because there are 2 Mohawk Lakes), so how about...we is heading for the back country and some big ass fishin' (meaning even I can catch one).  Last year when we spent some time in Frisco, we hiked to the Mohawk Lakes, just south of Breckenridge, CO.  It is described as one of the Colorado hikes that encompasses everything good in a hike.  It has vistas, mining relics, waterfalls, alpine lakes, and more.  More importantly, there are fish to be had.


To get there, it is a short drive just outside Breckenridge on a gravel road called Spruce Creek Road.  You wind through some mountain getaways, then the road turns to crap as we slip into 4 wheel drive.  The gravel has now grown in size, the road grade has increased, and the stiff suspension of the truck is now beginning to rearrange our organs as our speed goes from slow to crawl.


About 15 minutes into this adventure (remember we are crawling), this crap road turns to shit.  The larger gravel has become small boulders, the ruts multiply, and the grade continues to increase, but varies.  At this point we change to 4-wheel LOW.  This evolves our crawl into something akin to the speed of continental drift (that will take you back to your 8th grade earth science class).  At this rate the island country of Haiti will beat us to our destination.


At this point you must be asking, "Why are we going back to a place, where during the process, we know our kidneys and lungs will have traded places?"  Thirty minutes go by and we finally reach our parking spot, even at a speed where an in shape mountain jogger would have beat us to.  We could have parked lower and had a 3.2 mile hump (and organs in a recognizable position) , or continue on and the hike is reduced to a 1.5 mile hard stroll.  We have 4x4, so by God we are using it, even if my spleen ends up in my throat.


8:30 a.m. (still Monday) - We dawn our day packs, Miki's with lunch and mine with fishin' stuff. The temperature at this point is around 40 degrees...30% chance of those semi-dependable, afternoon scattered rain showers...but mostly cloudy at this point, anticipating an early descent.  Due to the physical exertion of the climb through the woods and eventually scampering up through rock, our outdoor temp seems to not be a factor.  An hour later we summit at Lower Mohawk Lake after passing some old log cabins, mining relics, and waterfalls.
It is bigger than it looks, there are remnants of an old
log cabin on the far side of the lake...can't make it out.
Some type of pulley system.  Can't imagine how they
even got that up there to assemble it.  The cables and
giant iron pulley wheel, etc...
Looking down on Lower Mohawk Falls.
The lovely Miki and me (with my morning baggage under
my eyes, which I carried all the way to the top).
Mind you, with an increase in altitude, there is usually a decrease in temperature...Mr. Winholtz's 6th grade physical science curriculum.  At the same time we were in denial of the temperature change, spawned by the optimistic outlook for sunshine, the elation of reaching the first lake warmed our little mountain souls.  We hiked on.  Our goal was to reach the 5th lake of 6, working our way backwards if precipitation joined the party.  The temperature had to be hovering (shivering) around the mid thirties.
A look back, as we leave Lower Mohawk Lake behind.
Yes, that is snow on the left and it was not melting fast. 
Fifteen minutes later we were at lake #2, Upper Mohawk Lake.  It has fish too, but have not been successful there...yet.
What is neat at UML, is the trail introduces you to the
lake at eye level with the water level when you see it
for the first time.  A crazy perspective if you are not
expecting it.
Lake #3 is more of a pond, shallow and no fish and no picture of it here.  Lake #4, Upper Upper Mohawk Lake (no not really) is also picturesque but once again too shallow for fish to maintain over the winter.
Lake #4
What would be lake #6 would be in the bowl of the ridge line straight ahead in the picture above.  We are headed to the left where the rusty colored grasses meet the darker rock...lake #5.
Un-named (as far as we know) lake #5.  Twice as big as
LML.  Last year I was fishing in a t-shirt, this year we were
worried about being found next spring like statues next to the lake.
At this point I am jazzed, cause I am anticipating the first strike from a hungry-ass fish.  The fish here don't have the insect hatches up here in altitude as the lower streams and lakes do because of the cooler temps, so they are not as picky eaters as their brethren down below.  For me, the novice, wannabe, hopeful, journeyman, apprentice, fly fisherman...this is good news, cause this means that whatever I throw at them, there is a good chance they will get after it.  They gotta eat!  I could probably cast some Snickers nougat on a hook and catch about as many as I did with my flies (patent pending).


