Exploring the Umtanum Recreational Area

The family headed over to eastern Washington on the weekend, to do some hiking and exploring. We chose the Umtanum Creek Recreational Area, about a two hour drive from Tacoma. It's situated in the Yakima River Canyon, between Ellensburg and Yakima. It is a fantas- tically beautiful area, a geologic blend of desert hills and basalt cliffs that rise above the river. Our hike was along the base of the canyon, along a well-worn trail.

There were eight of us - Rue, Annie and Daisy; Taraz, Megan and their friend Alonzo, and George and I. We all wore our backpacks, containing a prepared lunch, and extra clothing for unpredictable weather.

We hiked through groves of aspen, stands of cottonwood, and along a creek bed with beaver dams that required crossing. Although there is a dusty, well-worn trail through the valley, we took a few wrong turns and had fun bushwacking our way back through the underbrush. Taraz found some excellent sticks to help us clear an opening, and he showed us how to crawl through (me on all four, so my hair wouldn't get ripped on snags.)

Daisy was a real trooper, doing quite well on the trails. But when we had to climb over and around some of the big logs, she begged for a little help, not sure of her footing. All of us used big sticks as props to get across some of the beaver dams, or to help pull one another up over an embankment.

Taraz was a delight to watch on this trip. He is like a kid, experiencing a place for the first time! He climbed up onto the high ridges, like a mountain goat. Nothing stopped him from getting higher and higher. Then he came crashing down through the shale moraine, sliding rocks, causing little rocks to tumble. When he comes here again, to climb the ridges in the spring, there is an excellent chance he can see bighorn sheep, mule deer, and elk.

We were clearly on 'the wrong trail' most of the 8 mile hike, obviously on an old trail that most hikers found discouraging, so it was poorly maintained. We eventually found a way over to a better trail on the way back, and had no problems hiking through the valley.

Meandering through this aspen grove was delightful.

The leaves on the forest floor were in subtle shades of grey and light yellow. Along the trail, leaves that were still in the shade in the late afternoon still had frost skirting the edges (I've got photos, but they are blurry).

The folage on most of the trees were in brilliant colors, and all the desert plants were beautiful in the sunlight.

We stopped for lunch in a clearing in the forest, midway through the hike.

This is our son Rue. He was listening to music on his headset, bobbing his head back and forth.

And this is Taraz and Megan, arm in arm along the trail. I will say that this was one of the most enjoyable hikes I've ever experienced, primarily because I enjoyed watching all my kids have such a good time. I'm glad they like to get out into nature, soak up the sunshine, breathe the fresh air, and explore.

I have to laugh...the best part of the trip was getting 'lost', and working together to find the right trail, with everyone helping each other. I loved seeing the energy and enthusiasm, with everyone looking out for one another.

I'm very eager to come back to this location in the spring, and climb the far ridges along antelope trails. The view up there is incredibly spacious and wonderful.

The Job Carr Museum in Old Town - Tacoma

Sooooo, you wanted apple pie.......

I used apples we found in the Duckabush Delta, and those little ones are quince, great for jelly.

Snake Lake Nature Preserve

Last weekend was such a glorious sunshiney event, unlike the preceeding days of rain and fog. When George told me he had an 'all day meeting' on Sunday, I figured I'd be spending most of the day inside by the fire, with a good book (and I've got one!). But, Sunday emerged quietly, with a silver blue sky, and then it burst into brilliant sunshine. So, how to spend the day... I put my book down, straightened the house and went for a long walk over to the Snake Lake Nature Center.

This little refuge is about a mile from my home, and is a wetland grotto right in the middle of the city. On one side of it there is a freeway overpass, where the traffic surges by at frantic speeds. On the other two sides of it are busy city streets with four lanes of bustling, noisy traffic. One would not think that a few hills and forest, some spongy wetlands with wood ducks and red-winged blackbirds, and a cement trail would be nestled in all this urban clutter. But, someone thought to preserve it, and should you walk far enough along the trail, with its wooden markers pointing out tree specimens, you will find that even here there is the opportunity to observe and wonder.

