August 20, 2011:
Usually, we post an update every few weeks to a month, but what a summer this has been so far!
Best I can say is it'll come and it'll be a big one. Salmon, rafting, kayaking, dogs, kids and the new
Dunsmuir vacation rental will all be featured. Stay tuned.

May 2011 Newsletter/Part Two

The Great Big Water of Spring 2011

Much of our attention recently was focused on the big spring release from the dam. We take pictures and make notes on the daily changes, always in awe at the power of water. This year, we found ourselves also in awe of some monumental bumbling on the part of the organization we look to for answers.

Rainfall and snow pack are measured and the winter's total dictates whether it's rated a dry, normal, wet or very wet year. According to the Trinity River Restoration Project (TRRP), which sends out the river release schedule, we had a wet year, so a good deal of water was scheduled to be released over the course of a couple of weeks. It would culminate with 4 days at 11,000 cubic feet per second (CFS). We'd never seen 11,000 CFS, so this was a big deal. I emailed TRRP and asked how much we could expect the water to surpass where it hit in 2006. They didn't know.

The spring 2006 release was supposed to be 10,000 CFS, but we arrived home one day to find TRRP people studying the water height by our steps to the river. At the time, we were told it got to 10,500 CFS; TRRP placed a stake to mark that high water, which was a few inches below our pump house. We were given funds to move the pump house, but we can't decide where to put it--and as usual, any number of other projects took precedence--so the question was how high would the additional 500 CFS take the river?

Here are our pump house, the stairs and the bank during a normal summer.. The river is well below the banks.

We had several inches from the 2006 stake to the actual pump, and many more up to the electrical supply for it, but to be on the safe side, Steph bought and filled a bunch of sand bags, and created a moat around the low sides of the pump house by the steps to the river.

Each day, as the river came up in increments, we examined it and took pictures. We have an eddy on our bank, which means the river flows upstream and is gentler than out in the middle where logs, boards and other items washed past us in the growing flow. Again, this is common, if a bit unnerving.

At 3,000 CFS, the water had risen a few feet up to the bank, then it completely covered it. I thought that happened closer to a 4,500 CFS release, but didn't compare it with pictures from previous years. Steph thought it might be a good idea to put a sump pump inside the moat in case any water made its way in if the water rose more than we expected.

"We can always return it if we don't use it," he explained.

On the Second of May, the flow was supposed to ramp up from 4,500 CFS to 8,000 in several steps. We hung very close to home during the entire period, but from this point on, we not only didn't leave, we (mostly Steph) got up throughout each night and went out with a flashlight to check the river height and to look down into the pump house, whose roof was lifted off. I cut quite a midnight figure wafting around in my Victorian white nightgown, straddling sand bags in my bare feet to peer into the pump house.

Something didn't feel right. There seemed to be a lot more water than there was supposed to be. Even the eddy along our bank was frenzied. By now, huge trees were rushing past, including a large number of limbless trees complete with root balls which were placed in newly created channels and divots by TRRP as part of their habitat restoration work. There were only a few feet of clearance under the bridge near us. What if a couple of those trees got tangled and hit it at the same time? Every tree that washed down after that would add to the logjam. Then what?

One of the portions of the river where the TRRP trees were placed a few years ago sits across the river from our Steel Bridge cabins. Guests delighted in watching river otters glide down to the root ball and come up with a small fish, eat it, then go back for more. We wondered how these trees were aiding fish habitat, but it hardly mattered; many of them washed out in the next spring's high flow. We shook our heads over this. We're business people; we think of costs, cost overruns, design successes and failures. Always trying to think of better ways to do our jobs, we question everything. Imagine what it had cost to procure, deliver and place those trees.

Restoration work on the river above and below us last year required a big flow to get the river to "interact" with the changes. That's how the TRRP folks phrased it. Much of the interaction regarding the TRRP trees this year could be classified as "Get out of Dodge" or "See you in the huge logjams way down river."

By the morning of May 2nd, we were supposed to be at 7,500 CFS. We were so astounded at the height of the river, we swore they got it wrong at the dam. In 2006, that 10,500 release was supposed to only be 10,000, so a mistake wasn't impossible. But how could they accidentally release this much water?!

The water was now around a foot past the 2006 stake and rising. The force of our usually mild eddy knocked the wall of sand bags over to the outside, oddly enough. I waded thigh-deep in the frigid water, locating the errant bags with my foot, pulling them up and handing them to Steph, who placed them directly against the pump house, with the sump pump inside it. Then he filled more sand bags and placed them around the first layer.

We realized the idea that the sump pump might go back to the hardware store un-opened was a bit optimistic; okay, naive. It was running 24 hours a day, and had been joined by another pump (as I have said before, our hardware store loves us).. We used our fire pump to help keep the water down as we moved the sand bag wall. Every so often, I'd drop emails to TRRP and the local paper, saying there's no way this is wasn't over a 10,500 release.

TRRP people came by several days in a row. The biologists, some in fancy waders that remained dry, but looked pretty pro, explained that usually there is a computer model for an event like this, where all factors are taken into consideration before executing such a big flow. But they didn't have a model. A levee a few hundred yards below us--and before the bridge into our little community--was a mystery for TRRP. They'd had the first levee constructed along with a culvert to take excess water under the road and back to the river, but it blew out, taking a good portion of our road with it. So after the big flow of 2006, they contracted with the county to do the job over, and the county contracted with a small company downriver in Salyer.

Everyone from TRRP who came to our property to check the river recently said the same thing: The flow was accurate, we were only at 8K so far (with 3,000 more CFS to go!), so something had to have changed.. One of the biologists said the levee had been raised, but no one knew by how much. Steph and I looked at each other.

"Don't you think we might have been told this before, when I asked what impact we could expect for 500 more CFS after you announced the spring release schedule?" I asked. Apparently not.

By the time we hit 11,000 CFS, Steph and I had wrapped the moat in two layers of tarps with sand bags between them. The combined effect was to keep the water down with 1-3 pumps at a time. Considering what people around the Mississippi have and are enduring, our experience was a blip on the screen, but it was still spooky and draining.

Here is the downstream view from our place during a regular flow. The main river goes to the left around the island with the tree behind the skinny tree middle/right, then it flows under the bridge. Water in a small side channel to the right (which peels off just behind the skinny alder) comes back to the river before the bridge; it can end up going over the levee in high flows.

This was our view at the highest flows, when the levee had so much water cascading over it, it sounded like Niagara Falls. Only the tree was visible on the island. We had about a foot between our patio and the river.

When the water finally subsided and we could get away, we took our glazed selves out for a Mother's Day motorcycle ride and brunch. It wasn't until a week later that I realized for the first time in 17 years, we had forgotten to celebrate the day we met in Sitka, Alaska. Both of us! We were crushed before realizing that date fell in the peak of the high flow. No wonder.

Scientists' work is slow and plodding and usually rife with backup systems. Study, plan, plot, model, THEN act, if not study, plan, plot, model more first. But maybe not here, where a more cavalier approach is in action.

The local paper did a story on the big flow, and as happened in 2006, it came out that the intended release actually hit a higher number--12000 CFS this time--before it was reined in. I was quoted saying 8000 CFS was higher than the 10500 of 2006, and much of my emails between TRRP and the paper ended up in the article.

You know how it is with government types. They are very good at pointing fingers elsewhere. The TRRP guy who is in charge of sending out the river flow schedule and subsequent updates jumped the paper for their coverage, sending me a copy of his email. He denied the levee was altered, which is in stark contrast with what all of their people in the field reported. We took video of the weir and levee work mentioned, and think it was raised substantially. But that's not the point; something has caused a whole lot of water to back up to our property, and nobody knows what. An older neighbor who is ill and easily rattled, who usually can't even see the river from his front yard, found it six feet away from his porch for days.

And the much-higher water this year, which was seen by numerous TRRP officials? 11" was a conservative estimate.

"This has not been independently verified," said the TRRP guy in his email to the paper. He requested a retraction, but last night, he suggested he and a small army of other TRRP folks come out to our place for a look, which sounds suspiciously similar to the joke "How many [fill in your favorite] does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Although I can be, Steph isn't prone to exaggeration; he puts the increase at a foot and a half, easily.

Why didn't those guys from TRRP who arrived in waders at 8000 and 12000 CFS bother to go out and feel around for that stake with their foot? I guess because if you verify a change, that means it happened, and if you don't, it didn't.

We've found a good fly fishing guide is usually far more informed and practical when it comes to tinkering with nature than people spending someone else's money, trying to enact positive changes. It's the same with a good, seasoned, commercial saltwater fisherman, who can often tell biologists more about subtle shifts in the ocean and how they relate to the species found there than a decade's worth of expensive studies. Some of the best guides up here claim several things TRRP has done may not positively impact fish. It's possible some of their work was detrimental, such as silting in existing spawning beds. And the TRRP trees well on their way to the ocean? Maybe that's something dumbos like us just can't grasp.

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May 2011 Newsletter/Part One

The Next Dimension

Jeez Louise, what a spring this has been already! You'd have seen an update from us before this, but it has been one thing after another, including an exciting new direction we're taking.

Here are just some of the highlights, with details farther down, so get comfortable. The full river release story will go out next week, because this newsletter is just too long.

* Our last day of skiing Shasta was Easter Sunday, and then we had to dig deep to find our renowned work ethic. Skiing 2-3 days a week pretty much wiped that out. We managed to care for our cabins and guests, but those projects we put off until late winter? They're in the works now.

* We drove 4 hours a day on ski days and that got us thinking how nice it would be to have a place somewhere around Dunsmuir, which could also be a vacation rental, and perfect for people traveling between California and Oregon on I-5. If you know how Trinity River Adventure Inn evolved, it will come as no surprise when you hear how fast we moved on our inspiration.

The Carriage House and the Miner's Cabin are available Memorial Day Weekend. The Miner's really took off last year and has become very popular. It's small, located in a private grove of trees, and the covered porch on the river side is a lovely place to sit and read, although guests often tell us they're too busy watching a bald eagle or osprey work the water. The Carriage House is ideal for a party of 2-5 (depending on whether you take Dragonfly as a 2nd bedroom). It has a cedar interior, wood stove, deep, covered patio overlooking the river and a cheerful new paint job in the full kitchen. Book either over Memorial Day Weekend and we'll have freshly baked sticky buns and a bottle of One Maple wine waiting for you. To make reservations, email us or call 530.778.3444.

* We Can't Help But Crow Department: Captain Mike Sack, proud new owner of Sanctuary Cruises, just had his first Coast Guard inspection with Sanctuary. He and Steph went over what to expect, and Mike felt he was so well-prepared that he conducted a burial at sea the morning of the haul-out. Then he hauled, the CG inspectors arrived and examined the boat inch by inch as they do, and a few hours later, Mike called to say they were done. Not one 835, which is the USCG version of a fit-it ticket. They were impressed, and so are we. Very good going, Mike. We still see online reservations as they come in, and just a few minutes ago, one arrived with, "We are hoping Dorris Welch will be our naturalist!" I'd say they living up to our expectations as well as Sanctuary Cruises' fans. Great.

* Coming Next Week: Spring always brings about a week of big river flows as they release water from the dams, and this one was not only the biggest we've experienced, but it brought huge challenges. This is an annual occurrence and we're used to it, but it's a disconcerting feeling watching fast-moving water rise next to your home, and makes our compassion for people in the south all the stronger. Wait until you see the pictures from our place.

Trinity River Adventure Inn North...Way North

Steph and I work well together. One gets an idea, mentions it to the other, and we kick it around. Sometimes it stops right there, and other times, it escalates; snowballs might be more like it.

We both are Big Picture people, but most of our major changes were fueled by only one of us in the early stages. It was my statement that I wanted to go with the whales when we kayaked with them at sea in 1996 that prompted Steph to propose a gray whale research, conservation, education and adventure project. Although I was the first to captain whale watching boats on the Monterey Bay, it was Steph's idea to start shopping for our own boat, so we could form a company the way we wanted it to be.

I was the one who announced we should buy a house on the Monterey Peninsula, despite the fact neither of us had a traditional job or a regular paycheck.

"Can we afford to buy a house?" Steph asked.

"We can't afford not to," I replied, and that house remains our most valuable asset.

Once we bought our place here on the river, I tossed out the idea of renting it part-time. A few more cabins were in our future. Last week, I counted our places and it took a while. We were at 9.

Steph laid the groundwork for our most recent trip down the rabbit hole by saying with property prices so low, we should look around Mount Shasta for a little ski hut for ourselves instead of the 4 hour drives we made round-trip each day. This was probably said while we were skiing, with that gorgeous mountain that eminates big-time spirits right there. We'd probably had a beer. Maybe two.

"Why don't you check real estate on the internet?" I said.

