The book of the month for November 2016 is written by a friend of mine.  Jon Turk; one of the West Fork Hippies,  living on the West Fork of the Bitterroot River. He’s a 70-year-old skier, mountain biker, kayaker, writer and extreme adventurer residing in Darby, Montana, and wintering in Fernie, B.C.   His newest book came out in September and I’ve just started reading it.  My sister was in town when we went to his book reading in Hamilton at Chapter One bookstore. Meg bought two books, one for me and one for her and we had Jon autograph them.  I had to wait for Brett to finish our copy and I believe that this wait was one of those universe controlling events that will make you believe that there is a plan and life is not just random happenings.

Reading this book after the presidential election was the way my life was meant to play out.  I’ve always believed that books seek you out depending on what you are in need of at the time.  If you start a book and it’s not doing anything for you, put it down.  You and that book are not in need of each other.  You will know when you are reading a book at the right time; you can’t put it down.  Life is too short to push yourself through a book.  I tried that with “Atlas Shrugged”, I should have quit after the first 50 pages.

The November 2016 Book of the Month is “Crocodiles and Ice” by Jon Turk.  An adventure book, a life book, a plea for compassion for the earth book.  

I’ve been to several speaking engagements of Jon’s and he always recites a quote from an elder woman he met in Siberia named Marina.

“If you lose the magic in your life, you lose your power”.

This quote always resonates through my soul and periodically re-emerges into my brain as I try to solve the relevance of this wisdom in my life.   What is the magic?  What is the power?

My sister often says that her goal is to make magic. As a yoga instructor and wellness coach, she is making magic by transforming people’s lives into something they didn’t think was possible.  I describe certain activities as magical.  Moonlight cross country skiing is magical.  All sound is absorbed in the snow so it’s quieter than quiet. The moonlight shining on the snow makes it appear as if you are skiing on fine diamonds.  Magical.  Mountain biking the single track trail on the north side of Lake Como is magical; it’s downhill on the way in and downhill on the way out. Magical.  So how does that magic give us power?

It’s not power like I can kick your ass power or I have more money than you power or more education than you power.

I believe that the magic is optimism and hope and that the power is having control in your life.   So, if you lose the optimism and hope in your life, you lose the sense of control.

Here’s a story to help explain my interpretation.

Several years ago, I drove to Eureka, Montana on a Friday afternoon to watch my son play a high school football game.  It’s a four and a half hour drive to Eureka, located on the Canadian border.  Nine hours of driving to watch a two-hour football game.  A game in which the Eureka team put in their third string due to the pounding they were handing the Darby Tigers. This is what I do.

As I arrived in Eureka, I stopped to top off my gas tank and go to the bathroom.  Then I headed to the high school and walked up to the ticket booth.  While I was waiting my turn to pay I put my hand in my pocket to pull out the cash I had brought for the night.  It was gone.  I checked the other pocket.  Checked my jacket pockets.  Attending this football game was already a challenge to my income and losing the cash was not helping one bit.  I went to the car.  Looked in the seat, checked the ground just outside the door.  I looked under the seats.  Then I back-tracked in my head where I had been.  I drove back to the gas station, walked up to the cashiers counter and said;

“I think I lost some cash in your bathroom a little while ago, it was like….eighty-six dollars….”

The cashier reached behind her, then put her hand out towards me and said,

“Nope….Ninety-two dollars,” as she handed me my money.

You see, I had the magic and the power.  I could have easily sulked and said, ‘well that money’s gone, nobody’s going to turn in all that cash’.  If I had said that, then I would have lost the magic and therefore lost the power.

“Now we run smack-dab-head-on into that fuzzy line between logic and magic, coincidence and synchronicity.  And ultimately, it’s not a matter of fact versus fiction; it’s about how you choose to view the world – or perhaps more appropriately – how you choose to feel or to communicate with the world around you.” 

The magic is believing that the events in your life will work out the way they are supposed to .  You have to believe it or you’ll get too cranky to be around. There’s no power in cranky.  There is no power with anger and hate.  The power comes with optimism and hope.

I had just started Jon’s book and  had to get up and grab a highlighter.  A highlighter worthy book.  Meaning you will review parts of the book or loan it out and want others to read deeper into  the bright yellow passages because they are that good.  Or…. you want to use these highlighted passages on your blog post.

“Humanity is in dire need of a ‘Consciousness Revolution’ before we can move into the 21st century with a reasonable hope of creating a peaceful, healthy and equitable world.” 

Jon’s style of writing is one of my favorites.  Pulling you in with exciting and life-threatening extreme adventures in remote corners of the world and then when you least expect it, a mix of philosophical input and scientific fact on the future of our earth and it’s custodians.

“Anyone who advocates ‘turning the clock back’ and reversing the course back to ‘the way it was’ belongs on the dismissible delusional fringe.”

Check out Jon Turk’s website for more books, future reading engagements and a link to his TEDx talk.  If you are in New York City on November 18th he’ll be at The Open Center on 30th and Madison at 7:00 pm.  Or if you just want to ride mountain bikes with the West Fork hippies, give me a call, I’ll hook you up.

You can find more great book recommendations and my own adventure writing at Wild About Books.

“If you lose the magic in your life, you lose your power”

I try not to recommend any more World War II books, but I have read another one that is a fabulous story and should be shared.

“The Book Thief”, “All the Light We Cannot See”, “Nightingale”; I recommend them all and now I can add to the list “City of Thieves” by David Benioff.  An amazing story of two young Russian misfits on an unusual mission that takes them on unthinkable and life-threatening adventures. 