Quite a few cars in the adjacent parking lot indicated that others thought this was a neat little place too, for an hour's repast. I noticed a father and his son gathering information about trees, with a school paper at hand, to be filled out by the student. Patiently, they turned leaves over and examined berries, in hushed voices, and placed a few specimens in a bag. Another couple walked by, she still in her nursing uniform. I suspect she was on her lunch break, mid-day, and that he was her husband, coming to escort her away for a pleasant interlude. Park Rose Care Center is across the street, and when I worked there, I sometimes did this very thing to get a breath of fresh air on my break.

Since the nature preserve is small it discouraged one man who came wearing hiking boots and carrying a large backpack. He was walking ahead of me, starting briskly, perhaps hoping for some adventure. But, within a few blocks he turned back. This place was too small. At the entrance of the preserve I noticed an old woman sitting on a park bench while holding her small dog. Since pets are not allowed on the trail, she could only sit there at the entrance, and enjoy the sunshine. She had a sack lunch, and was content just to watch the visitors arrive and enter the forest, then return from their excursion. Mothers came with children and babies in strollers. A few high school boys jostled noisily through, and I came with my camera. The old woman seemed quite at home, enjoying this remote companionability.

It was not a good time to photo- graph anything. The light was too brilliant, so I focused my eyes downward, toward the leaves covering the trail. Walk far enough, and the cement turns to hardpacked dirt and pine needles, then a trail through the forest. All the deep shades of color have now washed out and dried up. Under my feet there was the crunch of dry leaves, then a wisp of dust. At the little pond dust lay in a film across the water, and all the aquatic plants were brown and soggy. Even the vegetation along the pond's edge was crisp and brittle.

I walked along an old bridge across the pond. Metal pipes were braced against the left side, holding the walking platform level. The posts were undergoing repairs, and plywood covered rotting boards. At one end of the nature preserve the highway was under repair, and sandbags and tarps had attempted to divert a portion of the little stream creating the pond. I thought how abrupt and unsightly all these modifications were, quite a nuisance and out of touch with the natural flow of things.

I wonder how Snake Lake will look in the spring. Will the repairs be completed? Will the wood ducks and mallards return? Will the old woman sit by the entrance with her dog, and enjoy watching the enthusiasm of the children walking the pathways? I walked home, and since the day was so beautiful, I worked outside in my garden, pulling up the remainder of my tomato plants and composting the spent dahlias. It is the end of the growing season, and already I wonder about spring.

A Joyful Family Gathering

Taraz and Megan were honored at a wedding celebration this weekend. It included about eighteen family members, friends from Megans work, members of the Baha'i community, and some old, dear friends from Taraz's childhood.

It was held in Megan's parents' home, in the historic district of Tacoma. The house is one of those early finely-crafted homes that aren't made anymore, with the superior attention to architect- ural details like special intricate moldings, a spot of mosaic marble on the floor, and enchantments in every room.

I will have to admit that I didn't take many photographs, but rather used my video camera most of the afternoon, capturing all the friends and family as they mingled in different rooms of the home and out in the patio.

This lovely older home has three 'living rooms', one large formal one with a fireplace, another that seems like a parlor or sitting room looking out onto the backyard garden, and another that is like a den right off the kitchen. People sat and chatted everywhere, even downstairs in a large media room where Taraz showed his video of the wedding. A long divan was against a wall, and families and children took their refreshments down there.

Megan's fraternal grandparents, Allen and Sarah, caught in a relaxed moment at the end of the day when the gathering had subsided, are as gracious and friendly as they appear here. (They would like Megan and Taraz to spend Thanksgiving with them this year, and asked if that would be O.K. I encouraged it, as we have indefinite plans for November - George and I want to fly to California to visit his brother and I'd like to visit my sister Bonnie sometime in late November.)

