Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler.

Henry David Thoreau
US Transcendentalist author (1817 – 1862)

Imagine your life as you wish it would be. What would you see? Where would you live, who would be with you, how would you spend your time? Do you have a vision for your life, or do you live one day at a time? Does it make a difference which way you proceed?

The vision for our lives is always evolving. What we wanted 5 or 10 years ago is much different than that which we seek today. Today we seek simplicity, not complexity; authenticity, not status; and meaning, not money. Well, maybe meaning and money, rather than not.

Napoleon Hill wrote that you were not given dreams and desires without the capabilities to fulfill them; so the mere presence of those dreams means they are truly possible for us.

One time each year where we go off and spend a weekend talking about what we want in our lives. We call it “Let’s Pretend Day” and it is a powerful animating and celebratory event in our partnership. We review what is good, what is not, and modify the vision for our future.

I wish that we had kept an entirely separate journal of just those weekends. We are coming up on our 20th Let’s Pretend Day.

Maybe I will begin that journal this year.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
US poet (1874 – 1963)

We have been back on Whidbey Island since October 2007, and my voice has been quiet since then. Why silence? I am not totally sure, but likely a cocktail of emotions and circumstances.

My new job and our house remodel project both demand time and attention; the job during the week and the remodel on weekends. These two things have tapped my time, attention and energy, leaving relatively little time to think and feel.

But feel I do, feel I must. My feelings are still there, and the words will resume soon. I have promised myself that.

I have miles yet to go before I sleep.

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”…Nelson Mandela

We are approaching seven months since we moved back to the San Juans.

For those of you who may read this, and do not know our story, we lived in the San Juans for ten years, left for seven years and just returned this past Feb. Those intervening seven years were spent mostly on South Whidbey Island where we had a beautiful home, a few very close friends, a wide circle of aquaintances, a thriving real estate business, and were involved in our island community.

So why did we leave? Why would we surrender that life?

We left for love. We love living in the San Juans, it is a place of striking beauty, with tender moments of isolation and quiet. It is also the place of the beginning of our marriage, and it holds many of our most wonderful, and a few of our saddest memories. It is a place that touches us in a way we do not fully understand; only feel.

We visited the San Juans a number of times over the past years, and each time, it was more difficult to leave. Each time we felt a sadness upon returning home to Whidbey followed by a few leaden days before we re-entered the atmosphere of our daily life.

And yet, we find we must now go. This is our place no longer. For these San Juan Islands are our furnace, the one that melted us down those many years ago. We remember now the heat, the flame, and this time we choose to not be melted. This time we choose to remain who we are, and not be transformed. We know the moth is destroyed by the flame; while the steel is made hard. Like the moth we have been drawn to this flame – like the steel we are hardened now and resist. So this time, we do not surrender, and we cannot stay. There is no flame without heat. The beauty remains, but we cannot hold to it, it is not enough.

And so we go, as we must. We are no longer of it unless we surrender our steel, and this we shall not do. We are not glad about this, but we are not sad about it either. We just are, with it.

We have changed in an unchanging landscape.

“Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil, and you’re a thousand miles from the corn field.”….Dwight D. Eisenhower

I found this sign on the roadside outside of Helper, UT. It made me laugh and I had to turn around to read it. Little did I know then, that what I would be seeing the rest of the day was the real version of “History on Other Side.” My destination was Nine Mile Canyon (a misnomer, it is really about 40 miles long) well known for its many Indian petroglyphs and pictographs. Nine Mile Canyon was home to the Fremont peoples from about 900 – 1300 AD, and then European settlers from about the mid 1800’s.

For me, this story begins when I was 7 years old, driving across country with my parents for the first time. The combination of no freeways (this was 1954) and being 7 made this a very, very long trip. When we reached the desert Southwest, the landscape outside the car window was like a fantasy land, something I had never seen or really even imagined. Hard to believe, but this was also before television, and I had no images of the West in my head. This was my first experience with the impressive land forms of the SW and I was awestruck. For two days, I sketched and drew what sped by the car window. We never got close, and that landscape of mesas, painted rock and stunted plants, remained at a distance, but I never forget the beauty or the awe.

In the course of my adult life, I have been across the desert SW many times. But it has always been a repeat of my childhood experience. Always at a distance, always viewed in passing and though the barrier of a car window. This trip today would be my chance to come face to face, not just with the landscape, but also with the art of the ancient people of this land, and through that, their lives. At least that is what I hoped for. And I was not disappointed.

What emerged from my 8 hour trip into the canyons was an unbelievable feeling about the harshness of life on the other side of history, and how comfortable and convenient our lives are by comparison. Although the canyons were used from at least 900 AD by the Fremont people, it appears that they abandoned this place sometime before the arrival of the settlers in the 1800’s. The story of the settlers is harsh as well. One small story speaks loudly. A rancher by the name of Pace, apparently in deep despair, cut his own throat in the middle of a cold, cruel winter.