You should have plenty of time for reading as you do not want to turn on your tv in these last weeks of political commercials.  I find it hard to believe that someone will watch a political commercial and exclaim;

“Oh! Wow.  I didn’t realize how horrible that candidate is, but according to this informative commercial I should not vote for them and I’m going to change my mind”

Do people do that?  Change their minds based on a commercial.  Maybe the commercials are just meant to justify the decision that has already been made and give people some educational dialog for the office copy room.  I am happy for the boost to our economy with all of this advertising.  The USPS employees and the trash collectors are super busy distributing and collecting the fancy fliers.  The marketing firms and tv stations must be doing well too.    And think of all the drinking games that have increased sales in alcoholic beverages during the debates.  Thanks for sharing the wealth and boosting our economy all you politicians.

My favorites are the commercials with the dark prison looking mug shots of the opponent that the commercials are attacking accompanied by the deep secretive voice.

In Montana, the happy non-attacking commercials always show the politicians fly fishing.  Fly fishing must make you a trustworthy person. But they are all fly fishing so it doesn’t help with your decision.  Assuming that is what you base your decision on.

For more great book recommendations check out the Wild About Books blog.

 

 

 

Canoeing the Upper Missouri National Wild and Scenic River for three days with eight high school students and one science teacher with 27 hours of unrelenting rain may not sound like your idea of a good time, but don’t knock it ’til you try it.

Yes, I was wearing three pairs of pants, three shirts including a wool sweater and raincoat.  I was wearing neoprene socks under my river sandals and an oilskin stetson hat.  

Canoeing in the rain is magical.  Sharing this magic with high school students is an added bonus.

It wasn’t easy.  The students persevered through rain, a headwind, and poor paddling techniques.  Mr. Olson and I were challenged to keep everyone warm and dry and trying with all our energy to keep their spirits up.  I knew it was a  successful trip when most of the students, although not all, were asking what our next trip would be.  They were feeling the magic. The magic of being outdoors, in nature, hearing nothing but silence or wind or rain or flocks of geese flying through the river corridor.  The magic of seeing an osprey fishing for breakfast, dive bombing his body into the river, pulling a fish out of the water with his talons and taking flight clinging onto his meal.  The magic of watching an adolescent bald eagle enticing his parents to come play.  And the magic of the group dynamics that is an unpredictable but inevitable result of spending time with a small group on an outdoor adventure; bonding with  people that you had never seen yourself connecting with otherwise.

The trip started with a long drive, a long drive even in Montana standards.  A drive to eastern Montana where the mountains are fewer and smaller, where the plains are vast and never ending, where Montana got the nickname “big sky country”, where the rivers are wide and lazy, and where the population is few and far between.  We drove past Great Falls towards Fort Benton where we had to stop at the canoe rental office for our paddles and life jackets.  The canoes were already at our boat launch.  We pulled into Fort Benton, parked the bus and started walking on Main Street looking for the address to the Adventure Bound Canoe Rentals and Shuttles assuming the business would be in the central location of the town with the other shops and stores.  We walked for ten blocks past the recreation center, past the historic sites, and into a neighborhood before we found the address which was a house marked with a paddle standing beside the mailbox.  The wife of this couple owned business set us up with our gear and told us that our canoes would be under the Russian Olive tree at Coal Banks Landing.  She asked us if we were aware of the weather coming in and questioned if we still wanted to follow through with our plans.  We told her we’d been planning this trip since May and a little rain wasn’t going to stop us now.

We drove another 30 miles towards Virgelle, Montana taking a long, dusty and washboardy dirt road to the campground at Coal Banks Landing.  We set up camp, had dinner and took pictures of the magnificent sunset.

The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn, my favorite time of the day.  I wanted to get an hour without the kids to enjoy my tea and watch the start of a new day.  Mr. Olson was already up and enjoying the morning on the front porch of the little visitor center where I joined him.  The bats were flying in and out of the porch roof, finishing off the last of the night bugs.  We watched as the river birds started waking up and were honking at whoever would listen.  I think they were telling all the other birds that there was a hellacious storm coming and that they all better get a move on.

We hated to break the spell of our morning, but we knew we had to make breakfast, pack the boats, teach the kids how to paddle a canoe, and try to do all of this before the rain started.  As soon as we started shoving the canoes into the river the rain started.  It slowed up a bit when we stopped for lunch, but mostly it rained the entire 20 miles of paddling that day.

The kids paired up at the start and stayed with their canoe partners most of the time.  Three times that first day Mr. Olson told one pair of girls to pull over and let us split up to help them as they were never canoeing down the river but back and forth more like a sail boat does when it’s sailing into the wind.  Every time he would tell them to pull over they would get mad and paddle harder and faster determined not to be the only canoe that would have to be rescued by the adults.  

We pulled into the Hole in the Wall campground around 4:00.  It was still raining.  We had stopped and collected firewood and even hauled it up to the camp, but the rain never let up enough to start a campfire.  There were two shelters at this campground.  We used one to store our stuff and set up our kitchen.  The other one the girls used to set up their tents.  One of the girls told me she was glad she would be able to put away a dry tent in the morning but she was going to miss the sound of the rain on her tent all night.  Everyone set up their tents and put on some warm dry clothes.  We heated up homemade chili and had a beautiful green salad.  Each pair of kids were assigned a meal that they had to plan, shop for, prepare and clean up from.  After dinner and cleaning up from dinner one of the kids asked what time it was.  Mr. Olson pulled up layers of clothing off of his wrist and said it was 6:00.  Guess we’ll go to bed they said.

It rained all night.  The next morning we packed everything in the rain.  The rain and cold had seeped into our bones making it harder to stay warm.  We all had on one more layer of clothes.  Paddling helped keep us warmer.  Our feet and hands were colder than the water temperature so we would periodically dip them into the water to make them feel warmer.  Several times we would group up, holding onto each other’s canoe’s and just let the river current pull us downstream.  As we grouped up  I started singing and dancing “Shake it up……. shake it up”.  One of the 15-year-old girls gave me the evil eye complete with death darts shooting towards my heart and said;

“Lisa……. those are not the words!”

