MOTHERS DAY WEEKEND UPDATE

Google maps makes it easy to watch the traffic flows and the typical Friday evening congestion was congealing on north bound I5 so I pulled the rip cord and headed north to catch the 6pm boat out of Anacortes.  I timed it just about right and at 6:05 I was in the ferry's cafeteria with a bail breaker IPA in hand and my book laid out in front of me.

Perfect way to start the weekend.

Friday Harbor was still in it's pre-season sleepiness, but you could tell there was more activity than the previous month.  Summer, and all that it brings both good and bad, is coming.

The house, as usual, was serene and Mom had been working most of the day in the yard.  Wine was served and good conversation followed.

The planks offered the lions share of Saturday's challenges.  Buzz had them dropped off and had rigged some saw horses outside to lay out the 4 planks.  The planks are 12 feet long, 18-20 inches wide and were milled from the cedar tree that fell in the February wind storm.  2 of the planks were bookend pieces and will be perfect for making....something.   One of the other pieces is destined for an outside bar at Leigh's house but first all the wood needs to dry for at least several months an maybe more.

The task involved moving these impossibly heavy piece from the guest cabin lot up to the shed.  Wheels and leverage are wonderful concepts.  

The drying rack

Stacked, supported and separated.

We took a quick trip over to Buzz's place to thank him for helping with the planks.  His shop is huge and he has projects lined up well into the next century.  He's got some beautiful wood pieces and there are times when you have more raw material than ideas on how to use them!!!  

After a day in the yard we went into town and had a pint at the new 'Oar House'.  Friday Harbor's only brewery at the moment.  This being a small town, Mom knew the two guys who built the brewery and the woman pouring beer behind the bar was an old acquaintance of mine.  Fun place and we'll be back.

Sunday morning.  Sunrise was perhaps not on par with some, but great nonetheless.

Mom made breakfast and then it was out in the yard for work.

The end result was nice and a nod to the coming summer.  It can't get here soon enough.

BLOOMSDAY

I should have trained.  

That thought kept running through my mind as we lined up with some 40,000 runners at the 41st start of Spokane's annual Bloomsday run.  It was to be Leigh's 27th time running the race.  It was my first.   Leigh has come close, but not quite cracked, the top 10% of runners in her age group in her previous races.  She hit 11% and 12% but has always finished in the top 20%.

Until today.

Leigh was adjusting her pace to mine.  In short bursts, I can run faster than Leigh, but that ability counts for exactly zero for Bloomsday.  The race is 12 kilometers long.  A 12K.  Or 7.45 miles long.  With hills.  One called 'Doomsday hill'.  With a big vulture at the top.

I should have trained.

Leigh's daughter joined us briefly prior to the start but worked her way up to the faster group starting ahead of us.  In the end she would finish some 30 minutes ahead of us. 


After four decades of running the race, the organizers have developed great ways to manage 40 to 60 thousand runners and walkers.  There's one starting line, but people are queued up by speed.  The wheel chair racers fire off first, then the elite runners, then the very good runners and so on with the walkers starting last.  The start is on one street, Riverside, but sets of side streets are used to access the starting processional on Riverside.  As each group starts, the remaining throng shuffle forward, closer to the starting line.

The Bib has a RFID chip and your start is automatically timed when you cross the starting line.  Cool technology. 

Also after four decades, traditions have set in.  One was the beach ball.  Despite rules that forbid it, several beach balls appear and the crowd keeps them airborne as we all await the start.  Tortillas also fly around like floppy Frisbees.  Some runners wear old shirts to ward off the morning chill and as the clock winds down they fling the shirts in the trees lining the street. 

The start went well and Leigh and I set into a comfortable pace.  We ran most of the first 3 miles, with the exception of a few small hills.  Scattered crowds line the streets.  There are political messages, religious messages, and several bands along the course.  Always something to look at.  One band had an annoyingly catchy blues song entitled 'My bi-polar baby'.  "She's up, She's down, she's all around, my bi-polar baby...".  It stuck with me a while for reasons unknown.

The organization of the race is unbelievable.  At the high water mark they had close to 60,000 people racing and today 40,000 had turned out.  One example was the water stations every 2 miles.   They were staggered, and the first one had a long line of volunteers offering water on the left side for perhaps half a block then more volunteers on the right side offering water for another half a block or so.  As you approached, the tendency was to go left and grab the first available water.  But a fellow on a loudspeaker was exhorting runners to go the right.  'Our water is cleaner, cheaper, colder on the right side'.  The result was a more or less even distribution of people grabbing water.

