Camp Cleveland.......

Quite a few years ago, the grandkids and I tried to go camping in the Santa Barbara area  on the ocean- foolish me, as we were told at several places that you had to reserve, sometimes months to a year in advance.  Ian and his then wife were at a conference so it seemed a good time to have some grandkid fun and I drove over from Az..  We ended up at a motel in Lompoc after trying lakes and shoreside areas - all jammed.  We then spent an overnight at Barbara and Dick's house, high in Montecito - against the hills of Santa Barbara - which the kids loved as they had a pool and good food.  We headed out again to more motels, and Barbara graciously suggested we come back and Camp Cleveland was born.  Besides the pool, there were horses at the stable and each kid was given a walk around the paddock wearing huge smiles.  These are city kids, however they used to go to a place called Glacier east of the mountains to catch trout, so they know something about wilderness areas.  But Camp Cleveland, to them, was the best.
We think so, too - we just sit and stare at the islands offshore, listen to the quiet, except there seems to be a huge number of yard people out and about in the daytime, and take small hikes up into the hills.  Indian summer was hot, hot, hot and we thought a walk along the beach  to the art vendors would cool us off.  Fool's Harbor is what this area offshore is named by the locals:  we were here in two Februarys ago and found several large boats swept ashore by the high storm winds and waves.  We arrived again in October of last year, to join the Haha in San Diego and were put in a tiny slip in the marina, and visited Camp Cleveland, nervous and tired and  were refreshed at CC.

There are bouys in a few places,  but given enough pressure from wind and waves, the mooring lines chafe from the rock and roll and trouble starts. 

Koa's introduction to Camp Cleveland was as a puppy.   Barbara and I went somewhere and left Koa, a six month old inside here large horse trailer.  When we returned, Koa was in the middle of the driveway, having climbed the metal wall and jumped about six feet out of the trailer.  Escape artist.  We took him and the terriers for a walk along Padaro -Loon Point beach and Koa's anxiety with waves was developed there as he was dumped by a big one.  He will walk along the shore, one eye on his peeps and one eye on the waves, and try to herd anyone he considers in danger away from the water.

No waves, but steps that dropped off into a deep pool....it is five in the evening and we both needed to cool off.  We didn't remember at any time that Santa Barbara could get that warm - the wind was blowing down from the mountains and surprised us with the heat.

The other part of being in this area is meeting friends for dinner - Harold, who travels alot met us in Ventura for seafood at a great little joint, and joint it is, but the cook is fantastic.  It is a secret we don't tell too many people. 

Friendship, it's all about friendship.......

Tigger is a three legged cat that lives in a house (Ian's) with a changing bunch of dogs - some visiting, one living there that chases the cat, and a few that show up - including Koa, who likes cats.  Shameful that this fearsome dog (people walk in the streets rather than share a sidewalk with him) likes cats.   He is very sweet and sensitive - shepherds have a bad rap. Tigger carefully walked out the door, across the porch and started eating out of Koa's dish - they shared for a moment until Koa decided the whole thing was beneath his dignity.  Koa rubs noses with Tigger, and would like to play, but the communication between the two is a bit flawed. 

Robert is recovering from food poisoning in this photo, (Eileen's house - Scottsdale) and Sami decided to be the nurse.  Sami lives with three or four other cats and has decided that Koa is her dog.  She brushes up against the big dog who rolls his eyes and acts as if nothing strange is occurring, and wriggles all over.  A cat orgasm is an interesting sight. Koa is not supposed to be on the bed, but felt that if Sami was allowed, then................

The Coles and daughter Kirstin - part of our former desert diners group. Sally Allexan and her husband give great parties and decided that they should host a desert diner's do with the old group as we were in town.  John would usually holler, "there's the redhead" - but it is a sign of the times that he sort of muttered it as we all walked in.  Perhaps it was the sight of changing hair....ahhh, aging.   Wonderful food, great friends and great times together.  Stretch patiently helped us years ago with the framing for the bath addition at the rock ranch.  Harriet, we watched successfully get to her master's degree, and Kirstin, we hope to know better.




Debbie and Eileen enjoying the dessert and the fact that Bill Luke said we would start a new church. I claimed the pope position and that is why Jeanette, perhaps made a face.

aft

John, Donna and Sally, who makes the best corned beef ever. Carolyn had suggested we have a lasagna feast for Robert, and Sally said no way, we are having corn beef.,  And then Carolyn, who had the party idea decided to go flying in her driveway and was in Mayo waiting for the surgeons to put her back together as we had corned beef..  We really missed her. 
Being with friends after being away for 2 1/2 years is interesting as there is an efficient grapevine of sorts that lets the people know where we are and were and  we are able to take up where we left off.  That is a gift beyond price.

