I awakened in the cozy bed in Linda and Steve’s guest house--Saturday, June 8th. After packing my gear, I went to the main house and we had coffee and fruit together. Steve’s son, Mike, was there and he took great delight in cycling Henry David around the driveway. He even waved his arms in the air, controlling his road flight with his legs. Mike was all smiles. He is a gentle, kind soul and was born with a mild disability---appearing to be perhaps a mild form of cerebral palsy or other neurological disorder. He has not been able to really ride a bicycle due to some balance issues. So, he took to HD like a duck to water.
When I left the house, Steve handed me 2 sheets of folded paper and told me to read them that night. A mystery! Now you have to wait to read what those papers contained...
Linda was the perfect hostess: slicing fruit, popping in Eggos for Steve and Mike, preparing single espresso and cream shots. My coffee came with the “W” napkin for Weston Hotels. I could see the family influence in the napkins, the front door mat, and in the perfection of the bathrooms---gleaming fixtures, fluffy guest towels, and squares of guest soaps that the “me” of my youth would never have touched, for fear they were meant for “important people”. Now, I wear purple. I wear my nice panties--even when I play in the garden and get all sweaty! I don’t wait to enjoy life. So, I relished in the delicious towels, the scented soaps, the fluffy pillows that I hugged tight all night long. Heaven.
Heaven really IS on Earth.
After hugs all around, I cycled out of Ellensburg, taking the Vantage highway to Gingko State Park. Some years ago, they had found petrified wood in the area and, to preserve the history, it was made into a state park. It was a delightfully hilly ride---I didn’t realize how much we had ascended, until the descent when HD hit 40 mph, a record breaker for us. He was always able to go that fast, and faster. But I have gained a bit of courage in this endeavor and now I am more likely to “let it fly” than ride the brakes!
HD rolled into the small park set aside for hikers---right off the Vantage hwy, a few miles before Vantage and reaching the Columbia River and part of the Columbia Gorge. They have petrified specimens of maple, walnut, douglas fir---set down below the ground level and protected by metal grates. You can easily see the ancient tree trunk turned to stone, but protected from theft and vandalism--intentional and accidental.
I had initially planned on staying in Gingko State Campground, but it was early yet, so I crossed the Columbia via bridge and skirted the Gorge. Then, on to Moses Lake, switching between frontage roads, side highways, and interstate. It was a long day without any remarkable happenings, other than incredible geological sites and passing by National Monuments. Photos will eventually follow!
I stopped at one of the two big campgrounds at Moses Lake. But, the wind was picking up and the grounds were packed stem to stern with RVs. I decided to get a motel because my legs were very tired and I knew I needed a decent rest from this very long day of about 75 miles. HD did me proud!
I ate a veggie burger and fries in my room from Shari’s. This is now the 2nd time I have had that meal. While I love the taste, I always feel pretty weighted down afterwards. It’s just not worth it. Tasty, yes! Good for me? Not hardly!
I unfolded the notes from Steve. It was a photo of his son, Mike, and Mike’s philosophy of life. I was so touched, this message will go in a separate blog, dedicated to Mike. And to Steve and Linda--they have influenced this young man in a wonderful way. They love him dearly and he is secure in that love.
On Sunday, June 9th, I headed for Sprague Lake, about 20 miles north of Ritzville. A friend I had met online sent me a link and I chose that spot to camp. I met Monica, the German woman who owns and runs the place, paid my fee, and set up camp a few feet from water’s edge. The area would have been an ornithologist’s paradise with ducks, geese, owls, cranes, jays, starlings, etc. It was a cacophany of sound in the early light of the morning. A mother duck swam from the shore, followed by her brood of 12 fluffly ducklings. Spring is here at Sprague Lake.
Isn’t Mother Nature (“Mama G”--teehee) fascinating. A duck or small bird will lay a dozen eggs. The owl lays a few. The duck and starling will lose a percentage of their babies to the owl, who needs to feed her own clutch. Over the ages, when left alone, there is an overall balance.