I wasn’t sure if I hadn’t pushed these kids past their limit. But there was nothing we could do.  Couldn’t call her mom to come get her, couldn’t even pull over and hitch a ride.  All we could do is to keep paddling to the next campsite in the cold and rain.  It rained hard most of the morning.

We grouped up again and I said, “…let’s play Lewis and Clark;  I’ll be Sacajawea”.  One of the boy’s said he would be Clark and assigned Lewis to the other boy.

“Who’s going to be the baby”

“Me”, said one of the girls.  “I just want to do nothing and be held”

“What’s the baby’s name?” I asked.  “Who wants to be the dog.  Pompay?  Is that the baby’s name?”

“I’ll be the dog,” said Mr. Olson

“Great”, what’s the dog’s name?” I asked again.

Mr. Olson didn’t look up and quietly said “Seaman”

“SEAMAN!”  I yelled as one does when the answer was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t come up with it yourself.

We broke up the flotilla after that and paddled to lunch. The rain slowed to almost nothing as we finished our sandwiches.  Most of our lunch ended up on the ground as our shivering hands shook all of the insides out from between the bread.

The clouds were thick and high and the rain had stopped, which seemed to have given us hope and our canoes went faster.  An hour after lunch we found Slaughter River Campsite, our destination for the day.  Still shivering, we unloaded the canoes, set up our wet tents and made a campfire.  The heat from the fire warmed up more than our bodies, the heat thawed our attitudes and scowls on faces warmed into smiles and laughter.  Once our hands were able to work again we heated up water for hot tea and hot chocolates.

One of the students was so revived she announced that she was going to go for a walk up to to a rocky knob above the campsite.  I told her that Mr. Olson was talking about a walk as well and she should invite him to go with her.  The two of them headed out and the rest of us watched as they went higher and higher further and further away until they finally disappeared behind a ridge.  Last time I hiked with Mr. Olson, I lost both of my big toe toenails.  The time before that I lost both of my little toe toenails.  The guy never stops, you think he’ll stop to eat or drink or pee or maybe his shoe will come untied and he’ll have to stop to tie it.  But no.  He never stops, he goes and goes and goes and he goes fast.  We were all starting to feel bad that we had not warned the new member of our group that a walk with Mr. Olson was a far cry from a stroll in the park.

They finally came back from an opposite direction that they started in.  The student was talking non-stop about sinking up to her mid-calf in gumbo and about the sandstone that looked like solid rock but crumbled into your hands into sand, and the hidden canyons in the hillsides. We thought she was going to be angry about a never ending walk with Mr. Olson, instead, she wanted us to all go back with her so she could show us what they had explored.  Her enthusiasm was contagious and within five minutes we were ready to follow her and Mr. Olson.

There was sandstone climbing up to stone plateaus where yoga poses were photographed.  The boys ran across gumbo hillsides until there was no choice but to slide to the bottom.  I walked to the top of the ridge opposite where the students and Mr. Olson were.  I sat on top of the ridge and watched them below listening to their conversations that traveled up to me.  Watching them in this unscheduled, serendipitous event made me realize that this is what creates the adventure that you can not put on an itinerary or describe in a grant application.   To watch eight teenagers uninhibited, dirty and messy, helping each other up the rock faces, constantly asking Mr. Olson to “look at this” or “what is that?” is to capture the spirit of the adventure.

I know what some of you are thinking at this point.  “What is gumbo?”

Gumbo is what happens to concrete-like dirt after it rains in eastern Montana.  It turns into a combination of mud and quick sand and is slick as ice.  It sticks to your boots and then collects dried grass and you have to have help removing it from the bottom of your boot before it turns you boot into a high heel shoe.  If you’re trying to climb the side of a mountain that has turned to gumbo, you’ll never make it.  It’s like climbing a marble wall.  The gumbo dries onto your skin and is now a part of you like your fingernail.  And, as we would soon find out on our shuttle out, it is nearly impossible to drive on.

Just after I woke up and snapped some sunrise pictures a huge bank of fog rolled in blocking the sun from drying anything.  We made a fire and ate hot oatmeal then packed up all of our wet gear.  We had about a three-hour paddle today to our takeout where we were scheduled to meet the shuttle driver at noon.  Not only did it not rain, the sun finally burned off the fog and started to warm us up.  We also got to experience paddling into a headwind for the first time on the trip.  We were still making good progress, but you would have to look at the shore to see that you were actually moving down the river, the headwind made it feel like you were going nowhere.  My arms were shot from three days of paddling.

The kids drove me nuts always asking:

“What time is it?”

“River time”, I would reply.

“What time do we get up tomorrow?”

“When the sun comes up.”

“How much longer to our camp”

“Thirty-eight minutes”

“REALLY?”

“NO!……… How the heck should I know…………..  lets enjoy the now.”

It’s not their fault.  We’ve raised them on pretty tight schedules and we don’t want to be late or miss something.  They need to be prepared for the next something as well.   It all works out in the end.  We told our shuttle driver that we would be at the take out at noon and we arrived at 11:58.  He was not there.

The kids unloaded the canoes, washed out the gumbo, and hauled them up the bank setting them upside down to dry.  We were just getting our lunch out when the shuttle driver, the husband of the couple owned rental and shuttle company showed up. He was late fifties, half bald half hair that would be better off bald, sporting a pot belly and double chin with a day old growth of hair.  I was going to throw the lunch back into the cooler, not wanting to hold him up, having quickly reverted right back into the world of schedules.  He told us to take our time and eat our lunch.  He said the road needed to dry if we were going to get out of there in a loaded van. He told us he’d blown a transmission driving in the gumbo the day before and had to have his customers rescued by a local rancher.  Local being a relative term due to the fact that eastern Montana ranches can be 125,000 acres in size.

