Random Snapshots - 2017

Here are some images that capture the spirit of our 2017. Keeping with the year-end recap tradition, I’ve presented them in black and white. Oh, and Happy New Year! (...now that it’s already March)

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Terry waltzes up Double Dip at Joshua Tree Nat’l Park. Nothing like a crisp, winter day at Josh, where the sun warms the soul.

Meet Toby, aka der Pudelhund. He’s a standard poodle, born Christmas Day, 2016. We brought him home at nine weeks—around the time this selfie was taken. So now, each weekday morning, Ter goes to work (to her new job as vice principal!) and I raise her puppy. She keeps saying he’s extremely smart. I tell her swell, he can do our taxes.

Emerald Pools Trail, Zion Nat’l Park. We packed up the van and spent a week here over Ter’s spring break. It was also Toby's first road trip.

High adventures with my sweetheart. 

The main reason for going to Zion was to finally bag Lady Mountain via the old Cable Route (to which there are no longer cables for assist). It's a 2,700-foot ascent. A five-star adventure climb.

Grandkids, Hayden and Logan, are all smiles at Disney’s California Adventure. We took them for Hayden’s fourth birthday. AND, I might add, Grandma and Grandpa outlasted them. At the end of the day, it was the kids who said they were tired and wanted to go home.

Elsa belts out “Let It Go” during the Frozen musical at California Adventure. It was a full-on Broadway production, the highlight of Hayden’s day. We had V.I.P. front row seats (my granddaughter has connections).

Kevin and Randi got married in June. Salute!

photo by Kevin Haynes

Kevin & Randi on the Llama Trail in Sedona. Kevin had this Salsa tandem mountain bike custom built. Sweet ride.

Logan barrels down a trail on Mammoth Mountain with Grandma in hot pursuit. This was the Loganator’s first time at a mountain bike park, and he took to it like a duck to water.

Hayden and Heather cruise through the campground at Mammoth Lakes. After watching my granddaughter zip around on her little strider bike, it’s clear she’s ready for pedals. Then watch out. Mammoth Mountain is calling.

photo by Robert Plumb

Doug in charge at Over The Hump, a race series that runs over the summer. He placed first in class overall for the series. No stress here: he’s sticking his tongue out at the photographer.

Doug & Brianna with their golden retriever pup, Levi. They celebrated their first wedding anniversary in May.

Allie and boyfriend Brandon (relaxing on the grass) ham it up backstage with the band Lit at the Driftwood Music Festival, Doheny Beach. Mingling with rock stars, they are.

At the Hollywood Bowl. Allie snagged some great seats for Tom Petty’s last stop of his world tour. Terry couldn’t make the gig, so Brianna was my date. It was an incredible show, TP playing to his home crowd. But one week later, he would pass away: an American treasure gone—but never forgotten. 

A placid morning in the San Juan Islands. Terry and I spent five days kayaking through this enchanted archipelago; camping on wooded beaches; sleeping under the stars; beholding magnificent sunsets. Life is good.

On Cypress Island, we be. It's one of the nine islands we explored on our 45-mile passage through the San Juans. And aye, that be Cap’n James lurking behind me, the dauntless guide and navigator of our motley flotilla. There were six of us—including the good cap’n—and rollicking times were had by all.

Seattle in July. We're keen on the Emerald City. 

The Jimi Hendrix gravesite in the Seattle suburb of Renton. I was fifteen when his double-album Electric Ladyland was released: a sonic masterpiece that became the soundtrack to my high school days. Even forty-eight years after his death, there remains a steady stream of fans that stop in to quietly pay their respects, most of them from other parts of the country, and many of them in their twenties. The legend lives on.

photo by Randi Haynes

Randi and Ter in the Central Coast wine country. It was a mother-daughter birthday weekend. Randi turned 30, and Ter... Sorry, I've been sworn to secrecy.

Heather and the grandkids joined us at Joshua Tree for an action-packed day of climbing, hiking and zip-lining with the SCMA gang.

