Pacific Pulse: Day 4

 

Spent alot of time from this vantage, more horizontal, less vertical is a good way to relax in the sun.

Spiny and colorful

Spiny and colorful too. There are two main types of lava in Hawai'i, one variety, shown here, called a'a, is pointy and sharp. Just think of what you would be saying if you walked across barefoot, a'a (pronounced, ah-ah, like you're about to sneeze).

Dense and smooth, Pahoehoe is the second type of lava, and much more enjoyable to walk on barefoot. Cooling rates of the lava is the main factor in determining which type is formed.

The opportunistic lilikoi vine wraps its supple green tendrils around any surrounding foliage to extend its growth, in this case resutling in rather "B-Grade" botany horror film scene.

There is a rainbow in falling water.

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Pacific Pulse: Day 3

 

North Shore Beach.

What to eat after a tropical sunrise, all local, a fresh, apple banana, papaya, pineapple, and rambutan.

Hello Mother Ocean!

I have a green knapsack on my back, back.

What are the odds, a geologic positive placed by water into a perfect form fitting geologic negative. Nature knows where things belong.

Another exotic fruit in season, cream apple, a custardy sweet flavor that actaully reminds me alof of the taste of flan.

Finding seashells, natural gradients pink petina crawling from the ocean's bath inward on black basalt with more detail than a painter's brush.

This is the dentist you visit when you haven't brushed in a while. Actually, the owner of this house displaying his/her prowess in the local tradition of hunting wild boar. When done in the traditional manner, with just knife and dog (Google it) is quite a feat of courage?

Hanalei and the North Shore is home to large wet taro fields, the purple tuber was a staple starch for much of Polynesia and is still produced today, the root pounded into a sticky paste called poi.

 

Hanalei Church, nestled below the large cathedral buttresses of Mother Nature's church of the Na Pali.

Purple spring wildflowers, seems purple is always one of the first colors of spring no matter where you are.

Gray bird quiet and still.

Cloud topped jigsaw lava rock smooth path for feet travel exploration wave watching journey.

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Pacific Pulse: Day 2

A purple flower that reminds me of octopus tentacles and a violet, perhaps a violoctopus.

I’m walking through the forest

green trees all around.

Sweet songs of small birds singing fill my ears with sound.

Sand and ocean’s blue below me, clouds and blue above,

I think to set my heart a flight on the white wings of a dove,

now I’m flying, not walking,

singing, not talking,

living, not thinking, about hoping for more,

peace, love, sun, me,

I’m flying, I’m singing, I’m living this free.

And as the cliff drops away and the wind rushes by

I live in this moment, between Earth and the sky.

Waimea Canyon, considering the geological infancy of the Hawai'ian Islands the formation of such rugged and extreme canyons is testament to the large amount of rain the island experiences.

This horse was kind enough to put on his handsome face. Do you think his name is on the barrel?

Water feeds the plants erodes the stone flows to the seas, a course of drops and narrows, wide rivers branch like trees

Rugged lunar bluff showing signs of life. Imagine, thousands of years ago this was a flat top mountain, the river carved its way down, determination, patience.

The structure of life is familiar in all forms, leaf's skeleton reflects our circulatory system reflects the grid of city streets.

Can this give you what is needed to live?

To drop, to rise, to fall in blue, this sun I see, you see too.

Good place to stop and have a swim Jurassic Park style, watch out for the velociraptors!

This is the edge of the waterfall pictured below.

What will this canyon look like one hundred generations from mine?

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Pacific Pulse: Day 1

Chickens run wild on the whole island, from the rooster that wakes you up at five a.m. to the mother hen rushing her children away from the road.

Friends, Family.  I’m not in Oregon right now, Kaua’i instead.  Tried to ride my bike here but then realized there is 2,500 mils of blue salt water between, so an airplane was required, desired, and hired.  And each day I’ll be posting a new set of pictures from adventures and relaxing.  Check the captions for any pertinent information, or just make up your own…

Kealia Beach Park, the ocean lives here. Green, blue, white, warm.

Anatomically acceptable display of local fresh fruits, rambutan and apple banana...

Red hibiscus, an icon of Hawai'i, tropical treasure.South shore of Kauai, easy spot to take it easy.