And he was off to the races. In a little over two months, we scouted every direction from the mountain. McCloud is farther east on 89, past the resort. We found some reasonable fixer-uppers, but the dinner train that was this former mill town's big draw had just drawn it's last gasp and was being trucked north to a new owner. Also, we rode through there on our motorcycles last summer and I got a little bit of a downer feeling from it; maybe I caught vibe about the dinner train.

Plus, I couldn't see having to drive past the resort to get to a cabin, and on the day we'd go home, either having to pack up early and leave from the resort after skiing, or make the round-trip drive away from home to load our stuff.

The City of Mount Shasta is attractive and has some cool shops, pubs and restaurants, but I felt it was a little too busy and touristy to want a place there.

"What about Dunsmuir?" I asked. "It's right off I-5, quieter than Shasta, but close enough to hit our favorite places in Shasta. It's en route for us, and will be for anyone traveling between California and Oregon."

We hooked up with a realtor and she showed us everything on the market, including places she knew were going to be listed. The odd day off from chores here were spent picking up Gypsy, our neighbor's dog, and taking all 3 dogs north to tromp in and around places we largely wouldn't have taken were they free, along with a few that had potential.

The dogs had a ball, especially at a park we found on the river. They figured these were still ski trips, since all of the essentials for them remained: head north, pee on things, run around, get snacks.

For us, the trips were a little more demanding, but there is no substitute for this footwork, because each place tells you more about what you want, as well as what you don't want. A lovely older home could have been the one, but the freeway ran by a block above, and it didn't have a bath tub.

A true Craftsman home was spectacular, but the owner who was trying to sell without a realtor said, "What'll you pay?" on the phone when asked the price. In person, he smelled of booze in the early afternoon and we came close to getting permanently lost in the jam-packed labyrinth of a basement. When we sat down with him and his wife, she said she wanted $475,000.00. He mumbled something about $350K.

We explained what the going rate was, and even though their home had some magnificent cabinetry, it also had a poorly built deck on top of a storeroom that was rotting, and a kitchen that was a job to get to because of the marvelous, old, built-in cabinets on both sides of the wall, which precluded opening it up.

As with each place we looked at, I took quick, jerky videos of just about everything. They were good for a laugh if nothing else, and often we pored over the more favorable candidates, checking details we hadn't noted in person. Two of the candidates were so big, they intimidated us. They were dirt cheap, needed a lot of work and if we lived there, we'd have considered them. We passed, for which I am eternally grateful.

We scrutinized every realtor's web site, as well as the listings that came automatically from our realtor, still weighing location. We liked the vibe in Dunsmuir, and thought it sure would be fun to be able to bicycle around town, walk to the popular brew pub, bakery, grocery store and celebrated Cafe' Maddelena. Ted Fay's Fly Shop is also there.

We'll never move from our river cabin on the Trinity, but looking for a vacation place, we could have what's missing. With the Upper Sacramento River just a few blocks from most of the long, narrow town, almost any place would have good river access for fishers. So where was that doable combination we sought?

A few weeks ago, our realtor got us back to Dunsmuir to see a new listing which had promise. It had a lot going for it, but sitting on a pie-shaped lot with streets on both sides AND the main street going by at the intersection of the V AND the freeway just a skinny block from that AND in full view meant for a quick getaway.

Then she took us to see the only house we have ever seen that has a bar-covered gushing storm drain under the upper porch, right next to the wobbly building. Scratch that one. As we headed for our respective vehicles and said good-bye, I asked if she was sure we'd seen everything in Dunmuir.

"You've seen every house that's for sale in this town," she replied, "except for that one that's going to be auctioned soon, but you didn't want ratty neighbors." I knew the place she was talking about; it was just half a block away. As we drove past, I asked Steph if we should stop to make sure it was of no interest. We like tossing around terms like "having done our due diligence," confident we've examined everything, so we went back

Musing over decades of nosing around places I was interested in and later bought, I can trace a direct line between intriguing gardens, privacy and purchases, so I knew I was well on my way to being hooked as soon as I saw the entrancing flowers of every color blooming up through an artfully casual rock wall that bordered a serene cement patio; in a yard that has had no attention for months, and has just sprouted up from winter's snows!

A door from the patio led into a spotless, sun-dappled kitchen with nice flooring, classy fixtures, relaxing colors on freshly painted cabinets and walls, and an entire wall of cabinets that even surpass Alpen Glow's expansive pantry, plus the many under-counter cabinets. New dishwasher.

It is an older place and it has settled over the years, but recent remodeling included brand new insulated vinyl windows throughout, as well as vertical or horizontal blinds. There are two new Monitor heaters--one up and one down--and anyone who has them knows they're efficient, small and economical.

The upstairs bathroom is all new everything, with a tub/shower. The master bedroom has a large closet and a sitting room. There is an office, and the big living room looks out on the forested mountains across the valley. There is a mud room inside the front door, perfect for waders, skis, boards and muddy boots and shoes.

Downstairs, the front two rooms have fishing fly wallpaper with fish wallpaper borders and really nice wooden wainscoting. Trim paint is dark green and well-done. The downstairs bath has new everything, except for the stunning old ball and claw foot tub. Downstairs also has a utility room with a large water heater, wash tub and laundry hook-ups.

Beyond the two fishing-decor rooms is another bedroom. There is also an outside door downstairs, making it more like two apartments than one home, which is what it was before all the recent work. Without a doubt, this place was the best of the bunch for what we wanted.

We could see others getting a kick out of the wonderful kitchen that so easily blends into the back patio and gardens; all of the sleeping options; the colorful little town of Dunsmuir; and the train that chugs through (a real favorite for both of us). Our fishing customers also fish the upper Sac, so we have a built-in market there, especially since we ran the idea past our guy at The Fly Shop in Redding, and he loved it. They send a lot of people our way.

True, the neighbor on one side has confused the terms "yard" and "parking lot," and the aluminum foil window treatment in an attic window may not be straight from Architectural Digest. But the more we hung around, the more we liked the neighborhood. The place is on a sloped hill. It has neighbors on both sides, but in the back, there's a high retaining wall that's solid, with sweet peas, daffodils and irises growing along it. A graceful Japanese maple curves along one side of the patio.

There is a small garage under the house, next to the main floor fish decor apartment. We were excited to find it had new wiring, a small clean work bench, and paint cans with the current paint scheme colors.

I took slap-dash videos as I went and we gave everything a good look before closing it back up and leaving. Several days later, we took our friend Randy, who is a retired contractor, up to see it and he agreed with us. It was worth bidding on.

"But set your maximum price and stick with it!" he cautioned while we had lunch at the Dunsmuir Brewery.

"What's another ten grand if it's the right place?" I asked with a shrug. Those would be words that would ring in Steph's ears later. I'm never cavalier about money, but this house was solid and had character. That phenomenal blue whale summer for Sanctuary Cruises last year would be paying for everything, if we got the place. Would you walk away over a bump in price when you had the money set aside already?

We'd done our homework. Steph and I had already agreed $50K would be a steal, but this being an auction and at a great time of year, it would probably go for at least $75K. The realtor is a top seller in the Shasta area and she knows property values. She said at auction, it should go for no more than $85K, but if we wanted to hang onto it, not flip it, it was worth well more.

During the days leading up to the auction, Steph and I tried to talk about how high we might go. He thinks we agreed $85K was our limit, but as we do with our projects, this had become my baby; he suggested I hold the bidding card. I thought of the disappointments we'd seen already, and all of the things we liked about this quirky house. A big factor was Steph really wanted it. As we considered houses, looking at their videos at home, we'd ask each other, "What do you think?"

"I don't have to have it" meant we hadn't caught the bug. Neither of us said this about the Dunsmuir Avenue house.

One contender could have worked, but it was only 5 years old, and would go for around $200K. It's on a steep enough road, we weren't sure we could get up it without 4 wheel drive in the winter, meaning guests would have the same challenge. And $200K was just too much of an investment for our little ski haus.

So there we were Wednesday, arriving before the other bidders. There were only a handful of people, several of them youngish (that's around 30 to us these days), and a few older people who seemed to be looking for cheap investment property. Nobody had been in the garage and there was some confusion over whether there was a key for it. I told them to keep trying the one in the lock box; it would work.

The auction went very fast. We'd been warned about this, but it was still a blur. Around $50K, Steph tells me all of the other bidders present fell out, leaving me to do battle with an unseen bidder on the internet, whose bids were called out by one of the auction staff.

I'd like to hunt that person down with a gun.

The auctioneer kept suggesting $10K bid increases, but our realtor was there and she said, "You can do $1000 at a time if you like." So as the mystery bidder kicked up the price, I went a thousand higher. Sometimes I did $500 more. At $85K, Steph said, "Well, you do what you want." I'm not even sure I heard him, the blood was rushing through my ears as fast as that snowmelt careening down the storm drain under the funky house down the street. We got it for a fair price and we're jazzed, but I wish I could have seen the whites of the eyes of that mystery bidder.

I think my only regret is that our friend Ardie isn't around any more. She's have followed this process with rapt attention, as she did with the others, hopping into her Subie to jet up as soon as we closed. One of her handmade oak and wine cork trivets would have found its way onto the counter soon after. Well Ardie, we're still thinking of you.

The auctioneer suggested everyone give us a round of applause, which I thought was kind of silly, but everyone exploded with cheers and clapping. They were thrilled for us. I walked over to the younger folks and said, "Please tell me none of you were bidding for your first home."

"Nah," one said, "It's fine. I just live around the corner." That's when I noticed one of the older couples was with them. Mom and Dad's Mortgage Company? The older man said kindly, "There will be others."

Two of the early bidding drop-outs pointed out their favorite features of the house. Great place. What a kitchen. Neat views. Cool gardens. That fabulous wainscoting downstairs and the fishing-themed wallpaper...

"All that metal roof needs is to have the nails tightened!" one declared.

All we needed was a local team up there for cleaning and check-in, someone we could trust, who had a flexible schedule.

As the auctioneers bustled through the paperwork before heading out to their next appointment, I chatted a little more with the younger people, admitting we got this idea while skiing Shasta all winter.

"I thought I recognized you," one of the women said. She's a lift operator on the mountain; we've seen her a lot and talked a few times. I said I already had my 2012 season's pass, and even made a custom holder for it.

"I heard all about it!" she exclaimed. "It's crocheted and has beads. Other lift operators were talking about it."

"So," I asked, "got any ideas for someone to help out around here? I'm a tough taskmaster, but great perks, such as a cabin on the Trinity, kayaking..."

The guy she was with chuckled and said, "She's the one." She's a mountain climbing guide on Shasta in the summer and has a flexible schedule. By the time we got home, she'd emailed with more details. Her boyfriend can fill in, too.

We swung by the old hardware store, which is a piece of art (wait until you see the front doors) and located just a few blocks away, and introduced ourselves to the owner. "Hardware stores love us," I informed him.

Had lunch at the brewery and met the owner, who makes excellent brews (studied at Davis, as did our superb winemaker at Alpen Cellars north of Trinity Lake).

Then we checked out the grocery store. Incredible!

An old building, but super clean, a kid out sweeping the parking lot, friendly people, impeccable produce arranged for still-life, full liquor section and a real butcher who had an incredibly good-looking assortment of meat and cuts to order ("Don't over-cook it!" he said as he handed a package to a customer with a big grin).

Our guests will be in hog heaven.

We went back once more before leaving town and a fellow came over from the house with yard-as-parking lot.

"I'm Christopher!" he said, holding his hand out to shake ours. "My mother-in-law lives here. So you bought the place? That's great. It's a nice house."

So that's the news. Here's a short video of the place. The music will give you an idea of what the auction felt like. My apologies for the quality, but this wasn't really for showing, and I won't do the one for our web site until we've furnished the place and decided on a name for it, so it will be a while. I didn't pan the kitchen cabinets fully, so you can't see how much storage they offer, but as I surveyed our place, which has about 1/4 the cabinets, if that, I sure was envious.

Now, we get to shop for everything. Got nice furnishings you need to get rid of? I think we might be able to help you out. Drop me an email and I'll send you our shopping list, which includes cool bed frames, a large set of dishes (at least 8 settings, but 12 would be better), washer & dryer, a gas grill as well as a Weber...

Next week, I'll send out Part Two of this update. It's called The Great Big Water of 2011.

See you up here, up there or somewhere a long the way.

April 2011 Newsletter: Ski Bums Revisited, Complete With Video!

Howdy, Y'all,

There probably aren't many of you who felt winter just wasn't long enough. By now, I’m pretty sure all of you have had a blast of deliciously warm spring. It’s time to switch gears; cold, wet weather may come back, but it won’t last long.

