WRAP UP THE ALPS, THE WHITE MOUNTAINS, AND THE SIERRAS IN ONE BIG PACKAGE AND YOU’LL FIND A LITTLE BIT OF EACH ON GLORIOUS MT. BAKER

 If I sound enthusiastic, I am. I have never stayed in a more beautiful campsite than the Silver Fir campsite in Mt. Baker National Forest last August. Jon Pollack, whom I first met on the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal in 1999, and I were perched on a low cliff above the Nooksak River, which originated in the Mt. Shuksan glacier. A small island of rocks divided the water as it rushed over the variegated riverbed, changing color and wrapping us in a continuous, hypnotic layer of sound. We were surrounded by huge firs and cedars, some encased in moss, which hung down, giving me the feeling of being protected by a giant cocoon. 

Silver Fir campsite, Mt. Baker National Forest

All the comforts of home

Nooksak River

Who says I can't cook?

Our first big hike led us over steep ups and downs via the Lake Anne Trail to Lake Anne and a wide meadow beneath the Mt. Shuksan glacier. I was mesmerized by the plethora of alpine flowers and the lush flora surrounding us. And I filled my camera with images.

Heading for the hills

Lake Anne

The Shuksan Glacier

Lake Anne Trail

The intrepid hikers

Relaxing back at the campsite

Jon's special log...Now the Day is Over

The biggest challenge of our four days came when we departed from Artists Point up the rocky path to Table Mountain. The name, alone, should have raised a flag for me, having almost met my match on the Table Mountain in South Africa, a tale I related in my book, Madam Have You Ever Really Been Happy? Also, the caveat that no dogs were allowed on the trail should have been ample warning. But on we trudged through the mist to the barren summits, each one more rocky than the previous. But the cairns, silhouetted against the sky, were striking, and the 360 degree view in and out of the clouds made the exertion worthwhile. Trouble is, we lost our bearings and circled the mountaintop before heading down toward Ptarmigan Ridge way in the distance. At this point we were faced with ominous black clouds and nothing ahead but unmarked boulders. I called it “rock-whacking,” not bushwhacking. We came upon stretches of sand and pools of water before reaching another pile of rocks…then a steep section of undergrowth on which I slid on my bottom to where the rocks began, again. Hey, it was a great adventure, especially when it was over! I’m always impressed, when climbing in the Northwest, by the lushness of the vegetation at altitudes over 6,000 ft. In N.H. the tree line ends around 4,000 ft. But Jon keeps telling me that WA is lower in latitude than New Jersey. It was almost like a temperate rain forest at times.

Fog everywhere

Headed up Table Mountain

Table Mountain

The summit at last!

"Rock-whacking"

Almost down

 Hating to say farewell to our gorgeous campsite, we headed in a different direction for another Mt. Baker trail, The Skyline Divide. We climbed up  2,000 ft. and stopped in a vast meadow, reminiscent of the Alpine meadows I enjoyed in Switzerland with my children when they were young. There were mountain ranges everywhere! To the right Mt. Baker loomed, its huge cone gleaming white, and ahead of us was Mt. Shuksan, where we had been our first day. Next to it was the Pickette mountain range and way over to the left was the coastal range of British Columbia, just clear enough to see. That’s how near to Canada was. 

Mt. Baker

Mt. Shuksan and the Pickette Mountains

Jon in the meadow beneath Mt. Baker

IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO REMINISCE ABOUT THE SUMMER, NOW THAT THE CRISPNESS OF AUTUMN IS UPON US AND THE LEAVES ARE TURNING. SO HERE GOES….

