Beauty * and * Bread

I have a question for (the collective) you, and I really, really hope you’ll answer.

Dogwoods & Yosemite Falls, June, 2009

When you travel, how much do you plan ahead?

• Do you look at maps?
• Plan your route?
• Make hotel reservations?
• Learn as much as you can about the area you’ll be visiting?

Or do you show up to a place you’ve heard about with no advance preparation at all?

Sadly, my experience of about a year working at the Yosemite Sierra Visitors Bureau tells me that the majority of the guests we serve follow the later policy. They come in expecting us to give them all the information they need so they’ll have a perfect visit. We can and do assist guests in preparing a route and educating them on what they’ll see–but we really can’t change geography, nor can we produce campsites or hotel rooms out of thin air when the majority of them have been booked for months.

***

Although it’s clearly winding down now, our tourist season has been in full swing throughout the months of June, July and August.

For the past week, in particular, the majority of our guests at the visitors bureau have been from out of the country. The French have predominated, followed closely by Italians and Germans. I should have already figured it out, but there’s a reason for that. Europe has a pattern to its vacations, and the French are the ones who take August off. By this time the Netherlands and Germany’s kids are back in school.

My point about all of this is that it amazes me how little homework  travelers, especially those from overseas,  apparently do in preparation for a huge expenditure in time and money. They arrive with a laundry list of national parks to see in a span of two weeks. They fully expect to see the grandeur of Yosemite National Park in a two-hour time span and are shocked, horrified even, when they learn that they can barely make it from the park’s southern entrance to the Yosemite Valley floor in that amount of time.

This very scenario occurred today with a gentleman and his family from New Zealand. They arrived close to noon at the visitors bureau and needed to be in San Francisco by evening.  Beyond the drive to Yosemite Valley the route from Yosemite Valley to San Francisco requires about 3 to 4 hours. All this fellow could do is race madly to Glacier Point, take a quick walk around, dash through Yosemite Valley and then proceed on to his destination for the night. He will have “seen” Yosemite, but he won’t understand a bit of what he’s observed, nor will he have seen the very best parts even of Yosemite Valley.

This has happened over and over again this summer (and probably every other summer–I just haven’t been a part of it until now). I’ve searched the internet and have discovered a wealth of information. Culling that into a readily-usable chunk of facts and suggestions is not so easy.

That’s my new mission.

I”m going to create a new blog page that addresses what the Yosemite traveler needs to know to make the most of however much time he has, based on the questions and the situations we face each day. My aim is to make this a one-stop-shop for visitors in each season–giving the advantages and disadvantages of each. How to disseminate this to our guests before their visit is the $64,000 question.

If you’ve been to Yosemite, I hope you’ll check it out as it gets posted and give me suggestions as to how it might have helped your visit. If you haven’t yet experienced the Queen of National Parks, I’m hoping this will both whet your appetite and assist you, too, in planning your travels.

Do you collect treasures? What sort are they? Valuable art? Family mementos? Stuff that means something only to you?

Daughters Farida and Nasreen will tell you that I’m a pack rat, keeping anything and everything long past the time its usefulness has ended. Witness:

My 50-Year-Old dining Table & Chair--Don't the laundry baskets add a nice touch?

This is my dining room table. I’ve mentioned it in previous blogposts. Both Farida and Jason have tried to convince me that it needs to be chopped into firewood for next winter. This gorgeous piece of furniture–totally not MY style at all–dates from when I was in seventh grade at Lincoln Jr High in Vista. My folks had just built a new house up the street from the school and furnished it in a contemporary style.

No one would ever accuse me of having style of any sort. If I did, it certainly wouldn’t be “contemporary.” Despite that, I can’t bring myself to get rid of this table. It has followed me from house to house, into marriage and out of marriage. It certainly came in handy when I moved in March and suddenly needed a table once again. Covered with a green cloth and topped with a flower arrangement, it’s actually quite presentable.