Leigh's niece graduated from medical school and is currently doing her residency.  She and her husband were volunteering on the sidelines just beyond mile 2 offering medical support.  Mercifully I didn't require any assistance then or later (but I should have trained!!).  We saw them as we passed and waved.

Vulture atop doomsday hill.  With Leigh waving.

Doomsday hill was not bad, but we walked it.  We walked it quickly, but we walked.  Leigh could've run it, but I would have really struggled.  The vulture at the top is a nice touch.

One humorous sidelight was a guy on the side of the course in a chair.  He had a case of Coors Light beer and some small cups.  He was filling them up announcing himself as the 'coors light water station'.

Mile 3 gave way to 4, then 5 and 6.   Leigh could have run the entire thing without walking, but I needed to walk a bit then resume running.  I really should have trained.  This is a race that is both fun and one should take seriously.  The  Bloomsday run has become part of Spokane's DNA.   The school system has programs to get kids fit enough to run Bloomsday.  There are a few 'I've run them all' T shirts.  We didn't see one but Leigh's daughter did.

Every race has a T shirt specially designed for that year.  Each year has a poster. 

 

And back to our race.  Every half mile or so there's a band playing.  You can vote for the best band at the end of the race and there are incentives and awards given to the best band.  Leigh made it a point to cheer and clap for each of the bands, showing appreciation for coming out to the course.

Mercifully mile 7 finally appeared.  A little less than a half mile to go. 

The finish line.  YES!

Looking forward to the finish line

Looking back at the finish line

Happy finishers.  The drive back to the house.

Spring in Spokane

All and all a fun day.  I'll train for next year.

KUPER (AND BURL)

Burl Ives must have loved dogs.  His long forgotten "I found my best friend at the dog pound" had a nice sentiment.  One that Mom, Leigh and I shared on a recent and very sad weekend. 

Dad was 78 when he and mom got a Havanese Puppy.  Getting a puppy at age 78 defines optimism.   I think I did an eye roll and I certainly thought it wasn't their best move.  I was flat wrong.

Kuper and my folks were inseparable.  On the boat, road trips in the Tahoe, but mostly on the island.  Kuper was named after 'Kuper' Island.  An island that has since been renamed by the Canadian government, but I don't want to get too far off track. 

When Dad passed, Kuper really earned his stripes.  He was mom's constant companion.  Over the years the routine set in and Kuper's sense of time was impeccable.  Precisely at 11am he'd start making sounds requesting (perhaps demanding) a treat.  11am.  Not 10:45 ie 11:15, but unerringly and eerily as close to 11am as possible for a living being who never owned a watch. 

A little over a year ago he started an odd coughing and had a couple of scary episodes.  Congestive heart failure.  Meds could extend his life by several months and he outlived his initial prognosis. 

So the writing has been on the wall for some time, but even with his slow decline he held up his part of the bargain.  He was largely pretty happy and stuck to his routine, but in recent weeks it's been tougher.  And on Saturday, things seemed pretty grim until Mrs Laurnen came to visit and he perked up.  But it was only temporary.

Mom had called early on Saturday and Leigh and I made plans to head to the island.  I texted Devin to call off the plans for that evening.  Leigh, Beth, Devin and I had planned a 'Ballard Night' which are a lot of fun. 

Later in the morning, after Mrs Laurnen's visit, mom called again.  Kuper was better.  So I again texted Devin and let him know that 'Ballard Night' was still a 'go'. 

Then mom called again, right around 2pm.  Kuper had taken a turn for the worse.  She was going to call the vet and make the appointment for tomorrow. 

After texting Devin a third time, we put the bikes on the back of Leigh's car and  set off for Anacortes.  There was an atypical small traffic jam just prior to the ferry landing where one of the more famous Anacortes residents used to live, but we made it just in time to ride the bikes directly on the ferry,

Earlier in the day, Leigh had gone for a 70 minute run.  Now she was facing a 10 mile bike ride.  Her legs were pretty much toast as we biked out to the house.  Then it started to rain.  Though tired, she was smiling and muscled through it.