After spending three weeks at the cottage on Lake Winnipesaukee in July and early August, I headed for my yearly sojourn in the Northwest: Seattle, Whidbey Island, and the northern Cascade mountains of Washington. An old friend from the Plainfield Symphony, Nancy Quickstad, greeted me and, after spending the night with her family, delivered me to Jon Pollack, my Himalayan climbing buddy. From there I visited with Beth Whitman, my peripatetic friend, who is right now in India, heading for Bhutan (http://wanderlustandlipstick.com/). On our walk we stumbled onto Seattle Tilth, a non-profit organic gardening and urban ecology center, which has classes, demonstration gardens, children’s program, and community events. (www.Seattletilth.org/) And it’s right in the middle of residential Seattle! I visited with Yana Viniko and Lee Compton, with whom I traveled in Myanmar two years ago, and talked with old friends, Joan Weisenbloom, and Betty Tisdale, who at 87 is still raising money for schools and orphanages in Asia and South America. Betty had just returned from Kabul, Afghanistan, where she helped refurbish the School for Creative Abilities, for which she raised $20,000. She worked alongside Marni Gustafson, a women recently interviewed about this and other projects by Christiane Amanpour, the international journalist. Betty is high on my list of people in this world who make a difference. I recommend that you look at her website, and read about the organization, H.A.L.O (Helping and loving Orphans) which Betty started in 2000 to help children in Vietnam, Colombia, Afghanistan, and Mexico. (www.bettytisdale.com) In the spring Betty is returning to Vietnam and Afghanistan to continue her work.

Once I arrived on Whidbey Island and settled into my daughter, Cary Peterson’s rustic cabin, adjacent to the Talking Circle community, I began participating in the maintenance of the two gardens she has spearheaded, Good Cheer Garden (started in January on a huge parcel of unused land, which required a lot of work to make it arable)  http://www.goodcheer.org/ and The Whidbey Institute Garden. I worked alongside several of the 250 volunteers that make these gardens so important to the welfare of South Whidbey. The aim is a hunger-free environment, and the Good Cheer Thrift Store in Langley, stocked from donations, supplies much of the funding. Many companies and a few retired farmers also donate a huge variety of products to the food bank. Good Cheer Food Bank is a grocery-style food bank based on points and open six days a week. It’s a cutting edge model for food banks throughout the country.

Good Cheer Truck

Children getting instructions

I experienced intense physical labor unlike anything I’ve done in recent years. Made me really appreciate the United Farm Workers! I also helped in sorting thousands of seed packets donated by the Ed Hume Seed Company for these gardens, which not only have lifted the spirits of so many people on the island, but also provide nutritious fresh produce for those below the poverty level or unemployed during these difficult times. On one morning Cary and I packaged and labeled over 80 bags of lettuce that were gone by the next day. Those who benefit from these gardens also volunteer and donate money once they are back at work and have no need for the service. Others, who are currently unemployed, use their free time to help in the garden while they are receiving a helping hand in return. It’s a win-win for everybody, and the spirit of cooperation, from the director of the Good Cheer Food Bank, Kathy McLaughlin, to the many volunteers of all ages throughout South Whidbey Island is palpable.

Children cleaning carrots

Let me touch, briefly, on the new Youth Work Crew Program, which deals with youth at risk. It is part of the Island County Department of Juvenile and Family Court Services whose purpose is to reduce juvenile delinquency. Here is an example of giving young people a chance to work, supervised, in a garden setting, as an alternative to serving in detention, and at the same time make a contribution to the life of their community. It gives them positive coping skills and a feeling of pride and accomplishment that does not come from meaningless clean-up jobs assigned to transgressors in the past. This is a new program, which Cary tells me is making a real difference in the lives of these young people.

Children eating carrots

Cary Peterson in one section of Whidbey Institute Garden

A real plus to my visit to Whidbey Island was connecting with Robert and Lynn Rubright, old friends from St. Louis who were making a tour of the Northwest. We took in some of the natural wonders of the island, including several state parks, and treated ourselves to walks on the beach and the bluffs overlooking Puget Sound.