Another relic of the past–and present:

Franciscanware - Apple Pattern

The photo above is a place setting from my mother’s set of Franciscanware. The Apple pattern, along with the Desert Rose, were the first two patterns Franciscan made. My mother had a setting for eight. Shortly after she died, Farida was reading our local newspaper–and found an ad for a setting for 16, for $115.00. Total. She grabbed the phone, and we raced over that afternoon to seal the deal. The seller was a widower trying to divest himself of some of his wife’s treasures. He clearly didn’t know what he had, although he certainly found out–after we made our purchase and he continued to get calls. He held to his deal, and Farida still uses the china today.

It reminds me of happy times, just as the pungent scent of my lantana bush on the deck brings back memories of the house on Warmlands Avenue where I grew up. The lantana and the Calla Lilies and the Chinese Elm and the rabbits and walking the culvert across the gully to my friends’ house.

Strange or not, that’s where I’ve always longed to return. It’s the once place–real or not–where I’ve always felt safest, insulated from the troubles of the world, real or imagined.

If I had the chance to go back there to live, would I? I’d like to think I have enough common sense to know that memories are beautiful because they are just that–memories–that have the patina of time, imagination and reminiscence to shade them. If I went back, it would never be the same.

For that same reason I will never contact the love of my life, the one person who truly made my heart sing. Iwill never sully those memories with the changes that 47 years have wrought. Besides he’s still with the woman he married almost the same day I got married, and I applaud that–he who totally believed in divorce if things didn’t work out. “Why should two people be condemned to stay together if they no longer love each other?”

For 45 years I wondered what had happened to him. When the internet came into being, I conducted countless searches for him–just to know where he was and what he’d done with his life. I don’t know why, after so many previous attempts, it all came together finally, especially since he’s been incredibly successful in his field. There are more references to him than I can count. Pages and pages of them. I’ve even seen his photo and would never recognize him as that man (not much more than a boy, really, when we were 20/21 years old) that I loved so much. Still love, in my own way.

What a stream-of-consciousness post. I started out thinking about being a pack rat and ended up reminiscing, again, about lost loves.

It’s really sad, folks, when something strikes me as so important that I need to be sure to blog about it–and then promptly forget. The new solution to that problem is to email myself (if I’m at work or a place with wi-fi) as a reminder.

I didn’t do that, so Penny’s post of yesterday jogged my memory. Actually Penny is the person who inspired the idea in the first place.

As we were on our Big Adventure of a couple of weeks ago, she asked me which of our local companies provides my propane. She went on to tell me that she’d just found a new-to-her provider with great prices and even better customer service. I immediately perked up my ears.

From the time I moved to Cascadel in 1998, I have been dissatisfied with my propane provider, who shall be known by the acronym PP, which pretty much represents their office’s customer relations skills. If I called to ask them about anything over the years, the first words out of their mouths were “It’ll cost you . . .” Never, ever, “how can we help you?”

Before going any further, let me hasten to tell you that their driver, Keith, is exemplary. If he were his company’s only representative, I wouldn’t quibble. Unfortunately he isn’t.

When Penny began to describe the rates and services extended by the company she’d just switched to, I knew I had to investigate further. The new company, JSW, would switch out tanks, charge $65.00 per year rental, (which is the same amount I now pay to PP), but they would not charge for the first year.  Furthermore, the first fill would be at the rate of $1.65 per gallon, with subsequent fill-ups at a discounted rate, currently $2.19 per gal. PP’s current price is $2.39. And JSW will transfer any remaining fuel from your old tank into the new one, so you don’t lose anything you’ve already paid for.

I paid through the nose for propane when I moved in this house, through PP, and was just getting ready for a refill before the rates typically skyrocket as cold weather looms . Unfortunately, the tank is in my landlord’s name, so I emailed him about switching services. Rich was trying to be helpful, so he called PP.  Their immediate reaction upon being told I was considering a change was, “it’ll cost you $100 to pick up the tank.” They then sweetly offered to reduce their price to JSW’s $2.19 if I’d stay with them.

Say what? You want us to PAY YOU to pick up a tank which you own? Give me a break!

