From the Kitchen to the Ocean

Reflections on a rewarding and enjoyable year, for which we are grateful.

In the spring, we decided to vanquish the last remaining traces of the color blue from our home. The kitchen had blue walls, a dark blue/gray vinyl floor, and baby blue countertops covering pale yellow cabinets. Behind the sink was a backsplash featuring lemons and other assorted fruits. Although not a color we would have chosen, we decided to keep the cabinets and replace the countertops and flooring with earth tones, while adding a snazzy backsplash made up of hand painted Mexican tiles. The best part was creating a new pass-through from the kitchen to the dining area. It opened up the room and added a nice touch.

This year we chose to go on our annual trip to Salida in late July, and boy was it hot! After checking into our favorite cabin at the bottom of Monarch Pass, we took the dogs downtown for a swim in the Arkansas River. Tonka loves the water, although he is timid in strong currents. Daisy stays by the shore but loves to splash and chase Tonka. Dave and I brought water shoes and joined the dogs in the river for a chance to cool down. Later we stopped for a beer and takeout at Moonlight Pizza then returned to the cabin to laze about.

On day two, after brunch at the Salida Café, with yummy food, sketchy service, and a pet friendly patio, we took a bumpy ride over rugged, rocky Marshall Pass, located south of Mount Ouray (elevation 13,961). The pass is named for Lt. William Marshall, who in the fall of 1873 mapped the route while making a journey from Silverton to Denver to visit a dentist, rather than have a blacksmith pull his tooth in Silverton. Here’s hoping Lt. Marshall had lots of whiskey on hand, because that’s a long trek on horseback. The summit of Marshall Pass is near the Colorado Trail, which on this day was filled with happy wildflowers, free range cattle, backpackers, and mountain bikers zooming along at breakneck speed downhill. The west side of the pass spills out onto Highway 50 near Sargents, Colorado, a non-descript town featuring a post office, a trading post, and no noticeable inhabitants.

After we finished our glorious trip overseas in 2014, Dave and I decided our next visit would be a little closer to home: the Oregon Coast. We didn’t have much of a plan until we met an Oregon native at our favorite local hangout. He directed us to the town of Seaside, on the northern coast. Dave’s sister, Barb, was interested in our trip plans and agreed to join us. We booked a fifth floor beachfront condo for late September and spent relaxing evenings on the balcony drinking local wine, watching beautiful sunsets, and listening to the surf. The weather was windy but otherwise nearly perfect.

Dave served as chauffeur for our day trips up and down the coast. Our first trek was to head north across the mouth of the Columbia River to western Washington, where we visited Cape Disappointment State Park. We hiked out onto the north jetty, which helps create a protected channel for ships into and out of the river. After being blown by wind back from the jetty to shoreline, we hiked a steep trail past the Cape Disappointment Coast Guard station to the lighthouse. The lighthouse keeper told us the day’s warm, sunny weather was unusual for the area, normally socked in by fog or subject to fierce winds, even worse that what we experienced on the jetty.

Everyone told us that we absolutely must visit Mo’s Restaurant in Cannon Beach in order to experience the best clam chowder in existence. Off we went, stopping first to hike along the beach and admire the breathtakingly beautiful Haystack Rock. None of us are big fans of clam chowder but Dave tried it and said it was mostly okay. After hiking up and down the beach and taking endless photos of Haystack Rock and the Needles, we were grateful for a chance to sit inside and watch beachgoers fly their kites. On the way back, we scoped out the site for the next day’s adventure: Indian Beach at Ecola State Park.

After first enjoying a late breakfast at the local Pig n’ Pancake, we headed south to Indian Beach to enjoy another warm, sunny day. Surfers in wetsuits weaved about in the waves; off came our shoes and socks and we waded into the cold Pacific waters. Waves splashed high as our knees at times, while up and down the beach we strolled, only stepping out to let our toes warm up before heading in again. On a rock outcropping off in the distance stood the former Tillamook Head lighthouse, known as “Terrible Tilly” because of its dangerous location. The lighthouse was decommissioned in 1957 and is now a privately owned columbarium. What a stunning place to leave your ashes for all eternity.