Other old friends I visited were Dale Reiger, who is still setting up hospitals in Honduras http://saludjuntos.org/ and Fred and Sharon Lundahl, who are presently traveling in Central Asia to replenish their stock of handsome carpets and textiles for their store in Langley, Music for the Eyes. It was in this beautiful store that I gave my slide show and book reading two years ago.

My next blog will have photos from the four days of climbing I enjoyed with Jon Pollack in the Mt. Baker National Forest. Please bear with me. As you can tell, I’m having trouble mounting these pictures. They don’t go where I tell them to, and sometimes they disappear completely (the mysteries of modern technology) and the text has nothing to do with the photos. Just pretend this is a puzzle. Try to fit the text together!

The children pictured on this blog are from local elementary schools, not the Youth at Risk program.

Good Cheer volunteer

Kathy McLaughlin, Executive Director

Bagging fresh produce

 

Fresh-baked bread for lunch!

The variety of vegetables is limitless

Volunteers are guaranteed a great lunch!

All ages are welcome at the Good Cheer Garden

Cary's cargo bike. Great mileage!

Greenhouse built especially for tomatoes, which are difficult to grow in the Northwest

I’D RATHER GO AROUND THE WORLD ON FOOT THAN DRIVE TO D.C. IN THE RAIN!

Call me chicken or call me wise, but you can also call me brave for fighting the winds and rain and fog of the Jersey Turnpike and 95 South and whatever other route I found myself on, as I fought the defroster and the endless trips through the same tunnel, trying to see road signs and exits. If it hadn’t been for the CD of presidential historian Doris Kearns Goodwin’s captivating book, Team of Rivals, I would never have retained my sanity. Or maybe that’s why I kept losing my way. Amtrak, here I come!

I AM HORRIFIED OVER THE RECENT REFUSAL OF PRESIDENT OBAMA TO SEE THE DALAI LAMA

He is the first president in two decades to refuse to meet the Tibetan leader-in-exile. He has met countless other leaders of countries whose human rights violations are legendary (how about China for starters?). There’s enough unpleasant news out there to go around—from Afghanistan to Myanmar, from Iran to North Korea. And here was a chance to acknowledge a man who stands for non-violence, peace, and reconciliation in the world. How wrongheaded and sad it is that he has been denied meeting with our president for fear of antagonizing China. What happened to all the campaign rhetoric about human freedom? Who’s running the show? Political expediency? Money? So much for values.

I just saw Michael Moore’s latest film, Capitalism: A Love Story. What a blast! No matter where you stand in the economic spectrum, you’ll find some compelling stories along with humor and wit that will make you think. Don’t miss it. One of my favorite scenes is Michael talking to a Wall Street banker, who is explaining derivatives. Watch his face. It’s the face of most Americans as they try to understand what happened to our economy and work their way through the labyrinth of complicated financial-speak that brought this country to its knees.

THE IRISH ARE IN TOWN AND IT’S NOT EVEN ST. PATRICK’S DAY!

For five weeks, a festival of Irish theater has been taking place all over town, from the Irish Repertory to the 59E59 Theater to the Players Loft Theater where last night I enjoyed Sean Gormly in Conor McPherson’s The Good Thief. It doesn’t get any better than Conor McPherson, who wowed New Yorkers with The Seafarer and The Weir, two of his most compelling plays. But this poetic and riveting one-man show about comic hard luck and lurid violence once more paints the Irish as a bit stupid (or should I say clueless), very drunk, and prone to senseless violence. This does not go over well in Ireland, as we all know, but it sure makes for good theater. And this tale had us on the edge of our seats as we listened to the story of a sociopath who seemed to have no idea of right or wrong or how to reclaim a life gone totally off the tracks. Made me feel boringly normal. 

If you want a great pre-theater bowl of borscht, go up a flight of stairs to the Olive Tree Cafe at 117 McDougal Street around the corner from the Minetta Lane Theater and next door to the Player’s Loft. You can get it hot or cold, accompanied by a tub of sour cream and the best dark bread in town.