But, we humans have been upsetting the balance as so many species have lost their habitats and have become extinct. There are those who would say we humans are needed to manage the world’s resources wisely, that it is our “God-given right” to be in charge, and that global changes have nothing to do with our existence. I agree that we may be more intelligent than other creatures. But. Every existence has an impact. So, YOU are valuable, more valuable as gold. But you also have the great opportunity to love and to live a life of honor and respect. We need to use our lives wisely. I have SOOO many lessons yet to learn about respecting our fellow beings, be they human, or animal, or insect, or rock, or tree.
So, “George”, who wishes to remain anonymous... he pointed me to this campground from the internet and sent me the links via text. He lives down in the Tri-Cities area but had been to Coeur d’Alene that day and swung by the campground on his way back. He brought wine and stories.
George, George, George!! He had many fascinating and fun stories to tell---we laughed our heads off and I found myself saying, “And then what happened?” and hooting with laughter or incredulity with his answers. Half of the time, he skillfully turned the tables, asking me questions, and we shared stories equally.
So, George. George is the second son of two brilliant parents. Mom was born in poverty and went to school and is still living a life worth mentioning. She has written books about her life as it is a fascinating one.
My favorite story about her is about her special river rock. She grew up in a cabin near Kootenay Lake in Canada. Here is that gorgeous area.
When she left that area with husband and family, she carried a river stone from the river by her home cabin. When she would travel back to the area to visit family, she would dip the rock back in the Kootenay, thus rechristening or “reawakening” her rock. Then she would put it back in her purse. When her husband passed away, she was living in the central California area. She took a trip to Washington shortly after his death, and bought a home in the TriCities area (Kennewick, Richland, and Pasco. My daughter Heather and her husband Rick lived there for a few years and I’ve actually been there). This area is the convergence of three rivers: the Yakima, the Snake, and the Columbia Rivers. I believe that George said this house is by the Snake River. It is fed, river by river and stream by stream, by the Kootenay. So, she moved to her new home and went to her river in the “back yard”. She bent over to dip her rock in the Snake River, as it was fed by the river of her childhood home in Canada. She stopped, looked at her rock and looked at the river, and with a mighty arm, pitched that stone into the river, stating “I am home now”.
George’s father died of cancer---several years of battle with cancer. During that time, George went back and forth to his home to be with his dad and really got to know him. A new respect was formulated as this young man reached adulthood and the father and son reconciled the fact that they were different as well as the same. Such is life, you know? We are part and parcel of our heritage, yet still make choices of our own, many of them quite different than the choices our parents made. And thus we grow.
As a young man, he was the wild child. Both parents were accomplished and well educated and his dad wanted him to be a mechanical engineer. But the out of doors called George louder than the drawing board. So, he has traveled to the tropics and to the desert and to the coast and to the glaciers. He has skiied in Alaska and Colorado and Canada and Washington. He has sailed in the waters of the northwest and backpacked through the east coast of Australia. He has hosted tourists on helicopters in Alaska, bartended in the tropics. He has met friends; celebrated life in pubs and around campfires; won spur of the moment sailing regattas, drank a substantial amount of beer with buddies; had romances and moved on; learned the construction trade and advanced his education--both behind the brick walls of schools and universities, and on the water and in the woods.
And ladies, this very handsome young man is single. But be prepared to either follow him on the slopes or allow him that freedom to go alone. The powder calls him with a voice that cannot be silenced. Nor should it. He has only been skiing for 5 years and friends who are master skiers, having participated in the sport for several decades, can’t believe he mastered the toughest slopes in 4 years. Now he skis whenever there is fresh powder, racing between trees and making his own individual course. On the slopes and in his life.
George and I shared part of a bottle of wine and then he headed home. I did my exercises and then fell asleep immediately, dreaming of sailing and skiing---loving water in any form. Although I like to be warm, so a tropical waterfall has a much deeper call!
The following morning, I packed up HD and went to say Adieu to my landlady of the single evening. Boy, was I in for a surprise, as this little landlady was a true treasure! Monica is a German lady of 68--today was her birthday (June 10th). She married an American GI and moved to Sprague as a young woman. Her husband grew up on a farm in the area. They decided to buy this campground and they ran it together for a few years. The marriage ended in divorce and Monica bought a piece of the property back from her “ex” and has been running the small campground single-handedly for many years.
The camping season is short, running only in the summer months. There were only two campers besides myself last night in this campground. But in the middle of the summer, it gets filled as the fishing is great and it is a peaceful, secluded spot.
