Waipi'o

We trudged down and up the 900 foot drop in less than a mile (americanisms have seeped into my psyche) into the sacred Waipi'o valley where the guy on the top admonished us to not take anything up or leave anything down, not even a rock. The valley is still used for Taro farming. But judging by the derelict sheds and sort of secret feel to the place you wonder if Taro is a euphemism for pot. The ocean is very powerful on this north eastern tip. You wouldn't even dream of venturing in. But you can imagine just a line leading from the edge of the cliff all of the way across the ocean to BC. The black sand is very fine and feels nice. There is nothing to be seen on it though, no shells, no vegetation, no sea creatures except the occasional small jelly. At the edge of the river leaving the valley and meeting the ocean Kyr and Mist built an inukshuk with volcanic rock which is always surprisingly light to lug around.

There is a small feeling of triumph when you finish the climb, enough to let Joop share his turkey sandwich with a stray cat that had a lame hind leg. I couldn't tell if it was a fracture or infection. The poor thing had a voracious appetite. Hunting is not so great when you are ill.We thought we'd finish off the day with a snorkel on the west side and a trip to visit the Hart-Arthurs new condo. We were thwarted by a brush fire that had blocked off the ocean highway. I hope it is under control today so the Arthurs can join us on our trip to Hilo market and the lava tree park. Plus I don't want to be kept from our beaches. A day without snorkeling can feel like a poor day indeed.

Clouds

The clouds gallop around Waimea. I've never seen the likes of it. Perhaps because you can see their shadows on the hillsides you really appreciate how quickly they sprint across the sky. Because of their speed I am never too defeated by foul weather as we approach Morning Fire in the car enroute from the intense heat of the beach. It seems normal and okay because the worst storms could be gone in seconds. It is a wierd lack of investment in the local weather.

I took a little walk this morning hoping to find the trail in the forest that leads to the beach we will be going to this am. It is a 2 day hike and I had no intention of actually going, I just wanted to find it. Unfortunately all the trails are closed since the earthquake, deemed too dangerous. I couldn't have scaled the barbwire coated gate if I wanted to. It is a bit sad because some of the comments in the guest book at the ranch suggest that this trail was beyond any description of loveliness. It had access to the other side of the Waipi'o valley where we will descend this morning to access the lovely windswept beach on the east side of the island. This is not a beach for swimming, just one for observing the windswept power of the east side ocean. The top picture is where the gate was. Black dots on the hillside are the ubiquitous angus cattle that cover the landscape.

The lowest of the landscape photos is view down our driveway. Usually there are cattle grazing in the pasture. Every piece of property lining Whyte road this morning had at least 2 dogs, sometimes up to four. The lots are city sized so you can imagine the cacophony of barking. Add to this rooster crowing. Shockingly everyone has roosters. Just roosters. One lot had 8 cages and 6 free ranging roosters that perched on wooden teepees filling the yard. They are beautiful roosters just like my Cecil. Could they be for cock fighting? Isn't that illegal?

The newlyweds - that is what Joop calls Kyr and Mist because of their complete delight in eachother have been having a good time. The bottom shot is of their Dr. Pepper floats. Who would have thought the beverage was so fortified that it lead to shrieking and racing around the house all evening.

The Sun

I am a patchwork quilt of burns. Small slashes and squares of redness randomly throughout my skin. I don't know how it happened. The first day I attributed it the the uneven coverage of a spray sunscreen model. The next day I changed types and was super vigilant in the slathering. At walmart that evening as I was examining my back in a horrified manner through a wavy jewellery counter mirror a passer by said "What did you use?" I exclaimed banana boat sport 30 our tried and true. She agreed that it was the most exceptional product having lived and boated here for 25 years. She then proposed to quiz me on time of sun exposure. It was true.

We were in the sun at noon. I was feeling all triumphant since Misty's arrival that she seemed to inspire us to get out of the house way earlier. But perhaps its too early. And then to hedge all bets I went back and got SPF 50 even though I heard this winter that anything over 30 is a waste of time. We used to use 50 and I never got burnt. Hopefully this will solve the burn issue. And the other precaution I will take is to wear a "hubby clubber" while I snorkle. Kyr bought himself a 5 shirt package of tank tops that he lovingly refers to as "wife beaters" -common teenage lingo. So when I tried to borrow one and he was reluctant I said - fine I would wear my girl tank top which Joop quickly called a "hubby clubber" in contrast. I like it. I hope it catches on.

