Another Majestic Moment

"...You move me

You move me
With your buildings and your eyes
Autumn woods and winter skies
You move me
You move me
Open sea and city lights
Busy streets and dizzy heights
You call me
You call me..."

–Rush, Analog Kid

We sat in stillness watching the setting sun cast an orange-gold glow over the Pacific. The only sounds were the strong sea winds whipping through the grassy hills around us and the far-off yipping cries of coyotes. Just below us were a group of Tule Elk bulls grazing, which was something we weren't sure we'd see. Their silhouettes in the distance were soothing. I rolled down the window and took a picture. 

Earlier in the day, a park docent told us that the Tule Elk were primarily from the Central Valley and were nearly wiped out. Two pair of mates were brought to the Point Reyes National Seashore where we were on this trip. Those two pairs eventually because over 600 elk in the area. But he told us that we may not see any unless we hiked a few miles up to the north end of the park. 

What my wife Amy wanted to see was the sunset and it was coming fast. We decided we wouldn't make it in time doing a hike to the water, so instead, drove back along the road to the top of the highest hill, turned around, and parked on the side of the road. That's when we saw the Tule Elk grazing. One of them looking up, watching us intently, but then continued to graze. 

It was the last hoorah before school year started. Our kids Beatrice and Bryce stayed home to hang out with their friends, and Amy and I took off for some together, just the two of us. Now that the kids are older, and not like we were when we were young (thank goodness), we've been taking more trips without them. It's great, especially now that Beatrice is driving. They take care of the house and our pets. Of course, we miss them, and they miss us, but adulting is here to stay. Yeah! That continues to be an interesting new phase in our family's lives and one we embrace fully! 

Point Reyes and Inverness where we stayed were spectacular. Only three hours from us, it's a place we'd never been to before. Another highlight was hiking down to the Point Reyes Lighthouse. And then back up again. A very steep 313 stairs plus another 50+ feet of pathed path with guardrail fencing on either side due to the sheer drops of hundreds of feet down the cliffs into the ocean. It's also the windiest and foggiest location on the west coast, and although it was very windy, it was clear and beautiful. The "caution" sign at the top of the stairs started with the warning "The 313 stairs are wicked hard."

The stairs weren't that hard for us, but the vertigo was. We dubbed it our Angels Landing, because we actually finished it. If you’re not familiar with Angels Landing, it’s an iconic rock formation in Zion 1,500 feet tall with a hiking trail that does not have any guardrails, just heavy iron chains bolted directly into the red rock for hand support. That's it. Amy and I attempted it in 2007, nearly making it to the end (or midway, we were never sure). The fear of falling kicked our butts back down to ground level.

I have a fear of heights, and yet I always challenge myself to do activities that include heights. Why? Because I don't want to miss out -- and it always freaks me out -- and I still do it. Same with Amy. Neither of us could finish Angels Landing, but we finished the Point Reyes Lighthouse climb. I stayed focused on the stairs, held onto the guardrails, and never looked down the cliff side. 

It was worth it. In the nearly 30 years I've been with Amy, I've learned that everything we do together is worth it, strengthening our bond exponentially. Even if I balk at first. I didn't think we should park on the side of the road to watch the sunset because I was afraid we'd startle the Tule Elk bulls and they'd rush our car, which they can do during mating season. 

We didn't startle them, though. We stopped and sat in stillness watching the setting sun cast an orange-gold glow over the Pacific. The Tule Elk silhouettes in the distance soothed us. One of them looked up toward us and then continued to graze. We smiled and touched hands, feeling blessed by another majestic moment together, one of millions stored forever in our hearts. We missed our kids, but we know we've instilled in them the same love of moments like these, receiving hearts from them when I texted them our pictures. 

We Make Our Magic

"...You have to believe we are magic
Nothin' can stand in our way
You have to believe we are magic
Don't let your aim ever stray
And if all your hopes survive, destiny will arrive
I'll bring all your dreams alive for you..."