Everyone went a little nutty waiting for the sun. We got so damned much rain and snow up here that we had a mass influx of worms on the patio of one of our cabins. I decided to do something about it and posted this ad on craigslist:

http://redding.craigslist.org/wan/2286461697.html

Some people responded, thanking me for the good laugh. A woman wrote to say my posting gave her hope. One fellow sent a marvelously droll email confirming my order was ready for shipment pending a modest 2.5 cent per unit deposit, to which I responded, “A deposit for a FREE item?!” You have to follow the link to understand.

SKIING IS BELIEVING

We’re still in the skiing mode, which is easy to understand since we have had record amounts of late winter snow, both in Trinity and up at Shasta. Last Monday’s snow was perfection, easily the best I have skied anywhere, including my eight years in Utah. I’m going to tell you about skiing Shasta at length, because there’s still the chance you can join us this spring, and if not this spring, then this coming winter.

I’ve whipped up a short video from the last two days Steph and I skied, which were March 28th and 30th and it’s pretty fun; wait until you see the incredible snow depth! I’ve included our dogs, Bisco and Scupper, and Gypsy, who lives down the road, in the video. They’re the original members of Team Adventure up here and have joined us in becoming ski bums. A system is involved:

We pick Gypsy up on our way out of Bucktail, and she trots out of her house with cheerful dedication. We share our breakfast sandwiches with them. Scupper supervises each changing of lanes and turns that necessitates use of turn signals by jumping up on the arm rest between the front seats and staring ahead with great interest. Once at the resort, they cruise around like they own the joint; and when we stop for a lunch break, they get out for a Meet & Greet, touring the parking lot and visiting with the other tailgaiters. This shot shows you where I ended up skiing down the mountain behind Steph the other day; skied all the way to the rig! Bisco is the large black dog over my shoulder. Gypsy is the one squinting. Scupper, in his infinite wisdowm, is behind me and refused to show his face. I think it had to do with poop we might have missed in the parking lot because he had that, "I didn't do it" expression we know so well.

We shoot this with the Flip Mino, our tiny camcorder. It does OK work, but the major shortcoming of the very simple software I love so much is that it doesn’t let me mute audio on some clips and not others. You’ll hear some of Steph’s coaching and compliments which I’d have left out if I could, but then you’d miss the descriptions we wanted to include of the resort and future plans in the works.

A few corrections & comments regarding this video:

* It’s called Mount Shasta Ski Park, not Snow Park.

* You do have to take your skis off to use the porta-potties on the slopes, but you don’t have to walk forever into some distant lodge.

* As for crowds, note how many runs we ski all by ourselves. Even on New Year’s Eve, there was only a 15 minute wait for the Marmot lift (beginner/intermediate runs), and none for Douglas and Coyote (intermediate/advanced).

* If you’d like a list of all the things I catch myself doing wrong as I made this movie, send me a large tablet. But the good news is there is also a long list of what I’m doing right. I wish we had shot video our first few trips in December for comparison. I’d be a slam-dunk candidate for Most Improved.

* Video was taken 3/28 and 3/30. I lied when I said one of the days was 3/29.

* And most especially, this is slapped together from our training videos. Steph usually won’t give me the Flip, and when he does, he tells me we don’t need video of him, which explains why there is more video of me skiing than of him. But look at the video and see him in action; isn’t he beautiful?

Here is the Mt. Shasta Ski Park Bums video link

Steph been a great instructor! Like a patient gardener, he has nurtured, observed, encouraged and honed what started out as my far-from-anything-remotely-good skills. Every time I made a step forward, regardless how small, he exulted.

“You nailed it!” he’d say, or he’d chuckle with delight, as you’ll hear on the video. With each improvement, I felt as though I was almost there, almost at a point where I could watch the day’s video and say, “Wow, that was great!” But despite Steph’s enthusiasm, I usually looked at my progress with a far more critical eye. What to fix next?

As each bad habit fell away, we moved on to the next challenge. Many nights after a full day of skiing, I have lain in bed going over the sequence: Square my shoulders to the Good Line (this is usually called the Fall Line, meaning straight down the mountain, but I put a more positive spin on it); drop the outside shoulder as I pressured the outside, turning ski; head neutral, not bobbing to the shoulders; hands low, forward and outward… the list is endless.

My next task is to angle both knees into the mountain as I turn. I messed up a knee just before our first ski trip of the winter, and it’s remained so. Just two days ago, we watched video and noticed I was still splitting my skis prior to turning, even though I know I don’t need to. Steph studied a few runs and came up with the answer. We think I’ve favored my knee and skipped the angle into the mountain part he emphasized earlier. So yeah, the knee has been painful and maybe I have let it impact my skiing, but there’s no way I’d let it stop me; it can heal this summer.

While this might sound like all work and far too much concentration, it’s the opposite. It’s glorious, riotous fun to take huge bites out of life and power through the challenges. What knee?

With each pitch, I’d either nail my goal or I wouldn’t, then off we’d go to the next, and the next. Sometimes I’d have that crystalline moment when I got it, felt the reaction to the subtle application of pressure on the turning ski instead of the beginner’s hop, or the sublime joy of a lower body articulated far from the quiet upper body as the skis swished back and forth through turns, especially on last Monday’s Hero Snow.

This is Heroin for the Healthy, a mainline experience, and it washes over us like waves.

If we aren’t taking video or stills, we ski the entire mountain, bottom to bottom, in 10 minutes. I hate wasting time riding up the lift, and am designing a simple system that will get us to the top much faster. It will require a very large rubber band and a tree with two big branches that make a V.

Steph envisions a suction capsule like they use at Costco to send the money to the office (never mind the part about sucking our eyeballs out of their sockets in the process), or something like the rig used to transport workers at the North Pole in The Polar Express. So far, we’re still riding the lift, but you never know. Maybe next season.

Steph’s been a fantastic instructor, but on my side of the bargain, I have been an exemplary student: Up at 0500 without complaint, out the door by 0600, and often pushing us to ski close to closing time. (On one day, we raced back to hop on the lift with mere seconds to go, gaining a final run that must have made our days’ total close to 40.)

I’ve tried to come up with different ways to reward Steph for all of his work on my skiing, along with the massages to coerce balky muscles into thinking they didn’t really need the rest they demanded. Most recently, my payback was making sticky monkey buns from scratch the day before. Monkey buns are different from sticky buns in that the dough is formed into balls, which are then rolled in the brown sugar mixture before going into a Bundt pan with the topping at the bottom which becomes the top when inverted; it’s easy to pull off a monkey bun while driving.

I baked them in the morning so we had hot buns to go with our coffee as we headed down the mountain. When I proposed this breakfast treat, Steph said it sounded fine, but he thought a breakfast sandwich should accompany the buns. Most ski mornings, we have hit Subway for their breakfast subs, which are healthful and OK, but I wanted to provide a truly substantial meal.

So in the morning while the buns baked to their golden brown, pecan- and walnut-filled, gooey perfection, I toasted cheese bagels and filled them with fried egg, crumbled thyme, sausage, shredded cheeses and fresh tomato.

We drank our travel mugs of Starbuck’s French roast coffee, pulled the monkey buns off the loaf, gobbled the sandwiches (yes, in that order), and by the time we neared Shasta, were ready for a nap. Or a coma. I’ll scale back the portions next trip, because even though we’re skiing off most of those calories, it felt as though we’d eaten a house as we buckled our boots and stepped into our skis. Moderation always has been a challenge.

Steph’s been in hog heaven even before the culinary delights, often remarking how lucky he is to have someone who shares his intense love of this sport. Isn’t that something? We’ve been together 17 years and are having some of the best times of our lives. It’s the same for us with motorcycles and kayaking, but the skiing has been all-inclusive this past winter. It is the first time since we bought our cabin that we haven’t run the river in winter. We only rode our motorcycles 10 or 15 times, also a big change from previous winters.

Now, with the weather warming (it was close to 80 Thursday!), we’ve pulled out our shorts and are plotting river runs with friends and guests, and some camping trips on the bikes with the dogs in their trailer. In case you’re afraid we have lost our work ethic, it’s doing just fine. Spring projects got a head start when Steph painted the Carriage House’s kitchen a bright, cheery yellow. Then he replaced all of the carpeting in the master loft at Alpen Glow, our largest river cabin, with sleek hardwood laminate a few weeks ago while I was down with the flu. And last week, we did the downstairs bedroom in laminate.

We treated ourselves to a bottle of wine and a Jacuzzi at Alpen Glow when we finished the flooring. The sun was setting in the mountains, the light was celestial, and Steph said, "Wouldn't it be great to spend a vacation here?" That's the problem when you own the place; you never give yourself the luxury of enjoying it as others do.

So, we are taking care of business and anxiously awaiting guests who arrive in a few days for what I think is their fourth stay at the Carriage House. They’ll find the new paint and a larger, nicer cooking stove.

But a few more weeks remain in our ski season, so we’re also focusing on maximizing them.. Shasta would normally close down after April 17th, but they’ve added the next Friday, Saturday and Sunday, so the last day of the season will be 4/24. If you think you can join us between now and then, we have cabins available and there is plenty of daylight left to ski well into afternoon, drive back to Trinity, and fish or hang out by the river for a few hours.

THE SKI FREE OFFER

If you book a cabin for 3 nights between now and April 24th, we’ll give you the third night free. Ski Shasta and Steph will give you a skiing tune-up: two runs of one-on-one instruction to improve your skills. You could opt for a morning lesson with the Shasta instructors (who are as friendly and helpful as the rest of the crew up there), then use your time with Steph, or just go for the two runs early on. We’ll shoot some video and email it to you later, but we can go over it after we get back to Trinity, too. You may just pick up one good hint that helps your skiing be more efficient, fluid and enjoyable; the whole point is to have a great time and nothing will get in the way.

This offer gets even better if you can ski on a Tuesday. Buy 10 gallons of gas at any Shell station, then go to the attendant and request your ski free pass. It will be good for a two-for-one Tuesday, so two of you will ski for a total of $29.
Last enticement: I will make sticky monkey buns, Starbuck’s coffee and breakfast bagels for everyone in your ski party.

FIREWOOD FREE FOR THE ACHES & PAINS

Another sheer joy for Steph is that I am a complete firewood junkie. Even on a ski morning when we passed a freshly cut bunch of wood by the roadside that is free for the taking, I’ve voted to turn around, get the truck, and either forego skiing or go later. I have been overruled, but it gives you an idea of the depth of my conviction.

Our cabin is heated solely by wood heat. The Carriage House and Sow’s Ear both have wood stoves. All of the cabins have been well-insulated by Steph, but still, we go through a good deal of firewood. Last year was so consumed because of Sanctuary Cruises’ extraordinarily busy summer and fall that we didn’t gather firewood as we usually do, so we’re making up for it now.

We have convict crews up here who do a lot of the roadside tree cutting and I consider them my brothers in arms. I never pass them on my motorcycle without a wave or a thumbs up.

Day before yesterday, following a ski day, we suited up to scrounge wood from a big project on 299 east of Buckhorn Summit.. CalTrans plans to modify several of the deeper turns and add more passing lanes, so they have cut a lot of trees to make room for the project. While I have mixed feelings on the removal of turns, I am ever hopeful some of the ones to go are what I call the T-3-D Turns, which means Thrown To The Dogs, because unlike most of the heavenly S turns on the climb from Redding to Buckhorn Summit, they are badly banked and require a serious slow-down on my bike.

We have already gleaned some nice wood from this area, but yesterday, we were on oak patrol. I’d spotted several promising chunks that required a little work, so with knee braces in place, we grabbed the chainsaw and headed east. The chainsaw is a very nice Stihl that I bought Steph when I sold my boat Sea Dog, so he gets to cut. I load most of the wood one person can carry so I get more exercise (read: sticky monkey buns), then we join forces for the two-person chunks. On our last stop of the day, we pulled into a shady, cool area with plenty of room for the truck and trailer. As Steph sawed, I interlaced the oak so densely that it looked like woven fabric, or macramé.

Ladies, if you’re staring down the barrels of 60 and want to know how to attract a man, here it is: A mossy 6 foot oak tree trunk was too close to the road to saw, so while Steph cut other stuff, I flipped it end for end to get it down where he’d have room to work on it. As I squatted and grabbed the uphill end, a pickup rounded the curve farther up and honked a few times. I wondered if we knew the driver and stopped to look as he passed. Nope. Then, close enough to know I could be his grandmother, he let out a wolf whistle.

This just goes to prove attraction has many faces. A woman who suits up in her jeans, hiking boots, knee brace, sport bra, tank top, baseball hat and gloves and bucks wood on the mountain will appeal to a certain breed of men, same as a woman who can hold her own running a boat. (Ever seen the bumper sticker “Wanted: Good woman with boat & outboard motor. Send picture of boat and motor”?)

When we had the truck and trailer stuffed with oak, we sat on the bank and had a beer. One of my ongoing challenges has been to find a way for riding my motorcycle and drinking beer to pay. To date, I am farther ahead with the ski catapult idea than the pay for riding my bike and beer plan, but things can change.