Before I turn myself loose on nature, we have a bite to eat, put on more clothing, and Miki hunkers down while her man pretends to go out and provide for her and our children.
My adrenaline kept me warm, but Miki had to rely on
cheap novel sex to ward off near freezing temps.
Cutthroat get their name from the red under their jaws.
They are feisty, strong, and fun to catch.  Not real big
due to their short growing (feeding) season.
I am walking the shoreline looking for cruising
 trout.  They are not far out, which is good, because
the wind is making hard to cast any distance.
The coloring on these fish is just exquisite.  I just love  them, maybe I'll marry them.
On the waning side of Miki's patience and to avoid hypothermia, we headed back to lake #1...what is it's name?  (LML)  As we started our gradual descent, the overcast sky broke up a bit and blue patches of sky bared themselves to us, warming us and our outlook on the afternoon.  


12:30 p.m. - I hit Lower Mohawk like a Navy Seal, with stealth and vigor.  Miki just laughs and finds a warm place to read as she watches me entangle my line in a bush behind me.  First cast, boom!  Another notch on my trout headboard...okay that was a bit  much, but I am still jazzed (and this was yesterday, as I write).  I play hard here for another hour and a half.  These guys are a bit more choosey, so I have to offer them a variety of food (flies) until I hit on one that works.  They also cruise the shallow shoreline, but I found more success casting farther out or downwind along the shore.  The ones right in front of me seem to be lookers ,not takers.  On the way from one spot to another, I had to cross by an old cabin, surely left from the mining days of old.
At a closer look through a cabin window opening, some
graffiti artist hiker leaves his mark in the form of a wacked
out miner on the cabin wall.
The weather stayed positive and the afternoon not only warmed us, but slipped by without much notice.  I said my goodbyes and thank yous, warning them of my return next summer and we headed down.
As late in the season as it is, we were
surprised to find many patches of
wildflowers.
Due to the rocky nature of the Rocky Mountains, many trails in rocky areas are marked with cairns (little piles of rocks).  Some just piles, others with an artistic flair.
Miki liked this one in particular.  It is hard to
see maybe, but it has a pointed rock balancing
precariously on the top.
Between the cairns and the squeaking chipmunks, we got down the steep parts and into the forest below.  I made a mental note (one of the few mental things I do) of a creek we crossed on the way up, that I spotted what looked like a possible notch, I mean fish to taunt.  It wasn't more than 15 yards off the trail.  The stream couldn't have been more than 4 feet across and the pool this fish was in was maybe 4' x 4' before the water tumbled down 20 yards to another pool.  I stood next to the creek with enough line out to literally dangle it perpendicular to the water's surface.  I let it down softly and BOOM!  That was one hungry sum buck.  I'll bet I could have done that over and over and get the same result...poor baby, I'll just hook you once (that was mean, huh?).  My logic (like my mental abilities) told me if it could happen here, it could happen down there.  Walked down to the next pool, same song, different fish.  I was giddy!  Most of you have not seen me giddy, so imagine away.
First crime scene.
First victim.
Second victim.
About 4:00 p.m. - Once again, I bid my farewell, warned of my return, and continued our way back to the truck.  Oh, yeah...the ride back down the Jerkalator,  the Bumpinator, the Bladderbuster.  Giddiness was being replaced by reality.  From the trailhead, we hiked the last bit of road (I use the term loosely) to our parking spot.  If not for some unforgiving craters in that section of road, I would have saved us 100 yards more of walking.  Any man with a 4x4 and a hair on his butt would have made it, but my large intestine was still winding itself around my testicles, so I opted out of that macho plan.  Miki was thankful her breasts were still level and plumb, so we pulled over where the sane hikers parked.




Well, we were prepared for the worst (could have had more clothes to put on) and got the best yesterday on our Mohawk Lakes Trail adventure.  It caught up to me later on, which is why you are reading this a day later.  It is a great hike for lots of reasons besides the short length, if you can withstand an earthquake, magnitude 9 for 30 minutes, but it also has lots of my buddies up there waiting for me next summer.  I love all trout.  The browns, the rainbows, the brookies... but these cutthroat in these lakes (and little stream) rank right up there.  A good day was had by all ME.




My Zen from the road:  A shout out to a friend and teammate of mine who I got to teach with my last 7 years...Darcie D. ...woo-hoo!  Darcie ran in her first 10K this last weekend at MIZZOU.  Without knowing her whole story (the part that I know of her), trust me in knowing that if she can do what it takes to prepare and accomplish this goal of hers, there is no reason why the rest of us can't accomplish some of our own.  Find someone to inspire you.  She inspired me in a way too, that let me know it was okay to retire (sounds odd, I know), knowing I was leaving the teaching profession in good hands.  I wondered about that, as I got on in my professional life, but felt good passing the torch to competent educators like her and others I miss.
Look out to who you give your
picture to, you never know where
it might end up!




Cribbage Win Count:    Miki - 2    Wallie - 2