The van ride out was an adventure itself.  The gumbo did prove to be challenging especially going up hills.  We were in an old 10 passenger van pulling a trailer with all of our gear and canoes.  If you stopped, you’d never get going again.  If a car came from the other direction you’d get stuck.  Forty-four miles until we hit a paved road near Big Sandy, Montana.  I told the shuttle driver that one of his canoes was broken.  He looked at me a bit surprised.  I explained that the canoe would only travel in a zig-zag fashion all the way down the river. He said he had had that problem before as two of the girls sunk into their seats in embarrassment.

The shuttle driver asked the kids if they wanted some music as he turned up the volume to the one radio station choice.

“It’s all girly music,” he said to me.

“I like girly music, makes me want to dance”

“Me too,” he said.

“Do you think they’ll play; ‘Shake it up, Shake it up’?”, as I sang and danced the question.

There was a scream from the back of the van.

“LISA! Get the words right”

“I have a thing for Taylor Swift”, said the shuttle driver, “but she’s too young for me”

“….and you’re married,”  I said.

“I dig Lady Gaga too.” he said as ‘Poker Face’ played on his radio.

“She’ll make ya wanna  dance.”

And we drove down the gumbo road sliding left and right, with the kids sleeping in the back and the beauty of the plains of eastern Montana slowly rolling by us, while the shuttle driver and I did the “driving in the car bobble head dance” to Lady Gaga.

More adventure stories and books of the month can be found at Wild About Books blog.  Click here.

Books of the month?

Yes.

Plural

Books of the month.

In the spirit of the election climate, we are going to read a book from Hillary Clinton’s book list and a book from Donald Trump’s book list.  Together.  At the same time.  It should be fun.

I liked a facebook page called “Book Bub”, which gives you book ideas based on certain similarities or themes.  For example, yesterday’s post was titled “24 Books to Read Instead of Watching the Olympics”.  Some of the titles listed are John Updike’s “Brazil” and Laura Hillenbrand’s “Unbroken”.    Another post was “Four Books Recommended by George Clooney”.  You get the idea or you can check it out for yourself too.  Here’s the link;  Book Bub

Several days ago the subject was “12 Books Recommended by Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump.  I’ve inserted the link in case you would like to see the entire list of books that they recommend.  A few from Donald Trump’s List are “All Quiet on the Western Front”  and “The Power of Positive Thinking”.

Hillary Clinton’s list includes Barbara Kingsolver’s “The Poisonwood Bible”, which if you recall from a previous Wild About Books post is on my top 10 list as well.  She also includes “The Color Purple” and “Little Women”.

The books that I have chosen for us to read this month include one from Donald Trump’s list and one from Hillary Clinton’s list.  They are both memoirs and they are both by Chinese women.

Hillary Clinton’s book is “Wild Swans” by Jung Chang.  Clinton’s quote about this book selection;

“Set against the historical backdrop of imperialist China, the rise of Communism and, finally, Mao’s cultural revolution, Wild Swans is an inspiring tale of women who survived every kind of hardship, deprivation, and political upheaval with their humanity intact.

Donald Trump’s book is “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” by Amy Chua. Trump’s quote about this book selection;

“I’ve read hundreds of books about China over the decades.”

Can reading from a presidential candidates book list help you decide who to vote for?

Yes!  Hell yes.  This is Wild About Books.  We know that what a person reads is who that person is.  You know that you have gotten to know me, the author of this blog, better because of the books I have read and recommended for you to read.

If you are still undecided about whom to vote for during this presidential election, perhaps reading these two book choices will help you with that decision.   And if you do know who you will be voting for, these books will possibly justify that decision.  Not just justify, but maybe make you excited for who you will be voting for or maybe even change your mind.

I recommend that you find out what your local politicians are reading in order to help you with your choices.  I’ve always wanted to add that question when I’m interviewing people for positions at work.

“What are you reading?”

Would that be an appropriate question in an interview?

One time I put a math question in an interview for a school foods manager.

“If a recipe calls for 1/8 teaspoon of salt and you are quadrupling the recipe; how much salt would you need?’

Interviewee’s answer; “you put the 1/8 teaspoon of salt in 4 times”.  Yep….that is not a wrong answer; indeed.

I digress.  This is not a Wild About Math blog.

I have started both of these books, but just barely.  I gave them a quick Wild About Books approval, but no guarantees.  We’ll see how it goes.  Feel free to endorse one book or the other.  Maybe we’ll vote in November about which book we enjoyed more.

More great reading suggestions can be found at Wild About Books blog.

Also, If you are looking for some comic relief I highly recommend this video.  It has nothing to do with anything; it’s just fun.

Click here.

 

 

 

I have this vision of my blog followers barely able to finish reading my blog because they are out the door or on Amazon in search of the new Wild About Books book of the month.  In reality, I think there are only two people that do that, my mom and my friend Carol.

I was talking to my dad on Father’s day last Sunday and he was mentioning how much he enjoys reading my blog.  I said, what about the books I recommend?  Do you read the books too?

Well, no, he doesn’t.  But what he enjoys is reading what I’ve written and that’s bigger than reading from the recommended reading list.

Now I have a new vision.

The book of the month for July 2016 is called “The Blue Zones; 9 Lessons for Living Longer From People Who’ve Lived the Longest” 

This was a fascinating book.  A group of scientists travels the world to places that have extraordinary large numbers of people that live to be 100.  A healthy 100 years old as well.  They interviewed people and tried to determine if there was one common denominator.

