Due to
circumstances we could have not dreamed of or wished on anyone, Chris and I are
both retired now. It’s all about the
carpe diem and bucket list fulfillment and, in this vain, we wanted to explore
the whole “open-ended” adventure—just take off with our trailer and go wherever
we wanted without the constraints of having to go back to work.
The only
extra consideration had to do with our beloved 9-year-old tiger-striped calico
cat Shoppie who is totally in-door and, like most cats, not real tickled about
any change. We discussed different care
methods and the money involved with boarding her made our decision for us. Shoppie was to become a travelling cat! We had taken a practice run to the coast for
a week in March with mixed results—we had success using the sedative the vet
gave us to help with the travelling panic part, but Shoppie stayed hidden most
of the week and hardly ate, drank, or used her box. Hmmm.
We decided to chance it and see how she did on our open-ended foray…and
she ended up surprising us—not only adapting but seeming to enjoy all the
variety of “kitty television”—Chris’ son Dustin’s term for the view out the
window for cats—the trailer had to offer in various settings.
Eastern Oregon Fix, April 2013
(Chicahominy, Mann Lake, Page
Springs, Krumbo Lake, Strawberry Mountains)
Well I’d
like to say, “Wow, from start to finish, a fantastic trip!” But I’d be lying if
I did. Truth is, I discovered something
about myself I’m not all that proud of—actually, it’s not like I just
discovered it—it just became evident in a big way as our trip commenced this
time: I’ve become somewhat of an outdoor
wimp. Forget the Mount Hood climb in my
20’s, the back-packing I’ve done and hiking that I love to do. If the weather sucks, I don’t care how great
the fishing is, I’m not having a great time outside.
Okay, first
off, a little vacation perspective Preuitt-style: For me, it’s all about the weather, the
peace, the beauty. I can be anywhere
reading a good book or walking, or just sitting and enjoying nature, if the
weather isn’t brutal and the bugs are at a minimum; if there’s a boat involved,
there are extra points for me because I love being on a boat. For Chris, it’s all about the fishing—it
doesn’t matter what the weather (rain, hail, wind, cold), if the fish are
biting, he’s happy. And, bless his
heart, he has tried to share or pass on this passion to me—to the point that he
ties on my hook, baits up my hook, makes most of the casts, takes care of and
cleans the fish, and enthusiastically cheers me on when I have a fish on (on
the plus side for him, he gets one more pole in the water with my fishing
license). There are times when I’ve been
charged up (especially when there’s a boat involved), but mostly I want to get
back to the quiet, the peace, and the beauty.
Which means, I actually enjoy the times when the fish aren’t biting
(uh-oh, did I just hear the thunder and roar of the fishing gods smacking me
down for even whispering this?).
So, I can
read a book and do other stuff inside if needed—and I’ve done that—but this
trip I wanted to make sure Chris got the filming he wanted. I know how hard it is to try and film
activities you’re doing yourself, so I felt compelled to accompany him--regardless
of harsh weather--as he did his fishing thing.
Thurs.,
4/18/13
We arrived
in Chicahominy Thursday night, April 18th and the scene coming in
was breath-taking. The beauty of the
lake, a spectacular sunset beginning, and evident walking paths everywhere—I
got excited and thought, “Awesome!” Then
the wind picked up. And then the cold
(really cold) started in, and some rain began to fall. And…of course…after setting up camp, we took
off for some fishing!
But not to
worry—Chris had devised a new way of fishing that I really took to in the cold
and wind: He got the poles all set up,
we filmed a little, then ran back inside the cab of the truck to listen to
books on tape while waiting for fish to bite.
Ahhhh, yes!! Now we’re onto
something! And Chris was excited because
he was catching some really nice Rainbow Trout.
Fri.,
4/19/13
Chris got us
up bright and early to go fishing and I bundled up (burrrrr!)—long underwear,
pants, 3 tops plus an overcoat, hat, gloves, 3 pairs of socks—and I was still
cold out in the wind (wind chill factor felt like about 10 degrees). I was leaping into the truck after we did
obligatory filming and fishing. Thank
goodness for the warm trailer. Shoppie
had the best plan—rolled up underneath the quilt on top of the bed. I took a peak at her undercover and she
looked at me like, “You better NOT ruin this for me!”
Chris’ buddy
Steve Biddinger arrived that day and we visited in our trailer with him that
evening before turning in with the plan for some early-morning fishing.