We got to the house about 7 and Leigh immediately set to making a very nice dinner.  She's amazing that way.

All the planning over the last several weeks came together.  I had built a box a few months ago and carved Kuper's name in it.  Mom had Louis dig a hole a few weeks ago in preparation for the inevitable. 

The vet arrived and with great compassion Kuper passed peacefully.  He was no longer in pain struggling for breath.  He relaxed.

We buried him in a nice spot with a nice view.

In short order we were back on the ferry headed towards Anacortes.  As we drove away from the ferry landing, we again encountered the small atypical traffic jam.  Sometimes you recognize an event that simply happens once and you need to decide if you want to go or not.  Leigh said let's go.

So we parked and  walked in to the 'Burl Ives' estate sale.

In 1989 Burl Ives was 80 when he left California and moved to Anacortes.  At the time he said the climate was too dry in California and he could get more for his money in Washington state.  He passed in '95, but his wife Dorothy lived until last year.  They lived in a 7 bedroom house perched above Guemes Channel.

Walking into the house was a little creepy.  You could tour the whole house - master bed room and bathrooms and all.  Make up and other toiletries were still there.  Creepy.  Mr. Ives died in that house.  Creepy.

Even the art.

You decide. 

The garden was nice.  Mr Ives had mobility problems.  Meaning without his scooter, he wasn't very mobile.  So the garden had nice pathways so he could get around.

Even his clothes, all custom, were on sale.

We ended up buying a silver serving piece, a first edition book, and a champagne glass etched with a stylized 'B'.   When you go to one of the Hollywood type sales, you need to be prepared to pay top dollar for these prized possessions.  Just last night I threw a dinner party and filled the silver piece with peanuts.  I was casually able to name drop and inform my guests that Burl Ives once used this very same serving dish.  My guests were very impressed.  One looked at it with reverence and said "Burl Ives' had his nuts in there too?".

In any case, I thought the princely sum of $5.00 was worth it.  That was the total for all that we bought.   It was half off day.  And If you're under 35, you haven't a clue who Burl Ives was. 

On the other hand, Kuper was well remembered in the cards to my mom.

E BIKE FUN

After a long period of deliberation, I bought an E Bike.  An electric bike.  With a removable lithium battery driving a 750 watt electric engine.  It goes 0 to 60 in, well, it doesn’t go 60.  It doesn’t go 40.  With pedaling, I can maintain nearly 20 mph, which is ok for a guy my age.  The average tour de France speed is around 26 mph over the 3 week period so I figure being able to maintain 17 – 20 is OK for me.

It's a RadCity from Rad Power bikes.

For exercise, the electric bike isn’t as good as a real bike.  But it’s a heck of a lot better than driving a car.  And it’s way more fun.  The bike has 5 power assist levels to kick in when you pedal.  It also has 7 gears for pedaling, along the lines of a conventional bike.  The learning curve is pretty short on how to manage the two, but I expect it will take a long time to really optimize the combination beween pedal and power.  

There’s also a button.  When depressed, the throttle is activated and you can use the engine without pedaling.

This is not a rocket ship by any stretch of the imagination.  Primarily it’s an ‘assist’ when you pedal.  The throttle does come in handy when a more spirited start in traffic is desired.   Or starting uphill.  The downside is the power drain.

The essential tradeoff is between the pedaling and engine power.  Battery life is finite.  The less you use it, the longer it lasts. 

As I write, I’ve put 150 miles on the bike.  From relatively short 7 mile bursts on the Burke Gilman to longer Bellevue to Ballard rides across I-90 and one 26 mile ride from Ballard to the hill above Renton.  I’m getting to know the strategies involved with each type of trip.  For the 7 mile commute, it’s all about speed.  No worries about battery life, use the assist with relative abandon and go for it.  The only limitation is safety and certainly on the Burke, you can go too fast.  With this bike I am trying to find a Burke / surface street combination that works.  Faster on the streets (albeit slower than cars) and prudently slower on the Burke.  I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ giving E Bikes a lousy reputation. 

When I do the 7 mile burst, I can use power assist levels 3,4, and 5 and really scoot.  The exercise value is less as I use the battery more.   

For the longer trips, I use power assist level 1 and 2.  Yes, it’s slower – but on the 26 mile ride to Renton, I had about 20% of the battery remaining.  Had I used the higher assist levels, the battery would have died somewhere shy of my destination.