Now don’t think that I’m trying to fool you into reading a book about the benefits of becoming vegan.  That was not the case with most of these centenarians.  There was only one group that did not eat meat and that was in Loma Linda, California where a large concentration of Seventh Day Adventist live.  This group of people tends to be vegetarian and don’t smoke or drink.  There was more to it than that, but Seventh Day Adventists believe in taking care of their body and that the body and spirit are one, so don’t wreck it.

The other groups in the book ate meat, but only on special occasions such as certain holidays or celebrations.  The meat  that they did eat  they had usually raised, slaughtered and butchered themselves.

The food varieties ranged from rice and tofu in Okinawa, Japan to beans, rice and corn in Costa Rica,  to pasta and wine in Sardinia, Italy to olive oil and feta cheese in Ikaria, Greece.  All of the places they visited were in warm climates where there was an abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables most of the year.  Fresh fruit and vegetables were the main food group for all of these areas of study.

Another common theme for these healthy elders was spirituality and community.  In Costa Rica, they would work until lunch and then they would visit their friends, neighbors or family.  There was lots of visiting in all of the areas that were studied.  Everyone had family close by, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to help raise.  There was a statistic that your life expediency raises so many years based on the number of daughters you have.

Many of the areas studied were early to bed early to rise, until you got to Greece.  They slept in and would invite people over for lunch.  Those people might show up by 5:00 and then everyone stayed up late visiting, but no one was aware of this awkward time schedule because there weren’t any clocks or watches.  No one cared what time it was.  They drank so much coffee it was no wonder they stayed up  late.  The Italians, on the other hand, were drinking wine by lunch.  Homemade wine from the grapes in their yard.

Lack of stress seemed to be one of the bigger common denominators among the groups.  The women had more stress than the men because it was their job to raise the children. There wasn’t a big gap in the women outliving men, it was pretty much equal.  Laughter also was a common theme and so was walking.  Most of the people were farmers and did daily physical labor.

The biggest lesson for me from this book was that the long healthy life was possible due to purpose.  Everyone in this book had a purpose all the way to the end of their lives.  Always have a purpose in life.  You may be the person whose job it is to  pray to the deceased family members for the benefit of your living family.  You may be responsible for preparing the weekly Sunday meal that all of the family attends or growing the food that feeds the large multigenerational family.

The other interesting theme in this book is the influence of the western world and it’s effect on the younger generations.  I wonder how many more 100-year-old people there will be in the future now that they have access to fast food places, cars and TV.  Even in these utopian islands of longer life, the younger generations are no longer lean.

There you have it. A brief synopsis of the July book of the month.  Hopefully, this was enough information to inspire you to read the entire book or just enough information to give you a condensed version so that you don’t have to read the book.  Relax, enjoy a book or a blog.  Visit some friends, call your family, have some coffee and wine.  Eat lots of fresh fruit and vegetables and the occasional piece of meat.  And go to church.  That was a big one, attending church for healthy longevity.  I belong to the Church of the Almighty Outdoors.  You’re welcome to join me in my communion and appreciation of nature and never-ending gratitude of being surrounded by beauty.  Amen.

Find more great book recommendations and adventure stories at the Wild About Books Blog.

First, I should apologize.  We totally missed the month of May for a book of the month.  I could have written my own book called “How to coach tennis, administer a school board election, survive a yearly audit, and still manage a week vacation to Boston and Vermont”.

My good friend/co-worker was probably thrilled to see my cranky ass out of the office for a week.

I can tell when I’ve been working too much because I  have nothing to write on my blog.

How can you go through a whole day and not have something to write?

Who are you talking to?

You

Of course, you have something to write.  You didn’t absorb the day enough, you rushed it.  Slow down.  Appreciate what’s happening.  It’s all story worthy, you just forgot to let it soak in.  Nothing is so important that you have to skim off the top all day long.  Check shit off your list, add to tomorrow’s list…..it’s never ending and more importantly, it’s not worth the energy it takes to throw it across the room.  But that’s where it goes; folders, papers, instructions, passwords, logins, deadlines, updated deadlines thrown into a discombobulated pile of “fuck it”.

“….are you crying?”

“..nope, I am not”

What a waste of my time.

Picking a book of the month was not on May’s agenda.  Fortunately, I did read a book, several books, and have a book of the month for June. 

I can not tell you how much I have enjoyed the Cemetery of Forgotten Books series by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.  If you have not tried them yet, they would make a nice accompaniment to the summer months.  The June book of the month is the third and final book in this series.”The Prisoner of Heaven” intertwines the first two seemingly stand alone books together.  You’ll find yourself in conflict.  Unable to put the book down, yet hoping that you never reach the end.  I hope that you enjoy these books as much as I have.

We are officially in  the lazy days of summer, perfect for reading.  The garden is planted, meals are light and easy, the days are long.  Go read a book or a trilogy.

For more great reading recommendations check out Wild About Books blog.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You will think I am cheating.  This is not so.  I take this job seriously. To give you, the followers of the Wild About Books blog, an outstanding resource for fulfilling your literary snobbery.  Raising the bar as high as I can raise it so that you don’t have to read bad books.

Last week I went for a Costco run to Missoula. I was by myself and took the time to browse through the book section.  I came across several novels that looked promising.  Then found a section of trade paperbacks.

I have seen that term before and find good books in the “trade paperback book” sections, but never knew what it meant. Wikipedia’s description is:

“Trade paperbacks are typically priced lower than hardcover books and higher than mass-market paperbacks.”