I'm sure my parents will find at least one nickname and one real name that have uncanny resemblances to our family.

 

Sun sinks west to rise in the east with a new day to greet, the senses will feast... see you tomorrow.

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Picture Pages: And then it was found!

 This Picture Pages features the photography of Bryon Devore and pictoral account of Bryon and Kye’s adventures to find the hidden bottle.  Also inlcuded below the photos is Bryon’s written story.  Thanks Team Devore and Lars!  Now you can use your two $2.00 bills as gas money for the next hunt, and there will be another…

Kye on the first search next to a familiar sign.

 

Kye and Bryon took the opportunity to make sure gravity and rock are still good friends.

Bryon and Kye brought re-enforcements for the second and successful search, Mina, Kye's Sister, and Lars, another student in the math class I teach. Here they are after winning over one of the sentries guarding the "bottle corridor".

Lars calling Mr. N-B and leaving a cryptic message, sorry Lars, I was out riding my bike in the sun when you called.

At last, it has been found!

Father and Son in Spring Snow and majestic mountain grandeur.

Satiating success!

So… I brought more helpers along this time which was fun, but also a bit nerve wracking having three excited kids on the side of Dead Indian Road where cars fly by at 60 mph. 

                                                                                                                    ***

This was much harder than I would have thought. Finding the “corridor” was easy enough and Kye immediately jumped out of the car and grabbed the nickel at the lower end of the guard rail; piece of cake. The three up them then found out how hard it is to run 300 yds uphill at whatever altitude that is (3-4000 ft?). We got to the upper end of the guard rail and couldn’t find the dime. This was the first seed of doubt planted that maybe the bottle wasn’t here either. Mina then proceeded to tell us that Miss Crawley told her that day that she also had found something of Mr. NB’s and was paid $2! Yikes! Was the bottle already found? But we had hope and proceeded to walk down the entire other side of the road looking in the rocks since the photos made it pretty clear that was the side it was on. 

The first photo shows them just about back to the car on our first pass. No luck. The original photo of you holding the bottle up in it’s exact location was throwing us off because we all thought it looked like trees toward the upper part of the guard rail w/ Mt. Ashland in the background. We decided to head back up there for another pass. We spent a lot more time looking for the dime and checking the photos on my phone, looking at tree tops from different angles, etc. 2nd photo of the kids at the upper end of the guard rail… losing hope. 3rd and 4th photos shows the tree line that the boys were convinced was the same as your photo. I wasn’t so sure and the boys headed back to the car to find your phone number on Lars’ phone. Mina and I continued to scour the rocks along the side and look up to ID the “looking up” photo… Mina said, “It all looks the same!” I agreed. 

                                                                                                                   ***

As we came back to the car the second time, I finally got a clear ID on the tree line from your photo (photo 5) even though we’d been right there 30 minutes earlier. You can see the boys calling you in photo 6 right as I figured it out. Mina and I looked up and compared it to your other photo and we yelled to the boys that we were there. We all looked down at about the same moment and realized we were practically standing on the little rock pile with the bottle (7 and 8)! They were stoked to have found it after pretty much giving up hope. Without the photos on my phone right there, we never would have found it. 

                                                                                                                    ***

The last piece, to find the mossy gate with Mt. McLoughlin, proved impossible. I thought it would be the little meadow just over the pass from the summit, but it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t as the mountain was far too large compared to your photo. We went another 15 miles up the road looking but my gas light came on and we had to be back. We did find another ranch gate/snowy meadow/mountain framed spot and snapped a few pics on our way back (10,11,12). We’re convinced that the photo was taken on a different road further from the mountain to the south, maybe hwy 66 going towards K. Falls? We’ll keep our eyes peeled, though, on future drives and claim our dollar!

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The search continued…

A section of the climb I call the "ice box", summer or winter it's always 10-15 degrees cooler in this section, the road can be totally dry and clear except for this one spot, which in winter is a sheet of ice and summer a refreshing pocket of cold.

Those of you who have been following the blog for the last couple of months will be familiar with my first posting on the secret location of an unopened water bottle and the clues I gave to retrieve it for a Presidential sum of two Jeffersons (two dollar bills).  There were a couple of interested students from school who were planning a search and each week on my ride up I would check on the status of the bottle, still there. 

