Off The Coast of Ballard
Monday, May 1, 2023
Monday, April 10, 2023
PREPARATION VS PLANNING
Preparation Vs Planning
I’ve been thinking about this topic for a while. They’re different concepts.
Planning assumes a fair amount of control and details
logical steps to achieve an end goal. At
work we have these all the times. We
have project plans. Step 5 is contingent
on Step 4, Steps 2 and 3 can be done concurrently, each step takes different
times to complete and there are measured milestones along the way. Stack them together and a project plan
emerges.
Preparation is conceptually different. At work it’s a fast supply chain. You don’t know what opportunities are going
to present themselves, but with a short supply chain you can react to things
you didn’t plan for.
Another analogy is sailing.
During our 2018 race to Alaska race we took great care in preparing the
boat. Sails, some turbo charging of the boat, and
other key things to have a fully found, capable boat. We were aware of other teams, with faster
boats, who put an enormous amount of work in to "planning". “Chart work” as they called it. Preparation seemed to be secondary. We had no plan. We were confident in our preparation and reacted
accordingly. It paid off.
Swinging back to a topic closer to home, Mom is 90 years old
and we have a family member who is frustrated there’s no ‘plan’ as she
ages. Mom lives alone, is fairly happy
and self sufficient, and I’m trying to get up there every other week and other
family members are starting to go up as well.
Mom has a robust social group – and
that’s better expressed in the plural, groups, that are engaging and full of
some pretty cool people.
So while there’s no ‘plan’, Mom is "prepared". She has a long term health plan that allows
for 3 years of in home help. There’s no
plan to use it at present. We don’t know
if it’s going to be next Tuesday, June of 2025 or some indeterminate date far in
the future. Even using it is not a fait
accompli. But it’s there. Ready to go if circumstances require it.
At some point she’ll likely stop driving. While there’s no plan in place there are plenty
of options to use one of several taxi services or leverage one of her ‘helpers’
(she has 3-4 that visit the house if not every week fairly frequently doing
house cleaning and outside maintenance).
There are options which really don’t yet need to be explored as there’s
no current need.
So while there’s no ‘plan’, Mom has taken and cultivated the appropriate preparation for life's uncertainties. With all the uncontrollable in life, preparation, not planning, is the key to happiness. Things rarely go to plan causing frustration. But confidence in your preparation means fewer things to worry about.
“Planning leads to awareness. Preparation leads to readiness.”
Both have their place, but as I age and accept all the uncertainties that life offers, preparation leads to better outcomes. We don't have the control over events that we may want. We never well. It's not that planning is unimportant. But preparation is more important.
Even if we've been unintentionally getting prepared...
Sunday, October 16, 2022
Bellingham Delivery Trip
Sunday, October 9, 2022
October Weekend in the Mountains
A friend built a cool cabin near Mount
Baker and while he invited us to use it, we towed the trailer up and parked it
in the driveway. Part of that was we
like the trailer – but the other part is experimenting with furthering our ‘boondocking’
routine. No hookups. Managing power and liquids to stay as
independent as possible.
Friday’s evening’s trip up I-5 was
more brutal than usual. Close to an hour
of extra time getting through Everett.
But, with trailer in tow and a known destination, we could chat and
simply enjoy the bumper to bumper traffic.
The cabin is off the Mt Baker
highway, about 20 miles shy of the ski area.
Freshly built it’s a cool 2 bedroom cabin. Simple elegance.
Saturday morning was a little too
leisurely. We left the trailer on the way
to Artist Point to arrive to an all too full parking lot at the trail
head. In chats with the neighbors who have
nearby cabins (everyone keeps an eye on everyone up here), the traffic has
gotten worse and worse with each passing year.
I can see way.
Ptarmigan Ridge and the Chain
Lakes are just about as beautiful as it gets.
This type of scenery is usually accessible on the 2nd day of
a backpack, but here, just 5 minutes into the hike, the views open up.
Into the hike we encountered a gal
who said ‘beautiful day, eh?’. We
casually asked if she was Canadian and that led into a discussion about hiking
in Canada. She did say that Ptarmigan Ridge
was her ‘all time favorite hike’ (we can see why), but then went on to chat
about her favorite Canadian hikes and camping areas.
She mentioned Kentucky Lake, Bluey
Lake, Banff, Jasper, Lake Louise, and Johnson Canyon.
Pressing on a bit higher we had
lunch at a viewpoint, then turned around back to the trailhead.