They are also larger in size than a mass market paperback. Maybe it’s like shopping at Target instead of K-Mart.  I do know that when I am in a used bookstore that I am looking for those oversized paperbacks in order to find a better quality book.

In the trade paperback section, there are a lot of books that I have read.  I found one that I had not read by Kristin Hannah called “Night Road”.  If you remember , we read “The Nightingale” by the same author, which was a fantastic book, well written, intriguing story with wonderful characters.  I threw “Night Road” in my cart, excited to have a new novel to read.

I managed to get through 82 pages of “Night Road”, waiting, waiting, waiting for a beautiful story to develop.  Waiting for the characters to have some depth.  It never happened.  This was one of the worst books I have ever experienced.  I only made it through 82 pages because I had faith in the writing of Kristin Hannah and because I had spent cash money on this book.

“Night Road” was like eating a bad pistachio and all you want to do is get the horrible taste out of your mouth. You can spit spit spit but until you eat a good pistachio, that taste lingers

I was in dire need of some challenging, thought provoking literature.  I scanned the classics on amazon thinking that Dickens or Bronte` could get this bad taste out of my mouth.  Nothing looked enticing.

Maybe my problem was that I had just finished reading the March book of the month “The Shadow of the Wind” which was so incredibly literarily satisfying that I had become spoiled and had upped my book snobbery a few levels.

Here’s the beauty.  Carlos Ruis Zafon wrote a series of books.  The Cemetary of Forgotten Books series of which “The Shadow of the Wind” is the first in the series.

This is  where you will think I am cheating.

I put a sample of book two “The Angel’s Game” onto my kindle.  I wasn’t going to waste money on a book without trying it out first.  On the first page of this book the bad taste of literary trailer trash left me.  In its place were the flowing words that magically suck you off the couch and into the story.

I want to share the first paragraph with you to see what I mean:

“A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story.  He will never forget the sweet poison of vanity in his blood and the belief that, if he succeeds in not letting anyone discover his lack of talent, the dream of literature will provide him with a roof over his head, a hot meal at the end of the day, and what he covets the most; his name printed on a miserable piece of paper that surely will outlive him.  A writer is condemned to remember that moment, because from then on he is doomed and his soul has a price.”

Wait, wait.  One more.  Just one more quote and then you can go safely spend your cash money on this book of the month.

“Envy is the religion of the mediocre.  It comforts them, it soothes their worries, and finally it rots their souls, allowing them to justify their meanness and their greed until they believe these to be virtues. Such people are convinced that the doors of heaven will be opened only to poor wretches like themselves who go through life without leaving any trace but their threadbare attempts to belittle others and to exclude – and destroy if possible- those who, by the simple fact of their existence, show up their own poorness of spirit, mind, and guts.”

The April 2016 Book of the Month is a prequel, which is a first for us; “The Angel’s Game” by Carlos Ruis Zafon.

Find more great books by becoming a follower of  Wild About Books.

I knew that there was a good chance of snow early in the morning.  Snow is always a possibility in March in the Rocky Mountains.  Still, I was surprised when I heard the heavy wet flakes landing on my tent.  I had set my alarm for 5:00 am but never heard it going off as  I was so bundled in  my sleeping bag trying to keep warm.  I did hear Nathan already up and back from his hot shower.  Then I heard the snow.  I quickly dressed more layers over what I had been sleeping in,  put on my big down coat that had been acting as a blanket.  Gloves and a warm hat finished off my outfit and I unzipped the door to my one person tent.  The rain fly was not staked out in my attempt to keep the warmer air in the tent.  I unzipped the rain fly and was surprised at the amount of snow that had already fallen.  The grass was covered and it was still snowing.

This was our final day of a week adventure with nine high school students, the science teacher and myself.

Nathan and I had spent the last six months planning, organizing, grant writing, campground reserving, applying for a backpacking permit, obtaining permission from the school board to take the students on an out of state trip, receiving student applications, picking students, going over gear list, borrowing gear, grocery shopping, parent permissions and finally, packing  the little red bus and hitting the road.

We had driven only 40 minutes south on highway 93 and crossed into Idaho when one of the students told us that they had never been this far before.  It was at that moment  it occurred to me that this was  much bigger than just a road trip to the Grand Canyon.

We drove to our half way point of Fillmore, Utah where we had reservations at the KOA.  We weren’t the only people staying there, but we were the only tent campers.  This was a good practice night for the kids for setting up their tents and getting their gear organized.  It was also a good night for Nathan to see who would need a better and lighter tent and who would need a warmer sleeping bag.

We had an age range of 14 to 18, three boys, six girls. We had one exchange student from Germany.  The younger girls were giggly and silly,  the older girls quiet and observant.  The one senior girl was the leader.  One boy had his head phones on, one boy was outdoorsy and confident in the adventure and the center of attention for the six girls.  The last boy never stopped taking pictures.  Everything was new and different.  He took pictures of the scenery out the bus window, he took pictures of the signs in the bathroom at the KOA.  This kid was beaming with excitement and he drove us nuts.  

On the afternoon of the second long day on the bus, we arrived at the Grand Canyon.  We stopped at the first observation point.  I knew that there would be crowds of people, the kids did not.  They were astounded at the number of people walking around, taking pictures, reading the interpretive signs.  The kids left the bus and spread out among the crowd.  We rounded them up and told them that we needed to stay together, this couldn’t be a free for all like they were used to.

Our first night’s stay in the Grand Canyon National Park was in Mather Campground, right in the heart of the Grand Canyon Village.  There are 306 campsites and the campground was full.  If Mather Campground averaged 3 campers per site, then there were more people in this campground than in our town of Darby.