–Olivia Newton-John, Magic

My legs and lungs burned, and I was drenched in sweat. For the last mile, nearly every 50 feet was a switchback in the trail that wound its way steeply up the mountainside. Along the way I took frequent breaks, realizing as I caught my breath that there had been a fire here in the past. I leaned against the scorched bark of old-growth redwoods, oaks, and maples, all of which were lush with renewal. 

Hiking with me was my wife, Amy. Her legs and lungs burned, too, but she doesn't sweat like I do, so her tell is that her cheeks glow red. Hiking is something we enjoy together -- for the exercise yes, but more for the ambiance of being in nature and the great outdoors. Amy and I like to say "let's get some redwood action"; hiking can be physically strenuous, but it's a meditative and mindful exercise that reinvigorates our bodies, minds, and souls. We're grateful to live in the Monterey Bay area with many hiking options near us as well as throughout the greater Bay Area. Each week we rotate parks where we usually hike, and occasionally we get to parks we haven't frequented as much. 

Like Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. We'd only hiked the 3-mile Buzzards Roost Trail once before with friends and our kids, who did not like it at all. I must've been focused on them then because I didn't remember the vertical pain we experienced the second time. But unlike the first time we did the hike when the coastal fog was thick and we couldn't see the ocean from the summit, this time the view was magnificent: blue sky, green mountains, blue ocean, and a distant blue-gray fog bank in the distance. 

When we had descended that last brutal mile, which was easier using a different set of leg muscles with a gravity assist, a couple asked us how much farther. We told them about a mile and emphasized it was an intense vertical climb. They thanked us, feigned a smile, and continued on. Few minutes later I joked with Amy: "It's only five more cries away."

We laughed, because it was true; those people would know soon enough. That became another catch-phrase joke in our catalog of shared memories of nearly 30 years together. We used it multiple times for the reminder of our hiking day, hiking another four miles to see waterfalls and other pretty pockets of Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park.

This was another trip without our kids. Ones we're doing more of since our kids are in high school with the oldest Beatrice heading to her senior year and then off to college. Beatrice is working nearly full-time again this summer as a camp counselor and her sibling Bryce is taking an ASL class and volunteering at a nearby marine discovery center. It doesn't mean we don't do things together as a family. We do and love to. But they have their friends they hang out with, school, choir, theater, work, and more. 

So, we're not empty nesters quite yet. We've still got a few years, but it's been fun doing more things together again, just us. We're not worried about being empty nesters someday, though. For us, everything new and old thing we do together (without or with the kids) is a chance to rediscover each other. To take inventory, review, and reinvest in our lives together, our children's lives, our futures and theirs. Like hiking, we embrace meditative and mindful activities that reinvigorate our bodies, minds, and souls. 

The last part of the trip included a restaurant stop just a bit south of where we hiked. It's one that Amy's always wanted to go to, so we went. First, we had to wait for a parking spot because the place was packed. Then, the wait to be seated was going to be up to an hour. We put our names in and went to the gift shop, but after waiting only 10 minutes, we were seated facing the water with another magnificent view of the ocean and the rugged California coastline. And although the food was fair, it was a magical setting and worth the price of admission for where we sat.

On the way home from our Big Sur day hiking, we sang along to old favorites, including one of our favorite Olivia Newton-John songs called "Magic". Even though we're six years apart, we enjoy much of the same music from the 1970's and 1980's, and that song epitomized the moment of the magic we made that day, even when it was five cries away like the peak of Buzzards Roost.

We make our magic, always have, bringing all our dreams alive, for us.

Careful to Not Be Careless

My dad used to call it "being all stoved up", meaning he felt stiff and sore. He'd stand after sitting for a while and moved stiffly around until his body complied with where he wanted to go. That was usually after working in out in the yard or in the garage or whatever the physical activity was, including walking the dogs and/or walking with my mom. He didn't really exercise otherwise, but after the stroke he had right after he retired from the police department in 1994, he did the best he could to take care of himself and stay active until he passed in 2012. 