Several people have urged me to continue with my travel suggestions. As you know, I had to cancel my hoped-for climb in Nepal this Fall, so this will at least give the flavor of travel to my blog. I give such advice because I have made all the classic mistakes and even if you follow my lead, you will make other ones. Do share them with us. Some day we will all be perfect! 

As I said in the last entry, take only half of what you first thought was absolutely necessary, and do not carry a load that makes you feel and look like a bedraggled donkey ready for retirement. Rule #2: Label all your bags with YOUR name, home address, and destination. You laugh. What dope wouldn’t do THAT? Well, my daughter (sorry Martha) didn’t on our trip to Tanzania last year, and she almost lost a very important duffel with climbing paraphernalia. It had to be delivered to the foot of Mt. Kilimanjaro! It was labeled all right, but with her son’s name. The airline totally overlooked it in its search. Also, keep a small book (I’m big on small looseleaf notebooks) with necessary addresses and statistics such as the size of bags and what they look like. When you lose something and are jet-lagging at your destination, it’s hard to remember what your name is, to say nothing of the color or configuration of your bags. Watch for the next 8 rules. And send me yours. There’s no limit.

TRAVEL IS MAKING ITS WAY THROUGH THE YOUNGER GENERATION LIKE WILDFIRE, AND THEIR ENTHUSIASM IS CONTAGIOUS!

My desire to see the world and live in other cultures was considered a little strange sixty years ago. Not so any more. It’s all the rage and I’m tickled pink. My unofficial granddaughter, an artist extraordinaire, Jenny Vitello, is landing, as I write, in Nairobi, Kenya, and will be spending the next ten months as a volunteer with Global Vision International. She will work in villages as well as do oceanic research. Her headquarters will be in Shimoni, Kenya…a stone’s throw from the Tanzanian border. In fact, on a clear day she can see Mt. Kilimanjaro! In the next months I may send on some tidbits about Jen’s work, but in the meantime, if you’re interested in the scope of the project check out their blog: 

 http://gvikenya.blogspot.com/  

A couple of months ago Jen came to me for advice on what to take and what not to take. Having made two world backpacking trips and dozens of other assorted journeys and treks, I have the reputation for being brutal when it comes to packing. I wear my heavy climbing boots, one pair of thin, easy-dry hiking pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a polar fleece. You certainly won’t need the latter in equatorial Africa when you arrive (except at night), but have you ever tried to sleep on an airplane these days when there’s a shortage of blankets? This leaves a minimum of undergarments (two bras, two pair of panties, four pairs of socks, including two smart wool, a pair of shorts, a couple of T-shirts, one acting as a nightie, and a minimum—absolute minimum!—of toiletries. You can buy extras of any of these things, which you probably will enjoy as mementos on your return). 

Of course there will be a huge list from the leaders of any travel enterprise but the one thing I always stress is: DO NOT LOAD YOURSELF DOWN!! No matter how beautiful you may be, very seldom do you find a handsome man willing to cart your stuff for you. Chivalry is not dead, but it is on the wane big time. I stopped carrying my house on my back about twelve years ago when I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in a plate glass window in a tiny town in Tasmania. I was almost bent double from an overloaded pack and I had a small duffel in one hand and a huge camera case in the other. You’re out of your mind, I said to myself, and that’s when I came up with travel rule #1: Put everything you think you must take on your bed, look at it for a long time, and take half. 

Jenny will do just fine. She’s smart and she’s incredibly organized. But she will have to learn the hard way that carrying eight tubes of sunscreen and a barrel of Deet, even if you are blonde and fair-skinned, is a little over the top. I told her that she should have bought the edible kind, so she could feed it to the fish rather than carry it back home. But, hey, she’s prone to mosquito bites, hates the thought of malaria, and sunburns like a slice of bacon. So who am I to judge? Good luck, fair damsel.