When All Else Fails, Read the Directions

When I get any new gadget I don’t have the patience to read the directions. I have to try to put it together first, knowing that if I get stuck, I can always read the directions. This kind of attitude can be bad for one’s health. It’s a good thing I’m part cat. I must be. I’m sure I’ve used up many of my nine lives.

Before I begin, I have to explain why these photos are WAY worse than usual. I was rummaging around, supposedly doing spring cleaning, when I came across some dusty cartridges of slides and two old projectors. All cleaning stopped right there as I hauled out these memories from over 36 years ago.

My husband and I had talked about these slides some months ago, wondering how we might save them from deteriorating further. I thought it was time to have a look at what was on these slides. I ended up taking photos of the slides with my digital camera as I showed them on the wall. They’re a treasure trove of things we’ve done from so long ago – terrible pictures but they tell many a story.

One set I’d like to share with you today is from our time in Hawaii. We had done a five-month tour of Europe and felt a bit homesick for the Queen Charlotte Islands where we lived at the time, but our summer tans were gone so we decided to detour through Hawaii on our way home. We flew from London to Kauai, touching down briefly in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and Honolulu, thinking we’d have no trouble finding a place to stay once we got there. After all, it was October, the off-season.

Wrong! It was Aloha Week. We went through dollar’s worth of dimes at the phone booth (remember those?) but everything was booked solid. A lady working at the small airport suggested Kahili Mountain Park and that’s where we ended up camping.

With a rented car, we toured the island over the next few days. I took pictures with my cheap camera.

“What a beautiful beach,” I said, “and not a soul on it.” I didn’t stop to wonder why.

 

The waves were a bit more than I thought I could handle so I stayed to do the tourist thing and snapped pictures from the safety of the black (yes, black) sand. My husband is a good swimmer and headed straight for the water. As he got out later, he winced at every step he took.

“Ouch! This sand is sharp.”

“No wonder. It’s like chips of fine volcanic rock.”

Back at the car, I noticed a sign. “Swim at your own risk. Dangerous undertow.” I guess they didn’t think the sharp rocks were worth mentioning in light of the more dangerous undertow. On the hot beach I broke out in a cold sweat, thinking of what might have happened in those strong waves. Should have read the directions. After that we went to a more populated beach.

A fellow tourist told me that the beach pictured below was the one used in the movie (before my time) “Blue Hawaii.”

But apparently it was the beach at Hanauma Bay that was used. As I looked at this photo I found on Wikipedia, taken by ErgoSum88, I could see the gap in the coral in the middle of the bay where I swam when we had returned to Oahu.

I had my mask, snorkel, and flippers on and splashed along happily, admiring the colourful tropical fish and the underwater coral sculptures. Lovely warm water, not too deep; I could probably stand up in most areas I swam. I felt safe. I had read about fire coral and knew better than to  touch the rocks and plants with my bare hands and was careful not to kick them as I floated past. This underwater world was a feast for the eyes. Every few seconds a different shape and colour of fish swam by. I wasn’t sure about the pipe fish that looked like a long skinny snake. He wasn’t bothering me and I wouldn’t bother him. It was time to get back to the beach anyway. My husband was already halfway to shore.

I had swum through a gap in the coral wall to where the water was a bit deeper. I kicked towards the gap and used the momentum of a wave to push me forward. Just about there, I only had to kick a bit more to swim through the gap and be in the shallow sheltered part of the bay. But that same wave that had pushed me forward now pulled me back. I looked out to sea at the point of land and prayed that I wouldn’t end up out there.

With the next wave I took advantage of the push again and got to the middle of the gap. All I had to do was reach for the rocks and hold on, but the coral was unfamiliar to me and several plants covered it. What if that was the fire coral I’d heard so much about. Better not risk it. I’d wait and go shooting through the gap with the next wave. Back I went, pulled by the outgoing wave.

This scenario replayed itself about as often as a cat flips a mouse into the air before the kill. My eyes bugged out a bit when I realized I was getting tired. My husband  a couple of hundred yards away, waving at me to come on in to shore. I could have called to him to come help but there were a lot of people swimming on the safer side of the reef and the thought of calling for help was mortifying to me.

I struggled and kicked harder to try to get through the gap each time the wave brought me close to it. No way I would hold onto the wall to stop from being swept back out. It was a case of degrees of fear – touch what was possibly fire coral or be swept back again. Finally I knew I would have to make a super effort to kick through the gap or suffer the embarrassment of calling for help. I kicked and kicked against the outbound tow until my muscles burned. I managed to get about two feet farther than the time before, but it was enough to escape that deadly pull out to sea.