I'm thinking of him because his birthday is right around the corner. He'd be 93 if he was still alive. Mercy me. I'm also thinking of him because I've got a big birthday coming up later this year and it includes the numbers 6 and 0. Mercy me, again.

My wife Amy and I are gratefully healthy and exercise regularly, and yet are both north of 50 years old. Amy, who's almost six years younger than me, is much more flexible than I am, but gets just as "stoved up" after sitting down to work for any length of time. Since we both work from home, we'll both be sitting and working away after our morning workouts, and then when my watch reminds me that it's time to stand, I can feel and hear my bones creak and pop as I do so. Same with Amy. We'll both moan and laugh, but we feel it all. 

Which is why we're careful not to overdo it when working out and careful not to trip and fall when walking or hiking. Our two teens don't play sports anymore, but they are both active. Our oldest Beatrice uses our home gym a few times a week and our youngest Bryce, well, doesn't -- but sometimes walks the dog with us at the end of the day. They'll be starting high school this year and both will be in theater and choir, so there will be some physical activity within those activities.

Our teens are still young and spry, as they should be. Amy and I are not. Healthy, though, and grateful to be so, both of us with positive and balanced body images. Balanced as in "a little fit / a little fat". In fact, Amy saw a t-shirt with that on it, and we promised we'd get one for each of us. Stay tuned for that.

Now that I'm almost 60, I want to ensure that I'll always be active and able to do the beach workouts that I do each week, or to just be able to take walks with Amy along the water or in the redwoods when I'm 90+ (and she's 84+). And to stay healthy and active for our kids and grandkids someday. Of course, you never know what could happen in life, when you're going to go, or what you might break, even just working around the house, which is why we're careful to not to be careless no matter what we're doing. 

Blessings to the old-ish folks. Stay as healthy as you can, kids. 

No Greater Companions

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you."

—Shakespeare, The Tempest

"Dad, no more steps!"

Our oldest daughter Beatrice wasn't happy. We had carried our backpacks and dragged our suitcases from the train station to a lunch spot, and then hauled them up stairs on the side of a small hill to the hotel. We'd been doing this between vacation stops the entire trip. Anything that is less than a mile is reasonable to us to walk to with all our stuff. Us, meaning the parents. Not the kids.

"Why couldn't we have just taken a taxi!" Beatrice pleaded. 

We're now halfway through our latest vacation adventure in the UK, and while the entire family is having fun and we're grateful to be here, moving from place to place can be a stressful grind. That's the way my wife Amy and I like to travel, though. Especially when we're in places we've mostly never been, at least not together with our children. We pack a lot in on our trips and it's why we save our money each year to go on them. We've been traveling together before the kids and since. They're always an investment well worth the spend for us to experience, learn, and grow as humans. 

This time so far we've seen really old rocks (Stonehenge), really old castles (Windsor, Edinburgh, Blair), really old churches (Canterbury Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, St. Giles' Cathedral), and so many really lovely people, old and young, along the way. 

But back to the travel schlog. Our youngest daughter Bryce doesn't mind it as much as Bea does, but like me, she gets hot easily, which makes her uncomfortable and cranky. While I never experienced backpacking-on-the-super-cheap like Amy did before I met her, hauling all our crap in between multiple locations I'll still do. The payoff is always worth it. 

"Dad, no more steps!"

The last stretch to our latest hotel was supposed to be only 39 steps according to a sign up a small hill. We had carried our backpacks and dragged our suitcases from the train station -- total time was only about 15 minutes to haul it all less than a mile. Our kids can get grumpy and beat us up when we push them, but we know someday they'll thank us for all these travel experiences. 

"Why couldn't we have just taken a taxi!" Beatrice pleaded. 

"Just a little bit farther," I said, huffing and puffing up the hill. 

"You can do it," Amy said. "We're also there."

It wasn't 39 steps, though. It was 44. A sign taunted us at the top of the stairs with that bit of information. A measly tease of five more steps and then another 100 feet to walk to the hotel entrance. 