Sat.,
4/20/13
Day 3 and
it’s cold (really) and windy (really).
All the layering in the world didn’t help with 6 hours of fishing (6
a.m. to noon). I had an excuse to make a
trip back to camp and took my time—ran the heater full blast in the truck, then
kinda lingered before heading back. It
took exactly 20 minutes before I was freezing again.
Okay, so at
this point, I can detect all the fisherman types exclaiming, “Wow! Worth all of that wind and cold—the fishing
must’ve been great, huh?!!? Talk about
that, would you?” I will. Chris was catching some nice big trout (18”
or so)—we ate some (yum!) and he did some excited catching and releasing along
with those he kept. His buddies Steve
(Biddinger) and Steve (Fossholm—he and his wife Lori arrived Saturday) went out
and had at them as well.
So here’s
the thing I’ve learned about fishing people.
You’re probably wondering (as I do myself sometimes) why I even go along
on these fishing trips. It’s simple. Most fishing people seem to seek out the
best of places for reflection—the beautiful, peaceful and quiet spots. They also seem to have figured out the aspect
of life that many religious groups have been striving to achieve for
centuries: living in the moment—a kind
of zen-like oneness with nature if you will.
It’s about what’s at the end of the line—the mystery, the surprise, the
anticipation. As meditators around the
world strive to empty their minds of everything and focus on breathing in and
breathing out, fishermen are already empty-headed (evidenced by the o-dark-thirty
windy, cold attraction “thang”) and focused on catching and not catching
fish. Some of the most crazed of fishing
peeps (Chris included) aren’t catching to eat the fish—Steve Fossholm doesn’t
even like seafood!—No, no. It’s worth
getting up at crack-o’-dawn o-dark-thirty, and freezing in wind-chill 10 degree
weather in order to catch fish to let them go…or keep them to maybe eat (or
maybe not). I have failed to achieve that oneness as I still think “Okay, I’m
pretty sure there’s a fish at the end of that line.” Period.
The zen thing gets kind of muddied for me when I can’t feel my
toes. But if I want the perfect place to
relax and enjoy the surroundings, I’ll keep coming along because I sure would
hate to miss the good days.
And there were
lots of those good weather days ahead, but I would not have known this by Day
5. By Day 5 of the wind and the cold, I
was ready to go into hair-styling or something—anything indoors—and those of
you who really know me, know what a desperate time that was for me! I had pretty much decided that cold and wind
could easily be used as a torture device; any of my classified secrets would
all have been shared by Day 5.
Luckily, the
trailer was warm and the food was great.
We also had some fun shared times with the Steves and Lori, and eventually
their buddy Dylan as well on the trailer (watching movies, laughing).
Sun.,
4/21/13
Today Chris
suggested I take a break from filming duties and relax on the trailer while he
and the Steves battled the early cold to fish—yay!! I burrowed under the covers with Shoppie (I
really do think this cat has the right idea), read my book, and got
dressed. I saw Lori walking about and
invited her in—we had a nice time, ate a little breakfast and both expressed
our gratitude for not having to face the cold out there. Once the wind died down, we took a walk-about
on some of the paths.
The guys got
back with not much of a fishing report (Steve F. caught one) and Chris and I
did some walking around/filming after Chris helped Steve F. get his boat
launched.
Mon.,
4/22/13
Chris came
up with a side trip idea which was great, even though a flat tire sent us back
to Burns for a couple of hours just a couple of miles away from our first
destination. We finally ventured into
Yellow Jacket Lake (don’t be scared, it’s just a name) on brand new tires,
which was beautiful--listened to books on tape, stopped by Moon Reservoir, then
headed back to camp. Chris was not
impressed by the fishing at either spot, but we both enjoyed the drive.
Steve F.’s
friend Dylan arrived, and Steve B. decided to head on down to Mann Lake.
We finished
up with an evening of fishing and freezing our butts (but we did do the
cab-style fishing method which took the edge off of that—whew!).
Tue.,
4/23/13
Steve B. had
invited us to come join him at Mann Lake and when Chris excitedly asked me
about it, my first inclination was to decline and entertain indoor wind-free,
chill-free activities (reading, writing, snuggling with Shoppie). I’d been to Mann Lake when it was not fun
(windy, cold) and frankly, to use a little fishing jargon here—I had limited
out on the joys of that. Nope—indoor
sounded much better.