Back on land, my legs quivered with exhaustion. My husband had no idea of the struggle I had just gone through. I’m sure he would have saved me if I’d called to let him know I needed help, but what’s that saying about pride?

Later that afternoon, as we wandered around the beach, we came to the visitor information sign and stopped to read the “You are here” map. It showed Hanauma Bay  and, clearly marked, were the areas for beginners, intermediate, and expert swimmers. And also marked clearly as a “No go” zone where the undertow problems might catch you, was the place where I had been snorkeling. I was a beginner and had gone into the water with no clue of the risks.

This is what happens when you don’t read the directions first.

PS  After I told my husband about this post and the gap he said he’d had no idea I was in trouble out there, but by the way, that’s where the sharks would wait, by the gap.

“Ha ha,” I said. “Very funny.”

“No. Seriously. They wait by the gap because that’s where the fish would come through.”

(And the odd snorkeler too, apparently. The kind that don’t read directions first.)

PPS  Don’t forget to check out my other blog for more writing-related posts. http://annelisplace.wordpress.com

At Pablo’s Beach

Pablo

 

Our friend Pablo was a man of many talents. Besides being able to skin a trigger fish in mere seconds, he knew how to build a good sturdy palapa with materials he had handy. One of the materials that surprised me was the wood he used for the framework of the palapa. The skinny laths that were once the ribs of a cardón cactus were very hard and strong.

One of the main building materials used in palapa construction is from the inside of the cardón cactus.

You can see how the ribs were used on the palapa in the background. Haywire is often used in place of  more expensive nails. The walls and roof were made of date palm branches and fronds trimmed to the right shape and length. The laths held the fronds down. The roof and walls were amazingly waterproof and windproof.

The cardón cactus is so large that it was difficult for an amateur photographer like me to get it all on one frame, so I’ve decided to use two photos and you can imagine the size.

I’m 5’7″,so you can compare the height of the cactus.

The tops were turkey vulture landing places.

Every morning I saw the turkey vultures sitting on top of the cardón cacti at sunrise. They spread out their wings catching the warming rays and looked like the classic thunderbird. When this palapa was under construction they liked to use it as a perch for the whole flock. I guess it was more fun to be with the whole gang all over one roof, and besides, it wasn’t as prickly as sitting on top of the living cacti.

Perfect perches

Once in a while, Pablo took a break from construction to “iron the beachsand.” He liked the place to look tidy. This primitive tool was surprisingly good at smoothing the surface of the sand while also removing any foreign materials like cigarette butts and bottle caps.

Pablo was very proud of his beach. It was clean and well cared for.

A beach like this is the perfect place for two young people in love. Kevin and Sylvia walk out of a novel called Orion’s Gift to spend time here, but they get into a lot of trouble on this beach. Check it out on amazon.com.

Orion’s Gift – New Publication

Beautiful and remote, but would you want to live there without the option of leaving?

Last January I published my novel The Wind Weeps, set on the West Coast. It is the story of Andrea, a pretty young woman who is new to the coast and is quickly swept off her feet by a handsome commercial fisherman. Before she realizes she has made a mistake, she is out of reach of help, and finds herself in grave danger. The book highlights the beauty and remoteness of the BC coast. Andrea’s predicament adds suspense and drama to this story. When I finished writing The Wind Weeps, a dark but gripping story, I wanted my next book to have a lighter theme without losing the page-turning tension factor.

You can see the covers of The Wind Weeps and of Orion’s Gift at the side of this page.

Perfect retreat for a young couple – or is it?

In Orion’s Gift, my characters are also looking for love and adventure, but this time the coastal setting is farther south. Sylvia, a California girl, receives a letter that causes her to leave her philandering husband and her fancy home near San Diego. At the same time, Kevin, an Alberta hardware store owner divorces his bullying wife and leaves everything behind to run away to Baja. When Kevin and Sylvia meet and fall in love, two things stand in the way of their happiness. One—the secrets they keep from each other. Two—their vindictive ex-spouses hunting them down. The exotic landscape of Mexico’s Baja Peninsula, provides the backdrop for this story of romance and treachery.

My palapa or yours?

My articles have been published in Canadian Stories Magazine and The Canadian Fly Fisher, now called The New Fly Fisher E-zine. I am in the process of publishing my third novel which should come out early next year.