"Why did you make us do that, again?" Bea pressed me one time.

"I'm so hot and tired," said Bryce. 

"Good God, just go to the hotel," I said, wiping sweat out of my eyes, more than ready to rest and cool off.

We can all get a little cranky on these trips together, not just the kids. I'll tell you what, though -- I'll take the sweaty backpack and suitcase schlogging anywhere in the world as long as I'm with my wife and girls. There are no greater companions in the world. 

Almost Gridless

As we hiked up to the falls, I imagined what it would be like to live off the grid in our trailer camper. Away from most people, politics, and all the polarization of today. Away from all things work and day-to-day responsibilities. Away from most everything. Except when we needed gas, food, and other staples. 

By choice of course, not because we had to if we were experiencing homelessness, or if we were running from the law. Then I thought of the Paul Theroux novel The Mosquito Coast where the main character takes his family to the Honduran jungle to try to live a purer utopian lifestyle with this family, which didn’t happen. But I'm also not a crazy inventor who would put his family in such danger. 

And then I thought of Roger Water’s album The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking, about a man dreaming about his midlife crisis and his crazy attempt of saving his family by moving to the wilderness, but that was another Conrad Heart of Darkness journey that wasn’t what I had in mind. 

I like the idea of it, though. Of living off the grid. A more positive living experience than the examples above. To travel to places we’ve never been, to see wonderful new sights and hike and have amazing (and safe) new adventures. I’d write my great American novel, practice drumming on my practice pad, and read all the time. We’d still need the internet so our children could distance learn. My wife Amy could still work if she wanted and/or just read to her heart’s content and meditate. Maybe she could write her own self-help mindful presence parenting guide. 

However, like the examples above, it may take an unhappy turn (or two) along the way. Our daughters especially would miss all their friends, their devices, their school, and the all the other creature comforts of where we live now. Plus, the reality that Amy and I aren’t ready for retirement yet would also keep my dream of living off the grid just a dream. 

I’m not even sure I’d want to do it full-time either, no matter how much I liked the idea of it, as steep hike up to the falls continued. Our kids weren’t happy about the hike anyway. They never are when it comes to hiking. Thankfully we were with some dear family who live near Clearwater Falls in Oregon where we were hiking to and that kept them motivated. 

It’s Nature’s ride as I wrote recently, the off-the-grid payoff that keeps us all coming back, though, no matter how much the kids dislike hiking. We made it to the end of the trail where the final fenced off observation area was and we stood there in awe watching the water spill over the cliff’s edge. It raced to the rocky river below and the waterfall spray washed over us like a light rain. 

When the rest of our group headed back down the trail, our oldest daughter Beatrice and I wanted to stay for a bit longer. Together we watched the water dance as it fell, and in that moment, there was no other place on earth I wanted to be. And if these are the moments that are almost gridless, peacefully away from most everything, I’ll embrace them every time. 

Nature's Ride Just Is

The final set of stairs went straight up to the top of Diamond Head. 

“I’m done,” said Bryce, our youngest child. “I’m not going any farther.”

“C’mon, Bryce,” I said. “We’re so close to the top now. You can do it.”

“No, I can’t.”

I knew that look. We’d seen it before on both our kids’ faces time and time again. 

“Why do you guys like hiking so much,” our oldest Beatrice said to both me and her mother, Amy. It wasn't a question; she was annoyed. 

“Because we like to be active and exercise and see the pretty views when we travel,” Amy said. “Take a drink and a rest right now and then we’ll go up.”

“I’m not going,” Bryce insisted. “My head hurts.”

“You both hike 10 miles when we go to Disneyland, and this isn’t even two miles,” I said.

Beatrice shrugged. “Yeah, but we get rewarded along the way – there are rides and treats to eat and we take a lot of breaks.”

“But this is nature’s ride, Bea. And the payoff is going be the view.”

“That's right, nature's ride,” Amy said. 