But then
that nagging pull inside of me won over—what if Chris had the most exciting day
ever and I wasn’t there to capture it on film?
Aghghghgh!!! Off I went.
And my soul
was restored for the effort. It was a
picture-perfect day, Steens Mountain was glorious—a filming
mecca—beautiful!! Steve and Chris caught
some nice cutthroat trout and I got some great stuff on film (pelicans in
flight, egrets, muskrats, etc.). Not to
mention, my legs and hands warmed up to normal outdoors—what a treat!
Renewed and
happy with the turn in the weather, we returned back to camp and the evening
fishing wasn’t torture for me—yay!!—it was actually pretty pleasant out there
(no truck cab needed, thank you).
Wed.,
4/24/13
Another
beautiful day in store, and I got to hang with Lori—she and I did mellow
nice-day stuff (chatted, walked around, read books) while Steve F. and Chris
drove around scouting for elk. When they
got back I asked if they had seen any—nope.
“But,” Steve said, “I heard one—really close to where Chris was at—a
great bugling!” It turned out to be
Chris—that guy! Mr. Dances with Crows
strikes again (his “animal talk” knows no bounds).
Chris and I
did an evening at the ol’ “D” fishing spot again on the Chicahominy—were even
able to sit out in our chairs—it was beautiful!
I’m thinking, “Wow, I could do this forever…” But guess what happened? The fish stopped biting. Guess what that means? Time to move on. We had a nice last evening and prepared for
leaving the next day.
Thurs.,
4/25/13
We packed up
and headed to Page Springs campground in Malheur (one of our favorite spots)
for a change of fishing—uh—scenery!
First we had
to tend to chores in Burns—doing laundry at the “Jiffy Wash”—quite the catchy
little spot (dumpy little place on an unmarked corner—you have to ASK to find
it), dumping the holding tanks, loading up with water, gas, and filling up the propane
tanks…we also hit the library so that we could catch up on email and Facebook
Scrabble games. Then off we went.
Another
gorgeous day—and Page Springs wasn’t crowded at all! In fact, the best spot in the house as far as
we are concerned (corner lot, secluded) was all ours.
Shoppie had
traveled drug-free and took right to the new spot—she’s a bona fide camping cat
now—woo-hoo!
Fri.,
4/26/13
Malheur
refuge has always been a favorite of mine.
There’s nothing more enjoyable than scouting along “Patrol Road”—a
10-mile dirt road through the refuge full of wildlife viewing—in the early
morning and early evening when critters seem to be most active. We did both runs today and enjoyed another
glorious day. We saw lots of antelope, 2
otters that we just missed on film (dang!), pheasant, deer, ducks, egrets,
cranes, and some long-billed birds that stopped us several times. It’s fun to be driving along and suddenly one
of us gasps—oh! And the brakes slam on,
cameras come out, excitement ensues.
Great fun.
We hiked up
into the hills looking for Indian artifacts and ended up running into a
different kind of artifact spot—some kind of mining camp with old bottles and
jars (one was an old Listerine bottle from about 60 years ago—kinda cool). When we got back to camp, we interviewed our
neighbors, Steve and Sharon, who had a really interesting military-looking rig
that they used to camp in. Turns out
they bought it from a Dutch couple and had quite the adventure (went to the
arctic circle, South America and all over the place—lots of stories to
tell). Fascinating!
Beautiful
water spots have a way of attracting the mosquitos which definitely come out in
full force in the evenings. I got to
test out the Listerine bug repellant theory that my Dad and others had
suggested—worked really well but got rather sticky. I became slayer-of-the-winged beasts in the
trailer—hey, so call me territorial! And
poor Shoppie thought I was somehow scolding her every time I slapped my hands
together to mutilate one of the pests but over time she got used to it—“Oh,
just Mom being weird again.” And on one
occasion she actually double-teamed with me—swatted one down on the table and I
finished her off (Chris was quick to remind me that the biting ones are the
females—I had other female-like names for them as I avenged their intrusions
into our trailer).
A word
about Mr. Preuitt and bugs. He is
NOT affected whatsoever—like his Mom, they have tough skin that I guess
protects from all kinds of atrocities that seem to find their way to me and
make my life miserable. Chris can leap
into a wad of Poison Oak and not even itch; mosquitos hover around but don’t
bite him. I’ll be slapping away and
miserable and he’s simply flicking fingers to get them out of his vision or to
keep their wings from tickling. I’m not
the only who has witnessed this. Just
ask Steve B. about Big (he calls it—with no apparent affection—“Bug”) Lake in
Alaska. Chris came back unscathed; Steve
welted up and sprayed up from then on.