Mist got her great reward of seeing a huge gathering of mongeese (mongooses for those in the know). A species she loves and fears in equal shrill measure. When we stopped at the bookstore we found a weird cat woman feeding at least 20 stray cats by a huge lava wall embankment. She tersely said she doesn't feed and water them on Saturday and Sunday - someone else does, in response to my questions. Waiting patiently in the rock crevices were all of these mongeese. My only consolation is that they wait patiently until the cats finish eating before they come over and finish it off. They all seem to exist quite companionably together.

Snorkeling was lovely. I had a huge eel swim underneath me. Quite exciting. Unfortunately the Fairmont beech boy (that is indeed how he introduced himself shaking my hand) decided to wait until everyone had wandered off except Kyr and I and then he asked if we were guests. I said no but my sister was. He then nervously handed me a pamphlet outlining the $2000 annual fee for the privilege of their sand and then asked that I stop by the cabana next time and pick up "Fairmont" towels. It is hard to be seen as beach riffraff. I guess my platinum member status is not emblazened on my head.

While we were getting our star bucks yesterday morning Joop overheard this conversation between two hawaiians. "Is he a coloured guy?" "Yup, he's a local product."

Too much.

The picture is how we start our mornings. Notice how easily Mist has slipped in. I still have to struggle to access my computer. We'll try to beach it again today. Perhaps not the Fairmont as they have successfully scared me off.

Morning Fire

Back at Morning Fire Ranch. It feels like coming home - from the geckos running around the walls to the rooster crowing from 3 am onwards. Part of coming home is the lack of feeling of all your cares slipping away. It feels so familiar you don't enter into that anticipatory anxiety that upon reflection makes you think you have really removed yourself from your other life. I'm hoping that the rush of relaxation is happening under the surface. I think it is. My back feels better.

We're lucky to have little Mystical(Mistaya) with us. Although she fits in so nicely I have a hard time remembering that she hasn't been here before. Yesterday we went to Mauna Kea beach for frolics. The wind was so severe it pelted your eyes and ears with sand at every moment. It was a challenge to hunker down on the sand with the eyes clenched tight and try to absorb the hot sun. Snorkeling was wonderful though. I have and eye for octupi and spotted a large one scurrying along the ocean floor. It froze knowing that I saw it and perched on a rock observing us. They have the dearest hesitant, nervous expressions in the blob that is their face when they watch you. It is hard to believe and it isn't anthropomorphisizing them. Unfortunately despite recent repair Kyr's expensive underwater camera bit the dust again or should I say ate seawater and is non functional. We have supersleuth repair guy Joop working diligently on the issue and if anyone can save it, it will be him.

We will probably head down to the Fairmont beach to visit Melissa's family today. I'm excited to snorkel with all those little girls. Those posh resorts are a completely different world from our experience where we battle night time chills and spend most of our time outside of beaching it buying groceries. In fact the tellers at the grocery store already know Joop's familial history. They are very friendly here in Waimea. It doesn't seem fake.