Der Pudelhund at eleven months old. Toby follows me everywhere, my partner in crime. And he's becoming quite the mountaineer. In October-November, he bagged the summits of Baldy, Ontario, Cucamonga, Santiago, Grey Tahquitz, and Baden-Powell. He almost summited San Bernardino Peak, but we turned back 400 feet from the top due to gale-force winds and temperatures in the twenties. But we’ll bag it next time. Right, Mister T?

At Christmas, we were entertained by a sensational new band, Hayden & the Poodles. They kinda sound like Lady Gaga meets the Muppets.

---  Epilogue  ---

Two shining lights passed on at the end of the year. Hence I am commemorating this post to them…

Domenico Ernesto “Buddy” Cataldi: 1927-2017. Buddy was Allie and Heather's grandfather, and my father-in-law for twenty years. He was the consummate stand-up guy: a WW2 vet; college athlete; farm-league ball player for the Philadelphia Phillies; a devoted husband; father; grandfather. He set the bar high. The photo was taken at his 90th birthday bash in June.

Dano Nichols: 1963-2017. Dan’s mother and my mother were sisters, and growing up, we saw each other all the time. He was more like a brother to me than a cousin, which made his passing on Christmas Eve all the more painful. He built a successful life with his bare hands: homes; hot rods; vintage motorcycles. He also founded the Dynotones, an Orange County surf band with a faithful following both here and overseas. Dano will always be my guitar hero. The photo was taken at one of his gigs in Germany.


If there is anything at all to learn from Buddy and Dano, it is this: Set the bar high and play your heart out. That’s my mantra for 2018.

Kayaks in the San Juans - (Pt.2)

In the last episode, we left our six, intrepid kayakers digging in for a long night on Raccoon Island. Their fearless leader, Cap’n James, had warned of the devious ‘Coon Pirates who raided the camps late at night, and had directed the work on fortifications to thwart them. In addition, the expedition’s food supply was hung from a sturdy tree branch, out of harm’s way. If any critters were to resort to thievery, Aide-de-camp Augustus had been charged with bludgeoning them with big rocks. “We must steel ourselves for the worse and hope for the best,” proclaimed Cap’n James, for they all knew that to lose their food (and whiskey) would jeopardize the mission. They had paddled twenty miles the first two days of the journey. But to reach the Holy Grail of Anacortes, there were still another twenty-five miles to go. Hence our saga continues, as to the fate or glory of James, Augustus, three daring ladies, and an old dude.

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Day 3: The morning pack-up on Jones Island. The day greeted us with sunny skies, but the wind had strengthened during the night and was now kicking up whitecaps out in the channel. There had been no raccoon raids during the night, much to everyone’s relief. Hanging the food in the tree and keeping a spotlessly clean campsite had done the trick—either that, or the varmints had all been deported.

The first two miles of the day are across open, choppy seas, paddling into a brisk headwind. The bigger waves broke over the bow, and the wind would fling the spray into our faces. Being in the forward cockpit, Ter caught the brunt of it. It was demanding work with no rest, the most challenging section yet of the trip.

From the still waters of a kelp forest eddy, James watches August and Allison turn into the tidal current. I was beginning to grasp how to read the water’s surface to locate the boundary lines between currents and eddies. James had led us up the south shoreline of Crane Island, from eddy to eddy, to avoid the majority of wind and current, both of which were flowing against us. The small island above James’ hat is Bell Island, which is where we are heading next. The larger landmass and mountains beyond Bell is Orcas Island.

This is our camp on Blind Island, a tiny isle that sits at the entrance to Blind Bay on Shaw Island. We had come ashore early in the afternoon and called it a day, set up the tents, and then paddled across to the Shaw Island ferry dock (across the bay in photo) for ice cream.

It seemed that our happy hours were commencing a little earlier each night.

The sunset view from Blind Island, which is less than three acres in size, the highest point being forty feet above sea level (where this photo was taken). A German immigrant, John Fox, homesteaded here in the early 1900’s. However, the island’s solid bedrock prevented him from drilling a reliable well, and the cisterns he built couldn’t supply enough fresh water. The homestead was eventually abandoned, and all that remain are a few structure footings and plugged holes. Supposedly, John Fox is buried here somewhere, but no signs of a grave exist. The island is now a state park and has four, primo campsites.