The third novel was actually the first one I wrote. It is the story of a woman’s struggle to survive the hardships of the aftermath of WWII and the strange circumstances that brought her to Canada to the Dawson Creek area. It is being prepared for publication now and should be out in the early spring. More about this book in a few months.

For an excerpt from Orion’s Gift, click on the link: http://tbrtheblog.blogspot.ca/2012/11/tbr-welcomes-anneli-purchase.html?

Here are all the links you need to find out more about my books!

Links for Orion’s Gift:

On Amazon.com http://amzn.to/UhJE00

On Smashwords.com http://bit.ly/MFOcOX

Links for The Wind Weeps:

Amazon http://amzn.to/RclGVT

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/yPQvEP

Blog: http://wordsfromanneli.wordpress.com

Website: http://www.anneli-purchase.com

The Change

The Front

Montana has been suffering from a lack of precipitation for a long time this summer. I believe that is the case for much of the west. Forest fires and grass fires have plagued many parts of the western States and British Columbia. Farmers have told us that the combines sometimes accidentally start fires because the grass is so tinder dry. The grain must be harvested so farmers take a chance in spite of the risk of starting a fire. The alternative is to lose the season’s harvest.

Under the Front

The front was moving in and the forecast of snow struck fear into the hearts of trailer-towing campers. We told each other not to worry because we had enough food to feed an army and we had plenty of gas for our generator. We would be fine.

The Family

This is one photo you really should click to enlarge. As we were heading back to our campsite to outrun the front, we had to stop to take a picture of the fabulous sky. The family of mule deer on the right side of the photo was a bonus. Also, I’m told that they don’t usually hang around in family groupings like this – mother, father (we assumed), and baby.

And the big snowfall? Turns out it was rain at the lower levels – a good downpour that was welcomed by everyone. Fire fears are pretty much a thing of the past, at least in the areas touched by this rain.

Everyone Knows It’s Windy – in Montana

We’re camped with our 19-foot trailer, in a clean, new RV Park,  and everything is just wonderful. Gary decided to do a reconnaissance trip while I settled in to catch up with my email.

“Perfect,” I thought, “I’m going to enjoy my little bit of alone time.” But wouldn’t you know it, about twenty minutes after Gary left, disaster struck. It was another one of those situations where, if he had listened to his wise old wife, he could have spared her a lot of grief.

When we first arrived, Gary put up the awning of the trailer. I made the mistake of suggesting that this was not a good idea because Montana is known for its wind, especially in the northeastern part which is prairie-like and the wind whistles across the land with nothing to stop it. Of course, as soon as I suggested not to put up the awning, it had to go up. Why don’t I learn?!

“If it’s too windy, I’ll take it down,” he’d said.

I was just settling in,  enjoying my laptop and connecting with friends by email when the whole trailer began to shake. A big gust of wind buffeted it and I had visions of  the trailer with me inside, tumbling across the prairie like a  giant vinyl tumbleweed. I pulled the curtains aside and looked out the window. The canvas was billowing high, and the aluminum support on one side had collapsed so the awning hung onto the trailer at an odd twisted angle.

Breezy days

After a few more gusts, I knew that I had to do something or we really might roll over, but when I went outside to assess the situation, I realized that if I did the wrong thing, a big wind gust  could rip the awning or the aluminum supports out of my hands and smash them into the trailer. I decided to try to lower the warped support one notch at a time by opening the lever and un-telescoping the support on the side that was now higher than the other. You would think that was the sensible and easy thing to do, except that the pin that holds the telescoped part in place is no longer responding to the lever action when I try to release it. The pin is either broken off or hanging by a thread. I muscled the thing to push it up and used needle nosed pliers to poke the metal pin back through the slots that held the support in place, but all it did was slide into the next slot down and the struggle began all over again.

My old whiplashed neck began to scream in pain at the effort and I had to give up for a while. More gusts of wind. I tried again. More neck pain. I gave up and resigned myself to becoming a tumbleweed.

Houston, we have lift-off.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much emailing done, or enjoy my “alone time.” I fretted until Gary came back.

What I had struggled with for two hours took him less than five minutes to fix.

“Huh!”he said, “I didn’t think it was going to be that windy.”

I was dying to say “I told you so,” but what would have been the point?

Camping in Paradise

Community Center at the town park

This aesthetically pleasing building stands near the entrance to the community park and campsite of a small, small, super-small town in northwestern Montana.

Stage? Bandstand? Gazebo?