I called another company, CP, just to see if that was common practice, and they said basically that, yes, they could and would charge whatever the traffic would bear. JSW does not charge, nor does SP, Penny’s previous supplier.

I did the math, and even if PP charges the $100, it still makes sense to switch. In this day and age customer service has a value worth more than dollars.

Throughout this process, over the last two weeks, JSW has been unfailingly polite and helpful, bending over backwards to make the transition a smooth one. Guess what? I have recommended them to everyone I know who has a propane tank. Melissa in JSW’s office said she has noticed a spike in new signups in the North Fork area. Truly that isn’t a result of my recommendations but rather the power of small-town talk. If you treat people right, the word gets out.  Sometimes folks will even blog about it.

Conversely, PP, if you don’t care about your customers, that word spreads, too.

Sayonara.

I got a surprise this morning when I went to check my blog comments.

The usual is a line of spam a mile long. I watch for familiar names and approve them. Almost by rote I hit the “unapprove” button and move on with any I don’t recognize. My finger hovered, ready to trash the comment, when I realized that it not only wasn’t spam, it was proof that this blog can mean something to someone (besides me) and that a particular post sometimes reaches the right audience.

Here’s the comment, from Carie. It refers to this post.

• Mr Helling was my teacher way way back when, he taught the 5th grade at Roeding Elementary school. I will never ever forget the day he came to school as John Muir, we were all riveted by him. He was one of the only teachers who ever seemed to give a damn about us. He took us camping for a week in yosimite, he opened up a whole new world for us. He was and will always be my #1 hero, the man who cared enough to teach us, who cared enough to give of his time, who cared enough to give us a chance…best man ever

I’m not quite sure how Carie happened on this blog, but I’m glad she did. It gives me yet another chance to share with the world one of the people who has most inspired me.

Frank will be working with me next week, for maybe one of the last times as I transition to the full-time job at the Visitors Bureau. I hope he’ll continue to work for ECCO with whomever takes over the program coordinator position, and I hope I’ll be able to engage him for other activities in conjunction with my revised employment at the VB. In any case there’s no doubt that Frank and wife Patti will remain cherished friends.

Next week he’ll be portraying John Muir as he leads my Road Scholar group into the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias. This is a place John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt camped together as they discussed how to preserve for all time the precious resource that is Yosemite. I won’t be going along, except in spirit, but I’m so thankful to be able to share another precious resource with a very lucky group of people.

You can see a photo of Frank here, portraying John Muir at one of ECCO’s Elderhostel (now Road Scholar) programs back in August 2005. The photo was taken by Pete Hoyle.

Sometimes we just have to think outside the box, as the ol’ cliche goes.

One of my passions is fresh flowers. From the time I moved into this house until just a couple of weeks ago, I treated myself to biweekly bouquets. Funny thing about cut flowers, though. They fade, shrivel and die. Their water turns gross, and you have to throw the whole mess out.

I’ve discovered a solution. It won’t work for everyone, but my house is so sunny that it’s almost like being outdoors. Flowers love it here, so plants which normally would not thrive indoors are not at all unhappy to join me in the house.

I now have switched from cut flowers to potted flowers.

The idea came to me when one of my geraniums burst forth with lovely bright pink blossoms. I brought it in and placed it center stage on the dining room table until all the petals dropped off. The leaves, however, are still gloriously green and vibrant. That plant went back outside, and my brilliant red geranium came in. It, too, is thriving as it graces my living space with its beauty.

Having had such luck with the geraniums, I went a step farther yesterday and bought two small roses. I guess you would call them tea roses, but both are actually a little larger than what I usually consider teas. I repotted them, and the yellow has taken the place of the crimson geranium on the dining table. The pinkish/yellowish/whitish one resides on the woodstove for now. One morning into their residence at Chez Hussain, and they seem to relish their new home.

Yellow Tea Rose Bud

Pinkish/Yellowish/Whitish Tea Rose Admiring Candles

Pinkish/Yellowish/Whitish Tea Rose Closeup

The yellow tea rose cost me four bucks. The pinkish/yellowish/whitish one cost eight. Hopefully they’ll continue to cherish their new abode and provide scads of blooms for a long time to come. Either way I’ve paid less than I would have for cut flowers guaranteed to last no longer than two weeks.