Well, except for the trains that run on the hour around half of the lake.
I’ve come to love trains even more than ever.
Monica says that, if she does all the upkeep herself and hires a local man for the occasional plumbing needs, she can make enough to live modestly and do what she loves. Her home is right on the campground--a beautiful home with picture windows spanning two walls of her living room, facing the river.
Monica loves where she lives, alone by the beautiful Sprague Lake. She enjoys running her business solo. She lives frugally and, with her savings, every year, she travels for a month or two in the winter. She has been to 84 countries and has a few more places to go. She invited me into her home, gave me delicious coffee, and showed me the photos on the walls, taken from places she has visited from around the world. She is really quite the photographer, capturing emotion and feeling and beauty and majesty on film. She travels light, with just a backpack and camera. She doesn’t buy trinkets or clothing except on rare occasions. Her primary focus is the people. She loves to look at the architecture of the buildings, the beauty of the landscape, and to talk to the people.
I understand her completely. But I stand in awe of her. It is one thing to travel in the USA as a solo female. I mean, everyone here speaks the same primary language. And I understand the culture here, so I don’t make mistakes and gaffs. Well, ok, I still do, but I would make many more in another culture!! But Monica, my goodness, she has traveled to so many countries, not speaking the language. She said there are enough people the world over who speak English, so that she has been able to get along from point A to point B with few exceptions.
She said that the best way to travel is as a solo woman. It brings out people’s protective instincts and they also share more of their lives than if the woman is with another person. I totally understand that---it has been my own experience as well.
Monica does not go on organized tours, but lands in the country and, with a loose plan, sees the sights and meets the people. There were photos from India, Pakistan, Nepal, Viet Nam, the Sahara Desert--so many different places I can’t remember now what they were! She has lived her life fully, and most of it alone. But says she is not lonely.
She does have family still in Germany. Since it was her birthday, our conversation was frequently interrupted, appropriately so, by happy calls and well wishes from her sisters.
This slender, tough lady has had her challenges. The divorce---I know how that feels. We did not go into any conversation about the details, other than the statement that she is much happier being alone. That says enough.
She also had breast cancer. Twice. She was about 30 when a small lump was detected. She underwent radiation and was sick for 6 months and tired for a few years. It came back some years later and she had a mastectomy. When she was first diagnosed with cancer, the oncologist marked her breast with the tatoo dots to help direct the radiation beams. In response to these tatoos and her own desire for beauty in the midst of trauma, she had a flower or butterfly tatoo put on her thigh. (I didn’t get to see that one). She showed it to her oncologist, explaining that her art was better than his!! He laughed.
Later, she had a beautiful geisha, embelisshed with flowers, butterflies, and scrolling lines tattooed across the left shoulder and down the back. Later, she added more flowers to the lumbar area. She did show me these. There was also a photo of her back, with her head turned to the side and her light brown curls gracing her lovely neck and framing her beautiful, strong yet delicate face, showing the geisha tattoo when she was in her early 30’s. Beautiful.
She still is.
After two cups of delicious coffee and the building of a new friendship, I headed out on the road. It was side roads and highways almost all the way to Spokane Valley. HD and I traveled on the hwy through Cheney, WA and it was so lovely to be back in the pines. The smell was rich with evergreens and fresh air.
But, getting through Spokane was a challenge. Old city, ragged streets, roads crisscrossing and heavy with traffic, road construction everywhere. It was difficult to find safe roads and so I just held my breath and pedaled through the city. As Spokane gave way to Spokane Valley, the streets became wider and quieter. I cycled to the KOA and spent a delightful evening talking to my new friend. (I have mentioned Peter, haven’t I?) And doing laundry and showering and repowering the phone. You know. All the basics.
On Tuesday, June 11th, HD and I packed up and headed for Coeur d’Alene. Again, I traveled side streets, bike paths, and hwy all the way. No interstate. It was only a 20-25 mile day, so I arrived at destination in the early afternoon. I was warmly greeted by Elizabeth and her daughter Larkin. I spent two nights here, in order to talk to the girl scouts on the second night. And to spend a little time with Elizabeth and Larkin.
The CdA experience requires its own moment in the sun.
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