Pender Island

Pender island was a wild and crazy time with two families in one house and two darling dogs demanding much attention. Trouble seemed to loom our first night when after a 4 hour ferry ride and an arrival at 11pm at the cabin after a very meandering road; that traversing on every subsequent trip was a revelation - how on earth did we find the place that first night? (I memorized the map and the little silver jetta is a great sleuth), the septic sewer system smell overwhelmed us all. It was so horrific on the pool table/ table tennis floor that the three darling boys were driven out of their beds and forced to sandwich together on the futon couch in the next room. It took a day to beat the smell into submission amongst much theorizing with Brent and much anxiety by me.
Once the smell was under control the fun began. Multiple pool tournaments, ping pong,and beach excursions. Brent and Joop were super diligent each morning and hiked the mountain on the island. Caroline and Marlee and I translated our energy into daily coffee and shopping excursions. Each were equally exhausting. Our attempts to beach it were satisfying on the collecting front and the witnessing front. One of the highlights of the trip was being at a beach when a pod of at least 20 killer whales swam past blowing and breaching. It was spectacular. Aiden, Marlee, Kyran and I found amazing sea glass and sea pottery. Massive amounts. It was very satisfying. Aiden thought he could translate it into a money making business, but his potential buyers were also competitive collectors unwilling to spend. The ocean turned out to be too cold for most. I eventually managed to get in and enjoy it even though the circumference of my head really ached with the cold but I had absolutely no tolerance for the jelly fish. Millions it seemed but probably in reality just in the double digits. They were the very large lions mane type. As Caroline said - unbelievably ugly with their ugly red beached bodies. No amount of research could reassure me about their numbers. Is this what the ocean is coming to? Or is it just a seasonal, current variation? I am very nervous because even with extreme vigilance I sustained multiple stings. Kyran was badly stung just sitting on the beach when some tentacles washed up over his foot. I literally couldn't think of it and any time we went to any beach I obsessively scanned the ocean. I was probably very boring with my obsession. One day coming back from the beach I spotted incredible flowers at a farmside stand. Joop nearly burnt out his clutch reversing back to the farm. It was an honor system and the bouquet of flowers was unbelievable so I stuffed money in the little can. How trusting are people? The flowers were an boon to recovering Caroline and lent a beautiful fragrance to the rest of our stay.
After wonderful meals each night we would sit on the veranda staring at the ocean or engage in Karaoke competitions. We canoed a beautiful bay our last night together and managed to canoe up to a mother seal and her baby on an island. She seemed very complacent about our interest and just lounged on her side cuddling her baby to her it seemed with her flipper. The 3 boys had their own canoe and filled the bay with their exhuberant singing and wildly competitive shouts of "stroke!"
A number of our excursions were to the south island and one of Brent's favorite memories is having all of the kids in the truck with him driving, the ipod blaring, and the getting "air" as the truck sailed over the bumpy road. Mico managed to read 4 novels in the middle of all of the activities. Marlee managed to complete many beautiful paintings, Aiden independently pulled an all nighter that seemed to stretch on for days if you are a friend of his on facebook. Caroline managed to survive a dreadful illness but somehow not affect her activity level. Kyran and Joop and I just managed the dogs and took inspiration from the Meige-Moffat clan. I was mesmorized by the Moffat childrens' style. Even at a cabin on an isolated island the boys managed to appear each morning in well coordinated outfits with freshly ironed shirts, Marlee in different hat, high waisted skirt ensembles. I wondered where they got it from. Brent vociferously denied any influence. Caroline just batted her style maven eyelashes and pranced off with once again another scarf/hat ensemble. The night that the adults went to the resort for evening cocktails while the kids swam in the pool it was assumed that she was part of the fashion show!

The last day on the island was very quiet for the 3 of us plus dogs. We were even too tired to kayak. Although when one of the guides did not seem amply horrified by the jellies or didn't even notice the plethora of their numbers I was reluctant to trust myself to their tutelage. Joop took Kyr and I out for a lovely supper at the resort. It was a lovely last evening to a hectic holiday.

Skidmore

Everyday I walk to town. Sometimes more than once. During the walk there are many moments of felicity, walking past all of the homes with lush vegetation, listening to my ipod on shuffle, thinking only of writing : the intricacies of craft, learning to translate all the salient details of any incident, the wealth of subjects. I pay special attention to all of the plants. What grows here? What do people like? It is colder here than Nelson. No rhododendrons, azaleas. Lots of hostas and hydrangeas. Hostas might be the floral emblem for the county of Saratoga. And then looking at the earth, does everyone have the same gardener? Even the less affluent homes have the earth mounded up just so with the same type of mulch everywhere and very few weeds. I feel very pathetic on the gardening front. I even have dreams where the secret is revealed to me and it is fertilizer.

Just as I leave campus there is a beautiful pine on the corner of the path. One afternoon the sun was shining, there was no wind, and at about 3:30pm the beautiful pine split and ½ of it fell onto the path that I walk on. It was very tragic. No one was there, but I did contemplate that with the ipod on I probably would not have heard the preemptory crack had I been walking by. Just like the guy in Cranbrook where the helicopter fell on him. I examined the split on the trunk carefully and you could see it had been a very gradual process with dirt and pine leaves accumulating in the wedge as the two sides gradually pulled apart. The ½ remaining is being cut down today. I was sad but knew that it was inevitable as the trunk seemed to have too narrow a waist where the missing part detached to support the rest of the tree.