The next day we drove to Tillamook to tour the Tillamook Cheese Factory, where we sampled Tillamook cheese and Tillamook ice cream, purchased Tillamook memorabilia, and posed for photos with the Tillamook factory’s resident plastic cow. Cheesy, right? Then we were off to the coast again, this time to visit the lighthouse at Cape Meares and the nearby Octopus Tree. First we stopped at the beach in Oceanside, where Dave collected seashells and we wondered about the abundance of hillside homes for sale. The lighthouse headland offered spectacular views of the vast Pacific Ocean and the Three Arch Rocks, although alas, we could only see two arches.

Our last day was spent scurrying up the coast to catch a ferry from Bremerton, Washington, across the sound to Seattle. What a beautiful way to view the Seattle skyline. We spent the afternoon on a whirlwind tour of the waterfront: drinking margaritas and sangria at the Copacabana, strolling through the Pike Place Market, and riding the monorail to the Space Needle.

As dusk fell, we returned to the waterfront in time to see the Seattle Great Wheel lit up at night.

The next morning we headed home to begin planning our next vacation.

Gettysburg, anyone?

(more vacation photos here)

We hope this year treated you well, and as always wish you

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Peace on Earth

Debbie and Dave

Tonka

Daisy

Two Years Gone By

Since we didn’t send Christmas cards last year, this year we plan to bore you silly with a summary of activities for not one but two years at French Manor. Those of you with a strong constitution may continue reading at your own peril, or skip right to the pretty pictures and spare yourselves the agony of yet another silly Christmas newsletter.

Sunroom with Colorado and Manx flags

The Home Front. Our lives have been a flurry of home improvement projects over the past two years. We added a second shed in the back yard, remodeled the hallway bathroom, replaced an old wooden patio fence with a pretty white trellis, painted the sunroom and installed new carpet, replaced the wrought iron front gate with a wooden gate, created a memorial rose garden (which includes Raven’s ashes), installed a new garage door with windows, painted all three bedrooms (colors: Melted Butter, Outback, Toffee Crunch), and removed a dying elm tree from the back yard. To clarify, we did not do all this work ourselves.

Ships That Pass in the Night. Dave worked the swing shift through all of 2014, which we both hated but the dogs loved. They were never alone for long, since Dave left for work at 2:30 and I returned home at 4:30. Dave started to look for a new job with better hours, and finally was offered a good job in early 2015. His new company is stable, secure, and includes great benefits. The best part, Day Shift! In early March, they sent him to Atlanta for a week to learn a new digital press the company purchased. He likes the company and the hours, and hopes to stay there for the long term.

Reclamation Day. I languished in my accounting clerk position at a local non-profit, where I planned to continue working until age 60. But after much soul-searching and number-crunching and encouragement from friends, I decided to bid farewell to the daily grind earlier than planned. Since the end of October, I have been enjoying my early retirement with plenty of quiet time at home, basically doing whatever I want whenever I want. The dogs love having consistent human companionship and more frequent walks. A dear friend suggested using the term “reclamation” instead of “retirement” since I am now reclaiming my life after 40 years in the workaday world.

The Calf of Man

Ellan Vannin. “And there rises like a vision, sparkling bright in nature’s glee, my own dear Ellan Vannin with its green hills by the sea.” So goes the poem Ellan Vannin, which is the Manx-language name of the Isle of Man. Situated halfway between England and Northern Ireland in the Irish Sea, the Isle of Man is my mother’s ancestral homeland.

When I was little, mom told me tales of this magical, mystical faraway place called the Isle of Man, where her grandfather was born. I remember hearing about Viking raids on the island, at which point I declared “I’m a Viking!” to no one in particular. It seemed unlikely that I would ever visit until I met my second cousin from Connecticut, Faith, via genealogical research. Faith suggested we explore our roots in person.

Houses of Parliament

Dave had never been overseas and wanted to come along, so we added a few extra days to visit London. In late June 2014, we flew from Denver to Reykjavik, Iceland. The airport layover lasted long enough for us to buy Icelandic souvenirs before continuing to London. We bunked at an old hotel in London’s Bayswater neighborhood, near Paddington Station. Our first tourist trip was to Buckingham Palace, where we arrived just in time for the changing of the guard. Dave mastered the Underground quickly and we were off here and there, strolling through Hyde Park near Kensington Palace, staring with wonder at Parliament and Big Ben and the London Eye, then touring Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral.

Captain Dave aboard the ferry, Ben-My-Chree

After a whirlwind tour lasting three days, we met Faith at Victoria Station and boarded a train to Heysham Port, north of Liverpool, for a ferry ride to Douglas, capital of the Isle of Man. It’s about a three hour journey across the Irish Sea, which on that particular day was smooth as glass and so lovely. Faith said she wanted her first glimpse of the island to be as our ancestors would have seen it, from the sea.