I’m not fond of Deet and poisoning myself which is why the Listerine
attracted me…it allows me to be “like Chris”—they hover but don’t bite (except
for the parts I didn’t get sprayed/doused—dang!). Chris doesn’t understand quite what all the
fuss is about and just looks at me with disbelief as I slap, smack, and flail
about ridding myself of those pests.
The
Listerine allowed me to be somewhat composed outside, but I was relieved to be
back on the trailer during evening “feeding times”. We supped well (as always), played with the
cat, and watched a movie…toughing it out as usual!
Sat.,
4/27/13
Today’s
opening day at Krumbo Reservoir—one of Chris’ big goals—and we headed out at
o-dark-thirty (well, 5:30) and ended up LATE—people were out on the lake in
their boats already and the parking lot was packed—so we got set up quickly on
the bank (tried higher up at first but clambering down and up the rocks was a
bit much) and wow—never better fishing—bang! Bang! Bang! Chris was thrilled and it was a busy, busy
time—great opening day—never had time to drink our coffee—caught 15 fish, kept
4 and Chris (yes, Chris) was DONE after 2 ½ hours. Double WOW.
We then had
time to kill and Chris once again had eyes for the weird and made us a fun
couple of hours in the desert crafting some art-in-nature rock gargoyles. Gotta love that guy!! He busied about gathering rocks (for eyes and
teeth), sage and shrub for eybrows, etc., to enhance some already oddly-shaped
rocks into his “masterpieces”. We filmed
them out, naturally, and I realized another reason why I married this man—he’s
nuts! I love it!
We listened
to our book and napped back at camp before hitting Patrol Road once again. Amazing weather again—verrrrrry relaxing.
Chris
decided we should do some “interviewing” in our camp chairs, so I took the
on-camera opportunity to show how one lathers up with Listerine. Chris’ eyes about rolled out of their sockets
from eye-rolling. Poor guy—what he has
to put up with—hah!!
Sun.,
4/28/13
Of course,
after the success on opening day (yesterday), Krumbo was calling Mr. Preuitt
for more fishing—as it turned out, it was not so hot and Chris then lost his
pole. The fish swam off with it and then
began jumping out a way’s from us—Chris cast out and was at least able to catch
and free the fish, but alas, his pole didn’t make it back.
We took our
time getting back to base and then took off on a nature trail up through some
really pretty forest, then into the sage brush.
On top, it looked like there was another trail heading back, so we
started on it, only to realize it was a cattle trail…
At the top
of the ridge, we could see the Steens Loop Road, so we headed across the windy
“savannah” of sage brush to take the road back to camp. Well, that was the plan and that’s the one I
stuck to. Chris had other “short cut”
ideas and I had been on enough of his “short cuts” to opt out of it. He ended up on top of the cliffs overlooking
our camp site—and I could see him up there when I got back to base. He scared the poop out of me because it
looked like he was going to scale down the cliff, but I guess he was just
hamming it up for the camera. Oh well—I
was pretty miffed with him for that, but I got over it. And he was thrilled—got his adventure of the
day in.
Had some
more good eats for supper and turned in kinda early with a comedy DVD—and were
pretty sure we’d be packing up to go to our next destination (the mountains) in
the morning.
Mon.,
4/29/13
With morning
came a turn in the weather and we opted to stay another day and relax—to see
what the weather brought. We talked of
playing Scrabble and such as we made our lazy way through the morning Patrol
run after breakfast.
By the time
we got back to camp, I was entertaining notions of book-reading, writing, and
taking a shower. That’s how I
relax. Here’s how Chris relaxes: about 2 minutes after we got back to base, he
announced, “You know, I’m thinking of doing something really stupid.” Uh-oh.
“Yes, I believe I’m going to go fish for my lost fishing pole.” So off he went.
I stayed
with Shoppie, took care of some cleaning chores (around the trailer and for
me), read, filmed a little, wrote, drank tea, sat and enjoyed the weather. And…with the slightly chillier & breezier
weather, I could actually sit outside bug-free—wee-hawww!!