“I don't want to do it,” Bryce said.

Amy looked at our children, then at me. “Kevin, go ahead and go and I’ll wait with Bryce.”

I sighed. “Bea, do you still want to go up with me? Then you can come back down so Mom can come up with me.”

Beatrice thought about it for a moment, then shrugged again. “Sure, I’ll go up.”

The two of us finished hiking the stairs and made to the top. Bea took a few pictures.

“I don’t feel so good,” she said. “My stomach hurts.” 

“Sorry, sweetie. Go ahead and go back down and tell your mom to come up.”

“Okay.” 

I waited for Amy and soaked in the view. The Pacific Ocean. Waikiki Beach. Honolulu. The Diamond Head dormant volcanic crater behind us. Gorgeous. I was hot and sweaty but the hike was totally worth all this. 

This was our latest family vacation, the first one outside of our trailer camper since covid, and although we’re a close family, we don’t always see eye to eye about things we want to do, places we want to eat, things we want to see. Especially now that we have a tween and a teen in our midst, seemingly always having a headache, or a stomachache, or they’re tired, or they’re hangry (hungry and grumpy), and they just want to stay in the room on their devices. Getting them to go on hikes with us is no easy task, and we sometimes entice with getting treats or going shopping afterwards.

But even parental bribery doesn’t always work. Close-quartered family dynamics on vacation can be like a box of fireworks lighting up; the kids' grumpiness can set off our Mom-and-Dad grumpiness and emotions flare and burst. I'm especially guilty of that. Fortunately, those times are short-lived and we’re back to enjoying (mostly) our vacation activities. Plus, there’s plenty of needed downtime and recharge time for all of us. 

No matter the occasional family angst, we're very grateful we were able to take this latest trip together. Amy and I stood at the top of Diamond Head, with the girls just below us, and agreed that this was the payoff of nature's ride (as opposed to a Disneyland ride), and the answer to Bea's question of why we like being active on vacation and hiking so much. In fact, much of how we live is experiencing nature's ride in a variety of ways, and none of it is an absolute of good or bad, it just is, and we continually work on not taking everything so seriously. Especially after the sucky end of year that Bryce had (and then how she made the best of it).

That one is always tough for me, not taking everything so seriously, because my ego is always applying value judgements to what happens in life. But as I learned during a vacation meditation, “Seriousness is just the ego feeling sorry for itself," and all these experiences we have as a family and individually build on each like the corral reefs we saw far below us; it's the growth of being. Nature's ride just is. 

Retro A: Exercise and the Great Wall

After our Yosemite hike, I started thinking about all the hiking and running we've done throughout the world. I don't say that because of places we've been. I say it because of our focus on exercise, how important it is to us, and no matter where we're at, we make the time to exercise while seeing the sites.

Exercise has been even more important since we're pregnant (as has the eating, hence the need for exercise). Mama A had to stop running a few months ago, but she still walks regularly (if all goes well she'll be walking the Wharf to Wharf as well), uses our elliptical machine, works out with weights, works out in the pool at work, and we hike together when we can.

Like Baby B's first International hike in China up and down the Great Wall! I was hanging the colorful embroidered rats we bought for Baby B's room (because it's the year of the rat for those raising eyebrows at home) and reminiscing over the stunning view of the mountains and the Great Wall over 3,000 years in the making. The section we visited included a vertical climb up 1,000 uneven steps to a spectacular view.

And as we approached the Great Wall, we noticed a small crumbling rock fence winding its way up a hill. Amy said, "This must be the not so great wall of China."

Really. Good times.

People born in the Year of the Rat are noted for their charm and attraction for the opposite sex. They work hard to achieve their goals, acquire possessions, and are likely to be perfectionists. They are basically thrifty with money. Rat people are easily angered and love to gossip. Their ambitions are big, and they are usually very successful. They are most compatible with people born in the years of the Dragon, Monkey, and Ox.

Good. Take care of us, B. We'll do our best to keep up.