I’m starting to understand why the program has so many returning students. I adore being immersed in the world of writing. As students there is no real expectation of each other. People rise at varied times with no embarrassment, no excuses. There is a collective understanding that the process of writing is so individual there is no need to adhere to a prescribed time frame. We meet as a class from 1-4pm M,W,F. Tuesday and Thurday afternoons are optional question periods with various visiting writers. Every evening are readings from visiting writers – almost all Pulitzer prize winners with an even balance of fiction writers and poets. Then after the readings are socials with fruit and cheese in order to mingle with students and visiting writers. I try to attend everything. You never know where you are going to get your next tidbit of information. I have noticed with admiration the regular attendance of a poet – Frank Bidart. I don’t know if he is on staff. But he is older and still attends and listens with great intensity. You have to admire that. The official head of program and his beautiful poet/teacher wife are also in attendance. I am quite intrigued by her because she always is smiling. I think that she has trained her face in that way, I don’t think it could have naturally fallen in that way. I enjoyed the week with Margot. I have a new appreciation for craft and also an intense interest. I used to think writers taught at these creative writing schools because they needed the money. Now I am able to see that it could be that they are just in love the mechanics of craft. It is sort of like having an intuitive knowledge of your native tongue and then being exposed to grammar and realizing that it is like a giant puzzle. A number of students in the class found Margot’s style of teaching very alienating. They believed she disliked, or in the words of one classmate ‘hated’ them. I found that she seemed to not like my comments but I was able to overlook it and in fact found myself freed by her ‘dislike’ – there was no need to impress her. Our new teacher is almost too funny. I find it difficult to concentrate on the subject because I’m laughing too uproariously at his comments. Unfortunately he will not let me have the class criticize my newly revised novel because he has put too much work into my older version. Oh, well.
Aside from attending classes or lectures I just walk around town. I have photographed many of the beautiful homes and I am interested to see if people can spot the new victorins vs. the old. Some of them have required much scrutiny by me and even then I’m not 100%. I usually ere on the side of thinking them reproductions if I am questioning.
On one of my rambles I encountered the taxi driver from the first day. He raced his taxi up to me at an intersection and said “Hey remember me.” I said of course, my first day in Saratoga. He quizzed me how I was liking it and I waxed on about the loveliness of it all. “Move here,” he demanded again. I hestitated, I can’t. Its lovely but… “Marry me.”
I just laughed. “I’m off Monday and Tuesday”. Oh, those are my most intense class days.
“When are you leaving?” He was prepared to drive me to the airport in his own car, but I felt a cab was better. So now I am to request him specifically and book ahead. Mark Buffo? I’m not sure about the last name. I didn’t think I’d forget it so fast. But I’m sure the story of a 44 yr old former horse trainer with a Brooklyn accent will be interesting.

Saratoga

I am too old to choose the physical deprivations associated with living in dorms. That is probably the biggest drawback to the Saratoga experience. However, I am starting to like the fact that you never need to worry about housekeeping staff . I find that worrying about when housekeeping will show is a subliminal stress that somewhat mars a hotel experience. Whereas here in the dorms you never see any cleaning people ever. I do wish they would sometimes appear and clean the communal bathroom though. Aside from the hard, exceptionally hard plastic coated mattress, the biggest drawback is that communal bathroom – one per 5 suites. One night in the middle of the night I found myself sitting on a seat wet with urine - incredibly disconcerting and upsetting. So now I furtively shield my Clorox wipe underneath my handtowel as I hustle to the bathroom. Now the bathroom has a wonderful residual odour of cleaning fragrance. And now I have taken to debating with myself at great lengths – do I really need to go to the bathroom – probably a prequel to a bladder retention disorder.

Saratoga is pretty town at least that of which still remains. It has been encroached upon by urban sprawl so that it is now at least 5 interconnecting towns. One of the drawbacks of this is that it is no longer a place that you can walk around with any kind of purpose. All of the stores that used to be small and local are now extinct and big box stores have taken over their function. It is almost impossible to reach these box stores on foot as they are behind the interconnecting highways and are after long tracks of undeveloped green space with no sidewalks to be found. So the romantic inclination is to see lovely Saratoga with all of its Victorian splendor as a wonderful time capsule of a small town. I have seen many posters celebrating the Saratoga porches – massive wrap around verandas decorated impeccably. But in fact you can’t begin to live as though it is a small town because all of your shopping necessities are car rides away. It is quite tragic really, it makes me really value the compactness and completeness of dear old Nelson.