The abandoned settlers cabins and ranches were evident all along the canyon floor, and I kept expecting to come across evidence of the Indian’s homes. Although the canyons are filled with rock art, there is no evidence of permanent villages. There are granaries and storage caches, as well as some pit houses, but nothing that suggests year round settlements of any significance. That suggests that the canyons were used as seasonal farms and hunting grounds. Given the failure of the settlers to make it year round in this place, that makes sense.

What struck me as well, was the fact that a harsh environment, as this is from an agrarian, rancher perspective, does not fit well with the Euro-American model of land ownership or the rugged individualism of early settlers. What contributed to the collapse of the settler’s ranches and farms was the fact that each one was spaced about a mile apart on a sinuous canyon river bottom. There was no community, no central rallying point or physical place where they could congregate, mix and share. Consequently it only took about 50 years or so for the Euro-American model of life in this area to effectively collapse.

Indian societies survived and used this area for 700-800 years, and probably only really changed as a result of the introduction of the horse into their lives. Built more on a co-operative, tribal hunter-gatherer-forager-farmer (they were all these things), they were better able to take advantage of and exploit the opportunities for growing food and hunting animals that were present. And the wonderful thing for us – they left us photo albums.

And with that my story ends, and I will let the photos tell their own story. Hope you get a chance to visit Nine Mile Canyon.

PS. The first few photos are “on the way” and the last few are “heading home”. The bulk in the middle are the canyons.

Me and the Mo Man took another drive today (Saturday). We headed south to the town of Payson, UT and then east into the Unita National Forest and the Nebo Loop Scenic Byway.

From Wikipedia: “Mount Nebo is the southernmost and highest mountain in the Wasatch Range of Utah, in the United States. Named after the biblical Mount Nebo overlooking Israel, which is said to be the place of Moses‘ death, it is the centerpiece of the Mount Nebo Wilderness, inside the Uinta National Forest. Mount Nebo is crowned by three peaks, with the northern peak reaching 11,928 ft (3,636 m).”

The ride is easy, and unlike the Alpine Loop behind Mt. Timpanogos, it is wide open with broad valley and mountain vistas, with access to many campgrounds, hiking trails and lakes. Each trip has its own pace, and this one was marked by the constantly changing weather. It went from sunny to windy and cloudy, to thunderstorms, then back to sunshine all in a couple of hours.

The memory I will carry away is of two things – trees and cows.

On the sidebar of this blog on the right, you will see a Photo Album named “Tree Love”. It is from this trip, and briefly describes the interesting tree forms sighted along the way. The other memory, cows, is show below in the thumbnails. Click on the thumbnail for a full sized photo if you wish.

How many times have you seen this type of sign along the side of a road? Countless, and usually I ignore it unless there are kids in the car and we are playing “Moooo” or “How many cows can you count?” Well you don’t ignore these signs on the Old Mt. Nebo Scenic Byway, no sir.

Hey Buddy – Share the road! This is just one of the many cow convoys I came across. Usually they were orderly and mindful of the cars, however they are not a predictable or particularly smart group of pedestrians.

 

How’s it going #42? Are you vehicle tabs up to date? You probably need to click on the thumbnail to see the full sized photo to get that.
One cow’s grass is another cow’s…well, you know the rest. Cow patties were abundant on the sides as well as the middle of the road, but hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

So all in all it was a fun day. Wish you were here!

“Use your enemy’s hand to catch a snake. “….Persian Proverb

There were no snakes in the movie, Baran, and there were really no enemies either. For the four weeks of August, the public library in this little town of Orem, UT is conducting an Iranian Film Festival. Could have pushed me over with a slight breeze when I first heard about it.

Honestly, I have been very surprised by the nature of this Mormon community. The people are social conservatives, in the context of American culture; but they are also internationalists. In my experience that is an oxymoron; social conservatives tend not to be internationally inclined.

I am working with a group of 15-20 young (late 20’s – early 30’s) sales guys, and I am going to guess they are all Mormons. I am sure I am the only agnostic in the room. Almost every one of these young men speaks a foreign language, and some 2-3. Why I asked, are all of you multi-lingual? It is because they have all been on missions of one year or more to foreign countries. That missionary tradition as experienced by this group of young people, has developed into a broad knowledge and respect for the people of other countries and cultures. I am guessing this respectful attitude has developed as a result of the multi-cultural ethic of modern Western American culture.

So I guess it really isn’t a surprise that Iranian films are being shown, and well attended, in the town of Orem. If you decide to rent this movie, don’t expect political commentary or controversy. The film’s backdrop includes a large, underprivileged Afghan refugee community living in Iran, but this is a quiet, personal relationship movie. The filmmaker, Majid Majidi, does not attempt to use the bad treatment of Afghans in any fractious or divisive manner, it simply is what it is. It does however, provide an impetus and slight tension for the central drama concerning the attraction between a young Iranian and a young Afghani. I will say no more.

I recommend Baran with both of my thumbs up. Next weeks movie – Children of Heaven, same filmmaker; it was nominated for Best Foreign Film in the 1998 Academy Awards.