This too was a part of the park and campsite. Everything was neat and tidy.

Camping

Camping was free. Water and electricity provided. Peace and quiet. What a beautiful spot.

Farming country

The countryside near the campsite was full of life. Upland game birds, like pheasants, sharp-tailed grouse, and Hungarian partridge hid in the fields along with the odd porcupine or skunk, while mink slipped through the brush near the creeks. Many types of songbirds, especially meadowlarks flitted here and there.

Find the pheasant

If you click to enlarge this picture you may see the pheasant hiding to the left of the center fencepost.

Next time, another installment of our stay in the beautiful state of Montana.

More “Along the Way”

From the peak of Lookout Pass we could see the haze caused by forest and grass fires in western Montana and Washington. I wonder what happened to the dead trees in this photo.

I see now that this photo, taken through the truck window, has blotches. We should have had the windshield cleaned during the last fuel up stop. It’s very difficult to pull over for picture taking any time we felt like it while pulling a trailer, so often I had to be satisfied with photos taken through the windshield. Still, I had to have a photo of the rock structures here. I find it so fascinating to see the results of earth upheavals, sediments, erosion, and eons of time. I think I would have enjoyed being a geologist.

Happy Thanksgiving

While out driving the other day we crossed the Missouri River.

Missouri River in background

I looked down over the side of the bridge and was about to say, “Oh look. Canada geese,” when I remembered I was in Montana, not at home in Canada. So what were those birds? Wild turkeys! It was the second time on this trip that I’d seen a small flock of wild turkeys, but they’re such a rare thing to see  that I was thrilled by the sight of them.

These turkeys will escape the dinner table this Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, but look out when it is American Thanksgiving in November.

Chief Joseph Dam

“Along the way” to Montana, we looked for good places to stay overnight. Thankfully we’re no longer traveling in the Boler, so we don’t have to be quite that humble, but when we park in campsites, even though we’re still the smallest and least modern trailer in the place, we’re comfortable enough.

One of the nicer places we found to spend the night is the Bridgeport State Park on the Columbia River, a couple of hours south of Omak, Washington. On the way in to the campsite we drove by the dam.

Chief Joseph Dam

Huge trees provided shade for the picturesque campsite. Water from the river had turned the camping area into a lush contrast to the surrounding semi-arid terrain.

Part of the campsite at the Bridgeport State Park

The clean, inviting showers at the park cost two quarters for three minutes of water. We found a fellow camper who made change for us, as we had no American quarters yet, and off we went to have showers, with two quarters each. I knew that three minutes of warm water was not going to go far, so I got myself all soaped up first before reaching around the shower stall to put the money in and start the water. It felt so good to get clean all over. After about 90 seconds, the smile left my face as the water suddenly stopped. I rubbed off most of the wet soap with a towel, thankful that I’d had the sense to rinse the shampoo from my hair first.

Gary was waiting outside for the flip flops we were sharing for showering. I told him about being short-changed on the water, just to give him a heads up for his own shower. He was smarter than I’d been. He put in one quarter and got about 90 seconds of water. Then he put the second quarter in and got the rest of his three minutes’ worth.

The campsite was a great place to spend the night. We felt safe and were entertained by the squirrels, bluejays, and quail. Even a few bats flew by, eating the insects that might have pestered us that night.

At first light the next morning, we stood outside the trailer and I pointed to a place where an owl had flown into the thick foliage of a nearby tree. Seconds later, the bird came out and glided right over our heads. It was a barn owl, beautiful with its white face and light underside.

We were happy to have found this perfect camping place, and next time I’ll be smarter about the showers.

Along the way

What is it? Please let me know if you have any idea what it is called.

Click on photos to enlarge them.

On a road trip, I saw this plant that had gone to seed. I have no idea what it is but I would like to know.

No, it’s not an ookpik.

The arid countryside looks almost dead at first, but there are many interesting plants in the semi-desert terrain of eastern B. C. and eastern Washington. It was hard to stop taking pictures.

At Chief Joseph Dam on the Columbia River, the area near the river is lush as long as there is irrigation. Where the water doesn’t go, the land is almost like desert. And yet, notice the vineyards on the slopes?

Wine, anyone?

Another beautiful semi-desert plant without a name. If you know what it is, please leave a comment and let me know.

Do I have a name?

I’m on the road and finding it hard to post much, but will try to catch up when I’m back home. Meanwhile, you can have a break from my writing and look at the scenery I saw on my way to Montana and back.