I can’t believe the magnitude of the Victorian homes surrounding the campus. I have rarely seen so many huge homes together. There are even some new indistinguishable Victorian mansions. That in itself screams money as I can’t imagine duplicating them in this day and age. The campus is a very pretty maze. It sort of reminds me of the Banff fine arts center – same age and purpose. The tuition here is $36 000 for instate residents with a population of approx 2400 students. Rather dear. The cafeteria is very amazing. One of my young poet friends was very disparaging about the money that has gone into the aesthetics of the cafeteria – she thought the money better spent on scholarships. I disagree. It is a fantastic place to eat – soaring ceilings, beautiful beams and all restaurants in a circle. It is wonderful to just free range eating from all sorts of exotic restaurants. I just keep putting away my used plate and going with a new plate to a new station. There is a vegetarian , asian, Italian etc.. It almost makes up for the horridness of the dorms. Why weren’t cafeterias like that when I was in University?

I am settling into the routine of the campus. I think I am the only one brave or foolish enough to go free ranging into Saratoga. My poet friend has a GPS unit that has a woman’s voice that actually tells her exactly where to go. I think she could function and never get an aerial view of the place. My aerial view was hard won, almost at the cost of my sanity. Based on a tourist map happily given out by hotels etc, I tried to navigate to Walmart. I cleverly (I thought) googled Walmart and got the address and tried to visualize on the map they gave compared to my tourist version. Walmart is 840 Old Gick road. On my map Gick road had a traffic light superimposed on the Old part (or so I deduced), the road curled around and then was cut off, finally showing as Old Gick further to the side. So I merrily set out on the hot humid day, knowing that I couldn’t check into Skidmore until 3 pm. I walked and walked along Gick road – quite terrifying as no sidewalk, cars were driving as though it was a highway, and the landscape completely treed except for the occasional house. Houses along Gick road don’t believe in house numbers. The dogs that came out barking and growling at me were the first disconcerting sign that perhaps no one walks along this road. Almost 1½ hours had passed when I finally saw that I was only at 100. I was too far along to turn back. I was feeling frantic and dehydrated when I finally spotted a sports field in the middle of the deciduous wildnerness. There was a soccer tournament for the region taking place. Despite the throngs of people there was absolutely no concession stand or phone. There was a pop machine that wouldn’t take my ten dollar bill. I ended up buying some dollars – $6 from a woman for my $10. And then to add insult to injury she ended up needing my change which I willingly handed over to help her make $1.25 for her pop purchase. I stupidly handed it over before seeing if I had enough for myself, all the while tears pouring behind my sunglasses. I luckily had enough change to buy a pop. Somewhat fortified I went in search of a phone. A lovely teenage girl offered to let me use her cell phone. She had to phone information for a taxi number. At first the taxi wasn’t willing to drive out to get me because I didn’t have a phone myself. I thought I might lie down and cry. He finally relented. When the taxi came, it turned out I was in a different town and nowhere near Old Gick road only on Gick that leads to nowhere or hell which ever you want.
It became clear to me that I needed phone in this new world in order to navigate. So armed with my purchases from Target (where I had the cab drop me off) I called another cab. Things are very weird here. Taxis are not metered – some guy at central office just arbitrarily says some amount - and then you drive around while the cab driver waits and tries to pick up other passengers. This takes so long that you get to know the cab drivers a bit too well to the point they are insistent that you move here. I was a little taken aback and said vaguely yes it is a pretty place but….that didn’t dissuade him and then he had to unburden his tragic life story of losing his only daughter at 12 and his marriage disintegrating. It was all too much for me, once again crying behind my sunglasses and afraid to take a cab again.

I am trying to immerse myself in the world of writing – that is attending lectures by visiting writers and not making any attempts to do anything but read and write. My social life is a bit slim pickings. Occasionally I chat with people in other classes. My own class seems to be made up of reserved disparate personalities. I’m okay with it; it sort of reminds me of my vet class – well known throughout the years as being the class with no camaraderie. To invest myself too much socially would maybe detract too much from the solitary study I need to do. Although I do notice without dinner companions and any access to a nice glass of wine I have turned rather greedy and am hopefully scanning the cafeteria for more delectable items. I don’t think this will ultimately hurt me as I somehow manage to miss at least one meal a day and I have a natural penchant for vegetables.

As Margot Livesey’s literary stalker I have yet to make any personal contact with her. I wouldn’t mind a stalker such as myself – holding her in great esteem but content to just observe and listen