Earlier this week I biked 11 miles from Bellevue to Renton.  There’s a great combination of bike trails and quiet streets that connect the two towns and I was able to ride the 11 miles in about 40 or 45 minutes and while I did get exercise and huffed and puffed a bit, I kept it just below breaking out in a sweat.  We went out to dinner that night and I biked in street clothes and arrived feeling pretty fresh and ready for dinner. 

The 18 mile rides back home are fun and interesting.  Following 108^th in Bellevue to the I90 Eastgate bridge, you cross Mercer Island and get out onto the MI floating bridge.  The new one.  The old one sank.  Here’s where the power assist comes in handy.   Climbing up over the I90 lid on Mercer Island and climbing up the western slope of the bridge take some pumping on a conventional bike.  I’ve done that.  With the power assist, it’s relatively easy and much, much faster.   Especially right at the end of the bridge with the sharp hill that goes to the pedestrian / bike tunnel above the car tunnel.  Easy.

The only sketchy part of the trip is after dropping down on Dearborn there’s a short 2 block section requiring either a stint on the sidewalk or getting full on into traffic, migrating from the far right hand bike lane to cross 2 lanes of traffic to set up for a left hand turn on to Jackson.  Here, the power really comes in handy as I can match the speed of the cars. 

There’s another, less intuitive way for bikes which avoids this problem and I’ll try that next time.

After dropping down to the Seattle waterfront, it gets interesting with all the construction, but they’ve done a fair job keeping the bike path separate.  After clearing Pier 70, it’s a breeze.  The Sculpture park morphs into Centennial park and for over a mile there are no cars and the bike path is separate from the pedestrian path.  All this right on the waterfront with glorious views. 

The path takes a 90 degree right hand turn at Smith Cove then meanders through the BN train yard at interbay.  Completely caged in, the trail goes right along then over the train tracks and exits near Magnolia.  From here you drop down onto Commodore way,  paralleling the southern side of the ship canal.  At the locks you need to dismount the bike and walk it across the locks and just like that you are in Ballard.  Fun commute.

So far the E bike has been great.  It’s Thursday and I haven’t touched the car since Sunday night.  I signed up to use a bike facility at work.  $25 a month and I get to use an enclosed ‘cage’ with a bike rack.  There are showers and towel service as well.  Perfect. 

JANUARY WIND STORM

Ben and his young daughter had a rough ride on the ferry.  Winds were 25 knots and building.  On the way home to Friday Harbor, thankful to be off the bouncing ferry, they were just about to turn left onto Spring street. In front was the huge elm tree lit with thousands of holiday lights.  His daughter had just commented how beautiful they were.  Just then they blinked once.  And went out.  Dark.  As was the entire town.

Unknown to them at the time, at the very moment they were admiring the lights, a tree had taken out the power lines on the Roleau Road, some 9 miles away.  The power to the Roche Harbor substation had been severed serving the entire northern part of San Juan Island.  For reasons that were, according to Bob Belcher of Olpaco, not understood even several days later, the power outage cascaded back towards town and even took out Lopez Island for a while.  “It’s not supposed to work that way” Bob said.

The wind was building that Tuesday night.  The Fraser River Valley in British Columbia serves as a funnel when low pressures are positioned off the Washington coast.  Air flows from high pressure areas to lows and on this winter evening there was a high above the Canadian plains and a low parked off the Washington coast.  Perfect set up for a classic Fraser River blast.  They don’t happen often and the wind, combined with the cold, made for an impressive winter storm on the lonely northeast shores of San Juan Island.

Mom doesn’t like the wind.  Especially the Fraser River winds.  She’s right in their path and when they hit, they hit hard.

The house dryer wasn’t working and she bundled up taking her laundry to the guest cabin dryer.  In the howling wind she watched in awe as waves dashed against the point protecting what was locally known as ‘Kosin’s cove’.  Igor Kosin, an immigrant from Vladivostok Russia, had built a small cabin above the point in the the late 50’s.  The waves pounded the point, spray shooting high into the air.  Rare for these waters.

Back in the house, Mom decided to sleep down stairs.  A fir tree, over 100 feet high with a 7 foot trunk in diameter grew on the bank.  Directly in line with the wind.  The arborist had deemed it a strong tree in good shape, but if it fell, it could hit the house.