Tomorrow, my job is to mow the huge lawn at the Steel Bridge cabins. It’s been so wet that this usually difficult early spring task will be a nightmare.

[This proved prophetic; the mower ate the new-last-season belt as I neared the end of the 3 hour job. Currently concocting a new ad for craigslist: "For Sale: Riding Lawn Mower that works just fine, but does have an unusual aversion to most grass, especially long and wet. It would prefer a job in Arizona where the responsible party has no irrigation and temps regularly over 90."
Steph, after watching me battle the machine and wet, enormous lawn as he did his chores, suggested this last piece: 
"Very well-suited to Astroturf"].

I spend most of my time under the side of the riding mower, pulling out sodden clumps of grass, but the up side is tomorrow is Saturday, tomorrow night is predicted to drop to a low of 17 degrees at Shasta, and we’re going skiing Sunday. This may well be a duplicate of the snow conditions we had last Monday, and they were so good, everyone had silly grins on their faces.

When’s the last time you couldn’t quit smiling? Maybe it’s time.
See you up here, heidi

Check out these links for more information:

http://www.trinityriveradventureinn.com/lodging.html

February 2011 Newsletter: The Good News: You Aren't Really Playing Hookie After All

2/02/2011In this issue:
Fish the Trinity River for Your Health & Well-Being
Ski Shasta for Your Health & Well-Being

Howdy,

Have you ever noticed some folks need a little encouragement to kick back and have some fun? It's as though they have to justify feeding the soul instead of the mortgage.

Maybe you're one of those people. If so, read on. I can help you. We're going to call you Example 1.

If you're not someone who has to justify living expansively, read on so you can understand what those other types go through. You will probably do this just before heading out to surf, or just having come in from riding your bike with the dogs. We're going to call you Example 2.

Fishing for Self Improvement:

Fishing is a healthful way to improve hand/eye coordination, maintain clear lungs, and exercise all muscle groups. All of these are very important in life, so it just makes sense one should practice fishing techniques often.

Fishing is not a sport. We know this because one does not don a jersey with large numbers on it to take part. Also, with few exceptions, jalapeno poppers are not involved, although beer can be. More on that later.

Since fishing is not a sport, take a deep breath and let that guilt fall away from your being.

Fishing takes place in beautiful settings, far from copiers, computers and office furniture. This was a deliberate act on the part of Nature to make sure you don't get confused. So when you make the decision to go fishing, you are exempt from thinking about anything that includes the words DUTY, RESPONSIBILITY and MUNDANE.

One who has the wisdom to think of fishing as a means of becoming a better person could be categorized as an Example 1 Type who is open to becoming an Example 2 Type. However, no self-respecting Example 2 would waste time thinking about fishing as anything but FISHING.

Last October, we had a large fly fishing group stay at all of our Steel Bridge cabins. Their trip was planned by Audrey Williams who is from Costa Mesa, but has business that brings her to Redding several times a year. Audrey is a clever person; she flies into town, picks up a car, does her business, then heads up the mountain to Improve Herself.

A few days ago, Audrey brought a friend who has not fished for steelhead before. They fished with Mike Parker from The Fly Shop in Redding. He's a guide Audrey used in October and really liked. They had a wonderful time and both caught wild steelhead. It takes skill, cunning and perseverance to catch a wild steelhead, so don't think the ladies didn't have to work to improve themselves so much.

Here are pictures of their fish, which were released right after their pictures were taken, so they can spread the word that if a fly looks too good to be true, it probably is.

Left: Audrey Williams: Note her dedicated expression used as a means of Self- Improvement.

Right: Debra Ashby with her very first steelhead & The Fly Shop guide Mike Parker

Pop Quiz: Are Audrey and Debra Example 1s or Example 2s?

(Answers are below.)

Skiing for a Cause

Years ago when I lived in Utah, I took up cross-country skiing. There was a small band of us who went up into the Wasatch Range to ski. One was named Gerry. Gerry did not have, nor drive, a car, but he was a bartender at Junior's and carried a small fanny back filled with mini-bottles that included Jack Daniel's and Yukon Jack, which we affectionately called "Yuke"; therefore Gerry was a popular passenger.

On my 2nd ski outing, I learned about a cross-country 12 km fundraiser for Easter Seals. I was content knowing that 12 kilometers was less than 12 miles, and since nothing in Park City is flat, at least part of it was downhill. So I signed up and raised a bucket of money in pledges, which was Job 1.

Now all I had to was ski 12 kilometers; Job 2. Turned out, Job 1 was far easier. Several friends, including Gerry, entered the "race."I put race in quotes because we were solidly in the Example 2 category; we didn't think of this as a race so much as a pleasant way to wipe out Gerry's mini-bar while taking in fresh mountain air and lovely surroundings.

The day dawned clear and bitter cold. We registered, donned our ID bibs feeling a little heady with our elite racer status, then gathered at the starting line well behind anyone dressed in a one-piece lycra suit. When the gun went off, putting all our eggs in the Turtle and the Hare fable, we ambled forward at the back of the pack.

Things went well for a couple of hundred yards, but then the track rose in elevation. It was solid ice. I had seen this picture before on TV; it was in the Olympics; its called the Luge. But I was trying to claw my way up the track. I pointed my ski tips well to the outside, trying to gain purchase to step up the hill, but my waxless skis were useless on this slick, rock hard climb. Everyone but Gerry fumbled. Gerry owned his skis, and they weren't the new waxless type. He watched with amusement as we struggled. We looked like freshly hatched turtles trying to make their escape over each other to the open sea.

It wasn't until I had finally managed to top the crest and was plummeting down at a crazy speed that I fully realized I had forgotten to learn how to turn. Or stop.

There was a sharp bend to the left and a frigid creek ahead. My only option was to catapult myself off the track onto my side and skid down the hill with my mouth scooping up vast amounts of snow before coming to a halt. Thankfully, Gerry was there with his ski wax. And mini-bar. He applied a thick coat of Glista, which is the consistency of epoxy glue, to our waxless skis, while we watched and carefully consumed a bottle of Yuke.

Glista came in various formulations. We completed our first loop and headed up the dreaded hill where we'd had no footing. The type of Glista Gerry chose was no match for the climb and again, I clambored up artlessly, all the while passed by irritated skiers who proclaimed, "On your left!" as they skied out of the track to pass me.

This time, I was fully aware I could not stop, nor turn, and that the bend before the creek had no mercy. With this knowledge, I proudly bellowed, "On your left!" as I careened down the treacherous drop and threw myself out of the track to avoid turning this into a biathlon.

In the flats, Gerry added a different type of Glista to our skis that could approximate nails protruding from boards. As we approached the hill, I found my skis not only didn't slip, they also didn't slide. The sun had warmed the track so much that which each attempted glide, more snow stuck to the bottom of my skis so that it was all I could do to lift them.

Sweating from the effort, I clumped up, then down, the hill and past the creek before Gerry tried to scrape off the offending wax. One thing you can say about Glista. It stays on. While Gerry worked, we broke out the refreshments, which added several more stragglers to our party.

By the time our gang neared the Finish Line, everyone else was swilling mineral water, munching trail mix and fastening their skis to their vehicles. Each of our merry party insisted the others cross the line first. I took some pride in coming in dead last.

At the awards party a few weeks later, a friend and I pooled our donations and found we'd won top prize, having made the most money for Easter Seals. It was enough to outfit us with our own skis, boots, poles and bindings, proving we put our faith in the correct fable.

Pop Quiz: How did this story cleverly combine traits of both Example 1 and Example 2 behavior?

(Answers are below.)

Remember Our Commitment to Live in the Moment?

This time of year, we have good fishing parties staying at our cabins; in fact, we are solidly booked over Presidents' Day Weekend (2/18-20). Maintenance projects and my dreaded forays into Quickbooks (a sink hole from which I am never entirely sure I will extricate myself) are staggered between periods set aside for Self Improvement.

I am pleased to report I finally figured out how to turn and stop while skiing years ago. Switching to downhill skiing helped a lot, but I never was very good at it. Who cared? I had a ball.

In my year's end newsletter, I said with our sale of Sanctuary Cruises, Steph and I planned to live more in the moment. Skiing for a cause had its place, but now we're working on perfecting Example 2 behavior.

My loosely formed goal for 2010 was to break free of being a completely mediocre skier. Thinking back to terrifying runs down Mount Hood following crazed ski techs I had hooked up with, who sold me skis that would have been perfect for someone about 6'4" and 300 pounds, I wondered what it might be like to ski in control.

Steph was a Level II PSIA (Professional Ski Instructor of America) instructor before we got together. He skis with strength and grace, even as he's learning to adjust his prosthetic leg for his new skis. I am humbled and challenged. There are few excuses left in my bag when A ONE-LEGGED GUY SKIS BETTER THAN I EVER WILL.

With this attitude, I find he has worked magic on me. Maybe we have skied 8 times this winter. On each, I've improved so much that as I look at the video he's taken, I wouldn't believe it was me if it weren't for the flashy colors of my parka. You know it's me; in a world of dull black and brown plaid ski wear, here I come, Flower Child. There is no such thing as too much hot pink, or glitter. My rise from the dregs has been a great source of pleasure and surprise; who knew lessons with a skilled teacher could make you a better skier?

We're still struggling a bit with pure Example 2 ethos. He'll compliment me on accomplishing a minor change in stance or edging, for instance, and like Pavlov's Dog, I'm slobbering for the next challenge. Then we'll agree on the lift to "Just ski this one for fun." And fun it is.

Shasta Snow Park is under a two hour drive for us, and it's a beautiful run down from Trinity and up I-5 to the mountain. An all-day lift ticket is just $29 Mondays-Thursdays and only $39 Fridays-Sundays. We figure that is so reasonable, it's only fair to ski at least twice a week, to make it up to them.

Dogs love going skiing with their people. That's Bisco with me, and Scupper with Steph. We go to the sled dog area when we're done, so they can leave their mark all over the place for the worker bee dogs. Must make 'em crazy; Example 1s.

Yukon Jack has given way to light beers at the end of the day, and we're home--and if we had the sense to turn it on--in the hot tub overlooking the river by twilight. This makes my next plunge into Quickbooks far more tolerable, and gives life balance. See you up here, heidi

Heidi, Bisco, Steph & Scupper

ANSWERS TO THE QUIZ: If you really expected answers, you need to work harder on this than I thought. Life's a game; treat it as such.

Stay 2 Nights, Get the Third Night Free Special:

Got some members in your party who would rather fish, and some who would like to ski? Why not do both? Either split off for your special calling each morning, or dedicate each day to one Method of Self Improvement, skiing some days and fishing others.

We had an entire family here last spring who skied most of the day on Shasta, then came back to their cabin and fished until dark! On some days, the kids stayed in their ski clothes and were well-dressed for both methods of Self Improvement. On warmer afternoons, they pulled off jackets and fished in T-shirts.
Don't want to fish or ski? You may be the best Example 2 Type there is. Come and do nothing at all. We'll celebrate your independent nature.

Our lodging rates dropped February 1st and will stay at the lower level until Memorial Day Weekend.

We also are offering our newsletter readers a Stay 2 Nights, Get the Third Night Free Special.

Just ask for it when you call 530.778.3444 for reservations. If you miss us, leave a message. We'll get back to you as soon as we drag ourselves through the door, exhausted from having so much Self Improvement.

As with all good things, this offer ends before one might like. In this instance, March 15 (which is The Ides of March), is the cut-off date. Speaking of which, remember the band The Ides of March? They did "Vehicle."

"I'm your vehicle, baby; I'll take you anywhere you'd like to go..." Rock on.

12/1/2010: By Heidi:

Several years ago, I worked on tugboats in the Pacific Northwest. On late-night crew changes, I'd climb off a
noisy tug, get in my car and drive home along the Columbia River. A wonderful radio station had a program called
"Lights Out," which featured perfect music for a starry night, sometimes punctuated by a feathery snowfall.

My neighbor was a luthier; he made stringed instruments, specializing in harp guitars. They were pieces of art. When
musician John Doan, one of his customers, came to the coast for a concert, we were introduced. John is a composer and
he really wanted to ride with me on tugs to see what might happen for a song. He struck me as talented and grounded, always
a nice combination, but when I attended his concert, I was astonished. Many of my favorite songs on "Lights Out" were John's.
He is a thoroughly entertaining and accomplished artist.
You can hear his music at http://www.johndoan.com/music.html.

We never did pull off the ride-along, but I've stayed up on John's music over the years. It has evolved wonderfully, and is
an integral part of our life on the Trinity River. Harkening back to my first experiences with John's music as I drove home late
at night, his new album is called "Harp Guitars Under The Stars." I know it will speak to many in its own way, but I think back to those late-night crew changes under starry skies, and the next twenty years following them, all interwoven with John Doan's music .