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JULY 19th –
We only logged about six miles today, but the first two were a bitch, paddling into a stiff headwind. Fully loaded, our tandem kayak handles like a container ship: not the least nimble, but it takes the waves pretty well. We made camp on Blind Island, a small isle at the entrance to Blind Bay. After lunch, we paddled across to the Shaw Island ferry dock and bought ice cream at the general store. I asked the young man serving up the ice cream cones how many people lived year-round on Shaw, and he said about 250. Life goes by slow and quiet here. There’s no rush. We sat outside in weathered chairs overlooking the bay and savored the afternoon. Back at camp, we launched into happy hour, then dinner, and then gathered round a warm fire, roasting marshmallows, and discussed tomorrow’s plans. Storm clouds are rolling in. The weather is changing. It’s noticeably colder tonight than last night, and there’s a chance of rain in the forecast.

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Day 4: Under ominous skies, Allison and August make the crossing from Shaw Island to Orcas Island. We had a big day ahead of us—in addition to a chance of rain—so James had us starting extra early to catch the flood tide just right.

A purple sea star (Pisaster ochraceus) clings to the rocks along the shore of Orcas Island. Catching low tide first thing in the morning, we came across scores of these fascinating creatures. They are considered a keystone species in the tidal zones of the San Juans.

photo by Zenzi Griffin

More sea stars. These are orange. There are also burgundy red ones. Why the different colors? Check out Dr. Mah’s research.

We drift with the current for a short break, musing on Blakely Island in the distance, and the 4,000 yards of open water we must cross to reach it. An hour or more is what it will take to paddle across. The skies have been dark and threatening all morning, but so far, no rain. Hopefully our good luck will persevere.

An old bronze bell hangs on the jetty at the Blakely Island Marina. After the crossing from Orcas Island, we stopped here for coffee and pastries at the general store. There are about sixty year-round residents on Blakely.

We head into Peavine Pass, the narrow channel that separates Blakely Island (right) and Obstruction Island (left). James had timed it perfectly, for we were riding a two-knot flood tide through here. Supplemented with paddle strokes, we were scooting along at four to five miles per hour.

Pelican Beach is our camp for the night, an alluring cove on the northeast end of Cypress Island. There were several sailboats anchored offshore, some of them a group of friends who had come out from Anacortes to camp, all of them amiable folks.

This handsome ketch was anchored off Pelican Beach. We were admiring it from shore, when a young couple sitting nearby said: “That’s our boat.” No kidding? It was a vintage, all-wood vessel in pristine condition. Turned out, they had purchased it just two weeks ago. They had quit their jobs and were making it their home, with plans to eventually sail abroad. Would we like to come aboard for a tour? Uhh… Yeah!!

Aboard the Ursa Major with owners Hayden & Michaela, and their yellow lab, Alex.

Not a bad rig for cruising around the Salish Sea, living the dream. 

photo by Zenzi Griffin

The Ursa Major’s main cabin. It’s kind of like living in our camper van. Except our van is smaller … and would sink if you put it in the water.

Yet another gorgeous sunset. We had hiked to the top of Eagle Cliff, 750 feet above camp, to watch it. Hayden and Michaela had joined us, and several of our camp neighbors were on the summit as well. The air was still, and a hush came over our eclectic group of voyagers as everyone gazed at the technicolor sky, soaking in all the beauty and good vibes. If we were to keep a “Best Sunsets Ever” album, this would be one of them.

On the summit of Eagle Cliff.

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JULY 20th –
What a day! We broke camp extra early, the skies dark and brooding; beat across 2+ miles of open water to Blakely Island, where we had coffee and pastries at a sleepy marina; shot thru Peavine Pass on a flood tide; dodged rain; beat across the Rosario Strait (another 2+ miles of open water); paddled around the north end of Cypress Island; made camp on beautiful Pelican Beach; took a tour of a real pirate ship; made new friends; Glenfiddich; a tasty dinner; an evening hike to the summit of Eagle Cliff to watch the sunset; and finally, crawling into our tent on the beach and calling it a night. I’m guessing we paddled about 11 miles today—about the same as our first day, but this time, feeling much stronger afterwards. I think we’re getting the hang of it. Or maybe it’s the lightened cargo of food and whiskey?