Peel Castle ruins

What a beautiful place! After settling into the Cubbon Guest House on Douglas Promenade, where Dave and I had a room on the top floor with a view of Douglas Bay, we began a week-long tour. Relying on foot power and public transportation (horse tram on the promenade, electric tram along the east coast of the island, the old Victorian steam train to parts south and west, and buses everywhere else) we explored the most amazing sights: Mt. Snaefell, the highest point on the island; Cregneash, an old working village that doubles as a living history museum;  the Calf of Man, a small island and bird sanctuary just off the southwestern tip; Port Erin with its magnificent beach and western views; Castle Rushen, a well-preserved medieval castle on the southeast coast; and the ruins of Peel Castle, built in the 11^th century by the Vikings. We climbed Peel Hill above the castle where far off in the distance we could see the Mountains of Mourne, Northern Ireland.

Faith, Debbie, and Dave at Niarbyl

The three of us were joined midway through our stay by our Manx third-cousin, John Creer. John has done extensive studies of our family history and gave us a personal tour of the island, focusing on places that were personally relevant to our family such as where our ancestors lived, worked, and worshipped. Thanks to John’s knowledge, we visited the mine where our shared great-great-grandfather worked, the grave where he is buried with his wife and two of their thirteen children, and the church where long ago the Creer family had a pew in their name.

We had to return to London for our flight home, so Dave and I stopped in a city north of London to spend the last few days with a long-time friend of mine from Boulder. Robbin has lived in England for nearly 30 years. It’s a rare treat to see her and I truly enjoyed our lively conversations. Dave had a great time and we plan to return, next time touring Scotland and the Home of Golf, St. Andrews.

Along the Mill Creek Trail

Back Home Again. While we were overseas, the dogs were comfy cozy at home with their favorite live in pet sitter, Auntie Barbara. They were so happy to see us again that we took them on a family trip to Salida in September. Staying at our new favorite rental cabin near Monarch Pass, we made a side trip to an area north of Gunnison, the Mill Creek Trail on the way to Storm Pass. We had been there years before with Raven, in the summer, and Dave always wanted to return in autumn to see the aspen groves ablaze along the way. Those autumn colors were breathtaking, as was the hike.

Kindergarten buddies

In 2015, I celebrated my 40^th high school reunion (gasp!). An informal potluck lunch was planned in late July at the home and property of a classmate. The day was hot, the food was good, the beer was flowing, and the reminiscing went on and on. The best part for me was sharing the day with my lifelong friend, Peggy. We met in kindergarten and have known each other forever.

Chimney Rock National Monument

Instead of our annual autumn trip to Salida, this year Dave wanted to head down to Pagosa Springs in southwestern Colorado, not far from the New Mexico border. Other than a bad experience at a so-called “pet friendly” motel, we sure had fun. The dogs cavorted in the Piedra River, we visited the ghost town of Pagosa Junction, were treated to a personal tour of an old church on Southern Ute tribal lands (St. John the Baptist Catholic Church) and climbed to the top of Chimney Rock National Monument. The area surrounding the monument is beautiful and the guided tour was so interesting. We both returned with some tourist paraphernalia and a card proclaiming “I Made It to the Top!” (not really too difficult as Colorado hikes go). You can safely say that a good time was had by all.

So, if you haven’t dozed off by now, we wish you

Debbie and Dave at the Calf of Man, July 2014

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Peace on Earth

Debbie and Dave  *  Tonka and Daisy

(from our Christmas newsletter)

Daisy

Tonka

New Horizons

What is your perspective on the rising sun each morning? For years we have viewed a beautiful sunrise brightening the world as seen from between two houses across the street. The sunrise may have changed each morning, but the perspective did not. That is, until this year.

Our biggest news of the year happened at the tail end. Almost on a lark, in mid-November we asked to tour a house for sale several miles to the west. That place was dreadful, but as a result of our visit we found another that looked promising. A mere six weeks later, we were living in our new home. Now our view of the rising sun is still between two houses across the street. Yet the perspective is completely different, at least to us.

You might recall that Dave was laid off in 2010. Since then, he worked part-time in the printing industry and later worked full-time as a househusband/personal doggy daycare provider to Tonka and Daisy.