Chris had
himself an adventure and a rip-snorting time fishing. He had Krumbo to himself and the fishing was
absolutely hot—he’s pretty sure he had that 24”-er hooked but it snapped his
line—he had the time of his life. He
also had quite the story on the fishing pole—he caught a fish and as he was
reeling it in saw another line attached—could it be his fishing rod? Then a flasher and some other gear
appeared—he pulled in someone ELSE’s other line…!! On the way back, he stopped at another junk
pile and brought back 2 more old jars.
Only sour note—the refrigerator appeared to be having issues and we
thought we might have to change our plans.
So goes RVing sometimes…things can come up unexpectedly like that.
Tue.,
4/30/13
Our 14th
wedding anniversary today (18th year of being together) and my 53rd
birthday. We celebrated in the usual
way—hugged each other. We agreed that my
present to him would be to film him catching the 24-incher and his to me to
play some Scrabble or Cribbage.
But then we
got into messing with the frig again—hoping to figure out a way to make it
work. It may mean going to Bend (where
there are RV places) and figuring out something from there once it’s
fixed. Wait—a “reboot” (off/on) and it
appears to be working—yay!
We had
breakfast and off to original plans—off to fish (Chris) and film (me)—of
course!!
How do I
love thee? Let me count thy ways. For starters, it was 28 degrees in Burns at
about 7:00 a.m., so about that at camp (though we were plenty warm while on the
trailer!). I’m wearing the usual 3 pairs
of socks, 3 shirts with coat over, long johns & jeans on the legs. We got to the fishing spot and Chris had
caught a fish by 9:00 a.m. He wanted to
film us arriving at the spot, so I went ahead with the camera, down the rocks,
set up the camera, hit record, clambered back up with my armload of stuff, then
we went down as though we had professionals filming us…thus it goes for
amateurs on a fixed income. I have a
book to read, coffee to drink, and Chris even brought in a chair for me since
it’s my birthday—no sitting on cold rocks this morning—yay!!
With no wind
and the sun out, it’s really not bad and it’s an absolutely gorgeous day—nice,
quiet, peaceful here (and no bugs so far—weee!). Chris is predicting we’ll be sorry we have
our long johns on later in the day. I
beg to differ, but we’ll see. I don’t
mean to work against the guy, but when the fishing’s not so great, I do get
more relaxed reading time. Just sayin’. So when he says, “Well, it’s not looking too
good right now,”—this from a man who estimates that he’s caught about 30
good-sized (over 16”) trout out of Krumbo so far—I’m enjoying the peace. Right now, no bites…sunshine sparkling on the
water, sun’s out, geese and other birds are making their sounds (some are
songs, others are squawks).
I mellowed
right out and the fishing was good too—we were both happy (Happy
Anniversary!)—Chris caught about a dozen good ones, then landed one over 20
inches after it crossed his line and picked up some OTHER gear once again (a
new-found talent of his). At 11:00, we
decided we’d “hang” a little longer. Sun
shining, a beautiful day, great book, can’t complain!
Chris wanted
to move to the dock where a buddy’s father had fished for 20 years—he caught a fish
there for his memory. Then upon reeling
up his last line, the 2-footer he was after followed his line all the way up to
the dock! This just made him laugh—a
good cap on the day.
We ran the
Patrol road (slow way back) and saw the group of 10 deer we’ve been spotting
but no otters (we kept hoping to see them again). Gassed up in Frenchglen, then snacked, played
Scrabble, called my Mom & Dad, then sister Kris, ate dinner, watched
Jeopardy/Wheel of Fortune, played more Scrabble, watched more stuff, and played
with Shoppie. All in all, a perfect
day. Oh yeah…and I won the last 2
Scrabble games—woo-hoo!!
Wed.,
5/1/13
Another
beautiful day but we’ve decided to head over the mountains for a spell before
heading home. Had an incident with
shifting as Chris was cranking down the trailer and poor Shoppie thought we
were having an earthquake—I found her hiding in the bathtub with huge black
eyes, looking at me as if to say, “The world as we know it is over!” I put her in the carrier and up in the truck
cab and she seemed to calm down quite a bit.
On to Burns
to gas up and dump, then on up north (395) south of Seneca to the Silvies
River—took a break at a campsite to practice with Shoppie (for longer journeys,
she’s going to need to “take breaks”)—played Cribbage and she ran around the
trailer.
Found a
glorious camp spot right on the Silvies and then took a walk—saw a deer cross
the river, ducks, geese—but no turkeys (Chris has a turkey tag in case). No fish are biting either but it was still a
beautiful spot. Having ribs for dinner
(zucchinis, onion, potato mix, and salad)—yum!