John Doan comes to the Trinity Alps Performing Arts Center in Weaverville Saturday night, December 11th.
He'll be performing his Emmy-nominated Victorian Christmas concert, which was originally produced for Oregon Public Broadcasting and is now in its 24th year of being performed live.

Billboard Magazine said, "John Doan breathes new life into old carols and evokes the nostalgic, mystical side of Christmas."
I say wild horses couldn't keep me away.

Check out John Doan's Christmas Concert here

Hear John's Carol of the Bells by clicking here

After an initial cold snap in October and some heavy rains, days up here on the trinity River have ranged from cool to warm the past month, unlike most years when each late fall day brings more frost and the chance of rain turning to snow. Yesterday was sunny and mild; it was so warm that I considered not wearing my motorcycle jacket on a ride west on 299, but I'm glad I did. Besides, I needed the practice.

My big splurge after the crazy busy summer was my first-ever women's motorcycle jacket. That jacket is so tricky, I'm still discovering different ways to zip it for warmth versus ventilation. Once I do figure out which way to zip it for my needs, I still can't zip the darned thing without a lot of fumbling. Why can't zippers be unisex? Most men's zippers have the sliders on the right, so the right hand holds them together while the left hand zips. Many women's zippers are the same, but not all. Even though I'm left handed, I struggle.

Anyway, we stopped for a pop along the river and watched a guy fishing as dragonflies zipped overhead. I don't recall ever seeing dragonflies this late, but it was still pretty warm, which must explain it. About 30 miles west of Weaverville, we found winter roiling in over the mountains. Big black clouds filled with rain were coming our way. We rode home just ahead of the storm and it hit full force in the night. This morning, we had rain showers and temperatures well below yesterday's. Pretty soon, I will be late rushing the cold-sensitive plants inside; I always get caught with that and spend half the summer making it up to them.

We have had our usual early steelhead fishers and they've done anywhere from well to crappy. After big rains moved through and the river cleared, the fish should have perked up, but it's been spotty. Looks like this is now changing, though. Weekend guests at the Carriage House fished right there on the banks and they had a great time. One of them reeled in a huge salmon, and lost an even larger one after working it for 15 minutes. They were thrilled, and reported seeing a LOT more fish go by. This, by the way, was the second time at our cabins in a week for the organizer.

The Fly Fishers Club of Orange County was here in October for several days. They stayed at all of our Steel Bridge cabins and really enjoyed themselves. One of the women, Cheryl Moore, is incredibly gifted at fly tying. Here are two of many trays of her art.

They hit some of the heaviest rain days, but what spirit! Below is a shot of guide Mike Parker of The Fly Shop in Redding, with Joanie and Audrey, two of the hardiest people in the group, during the brief lull before another downpour. They've already booked a 2011 return to TRAI.

11/12/2010: Guests who spent a week at Sow's Ear and left today said they had moderate to good results. They were pretty fun to observe. After spending each day together on the river, they returned to their cabin and hit the hot tub before dinner. We'd hear them out there animatedly describing their day, jazzed at how it had gone and excited about the next one. Their last move before leaving Trinity County was to go over and check out our Steel Bridge cabins, for future reference. We'll be seeing them again!

[This update is from Captain's Log on our Sanctuary Cruises web site. It helps explain why updates were so rare last summer and fall.] 7/15/2010 From the Captain's Log:

7/15/2010: People Who Want to See Whales & the Perfect Storm for Reservations

This Captain's Log doesn't have a lot about whales; it's more about people who want to see whales. It also tells the story about getting hit by a tidal wave of business. Consider it a human interest story with marine mammal origins.

Ever hear of a restaurant that gets a great review and is so overwhelmed by demand, through a series of mishaps, it goes out of business? It takes some world class juggling to keep all of the balls in the air, and those balls have minds of their own.

But first, let's talk about some of the pictures from recent cruises. This photo was taken on our boat by Mike McNulty, who conjectured the orca may have been warning us to stay back as the pod circled a female elephant seal. The killer whales swooped back and forth under our otionless boat and passengers were entranced.

Mike was a naturalist on whale watching boats in the early days back east. He said this was his best trip ever, which is saying a lot, because he has vast Monterey Bay experience.

Go to our Orca Gallery to see more great orca shots, including the rest of Mike's series from this day.

Imagine going on a whale watching cruise and getting the photograph of a lifetime. Now multiply that by 50 or 60 out of perhaps 200 pictures taken with your digital camera. That's a great example of what our passengers are experiencing and two of them have posted their shots online. You'll marvel at these.

The first link is to the photo page for Patrick Hess.

Patrick wrote: "My wife and I spontaneously decided to book a cruise. It was one of the best quick-decisions I've made in a while. We had a wonderful cruise and a tremendous day of watching whales all around the boat for hours. I don't think I've seen that many whale tails since Porsche stopped producing the 930series. [I LOVE this line!!!] Thank you, again, for a wonderful time." Here is the link to Patrick's photos.

Next we have Bob from Santa Cruz:

"This is a great whale watching company. They delivered as advertised and we stayed out longer than normal because there were so many whales to see." Here is Bob's Photo Link.

More recent reviews highlight the heart of why we operate as we do:

From Tom in Berkeley:

"We had a wonderful cruise with Sanctuary today in the true sense of that word. Awe and wonder. Lots of blues and humpbacks feeding, diving, rolling all around our boat... The Sanctuary folks really love, respect and understand whales; they've put their lives on the line to protect them and it shows. They are very good at finding them and giving us good looks at them without chasing and harassing the whales which other tours apparently sometimes do. They've got a good feel for where to go where the whales will come near on their own accord. They generally only take on 30 or fewer passengers instead of the 39 the Coast Guard would allow them in order to keep the experience comfortable and more intimate."

Margaret, who is CFO of Testarossa Winery said:

"My husband and I have been out with Sanctuary Cruises about a dozen times over the years.

I am something of a whale freak. We choose Sanctuary as our favorite way to go whale watching for the following reasons:

1) Moss Landing is very close to the canyon and you get out in deep water quickly

2) they go out longer than any other whale watching cruise, so you are more likely to see whales

3) they are all about the whales and marine life - they aren't a fishing boat trying to make up for lost revenues or a sail boat that can't get out far enough.

You can't control every factor when you sign up for a whale watch, but when everything comes together - boy you sure can feel like you've won thelottery.

We won the whale watching lottery on Saturday... It was an overcast, but very calm day

on the bay with great visibility. We had captain Steph and naturalists Dorris and Michael.

On the way out to find blue whales we encountered a pod of killer whales that were hunting an elephant seal, and they came right up to our boat to let us know how excited they were. It was insane... And of course, we also saw a couple humpback whales just hanging out.

Normally that is exciting enough. But when we saw the immense blow of two blue whales traveling around together, it was awesome. They are massive - maybe almost twice as long as the boat. They are the largest animal that has ever lived on our planet. That is enough to make you feel very humble.

If you are going out, you should choose Sanctuary - they simply are the best people to show you what our beautiful marine sanctuary is all about."

People Who Want to See Whales

Part One: Let's say you own a whale watching company that you sold a few years ago. The buyer trashed it, you took it back after a prolonged legal battle, and you made the tough decision to revive the business that had lain dormant 9 months after being largely ignored by the goof you sold to. Your beloved boat looked like hell, so you lovingly nursed her back to sparkling health, including new paint, engines and a lot more.

You also own Trinity River Adventure Inn, a hopping business on the Trinity River 6 hours to the north. You and your partner are really good at covering all bases and doing a great job at most things you undertake.

The Trinity company is in its busiest month of the year with cabins rented back to back. You're running your river trips with the raft and kayaks. The Sanctuary Cruises crew is doing fine and things are looking good all-round.

Then the captain available the most of the 3 ships off to Alaska with 3 days' notice. Your senior naturalist heads out on a must-have vacation for a week.

And the world discovers the whales of Monterey Bay are here as usual most summers and falls, but in fat numbers, especially the blue whales.

Suddenly everyone wants to see a blue whale NOW. Not just your old fans, not just the lovers of sea life and nature, the thoughtful ones who take the time to read a few pages on your web site, then send in an online reservation. But also the ones who figure there is no reason to read a well-crafted web site's home page when there is a phone number and they can call (cell phones have eliminated much of the world's reasoning abilities). They're the ones who expect whales to do tricks at sea as they do in Marine World.

Your partner, let's call him Steph, has gone to Moss Landing to work with new crew members. You are handling the Trinity operation, including greeting guests, river runs, tending both companies' web sites, handling reservations and phone calls; watering the properties in 100 degree heat. Caring for the animals. Suddenly all hell breaks loose.

The morning trips fill for days ahead, so you add afternoon cruises. Those book, so you add Dawn Patrols. The phone rings constantly. You're out of food and subsist on Triscuits and hummus. Cold canned chili dumped over what's left of the salad greens and broken tortilla chips constituted a very late dinner.

The cats are looking owly. For some reason they don't think a half empty bowl of their fancy kibble, available only in Redding, an hour away, is also a half full bowl. Their organic, wildly expensive canned food? Won't touch the crap (their term, not yours; you paid for it!). The beloved cat who was on chemo all winter is thin. He has shown an affection for sour cream, so you give him his own tub on the floor as you rush by. Can Animal Protective Services be far behind once the cats figure out how to dial 911?

The dogs are no better. Their food supply is fine. They can swim in the river and scrooch on the shady lawn, but what about their morning hikes with you? Every time you even look toward the door, they're scrambling that way, elated to finally be heading out. But no hike. Not today, or yesterday, or the day before that.

You can't take 15 minutes in an entire day from 0600 to near midnight for yourself. Life has narrowed down to PHONES/EMAILS/COMPUTER WORK. The plants gasp as though it may be their last out there in the searing heat, but there's no time to water them, or try to get a neighbor in. You just keep goingthem.

An email wafts in from a distant, retired family member who requests action on your part. This could be handled at any time and there is no rush, but the relative would like it SOON. The email ends with: "Loving life, everything's great." You wonder if there is a penalty involving prison for killing someone. If you could be in a quiet prison where you could finish your book, that would work.

Many of the reservations you get online have conflicts requiring more emails.

"That trip is booked; would you like the afternoon?"

"There are 3 spots left on that trip, so we can't take your party of 6. How about the next trip?"

"No, it is not OK to reserve for 2 and bring 3 more."

"Yes, we need a credit card number to hold your spots, even if you plan to pay cash."

"The Coast Guard does not approve life jackets for infants, so we do not have them, only toddler sizes. How's bubble wrap and duct tape sound?"

Each phone call and email adds to the many balls you have in the air, making it ever tougher to keep each cruise straight. You can't overbook and disappoint people who chose Sanctuary Cruises because you don't fill the boat, but only book to 75% of her capacity. Even with Call Waiting, you can only answer one other caller while the first is on hold (another ball in the air). You finally finish one call and when you attempt to phone the sender of an online reservation who is not in email range any more, you hear the BEEP-BEEP-BEEP telling you there are voice mail messages to retrieve.

Halfway through a string of 6 messages, the phone rings again, so you hang up on voice mail and have a variation of this call way too often:

"Ummm...[long pause; maybe this is a member of the Slow Talkers of America Bob & Ray used to talk about] hi...you do the whale rides? [whale watching, yes] OK... [another long pause]...so I'm on your, um, web site... I guess. When's a good time to go? [now] Oh...now. I see. [long pause] What's out there, anyway? [you're thinking the big headline across the top of the home page of your web site that says "BLUE WHALES, HUMPBACKS, ORCAS & MORE!" might be a clue, but you say blue whales, humpback whales, killer whales, dolphins...]. Another pause, then, "When can we see 50 blue whales?"

Okay. By now, we know you aren't in this hell and I am. I drink a little. A couple of beers on a river trip, sometimes some wine. I have been known to whip up a pitcher of margaritas, but I share it. The only reason I haven't gotten sloppy drunk and stayed that way the past week is because there's simply no time.

With each reservation, I've streamlined my procedures. Open the reservation request, check the cruise time, reply to the sender if it's not available, send a confirmation if it is. Confirmations go out with a one page attachment detailing directions, meeting place, how to dress, how to avoid seasickness and a lot more. I wrote each note with the confirmation from scratch, then created a document I left on the desktop with the basic structure. Hit Ctrl C to copy, Ctrl V to paste; adjust name, dates, time and price. Review confirmation, attach the info sheet, hit Send.

Sometimes it takes 2-3 phone calls and several emails before this is complete. Then save the res in a file by date and last name (INVALUABLE for tracking down details later). Forget using the mouse; I hit Ctrl S for Save As, don't even look up, type date with underscores between day/month/year, then last name, hit return bar to save and close. Then highlight res email and drag it to the SC Reservations backup before moving onto the next job.