In 2012 he took on a temporary assignment during spring and summer as a general laborer at my office. The summer was brutally hot, his supervisor was a pain and the grounds had been neglected, but Dave did a great job cleaning up. He also discovered a new passion: riding mowers. Hmm, maybe someday he can get a job mowing lawns at a golf course?

Before my back surgery in 2011, we had curtailed our day hikes as I was unable to walk or stand for long periods of time. Then in June, we decided to take my new bionic back out for a spin. We settled on a day hike in the Lost Creek Wilderness south of Bailey.

It was hot that day (well, it was hot pretty much every day this summer) and we weren’t sure how far we’d get. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I could hike just like in years past. Except for my feet being tired and sore on the return trip, it was a a fun, almost leisurely hike of about five miles. Plus, the dogs found some water to cool their fevered paws along the way. Turns out that Creek wasn’t really Lost after all.

No year would be complete without a trip to our home-away-from-home: Salida. This year we headed out to our favorite little mountain town in mid-July. It was hot, naturally. But at least the evenings were cool and we had easy access to the Arkansas River, to dip our toes and let the dogs swim a bit.

We ventured forth on yet another hike, this time to Agnes Vaille Falls. It was billed as an “easy” hike (obviously that recommendation was given by people in much better shape than me and Dave). We made it to the falls, enjoyed the view along the way, and managed to get back to the car just before the heavens turned loose a wicked rainstorm. Ahhhh…

Over the past year or so, I reconnected via Facebook with several high school classmates. One of them helped me get in touch with a fellow I had long admired, and even had a bit of a crush on, during our school years.

After exchanging emails with Stewart (the tall guy on the left, now living with his family overseas), I learned he would be in Colorado during the summer of 2012. So I made plans with some classmates and hosted a mini-reunion in early August. We all had a great time and enjoyed a hot but otherwise lovely day reminiscing and catching up on each other’s lives. In a couple of years, it will be time for our 40th high school reunion. Oh my.

Discussions began early in the year about how to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary, due in September. Originally the plan was to visit Hawaii, but circumstances dictated that we scale it back. So, what’s just like a visit to Hawaii without spending a small fortune, you might ask? Why, South Dakota, of course!

We drove to Rapid City, created a home base in a lovely old downtown hotel, then spent the week exploring Mount Rushmore, Custer State Park, Crazy Horse Memorial, Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, and even indulged in cheesy Americana at Wall Drug before finishing up our whirlwind all-American tour at the Badlands (phew, talk about hot!). Our favorite place was Devil’s Tower. If you haven’t been, you really should go.

So consider this our post-Christmas newsletter. Because we were too busy packing and moving, we skipped out on our usual holiday traditions. Still, we wanted to let everyone know that, almost out of the blue, we packed up and moved across town... to the place we intend to stay for the long haul.

Best wishes for the New Year ahead,

Debbie and Dave

Tonka and Daisy

An Uphill Climb

Pictured above is Mount Princeton, taken from the Collegiate Peaks Overlook state park on our recent trip to Salida, Colorado. It was an incredibly beautiful day as we enjoyed our picnic lunch, looking down over Buena Vista and the Arkansas River valley.

Soon the second table under our shade shelter was snatched up by fellow travelers. The two couples spent much time discussing the surroundings. What was that town in the valley below? One woman insisted it couldn't possibly be Buena Vista. "That's nowhere near here," she said. I smiled to myself, hoping for their sake she was not the group navigator. Then one fellow asked another, "Is that a ski area?" Eventually--after a lively debate--they came to the conclusion that the slivered mountain trails were not ski slopes, but avalanche chutes.

After checking in to our motel, we took the dogs downtown to Salida's Arkansas River water park. Isn't this horse trough flower planter lovely?



Normally Tonka is afraid of the river's current but on this trip he tapped into his latent courage, grew some doggy water wings and swam like crazy.

We drove around the neighborhoods in search of homes for sale. It was a sizzling hot afternoon and this deer had the right idea.

Then we headed back to the motel for an impromptu happy hour.

On day two, we zoomed up the highway to Nathrop to check on a friend's trailer. He had asked for a photo looking down on the river from the Mini-Gorge Bridge to assess the river's depth. We all agreed the Arkansas was running pretty low.



Both dogs had a blast swimming and playing in the river here, too.