Life is good, and I’m saving money.

Aren’t I?

What  do you do to save money?

Oh, by the way. The photos were taken with what the Zadge would call my Little Girl Camera because my Big Girl Camera is still out of commission. Perhaps I can take some of the flower money saved and invest it in a repair.

Hi,

I’m Basement Cat. I live with Farida, Jason and Hunter because the first place I tried to stay kicked me out. I sure don’t know why. Now That Woman says that I am the best cat she’s ever seen. Go figure.

I have had a bit of a rocky time lately, as you may know. Just a few days after I arrived here, my new parents and brother went away and left me alone. I had to live outside and depend on That Woman to feed and water me. You know what? After a few days I was wandering around and I ran into this . . . this . . . this THING that attacked me and made me really sick. Luckily my mom found me and brought me in the house to stay. That Woman looked for me before my mom came home, but I wasn’t going to let her know where I was. No how, no way. I figure it’s her fault this happened.

This is me. Aren't I beautiful? Can you see my owie?

Anyhow.

I am feeling much, much better now. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that. In fact I’m feeling sooooo good that I keep begging my mom and dad to let me go outside, but they won’t ’cause they say my owie hasn’t healed up yet. That Woman keeps coming over here, and every time she sees me, she says “ewwwwww, gross” ’cause I have a big piece of dead skin hanging from my wound. The  place where the snake bit me still hasn’t closed up completely, and everyone keeps talking about it getting “infected,” whatever that is, if I go outside. So I’m stuck in here for now. I gotta admit it’s pretty good here. They feed me lots (That Woman says I’m getting a belly), and they let me sleep wherever I want. I drink out of their glasses, and I’ve really learned to like iced tea. Yummy.

THIS is what I think of THAT WOMAN. And now you can really see what happened to me. I have other photos that are even grosser, but THAT WOMAN won't let me post them.

My mom even bought me a couple of toys to play with.

You know what I most like to do? I like it when That Woman sits down and starts playing with her computer and when she’s not looking my way, I jump up on her lap and surprise her. She always jumps. She can’t hear me, but I really laugh when she does that. It serves her right. But what I REALLY, REALLY want to do is plant a couple of holes in her human suit, just like that rotten ol’ snake did in my cat suit. And I could do it, too. I have the equipment. Next time I’ll show you.

Over and out for now from the Basement, but I’ll be back. Count on it.

This post was inspired by Janice over at Where the Fur Flies, who was inspired by Carma at Carma Sez. It isn’t that I think you’ll find this list fascinating, but I was intrigued by what might end up there if I gave it a try. I challenge you to complete this little exercise yourself.

Here are 25 things you might–or might not–know about me.

1. I never met a mountain I didn’t love.
2. I am a workaholic.
3. I am passionate about Yosemite.
4. I want to go to Israel and Egypt for my 70th birthday with my children, son-in-law and grandson.
5. I want to see the Iditarod in person–either the start or the finish. Alaska is calling my name again.
6. I like most animals better than I like most people. This does not include snakes, lizards, scorpions or frogs.
7. I am a liberal surrounded by a hotbed of conservatives, and I have had to try to learn to keep my mouth shut, especially at work.
8. I listen to NPR most of the time. The rest I listen to KPFA Free Speech Radio.
9. I love living alone (with my animals) and hope I will never have to have a roommate–although I’ve had some great ones in the past. I just value my solitude.
10. I am addicted to the British TV series MI-5, thanks to daughter Nasreen.
11. I am addicted to ice cream, a trait inherited from my father, and which is the single biggest contributing factor to my gaining back the 60 pounds I lost (the last time).
12. I love lists, although I usually forget them when I go to the market.
13. I can’t go to bed at night until everything is picked up and put in its place. (That will shock some of you who have known me in former lifetimes.)
14. Sleeping in for me means getting up at 6:30 a.m.
15. I have three friends whom I have known for nearly 50 years. We’re still close even though one lives in Israel and one lives in Arkansas. (The other lives in the house I bought when I first moved to this area, and I inherited my job at ECCO from her ten years ago.)
16. I’m not crazy about kids–except for my grandson.
17. Sleep is highly overrated.
18. I love to hike, but I haven’t been on a trail in just about a year. This working business sometimes is overrated when it interferes with my hiking life.
19. I have mostly been attracted to “foreign” men (or men other than of WASP ethnicity), unfortunately much to the displeasure of my parents.
20. I love Mexican and Indian (East and Native American) music and cuisine.I love hot (with chiles) food.
21. I want to see Mt Everest and Tibet.
22. I would like to meet the Dalai Lama, and Mahatma Ghandi is my hero.
23. My favorite place in Pakistan was Peshawar (and the Khyber Pass), and I would like to go to Afghanistan–but I won’t.
24. I used to get story ideas from country song lyrics.
25. I have been in love–really, really in  love–once in my life. He was not in love with me.