Several more calls roll in like a tidal wave. People can drown in a tidal wave. I may be one of those people. One is from a woman who received the confirmation email and attachment. She says the attachment absolutely won't open. She announces I am a genius for suggesting she double click on the attachment icon.

A man informs me there is NO WAY he could choose the day and month from the drop-down menus at the top of the reservation form, so he sent in a request for whale watching January 1. When I tell him the form works, as evidenced by several hundred successful reservations, he tells me I am mistaken and anyway, I should have known he wanted the next day's cruise. That would be the one that has been marked as NO AVAILABILITY on the web site for days.

By this time, if I don't go to the bathroom, I will wet my pants. I haven't seen the portable phone in days (the cats are Prime Suspects). Dash into the bathroom, phone rings, finish my business, dash back, answer the call which is immediately walked over by another call ringing through. Click on the receiver to put the first caller on hold to put #2 on hold but #2 is gone. #2 calls three times, through several more phone calls from others, hanging up after the first 2 rings each time before sticking it out to actually speak.

Do you get a discount on prison sentences for multiple murders?

Someone emails an article quoting one of our competitors saying they took 450 people out whale watching in two days. Jam-packed boats. The phone rings again: "We're only a family of 4; can't you squeeze us on the full trip?" No, but I know someone who will...

The computer bleeps to announce emails have just come in. 16 hours after I sat down at the desk, I turn off the computer and go to bed. It's 11:45. At 1:30, the phone rings:

"Oh... I expected an answering machine. I saw your trailer. Are there really whales out there?"

PART TWO

Meanwhile, Steph has to deal with the overflow of passengers that resulted in my creation of second and third trips. He's training our new captain and working with our marine biologist. He isn't just running cruises, he's teaching the crew how to do what we do: find the whales, enchant and educate people without being pedantic, operate responsibly around the animals and explain to all why this is such a huge deal. Magic must be involved, because it's out there. We feel it, we breathe it.

In addition to training, he's doing the Costco run for snack bar supplies. He's doing maintenance on Sanctuary, as well as trying to track down a rumble I detected running trips over the July 4th weekend (turned out to be minor and an easy fix but until you know, that packs a wallop to the solar plexus; this is our baby, after all)

To his great credit, Steph garnered a huge pile of stunning reviews such as the ones above. If all he had to do was run the trip, find and track marine mammals and tell about them in his wonderful manner, it would be a huge task. Figuring all of the rest of the balls he kept in the air, he may well qualify for the Barnum & Bailey Jugglers' Hall of Fame. And his reward?

The recycling and trash for the cabins are in sore need of dealing with. As soon as he returns with the truck, he changes his exalted Captain's cap for the Grounds & Maintenance cap and hits the road with the dogs, because they give dog cookies out at the dump and The Red House, where he often swings by for an Alp Accino, the Trinity Alp's version of a frozen mocha.

So the lesson for business owners who would like for their businesses to be super popular and busy is this:

"Be careful what you wish for... because you just might get it."

But we're through the crisis (though still very busy) and kept everyone happy, and that is what matters. The infrastructure is in place to process reservations faster. Dorris is staying on. Two captains have got the captain's duties under control. Steph's home and taking over some of the phone and computer work. I was able to scribble out this newsletter so I can get our fans off my back ("Heidi, love those newsletters, but haven't had a good long one lately"). We have river trips to run for guests up on the Trinity River. We can't take a phone on those trips (nor would we). Here is how we dress for these water trips:

Sublime.

If you call, do your best to form lucid, concise sentences. We will do our best to respond in kind. If all else fails, come on up for a margarita.

See you out there, heidi

Articles:

Here are articles Heidi & Steph wrote for the 2010 Trinity Journal Recreation Guide

Kids, Dogs & Summer Magic

Can't Bear to Leave the Pups Behind?

County Made for Motorcycling

Three Things Not to Take Home From Your Stay

Stumble Across the Bridge to Nowhere

Kids, Dogs & Kayaks Equal Fun

Lewiston Lake Hikes Kids, Dogs Will Enjoy

Paradise Still Available for Searchers

4/14/2010: Catching Up

We've posted several updates on our home page since Christmas, but they've been small and just gave brief fishing updates, so they haven't been posted here. We're well into spring now, but had a couple of heavy snows in the last two weeks. Last week, we were scraping a thick layer of snow off the windshield one day and kayaking on Lewiston Lake on a sunny, warm day three days later.

The hatchery has released the smolts and we have a river of happy sounding fish going "Plip, plop" all over the place. We had several guests during spring break and really enjoyed them and their kids. This family snowboarded at Shasta each day, then the dad and kids fished for a few hours after they got back to their cabin.

Fishing is pretty quiet except for the smolts, but we're still seeing a raft or a drift boat putting in or taking out across from our cabin in Bucktail.

Spring & summer are booking faster than our previous years. TRAI is still young, so we aren't surprised, but we are pleased. Everyone who stays up here says they'll be back with friends, will spread the word about us, and that they really feel they found something unique. We work hard to deserve those sentiments and love hearing ithem!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12/23/2009: Almost Christmas

You know how it feels when you get the sensation that all's well with the world? That feeling has settled over our cabin as I write this. Heidi and I have just gotten back from working several hours at our Steel Bridge cabins. We've got different sets of guests coming in on Christmas Day and the day after and although they didn't request holiday decorations, we just couldn't help ourselves. Heidi just asked if the folks who will be spending several nights in the Miner's cabin requested a romantic place. They didn't, but she put tiny blue icicle lights in the rustic loft, wound a larger string of traditional (but LED, of course) lights on the porch handrail overlooking the river, and arranged three lighted twigs on the path to the front door. It looks great; if we were going somewhere cool for the holidays, it's what we'd want!

Heidi spent her time putting her typically artistic touch on Alpen Glow as well as the Miner's; lights, ribbons, Santas. I busied myself underneath the Miner's cabin, finishing up the insulation and plumbing jobs I started with the last cold snap. (You can read more about that in the next section. Never romanticize the lives of innkeepers.) While Scupper patrolled for squirrels, Bisco visited me about every 5 minutes; I'm not sure if it was to keep me company or to make sure I wasn't slacking off. The river sang its magical tune and reflected the cold, clear sky as we worked. Pretty darn close to perfect.

This year has been a roller coaster ride for lots of folks, us included. Our business on the Trinity has done very well in spite of tough economic times. For this we're so thankful to our many friends and guests. In February, Heidi and I, along with our great friend Randy, plan to add another loft above the living room at Alpen Glow, making space for two more beds with a river view. Hear that, Randy?

Winter fishing has been good and we've got bookings throughout January. That's how to start a new year! We consider February to Memorial Day our off season and offer some great lodging discounts, so if you'd like to come up for some quiet time, consider that period.

Bless you all this holiday season. Peace and the warmest of wishes, Steph (and Heidi, Bisco, Scupper, Chigger, Possum, Boy-Boy, Squid and Alvin Coolidge)

The Other Side of Cold... and the Nutcracker Twice!

We've just been through a real cold snap up here and then had a few inches of snow. It makes Christmas seem all the more real and immediate. Our little neighborhood really turns out for the holidays. One of my big jobs of the season is to help our neighbor Dottie get her outside Christmas decorations up. Dotty lost her husband several years ago and I think this makes the fourth year that I've helped her out. What a kick she is!

The work begins around Thanksgiving and takes several hours, so I try to get an early start. It's really the start of the holiday season for me and I love it. Not one to have ever seen the inside of a health food store, Dottie offers me a variety of her favorite foods at 8 in the morning: Twinkies, Pepsi, Ho-Hos, Ding Dongs...you get the idea. This year she wanted me to come up with the "theme" for her display. "Theme!" I exclaimed. "It's Christmas. Shouldn't that be your theme?"

I'm not sure if the work I do for her is to help her further the neighborhood holiday spirit or just to keep her from burning her house down. I can't remember how many times that first year, looking at the tangle of frayed, jumbled wiring that I said, "Dottie, you just can't do this." So I re-work the electrical side and get the maximum amount of bangs for Dottie's buck, sans fire department.

The down side of a cold snap is the work it can produce at unwelcome hours. One of the real joys Heidi and I share is having coffee together in the morning, surrounded by our pets. Just as I was about to take her the first cup, after taking a propane torch to our pump to free the ice and get water flowing, we got a call from Alpen Glow. Mike Balog and his friends, here for their second visit, reported they had no water. He said it was the same for the Moys staying in the Carriage House. Here you can insert any and all foul words you've ever spoken. I said them all.

Keeping great, well-functioning cabins is really important to us. We understand how precious both time and money are these days. We tell guests that they can call us day or night if they encounter any problems, although our aim is to not provide them any reason to call other than to say hi.

I loaded my plumbing supplies and tools in the pickup and headed over. Mike and his group were gracious about it, one of them saying, "If we had the choice between heat and water, we'd go for heat." Still, water is gold. If it flows, you're a hero. If not, you're a zero. Imagine a day spent fishing on the Trinity, cold enough to freeze snot on a door knob, and you come home to no hot shower. Sub-zero points.

I trudged down to the pump house, which pumps from a cistern fed by a spring. The cistern was full, so the next most likely suspects were either the pump or the piping leading to the pumphouse. Realizing I'd need reinforcements, I drove home to roust Heidi. So much for that morning coffee.

I owe a huge debt to Rick Allan. He was our mechanic when we first ran Sanctuary Cruises and remains a great friend. Living in Cambria, several hours from the Monterey Bay, he couldn't often get away to help me with the problems that crop up on boats. I spent hours with him on the phone in the evening talking over how to attack them. Rick taught me to think in terms of systems, not just isolated problems. I came to refer to him as "The Master." I used Rick's system-wide approach, with Heidi's input, to get the water flowing again.

After a few very cold hours spent cutting back blackberries outside the pumphouse, digging up buried lines, slithering in contortions worthy of a gymnast on the wet floor inside the pumphouse and wrapping new heat tape along the frozen lines, then insulating them and the interior walls far better than before, we were back in action. Heidi and I both breathed contented yet frosty sighs of relief.

Heidi went home to make cookies and her famous pecan tarts to bring back to the folks who'd been inconvenienced. I stuck around cleaning up the mess I always make with any project. [From Heidi: This is complete fabrication. Steph never cleans up his messes, which explains why much of my time was spent hauling out old water filters, wrappers, hose segments, ruined tape, cardboard boxes and more before we could get started in the pumphouse. I'm pretty sure Steph hung around over there to catch the fish stories and a stray beer.]

We attended two performances of the Nutcracker this year in Redding. The first was put on by a traveling troupe from the Moscow Ballet. The second was the 13th annual production by the Redding City Ballet and it just knocked us out. Who would have thought that an area this far away from a major population center could attract so much talent? This production featureda woman in the role of Mouse King, Rosannah Riess. She also trained in the SF Circus Center. She climbed a thick rope hanging down to the stage and blew everyone away with what she did.

I don't know how, but she appeared to walk up it, then twisted herself in it and hung upside down, then contorted herself and slid down, head first; then back up...

Then she wrapped her feet--all of this quickly and seemingly with no effort--and hung upside down in place at times, moving at others, spinning, then climbing... for what seemed to be 10 minutes, maybe more.

All this while a battle was being fought between her and the prince, then Clara. We couldn't watch anything but the Mouse King. Don't have a clue what else happened on stage. Simply amazing. Who could guess Redding City Ballet could trump Moscow's Nutcracker?!

For you fishers, we're now finally getting some rain and according to the experts, that will get the steelhead on the move. Our Monterey neighbor Neal was just here and he caught a dandy steelhead. We have good availability the rest of this month and January. For those of you who don't fish, great back-country skiing is just a short drive away. A day trip to Redding to walk across the Sundial Bridge and maybe take your dogs for a hike on the wonderful trails on the other side of the Sacramento River is highly recommended.

If you just want to hang, who can resist the charm of sitting in a well-heated cabin, looking out at the river, having a glass of water anytime you want because it's flowing again!?

11/15/2009: See It Here! 6 Hours in 3 Minutes: Who knew we were being taped?!

By Bisco & Scupper: Road Dogs

Depending on which newsletter you receive, Sanctuary Cruises' or the one from Trinity River Adventure Inn, you may remember when we got our motorcycle trailer for Dad's Harley and took a cruise down the coast looking very cool. Well don't think trailers wire themselves.

Dad was antsy about it and asked Mark Grayson of trailerdogs.com to help him, so we all piled into the truck and went down to Mark's in Redding.

While Mom ran errands, we supervised the job, along with Mark's two golden retrievers Ruby & Rufus. While wiring is a complex business, we kept the humans on track and taught them some key elements to a successful job:

1.) Take breaks frequently to wrestle

2.) Steal someone's toy for moral support

3.) If you get confused, go out in the yard and pee on something

By following these three easy rules, it only took those two six hours to pull of this caper. Mom even got involved, but mostly all she did was drop a small part down into the bike, which we never saw again.