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Day 5: In the morning, just before launching, we had one of our camp neighbors take some group shots. You gotta have a good group shot that captures the theme of the trip. (No, not Gilligan’s Island. More like Treasure Island.) The AKT Flotilla lineup, L-R: Zenzi, Ter, yours truly, Allison, Aide-de-camp August, and Cap’n James.

James points out the route that we’re taking this morning: down the east shoreline of Cypress Island for a spell, and then across the mile-wide channel to Guemes Island. The snowy ramparts of Mt. Baker can be seen faintly on the horizon at far right.

photo by Zenzi Griffin

Always looking for that perfect shot. The advantage of being in a tandem kayak was that I could stop paddling and snap photos while Ter kept pulling. However, it annoyed her to no end when I’d say: “Pick it up, babe, we’re falling behind.” What she didn’t know was that I’d already calculated that I was sitting far enough aft to be out of swinging range of her paddle. But it never crossed my mind that she could throw it at me.

We came ashore for lunch on an empty beach on the west side of Guemes Island. Guemes is eight square miles in size, with about 600 people living on it—including August. Since it would be our last meal together, James pulled out the camp stove and whipped up some grilled cheese and jalapeño jelly sandwiches. Out. Of. This. World.

After lunch, we pull around the south end of Guemes Island where Anacortes is suddenly dead ahead on the mainland (directly above Ter’s hat). We’re coming into the home stretch.

Cruising along the Anacortes docks and relishing the last mile of the journey. We had paddled about forty-five miles in five days, far exceeding any distance Terry or I had traveled in a kayak before. We explored nine islands in the San Juan archipelago, made new friends along the way, and somehow, managed to dodge the rain and escape the wrath of the Raccoon Mafia. Sadly, we did not see a single killer whale, which, we were told, is unusual. The best we had going for a “Wild Kingdom” moment was two bald eagles killing a baby seal. So what was the best thing about the San Juans? Besides the terrific people who shared the journey with us, we would have to say it was the awesome sunsets. We’ll never forget those sunsets.

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There are 172 islands in the San Juans, ranging from 50+ square miles to an acre in size, to which we set foot on only nine of them. Here they are…
  
SAN JUAN - Second-largest island in the archipelago, but largest in population (7,000). Still very rural, and the best way to explore the island is on a scooter, which you can rent from Susie Doyle, proprietor of Susie’s Mopeds. We stayed in Friday Harbor for two nights before the trip, and also came ashore for lunch in a cove on the east side of the island on our second day of kayaking.   

POSEY - A tiny, one-acre isle off the north coast of San Juan Island. We stopped here for lunch on the first day. There are two or three campsites. 

STUART - The northern-most island of the chain, with a population of around forty who live off the grid. We camped here the first night. 

JONES - A small, wilderness island  off the southwest coast of Orcas Island. Incredibly scenic. We camped here for our second night.

BLIND - Three acres of rock and trees at the entrance to Blind Bay on Shaw Island. Four secluded campsites; excellent views in any direction. We stayed here for our third night. 

SHAW - We came ashore for ice cream and beer (not consumed at the same time).  

BLAKELY - Sparsely populated, similar to Stuart Island. We pulled in at the marina on our fourth morning for coffee and donuts.  

CYPRESS - Picturesque mountains and forests, mostly wilderness. A gem. We camped here on our last night, and also came ashore earlier that day for lunch.

GUEMES - At the east end of the island chain, just three-quarters of a mile off Anacortes on the mainland. We stopped for our last lunch on a vacant beach.  

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If you'd like to see all of the  photos from this trip, click HERE. 

We also spent several days in Seattle, before and after the kayak trip, visiting my sister, PJ, and Ter’s brother, Mike. If you'd like to see the photos of us knocking around the Emerald City, click HERE.