We woke up early, made some breakfast burritos and packed for a 3-day backpacking trip.  We drove to the back country office to park the bus and catch the park bus to South Kaibab Trailhead.  The bus was full and the 11 of us were the only people  with backpacks on.  Everyone on the bus wanted to know our story and started asking questions.  Where were we from, how many days would we be out? They were impressed that this was a high school group out on an adventure for spring break.

Day one was a hike from the rim to the river.  All downhill, lots of switchbacks and plenty of photo opportunities. The kids quickly descended into the canyon, fulfilling their need to always be on the next agenda item.  I was fulfilling my need to not fall over and look like a beetle stuck on my back with arms and legs flailing or worse fall and roll 4750 feet down into the Colorado River. I slowly descended into the canyon.  We left the rim shivering in the cool air and arrived at the river to a nice 70 degrees.  I will lose both of my big toe toe nails from this hike but it was worth it.  The kids were already dreading the climb out and I was thrilled to not go down hill anymore.

Our campground was delightful.  We were camped up next to a sheer cliff to one side and Bright Angel creek on the other side.  We took an evening hike up to Phantom overlook hoping for a spectacular sunset.  The sun went behind a big rock.  It was anticlimactic but still a beautiful setting to be in.  The evening was warm as the nearly full moon came up and lit up our site so much that headlamps were not necessary.

We let the kids sleep in for the first time since the start of our trip.  As they got up we heated  water and they tasted their different Mountain House backpacking meals.  Eggs and sausage, biscuits and gravy,  granola and milk; all rehydrated with water.   We were on the trail by 9:00.

The morning started out gradual and the trail stayed just above the river and in the shade.  We started climbing up the switchbacks in a narrow canyon and stayed in the shade most of the day.

The first downhill people we saw were trail runners.  They had started out in the early morning, in the dark, hoping to beat the heat and the crowds.

We got to a point where we were done. Not to our destination, but just done. We finished off water and snacks, read the description in the book, trying to figure out how much further to Indian Garden campground.  All that rest, snacks, and reading and the campground ended up being around the next corner.  The lead hikers of our group had already found a group site and had set up their tents.  We were so happy to take off our packs.  The kids quickly set up the rest of their tents, rehydrated some lunch and then got in their tents for a nap.  The day had never really warmed up.  We were just warm from uphill hiking.  You had to be in the sun or in your sleeping bag to cut the chill in the air.  The kids napped, I read and Nathan scouted out a trail for our evening hike.

Nathan never stops.  He’s always busy with something.  I asked him why he works so hard, goes home late, leaves early the next morning and then does it all again.  Some nights he doesn’t go home at all, he goes to the hospital and works all night in the emergency room.  His answer was that his dad told him to always leave a place better than he found it.  I thought he was referring to our campsite;  but he meant the world, he needs to leave it better than he found it.  That’s Nathan’s drive. I think he’s succeeded multiple times over.  Nathan will never be done leaving this place better than he found it.

Our evening hike was a nice flat out and back to an overlook.  We were already half way up the canyon.  From the overlook, we could see the river at the bottom and the rim at the top.  The perfect location to watch the sun go down.  Everyone was goofy, sore, and in awe of the beauty surrounding us.  We hung out at the overlook for a long time, talking, taking photos and then the yoga poses started.  It wasn’t even my idea.  Headstands, dancer, backbends, double down dog, and a triple layer plank.  Then someone came up with the idea of a backbend with someone else in bow pose on the back benders belly.  It never worked and the photos look a bit pornographic.  We all howled with laughter as this tower of inverted belly’s would come crashing down onto the rock.  These are the kinds of moments that you can’t plan, expect or describe; they just happen when you go on an adventure with nine kids and two adults.  The kids told Nathan and I that we weren’t old (although we were older than most of their parents), we weren’t old because we still do fun stuff.  We walked back to the campsite to rehydrate some dinner.  The kids were starving and ran out ahead while Nathan took pictures of everything from the scenery to the blooming cactuses, to a Montana shaped rock.  We managed to eat before dark for the first time, but just barely.  As it got dark we looked up at the rim and could see the parking lot lights for Bright Angel Trailhead.

The next morning it was still dark when I heard the first trail runners go by.  Then just as I was getting up I heard a gentleman trying to talk on his cell phone on the trail.  The connection must not have been great so he talked louder as the rest of the campground got to wake up to this man’s cell phone conversation.  It was a chilly morning.  The kids were up, fed, packed and on the trail before 8:00.  Another day of switch backs and climbing.  We were going just over four miles and climbing 3000 feet.  I had them divide the day up into thirds based on the two restrooms along the way, trying to make the hike seem less arduous.

The closer we got to the rim the busier the trail got.  The day hikers didn’t need a permit and could come and go any distance they wanted.  For two hours people were telling us we were almost there.  It was slow going and lots of breaks, but we weren’t in any hurry, except for the desire to be done hauling our stuff on our backs.  We spoke to the people as we went by them.  They would step to the side to let us by.  I wasn’t sure if they were afraid of us knocking them over with our bulky packs or if we smelled like we were on our third day of hiking.  They asked us questions and treated us like hiking super heroes.  The trail got busier and the people weren’t as friendly.  We were just in their way at this point.  The people walked on both sides of the narrow trail and we would have to stop to let them by.  After four hours, averaging 1 mile an hour we reached the top.

Back to the world of traffic, exhaust, flush toilets, gift shops, cell phone service and meals that had not been dehydrated.  The kids were thrilled.

Nathan walked to our bus and drove it back to pick us up.  We found our group campground site.  Once again Mather campground was full.  The kids struggled with what to do first; eat, shower, buy coffee, charge their phones, nap.  They managed to get it all in and then eat again.