Personal note to Earl – this is a better film than Finns make…:-)

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.”…..John Muir

The old pioneer towns of northern and central Utah are tucked up tightly against the western flank of the Wasatch Range, where they linger in the cool shade of the morning. The mountains are dramatically present and provide a natural compass as you wander about. Deep canyons cut into the range, and they feel like an alluring escape; like being able to step into the wilderness by simply walking out your back door.

Tired and weary after the two days of driving and first day on the job, I wandered out into that backyard yesterday for the first time. Within 5 minutes from the hotel, I found myself on a winding canyon road with sheer rock walls on both sides. The lack of vegetation is the first thing a Northwesterner notices. The mountains look naked and raw, as if they had been created yesterday.

I try to gage this difference, about how the landscape makes me feel here compared to my more familiar fuzzy green terrain. The colors and forms here are stark, direct, and immediate. It is as if the land says, “Here I am. What more do you want to know?” And this knowing, is at once both comforting, because there is nothing hidden, and frightening, since there is nothing more.

Turning off the main road onto a small, insignificant looking side road, I see the sign saying “Sundance Resort 2 miles.” That is not my reason for going this way, but I have always wondered what Sundance was like. I soon pass by, and Sundance is not a huge mega-resort with large glitzy buildings, but rather a small scaled, almost old fashioned looking place. But I am in no mood for wandering about a resort, so I pass without stopping to continue the climb up.

The road twists up a bit, and soon there is a National Forest Service kiosk manned to collect fees for camping and hiking into the public lands. Although there is no charge for driving through, I am a bit miffed about the idea that we, as citizens and owners of the forests, must pay to walk, hike and camp on public lands. Particularly since the federal government looses money selling my trees to private companies. Somethings in this country simply make no sense anymore, and this is one of those things.

Leaving the slight irritation of the kiosk behind, I continue the climb up on a very narrow, winding 1.5 lane road. Stopping after finding a suitable turnout, I get out of the car. Finally, fresh cool air, quiet, and trees. The aspen are everywhere, protected in this shaded valley on the eastern side of the mountain peaks, and walking into a small grove off of the side of the road, makes me feel relaxed and peaceful. Many of the trees closest to the road have initials carved into them. But unlike native American cave or rock paintings, these are not art, just graffiti. Like the kiosk on the road below, these too make no sense to me.

Moving on I continue to climb up the winding road stopping here and there to enjoy the cool air and quiet. There are very few cars on the road, a couple of bicyclists (hardy souls they). Additional views come along the way, mostly mountain tops and aspen groves, which I have become increasingly interested in. I notice there has been no wildlife so far, other than the occasional chipmunk scittering off the road as I approach. No bird sounds, no nothing, and it begins to make me wonder why.

Just as I begin to spin theories about the absence of animals and birds, they magically appear. First a black tail deer grazing on the side of the road. Showing no tension or nervousness as the car approaches, the deer has apparently seen many yellow FJ Cruisers and is not impressed or frightened at all. After watching the deer munch on the undergrowth, I move along and within minutes see a hawk soaring overhead, it too in search of dinner.

My brief journey is coming to an end, and as I descend the western slope, the sun returns and the road down is a pleasant vision of aspen in sunlight. Passing out of the National Forest Service lands (and another kiosk), my Alpine Loop has come to an end and I descend into the American Fork Canyon with its fast running creek suitable for camping, swimming and stone tossing. There are more areas to explore, but not the time to do it, and I pass the Timpanogos Cave National Monument, stopping to pick up a brochure for future reference.

Returning to my hotel, I wonder at the fact of being able to experience such a wonderful wilderness interlude with such immediacy. Having left a mere two hours ago, I am refreshed in spirit and body, and now feel whole again.

“Nobody trips over mountains.”…Unknown

When you live in the San Juans, trips to the mainland are referred to as “Going To America”. Usually they are brief trips for us, but not this time.

I have just started a three week visit to Orem, UT courtesy of a new job. This will be my first time visiting Utah, other than a few drive thru’s in past years, and I am looking forward to exploring this beautiful area in my spare time. I drove my FJ Cruiser (aka Mo) here so I will be able to do a little off road exploring.

If along the way there is a little sandstorm or two, well we will just be swimming in the desert, won’t we.

“A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.” … Chinese Proverb

Linda’s mom and aunt visited us in late June, and we had a wonderful time showing them around the island. It had been quite a few years since either of them had been in the San Juans. Linda’s mom used to come and work with us each summer when we owned Deer Harbor Resort and Marina, and we all have really fond memories of our time together here in the islands.

One evening we had the opportunity to go to Lime Kiln Point State Park to watch a beautiful sunset and to hear the City Cantabile Choir who perform at the park each year around the summer solstice. They may be the only group who sings to an audience that may not attend because they sing to the orca whales. Unfortunately this year the “audience” didn’t show, but we humans all enjoyed the performance anyway. The evening closed with all of us singing Amazing Grace, and even though we did not see orca whales that night, I could not help but feel how grateful and graced I am to be able to live in this incredible place.

Here is an example of orca whale vocalizations – these are calls and whistles used by orcas when communicating between family members. This is a link to a really incredible webpage with more information and examples of different types of whale songs.

The orcas too have a song to sing. I hope we are listening to them.