A little over a week ago I received an e-mail from the father of a sixth grade student I teach at the Siskiyou School.  A beautiful sunny day and a middle schooler’s curiousity led them to Dead Indian Memorial Road in search of the bottle.  Unfortunately the father and son duo did not have the time to do some last minute research to re-read the clues on the blog, and so were hunting mostly off mental images of the pictures they could remember.  Although their search site was miles away from the tresure they still managed to have a good time, as you can read from Bryon’s e-mail below:

 “I didn’t go back and re-read the original post and just went by the one photo of the “Open Range”; I assumed it would be w/in sight of that. Anyways, we scoured every inch from that sign up the hill to the mining pit, maybe 600 yds, and got some real good rock tossing in at the end (one of my all time favorite activities, just ahead of playing catch w/ a baseball). Thanks for the spark. If we don’t hear that it’s been found, we’ll probably get back up to that 12 mile marker and claim our prize”.

After this e-mail I was prompted to give them a few more clues.  And so on a sunny Thursday afternoon I set out on my trusty steed to the top of the pass.  On the way down I formulated a plan to increase the thrill of the hunt, assuming bugles and foxes were out of the question.  Read the captions to the pictures on this post, the same clues Bryon and Kye used for their second search…

The "corridor" where the bottle was hidden is guarded from the east by a President, Jefferson's profile on the nickel, enjoying the view of Mt. Ashland, anybody put some sunscreen on the old chap's nose?

Teddy R. is sentry to the west entrance of the "bottle corridor" and enjoys the shade.

View above when the bottle is at your feet below.

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Still Flying.

Harold Berra Sr. a.k.a. Big Daddy, sporting a fresh haircut and a one of nature’s finest fruits

Just over a year ago my Grandfather left his physical body. I remember the call from my Parents, and after talking to my Dad I knew it was time. I was spending my first winter in the real north, Missoula, Montana. The tone in my Dad’s voice made it clear to me there was less than twenty-four hours for my Grandfather. I will always be grateful to good friend and fellow Bikram Yoga teacher Mai who gave me the advice to not think twice about going home immediately to be with my family. I bought a plane ticket to leave early the next morning, my friend Kyle gave me a pre-dawn ride to the airport.

My flight was scheduled to go from Missoula to Seattle to Portland. I saw the sunrise over the snow covered crests of the mountains below. A couple of hours into the flight the pilot announced we would not be able to land in Seattle due to heavy fog, forcing us directly to Portland. I was feeling a sense that the events of the day were helping to get me home as quickly as possible. Going directly to Portland cut four hours off my travel time. I exited the plane in Portland quickly, ran straight for the shuttle, getting there just five minutes before it left, timing.

During the flight and shuttle ride I thought about my Grandfather, imagining spending his last moments with him and my Parents. Halfway into the shuttle ride I got a call from my Mom that Grandpa was “close to going” and that I should go straight to the home where he was when I got into town. Thoughts of being at his side during his last moments filled my mind. Perhaps it’s the romantic way movies and literature portray death, that in the final moments, the final breaths, the dying reveal profound insights that forever change the life of those present.

Just twenty minutes from Corvallis I received another call from my Mom. “He just went”, were the first words she got out before I heard her crying over the phone. My heart sank, I could feel my chest lift, tightening, as my eyes started to swell. Crying is not a regular event for me, not even annual, andeven then I couldn’t, it was awkward realizing I didn’t even know how to physically process the emotions I was feeling in that moment.

I was confused. Why couldn’t Grandpa have just held on for twenty more minutes? Just enough for me to see him one last time, make eye connection, acknowledge each other’s presence. It took me time, though I eventually realized it wasn’t about him waiting for me, it wasn’t about being there for the last breath. His time to go was his last choice, and by virtue the most experienced, wisest, noblest, truth of his life.

It's in my blood to love life this way.

We moved my Grandpa to Corvallis from Pennsylvania for the last few years of his life. During those years I established my first real relationship and friendship with one of my Grandparents. Many memories and lessons He taught me and continues to teach me.

The last few months I would visit him for his haircut. I think we shared a similar desire for the perfect buzz cut, not a hair left uncut, nice and even. During those final weeks bananas were one of the few foods he asked for and enjoyed, and a fruit which I eat three daily. There is so much I enjoy in this life due to those before me who recognized it was worth enjoying.