I don’t think we’ve ever been on a
hike that combined such scenery with crowds of people. This is an easy, accessible hike and the
popularity is on the rise. As crowded as
the parking lot was when we got there, when we left there were overflow cars on
both sides of the road for a half mile or more outside the parking lot as we
left.
Once back at the ‘Campsite’ Leigh went for a walk had chatted with the neighbors. On one side of the cabin, ‘2 doors down’ was Stacey, and then Elmer lived a few houses down on the other side. Both have a history with this area and it was interesting to hear how the properties evolved.
The weekend's 'campsite'.
Saturday, October 8, 2022
Bye to September, hello to October
Driving up I-5 I was frustrated by the sequence of events. My plan to catch the 8:25pm ferry the previous evening was thwarted by the attempted theft of Vera’s car parked in front of the house. Vera and Leigh are still in Ireland and at some point, probably Wednesday night, some kids taking the “Kia Challenge” . I had planned to leave after work and get up I-5, but instead was filing a police report, meeting a sheriff deputy, cleaning up glass in the street, and, well, I didn’t make the ferry.
Friday looked like I might have a window during a long lunch
to boogie up to the ferry and then work from the car, but some long winded
conversations pushed my departure to the brink of missing the ferry. So I raced up I5, did a bit of urgent work from
the ferry line and then discovered that lingering fog and the usual Washington State
Ferry shenanigans had resulted in a two hour ferry delay.
At this point, I had to choose. Continue to be frustrated by the sequence of
events or be thankful that I was going to the islands on a gorgeous fall weekend
to a family property that my father and mother bought 60 years ago. I chose the latter approach and relaxed.
Getting to the islands was never easy. Over the years we’ve had hours long waits and
delays and other times when you never stop in line – you arrive and seamlessly
drive on to the ferry. This trip slots
about in the middle. A first world
problem.
Arriving at the island I walked into the little cabin, donned a dress shirt and about a minute later was driving mom over to Roche Harbor for dinner. Despite no reservations on a Friday night we scored a window table in the bar, Manhattans were served and we caught up on recent events and reminisced about older events.
Roche Harbor Hotel at night |
My father first visited Roche in the late 50’s and was met at the dock by Rube Tarte, the gentleman who, along with his wife Clara, bought the property, then a played-out Limestone Quarry, in 1956. As my father described it, he was approaching the dock in the inside towards the end when an older fellow was walking quickly down the dock to take the lines. He visibly slowed and by the time he got out to the end of the dock, dad was tied up. Mr. Tarte offered he was going to help, but when he saw one of my father’s crew taking soundings with a lead line, he figured the skipper knew what he was doing.
Dad came to the islands in the mid 40’s. He was in the Navy, was in the early stages
of training to be a fighter pilot in WWII (he said he and his friends were
somewhat fatalistic about the war. They figured
they were going to die and where would they want that event to happen. In the air or in a trench? They decided the air would be better). Based at NAS Alameda, he had gone through basic
training in Stearman biplanes, but the war was coming to an end and the thousands
of pilots in various stages of training were no longer needed. He and 2 other young fellows decided,
apparently without much thought, to visit the northwest and ended up at the parents' house of one of the
guys in Medina, Washington. The house
was owned by Frank and Ellen Helsell. After
a long weekend, the 3 young guys were pulled aside by the elder Mrs. Helsell and
informed that she was aware of a camp on Orcas Island, Four Winds, and they
were in need of counselors. She
encouraged them to ‘go’.
Dad had grown up in Pennsylvania, was ‘engaged to be engaged’,
and after a brief stint in the Navy found himself in the San Juan Islands
asking himself ‘why would I want to go anywhere else’?
That summer he vowed to do 3 things. Become a doctor, get a small cabin in the
islands, and buy a boat. He did all
three. 60 years later I maintain the
boat he and I co-owned for 30 years and I’m writing this from the small cabin
he built by hand.
Bringing events back to the current day, this weekend would
follow a very familiar pattern repeated in various forms over the past 60 years. A not always smooth trip up to the islands, a
weekend mixture of chores, food, conversation, and advancement of projects followed
by the inevitable trip back to the city.
One of the nice things about this time of year is that it’s
pitch black at 6am, so the sunrise is at a time when you can sip coffee, write,
and simply enjoy earth’s spin as the new day dawns.
About 6:30am or so |
The day has begun! |
Early Icelandic living |
Present day in the little cabin |
Roche Harbor Disc Golf Course |
With a great view from the top