Our planned activity for the day was a short hike. We asked some neighbors near the Mini-Gorge Bridge about the half-mile trail to Agnes Vaille Falls. Super easy, they said. Very pretty, they said. Oh, it was pretty alright. Easy? I suppose that depends on your perspective. (By the way, Agnes Vaille was an interesting woman. You can read a little bit about her life on the sign.)

Okay, one-half mile, shouldn't take long. Clouds were gathering but we figured there was still plenty of time. A group of hikers arrived at the same time, so we held back. Notice the pointed peak above?

Several minutes later and there's the peak again, with some ski slopes avalanche chutes below. We've gained quite a bit of elevation already.

I stopped along the trail to photograph this dead tree, ostensibly for its stark beauty. In fact, what I really wanted to do was catch my breath and consider how much I was beginning to feel like this dead tree.

People were now leaving the area in droves. On the way downhill, one woman remarked about how we weren't even close yet. Seriously? The nicely groomed path soon disappeared; the trail grew narrow and less discernable. At this point we let go of the leashes and left the dogs to fend for themselves. Now we're scrambling over rocks, moving slowly through the slippery, less forgiving area of the trail. At least, we think it's still the trail. At the end it became quite steep, then just as I'm crawling up the side of a huge boulder, I hear a loud thunder clap in the distance.

Finally we made it to the falls only to discover that because it has been so dry this year, there is barely any water pouring over the edge of the mountain.

We plopped down on a nice, flat rock to rest and admire the scenery, which consisted mostly of rocks. Lots and lots of rocks, with an occasional tuft of pretty little wildflowers peeking out. And I'm thinking, well great. Here we are, sitting right in the middle of a rock fall area as a high altitude summer thunderstorm bears down on us. Perfect.

The other group of hikers was cavorting near the falls and Dave said he wanted to wait for them to leave first. No way, I said, hearing another crash of thunder as the storm drew closer. So down we went, gravity aiding us in our race back to the starting line. No time to finish reading the interpretive signs, there's lightning right over there! We made it to the car just as the skies unleashed a torrent of rain.

FYI: Dip Danger. Always a problem in the Colorado Rockies. Beware.

And yes, a good time was had by all...

Canine Joy

Tonka and Daisy
at the Arkansas River near Nathrop, Colorado
September 2011

Peaks and Valleys

2009 was marked by a series of peaks and valleys, both in our travels and in our personal lives.

We began the year learning that our sweet dog Raven had developed canine lymphoma with at best a few months to live. The vet recommended a treatment that put her cancer in remission for a little while. When it stopped working, we took her off the medication and let the cancer run its course.

In the spring we added a second four-legged member to our little family. Tonka is a “prison dog” we found through the Colorado Correctional Industries K-9 Companion program. A Border Collie and Blue Heeler mix (aka, a “mutt”), Tonka was a stray rescued by a ditch rider on the eastern plains of Colorado. He is smart, cuddly, and chock full of energy. At first Raven was none too thrilled about sharing her home but she soon warmed up to him. And Tonka seemed to give Raven a new lease on life.

It turns out that Tonka is also a good mountain dog. He joined us on road trips and hiking adventures in our beautiful Colorado mountains. We took him to the summit of Mount Evans, a peak towering more than 14,000 feet above sea level, and on our annual sojourn to Salida and the central Rockies.

Raven was a strong girl. She lasted nearly 10 months and enjoyed mixing it up with her new buddy until the last few days. We finally had to say goodbye to her in late September. Raven has journeyed ahead to the Rainbow Bridge, where we hope to meet up with her again one day.

In October, we took a much needed but rain-soaked vacation in Washington, DC and the surrounding area. We divided our time between the city and the country, traveling along the Blue Ridge Parkway south toward West Virginia. Part of our vacation was dedicated to searching for Dave’s ancestors, especially his great-great-great-grandfather, Napoleon Bonaparte French. This branch of Dave’s family traveled from the Shenandoah Valley to southern Virginia, settling in the New River Valley in the mid-1700s.

As the holidays approached, we were faced with the loss of another beloved member of our family. Dave’s mother has been in poor health for the past few years, but she too was strong and resilient. Marge bounced back from one illness after another, always returning to us in good spirits and ready to go out for her favorite lunch, a beef enchilada and flan. This time there would be no returning. The angels came for her at the end of November. The last of our living parents, Marge left us for what will surely be a blissful eternity. We will miss her so.

Merry Christmas  *  Happy New Year  *  Peace on Earth

Debbie, Dave and Tonka

 

(from our Christmas newsletter)