He definitely has the window seat now, and I feel good to know He cruises over every now and then to say hi to me.

Both of my Grandfathers glide the warm thermals and use their winged spirit strength to help me through the headwinds, yes, we are still flying.

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What this leads to.

The sky is huge behind this sign.

Last week, riding my bike in the sunshine, enjoying the simplicity of my actions as I explored the complexity of my thoughts.  And come to realize a few hours and miles later that it’s all as simple as the bike, point A to point B, that point B becomes a new point A…  When this happens every sight becomes profound and new.  Riding back to Ashland, south along Highway 99, through the town of Phoenix and my eye is caught by the stark white of a long Friday afternoon cigarette squeezed between the fingers of a woman walking on the sidewalk, young high-school kids starting the weekend cruising the cracked streets.  Below is what this leads to…

Friday afternoon slow drag cigarette

teenage kids like dogs poking their heads out car windows loose hair flying

getting a reaction, getting a rise,

because they’ve figured out how to talk about sex

so they scream about sex, shout about sex, hoping? to find meaning

small country town, this is here, where

people sell what they can, to get by, to live by, and be by,

themselves in the woods

for sale: piles of rock, firewood, scrap metal, old Ford van for $400

and a riding lawn mower for $450.

Saturday sunny afternoon smooth road motorcycles, and men with their woman.

women and their man.  on the motorcycle.  to save the old

music style speaker playing loud through something less digital,

yes, more analog please.

One and his Harley, black hat, “Veteran”

and platoon number embroidered in yellow,

he’s taking a long one to enjoy the road.

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Picture Pages: Summer to Spring

 From the bike the changing of the seasons becomes much more apparent and meaningful.  Realized I had pictures from similar points geographically and different points on the timeline, the captions tell a bit of the story so enjoy the words as well!  As with any photo on this blog you can click on the image itself for a bigger version that will pop-up on your screen.  Amazing how seconds passing can accumulate to highly visible change, makes me think of how the body and mind change in the yoga practice, harder to notice it in your own self because we are in our body and mind every day.

Late August, Applegate Valley, Southern Oregon's Wine Country, grapes gettin' sunshine sweet.

Now early March from the same spot, note red roof in background in both pics, should start seeing some new growth soon.

 

August, Applegate River as seen from the steel trussed Applegate bridge, a week later I rode this route with my Dad and Brother and we had a cool swim to balance out the day's summer heat.

March now, the green on the trees will start soon, and they are all a few inches taller now, can you tell? And although the sun is out I had a few more layers of lycra on than I did when I took the previous pic.

August again, cruising along Dead Indian Memorial Road, and the handsome lad in the strikingly chic sunglasses is my Dad. This is the same vantage as the pic below, note my new weekend vacation home in the background of both, the horizon faint through the smokey haze caused by summer forest fires.

March now, the air is clear, snow on the ground, and the shadows are long, these two pics were taken near the same time of day. A majestic view of Mt. McLoughlin, now click back on the previous pic and find it through all the smoke.

August, the Black Walnut tree just outside my door doing what trees do best in the summer, providing shade.

First week in March and a few inches of snow on the leafless skeleton outside my door. I imagine the squirrels are still feeding on the many walnuts I watched them gather one by one during the fall months, bon apetit my furry friends!

Another August Applegate Valley, with Scarey's unique art on display at the Applegate Store to attract all the passerbys, you can barely make out the no burn warning on the fire alert sign, scroll down and see the clever message for the less flammable spring months.

March now and Scarey's artwork is elsewhere as are most of the motorists. Look at the message on the fire sign now. Scarey's amazing salesman must still be living in the van in the background, it hasn't moved since the first time I saw it in August.

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A Distillation.

From my photographic attic, the beautiful Oregon Coast, sandy cold windy wet smiles.

You don’t have to know it, you just have to feel it.

You don’t have to live it, you just have to be it.

You don’t have to know, you just have to feel.

You don’t have to live, you just have to be.

To know, just feel.

To live, just be.

-Love, to you, from me.

Tidal trance, revealing, submerging, sand shifting always changing every wave to the shore.

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