Mark surprised all of us yesterday by sending us this link. He had a videocam on us the whole time. Watch the video here. Man, are we lucky we gave back the toys before we split.

Hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving and that we see you out on the Monterey Bay or up here on the Trinity River. We had 6-8 humpbacks and hundreds of dolphins on their cruise last Sunday, plus beautiful weather. Passengers were jazzed; they emailed us to say how much they enjoyed our crew's style.

By the way, although Dad wrote the most recent newsletter for Sanctuary Cruises, Mom put it into the newsletter format and screwed up the reservations. What she meant to say was that one woman made reservations for 17, not 1. We call Mom "Typo Trudy" when she does stuff like that. She always blames the program and we just nod, then roll our eyes when she isn't looking.

Up here at the Trinity River Adventure Inn, it's steelhead season and we're rocking. All of our cabins are booked for Thanksgiving, but we have at least a couple of cabins available most other dates. Drop us an email or give us a call if you'd like to join us whale watching or at the river cabins.

By the way, if you stay at one of our cabins over Christmas, we'll provide you with a real Christmas tree and decorations. All you have to do is ask for them when making reservations. Christmas in the mountains and on the river. Paws up on that.

Warm Regards, Bisco & Scupper~Sanctuary Cruises & Trinity River Adventure Inn Global Headquarters
292 Steelhead Circle Lewiston, California 96052

11/2/2009: Going to the Dogs~Trailer Trash: It's not just for humans anymore

Well, this is my first and possibly last newsletter. I'm doing this to try to save Heidi some time so she can work on her book. However, all the handholding and tutoring she has had to do may well have cost her more time than just doing it herself. But what the heck, I've got the pulpit and won't get off until the rocks and tomatoes start flying.

Traveling with dogs requires some advance planning to make sure your trip is a success.. One very important item is to know the whereabouts of a veterinarian. Even more important is to be able to trust that vet. We're going to introduce you to ours, Neal Weiner. You'll love this guy! After that, we'll invite you on a wild ride.

Steph (the maintenance guy)

Meet Our Vet (pictured here with Gracie)
We first met Neal Weiner five years ago when we still lived full time in Monterey. Vets often have to treat two entities, the patient and the patient's worried parents. So it was with me. He's patient with humans, kind to animals and quite possibly the most popular guy in town. We took to him right away.

He's been practicing in Lewiston for 22 years and is an integral part of the community. He donates, as do we, to our favorite winter event, the Christmas Bridge Lighting in Old Lewiston. He serves on the Peddler's Fair committee, which is the second most important event in town.

Most importantly, he provides free vet services to the local wildlife center and to the Animal Control Shelter in Weaverville. His office is an unofficial adoption center. Once when I was teaching a kayak lesson at Lewiston Lake, a woman in the parking lot asked me to help her with two kittens. She opened the hood of her pickup truck and showed me two little fuzz balls who had hitchhiked a perilous ride with here for about two miles. I took them home, called Neal's office and just a day later, they had a nice, cozy home. And get this: every Wednesday morning from 8 to noon, he makes house calls, at no extra charge. Talk about your small town, All Things Bright and Beautiful kind of guy!

One problem with being on the river is the possibility of dogs contracting salmon poisoning. Salmon along the Pacific coast (but not in Alaska) eat snails that carry a bacteria. It's then passed on to the fish. Even the briefest oral contact with a dead salmon or steelhead on a riverbank can infect the dog.

It takes several days for symptoms such as lethargy and vomiting to become noticeable and by that time, visitors to the area have gone home. Their vets are often puzzled and don't know how to treat the sick dog. If left untreated, the disease can be fatal.

One day I noticed that Scupper, who lives life to the fullest and is happier than any dog I've ever seen, was listless. This was such a change in his character I took him right in to Neal, who promptly diagnosed him with salmon poisoning.. He started him on a course of antibiotics and Scupper improved rapidly. Better yet, Neal says, is that Scupper now is immune to the disease.

So, if dogs had a rating system, Neal would get a solid "Four Paws" up. But wait! They do have a rating system and by reading the next part of this newsletter about Bisco and Scupper's latest big adventure, you'll learn all about it. Be forewarned: it involves Harleys and trailer trash. If your dogs are prone to jealousy, don't let them read what follows.

Talk About Attitude!

Our dogs Bisco and Scupper will soon have their own review page of events, lodging and restaurants here in the north state and perhaps beyond. They're doing this for your dogs so they can have some input into family travel plans. This idea came to them, channeled through Heidi, as we got off our bikes and stretched at a vista point on a pass on eastbound Highway 299 headed for home after a camping trip. According to Heidi, they were disgruntled at being left in their motorcycle trailer while we stopped at the Lost Coast Brewery in Eureka for a quick beer. They were mollified, though, by oyster crackers Heidi brought them as we left. I'm not sure the rating system has been firmly established yet, but it seems the visit scored only "one paw" out of a total of four possible. Here's the rest of the story:

As innkeepers and owners of a whale watch company, we don't get away much. When we do, it's almost always on our bikes. When I had the sidecar, Bisco could go along. Scupper, however, didn't like the rig and opted to stay at home. Those two are such good friends and have such a grand time together that we looked for another option. Enter Mark Grayson of Redding. One day on our bikes there, we saw Mark's "trailerdogs.com" rig in tow behind his Harley. Such is the way many great ideas often come: they're stolen. I got in touch with Mark and he guided me in my quest. A few months later, we pack up and head to the coast for a three night getaway.

Fall is certainly one of our favorite times of the year, especially around here. The heat of summer is gone, the leaves have exploded into their brilliant colors and rains haven't started in earnest. It's a wonderful time to fire up the bikes and head out. Heidi practically grew up in the redwoods and had been yearning for them.

Our camping gear is spread out between some of our cabins, the garage at our house in Monterey and our own nightmare of a garage here. Our friend Ginny came to the rescue and supplied a tent and cookstove.

The trip down was the real maiden voyage for the dogs in the trailer. We had taken a few trial runs here, but for no more than a few miles at a time. Probably the smarter first trip would have been a long, straight desert type of run to give both me and the dogs an easier break-in. But we love the winding roads in these mountains and knew we were headed for the same in the redwoods and on the coast.
Towing a trailer behind a motorcycle is an odd feeling. I installed a swivel hitch on the trailer tongue, which allows free side to side movement. In other words, the bike can lean unimpeded. If by chance the bike were to go down, the trailer would stay upright. Turns are interesting. There seems to be a bit of hesitation, thus the bike wants enter the turn later than it should and exit slowly. This can have the unnerving effect of crossing the center line in the middle of a tight turn on a blind corner. No paws up for Dad's riding skills for the first couple of hours. After a while, though, I began to trust the unit, relax and enjoy the ride.

The dogs enjoyed it from the first. Secure in their harnesses, they still had enough room to stand, turn and lie down, although they did very little of that. We knew from Bisco's sidecar days that she would take to it easily, but Scupper was the real surprise. He loved it! In fact, we had to tighten his harness to prevent him from putting both front paws on the top rail of the trailer and standing up to get a better look around. (Look at Scupper talking up a storm in the picture.)

We spent the first night in the redwoods at Humboldt State Park. The tent our friend Ginny loaned us, a 3 person, was surprisingly small when the dogs rushed in to settle on the sleeping bags as soon as we set it up.

The next day we headed to Gualala, via highway 20 to Highway 1, two of the slowest, twistiest roads I've ever ridden on. By the time we got there, I told Heidi, "You know, to get to Gualala, you really have to want to get there."

The dogs thought that the Surf Motel was just fine, except they weren't allowed on the fluffy comforter or the feather bed. They're used to similar comforts at home and Bisco especially gave us many dirty looks during our one night stay as she was confined to the floor.

Heidi has an eye for all things artistic and it only took a minute for that eye to find a lovely sea life mural bordering a sidewalk in front of, all things, a gas station. It showed not only the great talent of the artist but her accomplished sense of whimsy. Perhaps even more remarkable and heartening,

the mural as been there for several years and we found no evidence of vandalism. I think that says a lot for the people of Gualala and of the karma that settles over the visitors to the town.

Heading north out of town the next morning, Heidi pulled into the Anchor Bay Campground. I had told her that I landed there on my BC to BC '93 kayak expedition (I paddled from Victoria to Ensenada in the Summer of 1993) and she wanted us to visit it. What had been a pleasant private campground back in '93 is now a wall to wall permanent RV parking lot that gave me the creeps. We left without visiting the beach. I was disheartened and buoyed at the same time. I keep my good memories and allow time to pass and things to change naturally as they should.

We camped again that night in a grove of lovely oaks and slept in the open. Northern California in general has its own brand of funkiness and much of it must emanate from Humboldt County. We crossed 101 in the morning to the Peg House to fuel and get ready for the trip home. It's quite a place, a rambling collection of buildings that house a gas station, grill, general store, band stand and restaurant. And, of course, the South Park monster bus.

Heidi has already put in her application to drive that school bus. Our decision where to have breakfast was made when the owner handed me strips of jerky for the dogs. The Peg House gets an unqualified Four Paws Up.

Whenever Heidi and I travel, we evaluate were we stay and how we're treated in the light of our own inn. We can't begin to match the well-seasoned elegance of the Benbow Inn that we stopped in to visit after leaving the Peg House. It was build in the mid 1920's and my mother, when she danced with the San Francisco Ballet Company, used to overnight there with her troupe on the Ballet's road trips to Portland and Seattle.

What we can promise you are very cool cabins, great meals and fun adventures in this beautiful mountain valley. We'll share some of our mostly true sea tales with you and send you home happy and refreshed. And, if you think your dogs have the right spirit, Bisco and Scupper will take them for a ride to indoctrinate them into the life of Harley trailer trash.

Why bother going to the east coast to see the fall colors when they're so abundant here, and so close? The weather looks great the rest of the week. Pack up your gear and get on up here!

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Things have slowed down at the inn and we have a little more time to enjoy the changing of the seasons. We watched the space station fly overhead the other night and the full moon paddle was a delight.

If sleeping late, wandering through the shops in Weaverville, wine tasting at the wineries and kayaking at the lake or down the lazy river appeals to you, come on up. That's what long-time Sanctuary Cruises passenger Alison Gude did and she is having a great time. She's made just about everyone in Weaverville happy, hitting many of the businesses for gifts, massages, wine, homemade tamales, dining and local gossip. She loves the Miner's Cabin and after settling in, asked us, "So, when do I get to move in?"

My sister Jan and her husband Joe recently stayed there and they felt the same way about the Miner's. Jan said, "I don't usually use this term, but the Miner's is adorable." This is the riverfront porch at the Miner's Cabin. Couldn't you sit there and stare out at the water all day? Alison did. She brought books she never opened because it was too relaxing.

Alison and Steph are just pulling in from their river run and me? Why, I sat inside typing this newsletter! Time for frozen a banana mocha beside the river.

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There is a full moon September 4th/Friday. We're planning a moonlight paddle on Lewiston Lake Tuesday the 2nd. Days have been warm but not hot, nights have been cool and everyone who has stayed with us recently has commented on the comfort of their cabins and the fun they had fishing, kayaking, swimming at the nearby swimming hole and shopping in Weaverville. I'm serious! Those are the comments from their feedback cards.

Kids staying at Sow's Ear by us have really enjoyed the hot tub by the river. Tiny frogs often take refuge under the lid, so the kids have anxiously stood by as we've removed it, hoping to find some of these little guys. As with the lizards, TRAI is strictly catch and release for frogs.

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This was the view from our home the day before we were supposed to head south to run our first whale watching cruise aboard Sanctuary in two years.

After a week filled with demands, we reserved our last day home for leisurely packing and a relaxing dinner by the river. Instead, we spent the afternoon calling part-time neighbors to see if there was anything they wanted to save in case the wind changed direction. The mountain in the picture above burst into flames shortly after noon. We had strong upriver winds that were troubling in their own right, but then the fire started. It began at the bottom of the mountain and within an hour had spread laterally along the highway and then up each of the ridges and canyons. While from this view, you see the old burn area from several years ago, the area beyond the ridge was densely wooded with a thick understory.

In minutes, helos with water buckets and tankers filled with fire retardant filled the sky. It seemed surreal; because of the helos, I kept thinking it sounded like a MASH unit with incoming traffic. As Steph set up the fire pump and rolled hose, I made calls to the part-time neighbors and established what to take in case of an evacuation (our animals, their food, water, computers, wallets, Coast Guard licenses, Rolodex) and what to leave (everything else).