Now that I’ve arrived at number 25, I have discovered there are a number of other likes I could list also. Maybe for another post.

Yes, I do like alliteration. Why did you ask?

Because of a few things going on around here, it has taken some days to get to the conclusion of Foxy & Katie’s Great Adventure. But here it is, at long last.

In my last F & K post, I showed you a long-distance photo of the proposed lunch spot. It’s a lovely alpine lake sitting at 8,000 feet smack dab in the middle of Yosemite’s high country, surrounded by a multitude of peaks and domes. We headed over to the picnic area and were lucky enough to pull into the parking area just as another group was abandoning their table.

This was our table. Oh, wait! Wrong person. That's not Penny.

Coincidentally Penny and I snagged the very same table Pat and I lunched at last year. It’s as though the table had our names engraved on it.

We’d packed a lunch of chicken and fruit, and I’m here to tell you that NOTHING tastes better than a meal shared with friends in the open air beside a beautiful lake. Or a fragrant Incense Cedar. Or on a rock outcropping overlooking the Sierra Crest. I brought the chicken, and Penny prepared a delightful selection of watermelon, grapes, honeydew, kiwi  and more.

As we loaded our stuff onto the picnic table, we met three lovely ladies from Oregon. We invited them to sit with us, but they really wanted to get closer to the water, lean their backs up against a tree and dangle their feet. Before they did that, though, they decided to ask if we knew any good hikes in the area. Of course “hike” is a magic word to me, and the area we were in has some of the finest hiking trails in Yosemite.

They had already decided to explore Polly Dome Lakes, an area I’ve never hiked, but it’s now on my To-Do List. The trailhead, one of them anyway, starts right at the picnic area and travels some 2.3 miles out to the lakes. Judging from the topo, the trail appears mostly flat but is an area of magnificent domes where you often see climbers and their gear.

I suggested they try Mount Dana if they were up for a real adventure. It’s the second-highest mountain in Yosemite at just over 13,000 feet. I told them they would love the hike even if they didn’t make it all the way to the top (as I didn’t). They’d heard about Gaylor Lakes, and I told them they should definitely do that one. It’s fairly short, only 3 miles 1 way, with the first mile somewhat strenuous. But the effort is oh-so-worth-it.

I thoroughly enjoyed our lunch and the little walk we did around the picnic area, but it convinced me that I need to get back to hiking.

Proof that we were there

Penny thought that no one would ever believe that she’d made it to Tenaya Lake unless she had a photo to prove it. I think she mostly wanted to prove it to Fr.Gordon, rector of Christ Church. He knows Penny, and he knows me, and I suspect he thought he might get suckered into rescuing us if we’d bitten off more than we could chew.  Sorry, Fr. G. We couldn’t give you an excuse to drive into Yosemite on our account.

We’d already passed the sign, so Penny flipped a U-ie, slid into a parking space and accosted a nice Italian family. She asked the husband/father if he’d mind taking our photo, holding up the camera to make sure he understood. What could he say? He let us get into position and snapped away. Above is The Proof.