Nathan and I had to throw in one more evening hike.  We stopped at the store on the way to satisfy the kids desire to purchase stuff and then continued in the dark to the rim trail.  We laid on the trail and watched the stars, planets, planes and satellites. The kids asked Nathan star questions and then those questions turned into existential questions and then to interstellar travel and time questions.  Wonder and what if; the kids were full of those questions.  I was getting cold laying there so we started walking along the trail.  We were waiting for the moon to come up which it did.  It lit up the canyon and our trail.  We looked down where we had come from  that morning and could see the headlamps of the people eating their rehydrated meals at Indian Garden campground.

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.  We were in a zone for sure.  A trip like this is planned with list and itineraries and books with descriptions.  The real trip is not the list or the planned events.  The real trip is what happens in limbo.  The experience you take back with you is not explained in books,  the experience is bigger than that.  You have a hard time explaining the comradery that forms within a group  during a strenuous outdoor adventure.  This adventure was very meditative. It takes you out of your daily routine.  You couldn’t help but be in the moment, focusing on nothing but the adventure.  Your head is cleared of the clutter and drama of unimportant issues and stays tuned into the present moment.

The transition back is not an easy one and should be done gradually.  Cell phones make this gradual transition virtually impossible. You return home in a peaceful melancholic funk, to a world of perceived time crunches and life sucking drama.  That’s what’s exhausting; not hiking in and out of the Grand Canyon.

Thanks for reading. Find more great adventure stories as well as highly recommended books by visiting the Wild About Books Blog.

 

 

I’ve been so busy reading that I have not had time to write.  I’m still working my way through last month’s book of  the month “Eighty Days”.  I just started my first young adult science fiction book with my High School book club “Ender’s Game”.  I’m re-reading “Heal Your Headache” as I have now become addicted to my prescription migraine medicine.  I have a sample of “The Happiness Advantage” on my kindle that I would like to start. I’m almost through a memoir by Stephen King called “On Writing”, a great book on the craft of writing.  And, I’m almost done with the March 2016 Book of the Month.

This book does not go well with wine or beer.  It also is not a before bed book.  You will want to be alert and fully conscious while reading this selection.  This book takes place in the early to mid 20th century in Barcelona Spain and Paris France.  There is intrigue, murder and romance all intertwined in multiple storylines in this dark tale.  It takes on an Oscar Wild-ish feel in the bazaar twist and turns and with the philosophical characters who make statements such as;

“The female heart is a labyrinth of subtleties, too challenging for the uncouth mind of the male racketeer.  If you really want to possess a woman, you must think like her, and the first thing to do is to win over her soul.  The rest, that sweet, soft wrapping that steals away your senses and your virtue, is a bonus”

“Making money isn’t hard in itself,” he complained.  “What’s hard is to earn it doing something worth devoting one’s life to.”

Read this book slowly and carefully.  Don’t put it down for too long as you will need to keep the plot and characters fresh in your head.

I highly recommend this month’s book “The Shadow of the Wind”  by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

For more book recommendations, please visit Wild About Books.

I’m standing with my Earl Grey tea in hand, waiting for my to go salad that I have just ordered. I’m  in a busy local coffee shop in Hamiton.  We don’t have Starbucks here, just local coffee shops; each with their own personalities.   I look around and notice the people.  The customers are ordering coffee or fancy lattes, cookies and muffins, a few sandwiches, although it’s a little early for lunch.  As I watch, the people casually come and go; in no real hurry and I’m reminded of why Montana is the place I belong.

I moved here almost 23 years ago and at the age of 28 I knew that this was where I belonged.  At the time, I wasn’t aware of why I felt that way. I soon came to realize that Montana was home to me because no one wears panty hose.

Yes!  I had found my happy place.

I can wear wool socks or bare legs or even leg warmers, but I will never again wear panty hose.  Who came up with that term.  Is it southern?  Because sometimes I get caught using southern words and get funny looks.  I still say “buggy” instead of grocery cart; that always gets a funny look.

I admit that I have had to buy knee high hose in Montana.  In our old house, the dryer wasn’t vented to the outside.  I needed to attach the knee high hose onto the exhaust pipe to catch the lint.

As I watch the people in the coffee shop I notice their outfits and hair.  Everyone is wearing blue jeans, no one has on a tie.  The footwear is practical.  The men have beards.  The women have pony tails.  But most importantly, no one is trying to out fashion the other.  There is no fashion to out fashion.  You are who you are.  There are no label wars or trendy outfits.  The customers in the coffee shop took the time to pull on a pair of pants and a shirt and their morning routine is over.  Out the door and off to work.  If the women are wearing make-up, I don’t notice, it’s subtle if at all.

Bad hair days don’t exist in Montana.  Hats.  Just put on a hat.  Baseball hat, stocking hat, bandana, whatever works.  Hair is done.  Most days I have helmet hair.  Bike helmet, snow board helmet, kayak helmet.   

Lips; lip balm

Fingernails; clip them.  Done.

Women: sports bra.  Even a trip to the store  in your car requires a sports bra.  Frost heaves and pot holes will make you think twice about that Victoria Secret lace  good for nothing fancy pants bra.

High Heels:  ahhahahahhahha.  ha.

Snot Rockets:  usually reserved for outdoor activities such as running or biking on cold days.  For some reason, cold outdoor cardio leads to massive amounts of mucus.  Gently turn your head to the side, place your finger on one side of the nose for maximum pressure out of the opposite side in order to fully discharge the mucus.  Repeat on the other side if needed.  Use caution in high winds or with groups.  Large nosed people beware that the mucus doesn’t always get enough velocity to detach and will become a long stringy mess clinging to your clothes and face and gloves as you wipe and wipe looking as if a large snail has been crawling over you leaving a silvery trail of snail slime.

“Good God; what happened to you”

“I was attacked by 50 snails at mile four.”