This is Chris, a friend of Taraz's. He works as a musician in our community, leading 'open mike' in some of the coffee-houses and clubs. He played folk music while friends and family looked through the 'wedding album', finding their favorite memories.
And this little guy did not want to go home with me, in spite of all the little squeezes and conversations we had. He was simply precious, and I would have easily assumed all the challenges of motherhood once again had he done so. But, balloons and his big brother became a major distraction, and our conversation came to naught. He had the most cheerful disposition, and I must admit that a significant amount of my videotaping involved following him around. He is about a year and a half old, and had not seen such a magnificent stairway as was presented by the one down to the media room. I couldn't help cheering him along, as he surmounted each step, then challenged by the next one, alternately frustrated or delighted in the process. I thought the attitudes he brought to that endeavor is what is really required in marriage. It is a matter of learning how to negotiate all the little steps that provide healthy patterns and stability. It requires re-working and re-examining, learning the art of careful thought and conversation. As I watched Taraz and Megan, I noticed that in the short month that they've been married, Megan has become even more beautiful, and Taraz is learning .....to listen! I told him, early on, to be a good listener, as oftentimes in conversations a woman just wants the comfort of dialogue. Some men want short conversations, with the thought being to solve problems quickly. There are significant differences in the tone and intent of both approaches.

When I came home from our family gathering, I continued reading "An Intimate History of Humanity" by Theodore Zeldin. He writes a fascinating chapter on loneliness and how people devise strategies to confront it. He says that everyone needs small doses of diverse relationships, that in order to survive side by side with others it is necessary to absorb a minute part of others, and that curiosity about others is essential to one's very own existence. He shows how the world is not just a vast, frightening wilderness... some kind of order is discernible in it, and that the individual, however insignificant, contains echoes of that coherence. He writes:

"People who believe in some supernatural power have their loneliness mitigated by the sense that, despite all the misfortunes that overwhelm them, there is some minute divine spark inside them: that is how they are immunized. Those who have no such faith can develop a sense of being useful to others, and can recognise a link of generosity between themselves and others, rational and emotional connections which mean that they are part of a wider whole, even though they may be unable to decipher fully its enigmas and cruelties. Much of what is called progress has been the result of solitary individuals saved from feeling totally alone, even when persecuted, by the conviction that they have grasped a truth, a fragment of a much wider one too large to capture. "

A Shelter In The Storm

This is the view out of a little walkway on the campus of the University of Puget Sound. A light rain and a bit of fog kept me company. Most of the students were in class, and far off, in the bell tower, a solitary chime announced 3:30. It was a blissful afternoon!

Bloomin' Late

I'd intended to photo- graph the Cherry Cheese- cake Pie I made, but I forgot!

My Neighborhood - 6th Avenue

You are surely wondering what this ghastly goo is, and why I'd stop to take a picture! Actually, it is old paint, on a rainpipe in the alley near a shop on 6th Avenue, in the North End of Tacoma.

I've been walking along this main thorough- fare, which encom- passes the Proctor District, the University District, and the historic Stadium District as part of my weekly routine.

When I moved to Washington from a small town in Montana, I was not at all delighted living in Tacoma, with shopping districts, a lot of traffic and congestion, and the bustle of the city. But, here I am, and 18 years later I can say that I've made myself at home. Instead of walking through prairie grass or along a country trail on the look-out for cougars and bears, I'm walking along city streets - in my hiking boots. I put on a faded black visor, tie my long curly hair at the back with a scarf, and wrap a plaid flannel shirt around my waist. I'm heading down my mainstreet - 6th Avenue, just a few blocks from my house.

It is a main street that leads from the water of Puget Sound over to the railroad tracks and the industrial Port of Tacoma, with its container ships in Commencement Bay. I walk about two miles, looking in shop windows, browsing the bead shops, the cookware shops, the deli's and the art galleries.