More from the road.....

Small town artists have  a hard time getting their work out in public...this person filled a yard with statements, on a major highway through Colorado.  As we are now in Santa Barbara, this serves as a more interesting photo of the road (small town Colorado) than the highway from Az and LA.  Both were parking lots.  We will spend the rest of the week here and then head back to Ian's to wait for ear buds.  Trust me, the VA will deliver - this time with something that will work.

Speaks for itself - fall on the road at 7000'.  Right now in Santa Barbara, we are dealing with temperatures of 80 plus, and hot winds coming from the mountains.  We are able to see all the islands, the shorelines of the islands and islands we haven't seen before.  Photos will show up of this lovely place.

Well, is this positive or not?  He inherited a mess from eight years of strange stories out of Washington, including a war that was not needed.  If people would stop the mean spirited stuff and get on board with what they could do to change the world, then thngs would be better.

Morning has broken

Lake Navajo is on the border of Colorado and stretches into New Mexico  for several miles- and quite a stretch it is.  The northern end is benign and full of farms, and the southern end rocks, sheer cliffs, pines and fir.  It reminded us of Lake Powell only by houseboats moored in the south, but  it doesn't have the same romance and mystique as Powell which is even more beautiful than the Grand Canyon.  We put Koa on my lap, sort of, and kayaked across the lake - and a twitchy, nervous 100 lb shepherd on a tippy kayak at 6,500' in cold water made me a bit twitchy.  It was a workout and when we got to shore, he ripped around in the water  and drenched us.... Robert took pity on me and rowed him back across.  The lovely green area on the shore held the awful surprise of giant stickers that only grow when the water is let out of the dam, and terrifying to walk through. 
We were the only ones at Windsurf beach and were able to regroup after the upper mountains of Colorado.  As we were in the real boonies, there was no place to eat dinner when she who must be obeyed didn't want to cook (name given to me by a Canadian friend, and  I can't tell if it was meant in a good way) so we went to a casino, eighteen miles away.
Robert's pastrami sandwich put him into the  Mayo hospital here in Scottsdale, almost a week later with food poisoning. 
In one way, his upset stomach had him up early taking some of the photos below.  

The narrow end of the lake with the evil green meadow of razor stickers

Morning has Broken - one piece of music I love:  in London at Westminster  a few years ago, a priest asked my friends and me to join him for evening prayer at the altar.  I was stunned that we sat behind the altar, staring at the tourists, and thinking about the kings and queens who had been crowned right there below us.  Even more stunned when our evening prayer guy said that we would now sing Morning has Broken.  All that pomp and circumstance and I giggled, but wasn't a total disaster as there were tears of joy, also. 

The weather people call this cloud formation viga - rain that doesn't hit the ground.  We left for the long drive across New Mexico to Az and found viga all the way down, until the last ridge we crossed found us in a dust storm with wild, wild wind.  Welcome home.
I don't think so.  Temporary home, maybe ----we are off the LA before going to our real home late this month.
The search for real wilderness is probably on the ocean.

Colorado Mountain High........

Hiking at 9000' plus feet is not for sissies - and we managed without too much effort - but perhaps we have been acclimatized from our time in the mountains. Everest hikers spend a few days at base camp and then descend for a few days and then climb back higher, to acclimatize.  We drive. The quaking aspens above us were turning gold, but in this small valley in the Wet Mountains (not), along Ophir Creek, we kept trying to find where the creek began.  Small trout were in a few inches of water and darted away when Koa took a drink.  Obviously a favorite fishing spot for lots of people as the trail was very clear well back into the valley. 

What has always struck me as unusual about these mountains was the "groomed" aspect of the treed areas.  Not much underbrush, and the sense that it is one giant garden.  We climb  to 11,000', casually, as if it is an everyday thing, with the van struggling to breath, and drop to a measly 6,000' several times in a couple hours.  The roads are lined with a pure yellow bush, as if planted there, and we see fiery reds, golds and yellows of the aspen, poplars and bushes against the deep green of the firs and pines.  Each new turning, each new valley reveals  a breathtaking vista of what I call God's paintbrush.  We have been taking back roads instead of the major highways as we usually do and it feels luxurious to have the time to soak up this beauty.  We are on a schedule of sorts, but as my friend Debbie says, we change them all the time.  Or circumstances and people do, but we flex and the adventure gives us great surprises.

Back down the trail, these rude rock formations loomed over us.  Rude if you are a European and probably to the natives of history, carrying great mystical import.