Entertaining ourselves with DVD’s tonight—no Satellite—we’ll have to
survive somehow. J
Thur.,
5/2/13
Something to make us all feel better about aging: Think of all the activities you would miss
out on in life if you never lost or misplaced things. Rather than dwell on what’s being forgotten,
think of how finely tuned our synapses are becoming as we wrack our brains to
figure out the where’s and the when’s—and then the physical fitness as we
retrace our steps!
I’m
pondering these things today because we seemed to have hit the Twilight Zone
vortex with bad “sunglass karma” events.
If we had been paying attention, we would have realized that yesterday
had provided some foreshadowing when I backed up and crunched a pair of my
sunglasses on the trailer during our Burns gas-up stop. A dreaded sound—Crunch!—but not to worry! I
wasn’t a Girl Scout in my day for nothing!
I was prepared—I had my handy-dandy 2nd pair—a fine polarized
special hiking pair that I had come to love on this trip.
So, imagine
my Girl-Scout-preparedness smugness as Chris dealt with his own sunglass karma
later in the day. He managed to lose his
sunglasses on the hike we took once we set up camp, and we had to backtrack
until we found them—whew! Okay. Then we were back at camp and he once again
didn’t have his beloved pair of sunglasses—wow!! We looked everywhere—must’ve been on the
hike—too late to go looking for them now—he had to squint and I felt sorry for
him but also felt that bit of smugness by the fact that I had MY pair. Chris did manage to find a cheapo not-so-hot
backup pair so he made do, but we decided to look for his main pair the
following day…
And that
brings us to today. Okay. Cold morning—so cold, our wet socks had
frozen solid on the bushes where we’d put them to dry (why were they
wet?—Preuitt short-cut through the creek yesterday, naturally). After breakfast, we prepared to take that
walk to find his sunglasses.
While
gathering my stuff together to hike, I went to get MY sunglasses in their usual
spot by the couch—not there. No problem,
I probably just stuck them in my purse—my other usual spot. Not there either. Okay, they’ve GOT to be here
somewhere—dropped? Nope. Under the couch? Nope.
By the river where we sat last night?
Nope. Hmmmm---now the hunt was on
in camp. Finally, we gave up on my
missing sunglasses and decided to go ahead and look for Chris’ lost pair—that
way, at least we’d have 1 pair each.
We were not
holding our breath on the success of this venture but off we went nonetheless. Halfway to our turn-around spot from
yesterday—Voila!—found ‘em right there on the path!! Okay!
Now all that’s left is the trailer/camp hunt for my pair.
We exhausted
all places that we could think of—even searched the garbage—nope! Finally—as I was looking around the bed, I
noticed that Chris’ side had extra space between the mattress and dresser that
my side didn’t. Upon pushing the
mattress towards his side to allow for more space on my side, the glasses
popped out. Woo-hoooo!
All the
excitement and happiness was ours to be had after that—we were full of ecstatic
cheering over wasted hours of looking and hair-pulling—amazing huh? And it gave us such a sense of accomplishment
which, if we really examined it closer, we’d have realized that there was no
great progress because we were at the same point we were before the loss. Oh well.
We’re adults. We can take
this. Onward we go.
We broke
camp and made our way to Detroit Lake for our final night. We had a fun drive (book-on-tape company, of
course), and Chris spotted an odd exchange between a farmer on a tractor and a
crow—it appeared to him that they were playing a game they played often, like
they were “buds”—the crow swooped down like he wanted to take the farmer’s hat
off and the farmer swatted and laughed at him—they did this ritual as if they
did it often.
Detroit Lake
was packed—not the serenity that we had been used to, but we made the most of
it. With full hookups, you relax a
little more (no generator needed, water abundant), so we hooked up, and went to
the dock to fish (of course!) and reflect on the trip.
We agreed
that we were ready to return home the next day, but it had been a really great
trip. Chris likes to point out that you
take pleasures in the small things (must be that fisherman zen-like thing), and
I have to agree there. We came back to
mounds of mail and email and Facebook posts and it makes you realize how subtly
complicated life is on a daily basis—stuff we all take for granted
anymore. If it takes “empty-headedness”
to feel this relaxed and recharged after being so disconnected, then so be it.
Preparing
for the next Take-Off, Captain!