It is a famous street for eateries, like Primo's Grill, Silk Thai, and Southern Kitchen, one of our favorites: listen to this, " Probably the last restaurant in Western Wash- ington with a screen door, the small but com- fortable Southern Kitchen cradles its regulars: college kids, families after church, old folks, everybody. Gloria and Thad Martin bought the place in 1994, and have been slathering their customers with love and country gravy ever since. "

There's Gateway to India, and Shakbrah Java, a little soup and sandwich eaterie with a lot of little tables along a wall of books. Reading and lingering over coffee is incouraged. It is a hangout for gatherings, and clubs, "where more than fifty leaders and activists from Western Washington's progressive organizations gather to discuss current efforts to identify ways they can be a driving force for change in their community. The Steelworkers Tacoma/Pierce County Associate Member Chapter bring together peace groups, retired and working union members, Demo- cratic and third party activists, GLBT groups, professors, and many others...."

Jazzbones Restaurant and Nightclub. is a real hotspot on 6th Avenue, offering nightly live music and an open mike. Once a month a guest artist comes in with canvas and paint, and patrons help him create a painting. Everyone pitches in, contributing concepts and suggestions. He completes the work, and it is sold to help fund projects at Jason Lee Middle School a few blocks away. I was reading posters on the front door, when one of the proprietors saw me, opened the lock on the front door (the place wasn't open yet), and asked if I'd like to look around. He invited me in, showed me the art gallery upstairs, and the stage below. In November Jazzbones will open at 11:00 a.m. for lunch. That will bring in more of the day crowds who frequent 6th Avenue.
This is one of the posters I was looking at, on the doorway. A gentleman came up to me and saw my camera, thinking it must be a very fancy, high-faluttin' type cause it is so big. He asked a few questions about it, and I told him it was a very old Sony model, a beginners type, that was sold 5 years ago.

I enjoy a real sense of community walking along the sidewalk, and people - amazingly - greet me, like the young man at the signal light who leaned out the window, and said, "Hey lady! I like your hat!" I smile a greeting, and he watches me pass. Another man acts silly in front of an espresso cafe, hugging his friends as he walks out. He sees me and says, "I'm here to give anyone a hug...do you want a hug?" I smile, keep walking and say, "I'll think about it." I watch his friends roll their eyes in amusement and pull him toward their car.

Another lady, the owner of Caravan Dreams, looks at me appreciating her dolls in the window, and comes over. The door to her shop is wide open. "Do you want to come in? I'm just about ready to close..." The aroma of incense was drifting out the doorway. I told her "No, thanks, but I'll stop by in a day or two on my walk."

As I walk along, I notice that someone has put a lot of attention into the grating around a tree in the bullevard. Grafitti covers an art gallery wall in the alley.

And, the painter even left drops on the tiny plants near the pavement.
Long ago, this paint covered a wall and a handle. I like how parts of it show what's under- neath.
And, this little guy, he really caught my attention. I walk past a funeral home, a ballet studio, a Greek take-out place where the aroma of gyros and pizza drifts out onto the sidewalk. There is an animal hospital, a pottery workshop, a Baptist church, a lawn mower repair, a denture repair, a lawyer and an accountant, and a Starbucks. Taco Bell, Kentucky Fried, Teriyaki, a hair and nail salon, Bartell Drug and Wells Fargo Bank, Precision Auto- motive (they do all my repairs), a flowershop, hardware and lumber store, doughnut shop, a gold and silver exchange, and catering business, real estate, a small grocery store, my dentist, a Walgreens, my gas station and used tire shop, the dry cleaners.....and Meier's House of Clocks, where I filmed this globe outside.