Her decision to go downstairs coincided with Ben and his daughter getting off the ferry.  When the tree fell on Roleau Road, the house went dark.  The auxiliary fireplace upstairs wasn’t working, so in addition to no light, she had no heat.  Considering her options, she went downstairs to bed to wait out the storm.

We don't know how strong the wind was that night.  50? 60?  Later Ben said from his place it sounded like a freight train.  His house shook and he thought some of the gusts may have hit 70.

At some point during the storm, she heard a loud “thump”.  Perhaps something had hit the deck.  In the darkness she couldn’t be sure.  It could have been at that very moment the mysterious duck met his demise, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Morning finally arrived and mercifully the power was on.  All seemed to be normal.

Coffee was made, and she waited for Chris to arrive.  Chris was putting the final touches on the new dryer installation.  As usual, any new appliance doesn’t quite fit and the dryer it replaced was a rare side vent requiring some engineering for the new dryer.

There was a knock at the door.  Chris at arrived.  With news.  “Have you looked outside?” was his opening comment.  Mom hadn’t looked outside.  She hadn’t noticed that a fir tree, over 100 feet tall, and growing right next to the guest cabin had fallen.  Taking with it a very proud cedar tree.   The Fir’s root ball was huge.  Some 12 feet in diameter.  Perhaps ‘plate’ would be a better description of how the roots spread out from the trunk.

When the tree went over, it could have up ended the small guest cabin.  It didn’t.  It could have fallen on the main cabin, crushing the guest cabin.  It didn’t.   The roots could have damaged the septic tank.  They didn’t.  The tree could have taken the half century old tree house.  It didn’t.  So tall, it could have damaged the work shop, but when it fell, it took with it a stockier cedar tree that cushioned the drop.  The tip slapped the workshop with no damage.  A professional tree cutter couldn’t have dropped it any better than the wind.  Dad, did you have something to do with that?

The only thing the tree did when it fell was to stress the power lines.  They held, but the power pole didn’t.  It leaned over under the weight pressing on the lines.  The power to the cabins held.  Amazing.

The was one casualty.   A frozen duck was found just to the side of where the tree fell.  What was it doing in a tree at the height of the storm?  It was intact, but had a wound on it’s side.  Damage from the tree?  Perhaps an eagle had gotten to it earlier?

The only damage to the house came from the wind itself.  A few roofing tiles were in the yard.  The roof, just over 20 years old, was showing its age and had lost a few tiles in the wind.  It was slowly delaminating, adding to the summer’s list of things to fix.

I got up to the island one day later.  Mom had mobilized a few folks to check the tree out as well as the nearly downed power lines.  I caught the 6:20am boat and was at the house for sunrise just shy of 8am Thursday morning.

Chris was the first to arrive, with the final (final) touches to the vent.  After announcing he had to return to town for a couple of screws, I introduced him to the workshop.  Finding appropriate screws in the workshop is usually easy.  It was.

The crew from Opalco was next and took the power line from under the tree and replaced it over the tree.  Once the tree was taken out, they would have to come back and straighten the power pole.

Then the guys arrived to fix the fireplace.  Finally.  A part had been ordered, lost, ordered again but used on a different job, and now, two months later, was finally being fixed.  They couldn’t quite get it all to work, but with the pilot light lit, the fireplace was functioning.  Their van, however wasn’t.  It had died the previous day and needed a jump.  The company owner arrived in his truck, but didn’t have cables.  A van and a big truck both without jumper cables.  We had a couple of sets hanging in the workshop.

Casey arrived to take a look at the tree, but quickly determined his skill set wasn’t really needed — it was more of a clean up job.  Mom called Ben who roared out and assessed what it’d take to clean the mess up.  Then Buzz arrived to checkout the Cedar tree.  There may be good wood in there to re-use.

It ended up being a full day.  I raked and cleaned up the debris in the parking area.  After all the comings and goings, the day slowly wound down.  I prepared two manhattans as mom got salmon burgers ready.  A good day.

The following morning I went to take sunrise pictures of the downed tree.  I tried to get a shot of the downed duck, but the frozen carcass was gone.  Carried away by a fox perhaps?  An Eagle?  The demise of the duck was as mysterious as its departure.