Our  drive back to Oakhurst was  uneventful except that all of us were pretty tired. We pulled into Penny’s place, unloaded our stuff, and Foxy and I hit the road for home. As I vaguely remember, both of us (Foxy and I)  hit the hay pretty early that night, too.

Penny and I have known each other for years, as I mentioned in previous posts. This, however, was the first time we’ve embarked on an adventure together. We had a great time, and I don’t think we stopped talking for a minute. We shared stories of our marriages, our childhoods and more. She and Katie were fantastic traveling companions–and I hope it gave her a bit of confidence that she can attempt another journey again soon.

Over the last few days I have begun to notice a difference in Grey Eagle. He’s started slowing down a lot, although he’s still able to climb on couch and bed, and he’s still able to meow at full volume.

But there are subtle changes.

He’s always been skinny. According to Nasreen, he looks like a lizard. He’s even skinnier now, although he still eats and poops like a horse. No, he doesn’t have worms. At least I can’t find any evidence of them.

Every day I come home and wonder if he’ll greet me. Every morning I listen for his meow outside the door. (He is banished to the living room when Foxy and I go to bed.) So far he’s never failed.

Foxy apparently notices something, too, because she’s been bugging the heck out of her brother all night long and then sleeping right next to him when she’s tired of  “playing.”

He’s not ready to go to the Big Cathouse in the Sky quite yet, but I’m preparing myself for that day. It’s gonna be a hard one, because he’s been my  companion since three months after I took a flying leap and moved up here.

Say prayers for him, please, and for me that I’ll be sensitive to his needs and his comfort.

My Best (Cat) Buddy

When we left our intrepid heroines, they had taken a walk out into the Cook’s Meadow area of Yosemite Valley to check for water in Yosemite Falls. Actually the pooches didn’t care too awfully much whether there was or not, but their mothers did. Where the mothers went, the canines followed.

The Yosemite area has been experiencing an explosion of tourism the likes of which we haven’t seen in years. The fact that we were able to make a pit stop at the Sentinel Beach bathrooms and park at shuttle stop 11 to admire the view from Sentinel Bridge was both a miracle and a testament to my insistence that we get an early start on the day’s activities. By noon it would have been wall-to-wall people.

As it was, the ladies attracted their fair share of attention as a result of their high cuteness factor.

The Cutest Dogs in Yosemite

Still, we had a minimum of problems getting in the car and making our way out of Yosemite Valley.

If I hadn’t been on a mission to check out the high country, I would have loved to make another couple of stops along the way, but we still had a drive of at least an hour and a half to reach Olmstead Point.

Olmstead Point is a must-see along Tioga Road, and Penny didn’t even know it existed.

Half Dome as seen from Olmstead Point, along Tioga Road

Closeup of Half Dome, showing the area of the dreaded cables--the last 400 yards of the climb to the top (above the lower "subdome")

If I read the body language right, Penny pretty much fell in  love with Olmstead Point. She kept exclaiming “I love rocks! I love rocks!” There are certainly plenty of them here, of all shapes and sizes, all carried here by glacial action in the formative eons of Yosemite’s birth.

More evidence of glacial action

The boulders are "glacial erratics," picked up, carried and set down by the force of the glacier

This area is a geologist’s paradise. There is so much of the area’s history visible from this one spot–domes and lakes and massive granite monoliths,  as well as the peaks of the Sierra Crest. I can never get enough of the vistas from Olmstead Point.

It’s a mark of what a good time we were having that I had no idea what time it was. Penny remarked, “I need to eat some lunch.”

I thought that was a bit odd since it was only 10:00 a.m. Except that it really was 1:00 p.m. and we’d been out and about since 8:00 a.m. I guided Penny and Katie to a spot at the end of the walking path and pointed. “That’s where we’ll have lunch.”

The lunch spot - Tenaya Lake

Oh, shucks. As I write this, it’s now 1:30 in the MORNING. Time for Foxy and me to hit the hay for a few hours. You’ll just have to wait ’til next time to hear about our delicious pic-a-nic on the shores of Tenaya Lake.