I went inside the shop to find the owner, bent over some wheels, springs, levers and wire. He raised his head, wearing a little black magnifying glass. His accent was very strong, Swiss, and he told me about his shop. I looked around, while big chimes celebrated the hour. An entire wall was devoted to Swiss cuckoo clocks, with the little doors that open. There were music clocks, sand timer hourglasses, and whimsical alarms clocks. Huge $4,000 grandfather clocks from Europe play melodies every 15 minutes. There were triple chime mantel clocks that chimed melodies every 15 minutes and hand painted wooden musical clocks, Hummels and crystal pieces from Germany. And, behind the counter were animated animals, cats, dogs, donkeys, and a Hurdy – Gurdy from Barcelona, Spain. I could only imagine the cahaphony of dings and dongs, chimes, squeals, and buzzing alarms that orchestrate on the hour and quarter hour.

I really appreciate this little microcosm on 6th Avenue, with its pleasant mix of people - university students at the espresso shops, the business elite frequenting the eateries on their lunch hours, and the disenfranchised, mentally ill, who walk the street for hours, back and forth, checking the garbage receptacles for the remnants of a sandwich. Kids park their bikes in front of the convenience store, and run in for candy. People sit outside the espresso shope enjoying their coffee. And Pierce Transit buses drop off shoppers every 15 minutes.

Horns honk, the signals change, telling me when to walk, and as I round the corner, cross the main thoroughfare - 6th Avenue - I'm glad to be home. I'm close enough to benefit from all that stimulation and humanity, but removed to the quiet of my own front porch. I take my shoes off at the front door, and sit down on the loveseat. Many people walk by during the course of the day, on their way down to 6th Avenue, many rushing to catch the bus, walk their dogs, or just take the kids for a walk. This couple, Becky and Stan, stopped to admire my front porch, so, natch, I snapped their photo.

The Duckabush River Delta - Hood Canal

We packed up the canoe and headed out for a paddle on the Duckabush River Delta on the Hood Canal. Fog nestled in the trees and along the mountains and meadows along the way.

It is about a two hour drive to Hoodsport and the Duckabush River, much of it through farmlands, forests and the quaint community along the Hood Canal. This old barn was along a country road, not far from the delta.

The Duckabush River Delta is a critical wetland area managed by the Department of Fish and Wildlife. It is a prime habitat for seals (we saw at least 40), trumpeter swans, and critical fish stocks. As we paddled up the river, we noticed many schools of young salmon, and also the old salmon dying along the riverbottom.

We had to wait for the tides to be just right before we could head upriver, otherwise the low tide makes paddling impossible. George has been wanting to do this paddle for years, but had to wait for the right tides and weather to do it. It is a beautiful, clear river, with little cabins nestled along the edges.

The water was a deep emerald green, and the riverbank was still verdant with ferns, wild roses, and currant. Cars were lined up along the highway, with throngs of fishermen. Access Washington's News Releases at this time last year reported: "Chum are already abundant near the Hoodsport hatchery on Hood Canal, said Mark Cylwick, WDFW hatchery specialist. They began showing up the third week of October. The chum normally peaks just before Thanksgiving. "They're running a little bit early right now, so that indicates we're going to have a giant run or that things might peter out a little early," Cylwick said. He described the chum as semi-dark with some brights mixed in. "Usually the fish are in pretty good shape out here in front of the hatchery because they're still in saltwater." he said. A creel check Oct. 29 on the Hoodsport shore showed 59 anglers with 42 chum. . ."

"This time of year, anglers have to play the weather as well as the fish, Thiesfeld said. They need to hit the rivers when they're high enough to bring in salmon, but not so high that they're unfishable. "This is a typical fall pattern," Thiesfeld said. "You watch the weather and stream gauges. If the rivers drop back into shape, you go. If not, you stay home and watch football or go blackmouth fishing."

This was our 'put in place'. We slid the canoe down the embankment along the left, then paddled for about an hour and a half up-river, then down-river out to the delta. There, we watched seals bobbing in the water. I was able to videotape the vast imagery of the delta, with the fog distant in the trees and the seals barking at us.

We pulled the canoe up onto a grassy bank and found a wild apple tree, just covered in perfect red apples. I emptied my camera box and we shook some of the apples down. We filled the box, and I plan to make a couple of apple pies, and some applesauce.