Fire goes up, so despite the raging winds along the river, it thundered up the mountain across the water. Guests in Sow's Ear joined us on the shoreline and watched as the incredible air support worked to save the houses in the fire's path. These places had forest all around them and it seemed impossible they'd survive. We were less than a mile from 100 foot+ flames, but think of the deer, bears, coyotes, mountain lions, lizards, foxes and other animals running for their lives in this nightmarish scene.

That morning, I'd called friends who live in the old burn area across the river and arranged for guests at Alpen Glow to bring their daughter over to ride one of their horses. Now I was calling to offer to help evacuate the horses.

By early evening, with the fire still raging but the wind dropping, a guest and I were back out by the river when a brilliant blue streak shot past us. It sizzled as it went. It was over the river, heading down river, less than 100 feet in the air. It appeared to have been a flare, fired from the river access area across from us. An arsonist?

I called the police and Steph and I debated what to do before hopping in the truck with a few guns and driving over to the access parking lot. Let's take stock: We were looking forward to a badly needed break our last day home. Now we're packing guns into a lonely area and trying to figure out if we have an arsonist out there who is about to torch whatever isn't already burning.

We saw no one over there, but a cop drove by as we were heading back to our place, so we flagged him down. I told him I was the one who called in the blue flare. I expected him to doubt the sighting. Then a guy on a motorcycle drove up and asked if we'd seen the blue light. The cop said they'd reported the same thing down by the Trinity Fly Shop, a mile and a half from us. There was no way the light we saw went that far. The cop said others reported seeing it pointed at a helo. He came back with us and talked to our guest for her take on the blue light, adding it to a long list of reports.

All night long, the mountain burned. I got up every few hours and went outside. It was eerie seeing what is usually a dark area ablaze, the fire's reflection illuminated in the river.
It turned out the fire wasn't started by mysterious blue flares; in fact, they remain a mystery. The fire was started by a drunk woman who threw or dropped a cigarette into the tinder dry grass. According to the paper, she had recently bombed out of her sister's as well as a rehab facility up here that has little to do with rehab. She was looking for her next disaster and she found it. Or made it. I am not without empathy for her, but what about the wildlife killed? The firefighters in harm's way? The people whose homes, while saved, are now surrounded by a burned moonscape? How many hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars did it cost to fight this mindlessly set fire?

One of the best things about a community such as ours is that people jump in and help each other. We fielded calls from friends who asked what we needed. Some offered to help us evacuate after they learned our area was under a mandatory evacuation (no one told us, but we'd only have left if we felt we couldn't fight the fire; no matter what, we'd be safe in the river). My plan was to farm the animals and computers out with a friend a safe distance away. Even our guest at Alpen Glow offered assistance and stayed in touch through the evening for updates.

By the next morning, we had a long like of fire engines staged near us, waiting to tackle the fire on the ground, rather than by air. The fire had moved east and we felt okay, if not great, about leaving once we'd set up evacuation plans with friends for the cats in our absence.

It was time to shift gears and get ready to run our whale watching cruises, but we would not escape the smoke.

After a 7 hour drive from dense smoke, we got to the central coast and...dense smoke.

There was a major fire burning north of Santa Cruz, including Bonnie Doon, where we have some cool friends (you may remember seeing their huge golden retriever Finnegan in earlier TRAI newsletters). They called us to make sure we were okay after going online to CalFire to see the status of their fire and finding ours in Lewiston. Can you believe it? What thoughtful people.

After a whirlwind of activity to get ready for the next day's cruise, Steph, the dogs and I dropped. We needed a good night's sleep, so we turned the cell phone off.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, the cell phone turned itself back on. Did you know that could happen? I heard the little "BLEEBUDULEEP!" and thought, "What in the world?" A little after that, there was the beep signifying a message had been left. Concerned the fire had changed course, we checked the message. Actually, there were several, all from the same passenger on the morning's cruise. Where, she asked frantically, are we located? Of course, when we tried to call her, there was no answer.

Next morning, we were at the boat early. Picking up after a 2 year hiatus is easier than starting over by far, but still, there were a lot of things that needed attention. At 9:45, we went up to the head of the dock to greet some great old friends and make some new ones. There was Carroll Briggs, who has been on so many cruises. A talented man, he paints and writes poetry about the ocean and boats. He's an actor and involved in local theatre. Beer-brewing buddies Rick Garcia and Steve Maeller were there, along with Steve's wife Marie, who loves sitting on the bow. We had Mary Brooks, who is such a kind spirit, and I was finally able to meet Laura Almada, whose love for Sanctuary Cruises alone could have brought the company back.

And we had the Van Horns from Chicago. Christopher would buy the company and move to California in a heartbeat, but his wife can't leave. Katie Huff recently moved out from Missouri and she brought her mom on their first whale watching cruise. We had two Dutch families who made me marvel at their ability to find and choose us; they so enjoyed the experience. One of them stayed at the RV park next to the harbor. Now a KOA, this lovely little park is thriving and a great place to stay when you go out with us. Imagine walking a few hundred feet to your boat!

The weather that day was okay, but not great. Boats farther out reported building winds and rough seas, so we were thrilled when I spotted orcas a few miles from the harbor. They would be the first of four different sightings of different individuals over the weekend.

We also saw some of the most cooperative humpbacks ever, as evidenced by this shot taken on Saturday; it's one of many beauties we all got. And we saw dolphins! Risso's northern right whale dolphins, and most unusually, common dolphins. Those are our winter dolphins, but we saw a large nursery pod of mothers and babies on two different days.

Some things never change. I brought our little camcorder that I use for videos of our cabins and river trips; I got some stunning footage especially of the orcas on our third trip. Then somewhere between saving them to the laptop and transferring them to the desktop, they flew the coop. We need a better camcorder for the ocean, so that's on our list of purchases. And I have resolved never to download video until I am sitting at the desk and can confirm each step.

That being said, I did catch snippets of the orcas from a farther distance and got some neat shots of the dolphins. Here is a 2 minute hint at the wonders you will see with us. Please take a moment to review the video on YouTube. It helps with placement, which helps others find it.

There is a reason they call cruises after work has been done on a vessel shakedown cruises. You find out what needs attention and it gets it. I'd like to think after we paid the diesel mechanic $2K to rebuild the starboard gearbox, it would have worked flawlessly, but oh no. We had a couple of glitches to work through with the cables and are happy to say they not only have been addressed, but Steph designed a far better access to the cables.

So there you have it. We're rocking again, people feel as though they've gotten a great friend back from the ozone, and we have whales and dolphins all around us when we aren't on the Trinity (up here, it's river otters, bald eagles, osprey and the magnificent pond turtles found along the way on our river runs; I guess the turtles missed the memo on their name). See you out there & up here, Heidi

Summer/2009: Trinity River Adventure Inn Newsletter

Hi Y'all,

The reason I'm writing to both the last Sanctuary Cruises email newsletter list and the Trinity River Adventure Inn list is to save that commodity I fall so short on (time), plus there is news for all of you. Take a deep breath and read on!

For some of you, this is a voice out of the past. Whale tails, salt water and things such as luminous jellies and sea otters are the glues that bind us. For others, many of you have either already stayed with us at the Trinity River Adventure Inn, or have reservations for this summer. Those of you who want to do this should consider making reservations soon.

We added four riverfront cabins to the inn last year. They range between an incredible restored miner's cabin just above the water, with peeled logs and mortise and tenon joinery, to a huge and grand A frame with a great big kitchen, dining area, deck and a Jacuzzi tub right in the middle of the master loft that looks out on the river and mountains. They're located around 5 miles downstream of us and our first vacation cabin, so we kayak and raft between them. Check out the inn link above on the left to see them all; guests' comments; great pictures of winter steelhead fishers, summer salmon fishers, kids on the rope swin, Steph blasting people with our fire pump as they kayak by; plus YouTube videos of the cabins and a whole lot more.

Some of our cabins are almost completely booked the rest of the summer, but we do have at least 1 or 2 available on many dates, so if you're comin,' get crackin' on those reservations. You're going to love it.

Okay, ready for the other big news? May 31st, we got our beloved whale watching company and vessel Sanctuary back from the abyss the guy we sold the company to placed them in. That sad tale is told here, with more details below from what I posted on the SC web site as soon as I got control of it again. What Steph and I just can't come to terms with is how a guy took a thriving company and trashed it, and why.

He gave us a substantial down payment, so he had something to lose. Well, his mother did; she mortgaged the house for it. But he completely dropped the ball with you, our customers. He didn't communicate with you through email, the phone, newsletters or the web site. He didn't answer emails a lot of the time, nor phones. He held a license, yet he didn't run 10 times in a year and a half!

He blamed the economy, which is an easy out. But why are we thriving? Why are the businesses of people we know thriving? You work hard and smart and you survive. Steph and I believe the recession is over and that people are wiser and stronger and will get back to normal pretty soon, if they aren't already.

A really good approach if asked about the recession is to ask back, "What recession?" It's all about attitude and I guess that is where we blew it. We sold Sanctuary Cruises to a guy who, according to all evidence we've seen and comments from folks around Moss Landing, is the human equivalent to a spider. As one dock mate said, "He wanted to sit at home and do nothing." So why buy any business, especially one built on the relationships that grew out of our cruises? As I finally got control of the Sanctuary email list today, it was like going to a huge reunion scrolling through the names. A lot of you have stood in awe watching incredible scenes on the ocean with us. We have laughed ourselves silly over antics on our boats and in the water. We have buried several of your relatives and friends at sea.

What would possess a captain to buy a business, not run the boat, cut off communication with customers (many of you took the time to email us and point this out, as recently as last week!) and let such a solid company go down the drain?

When we got Sanctuary back, the first order of business was a haul-out and Coast Guard inspections. Her Certificate of Inspection (C.O.I) lapsed last November, which coincidentally is when the new "owner" quit running trips, even though he quit making payments a few months before that. The Coast Guard called us to ask what was going on.

What do you say? It's as though our kid was stolen and even though we knew where it was, the law said we had to go through channels to get it back and those channels cost a fortune and took time. Even after the guy was allowed to declare bankruptcy and walk away from his debts, he refused to sign over our assets without us having to file a lawsuit demanding it.

We have puzzled over this. Wouldn't you want to move on? Wouldn't you want to save your daughter and mother the embarrassment of us at their door wanting to know where you were so we could get legal papers signed? The answer in this case is no. He made his mom and daughter lie and say he wasn't there, then he finally came out with a smirk on his face. I have shaken my head as I typed this, because it reminds me of how badly we mis-read this guy.

So here is the good news: Once we got Sanctuary back, she went straight to Gravelle's Boat Yard in Moss Landing. They are wonderful and the time we spent there was as restorative for us as the boat. I can't tell you how many hugs we got and gave, but there were a lot, which felt great. We're hands-on people and as we chipped and cleaned and painted and sweated (and swore more than a few times), we got back our kid and made her right again.

Steph immediately took on several major engine room jobs that were supposed to have been done over a year ago. I taped the edges of all of the boat names and the big dolphins on her bows so Jim Crane, a professional painter, could give her a smashing new paint job.

We dashed back to Trinity for a few days, then went back and this time I painted her bottom twice and had another opportunity to see just how shoddy the little work done on her since we sold her had been. As Steph said when he prepped the hull for me, "Here is bottom paint OVER a barnacle. That's got to tell you something." (The idea is to scrape off all of the growth on the hull and coat it with anti-fouling paint to prevent barnacles.)

Our friend Ardie Kelly came over from Salinas with a great idea for the flooring around the hatch inside the cabin. It had been scuffed and shredded. Although our welder buddy suggested a $200 fix to trim the edges, Ardie got some perfect metal edging and cut beautiful mitered joints for it, then installed it.

She claimed she would charge $199.99, thus beating the welder's estimate, but in the end she charged materials and that was under $20. I'm pretty sure that was the one bargain we got in a very expensive two week span, but some of the other whale watching boats were in the yard at the same time. We spent a good deal of time catching up on the news with them. After checking out the new paint job and mechanical work, one said, "It's more about your pride of ownership; you couldn't leave her the way you found her." Right on.

Here is most of the Yard Crew: Ardie, Heidi, Jim, Steph. I'd be knocking your socks off with a YouTube of the whole yard experience, but Steph is still down there and he kept the videocam, so that will have to wait.
By the way, Ardie stepped up to the Hero plate again just a few days ago, when she agreed to drive me north to take care of our guests at the inn, then again yesterday.

We are in our second week of unusual thunderstorms and occasional rain (thank goodness for it, because it keeps the fires from lightning strikes down).

I took the guests down the river on kayaks and soon after we left, the sparse sun disappeared. It was still in the 70s and very pleasant, but halfway down between our 2 locations, black clouds rolled in, thunder pounded the skies one ridge over from us and then the rains came. They fell like Dr. Seuss' oobleck in big, fat plops. Soon we were soaked and chilled, so I suggested we paddle faster to stay warm. After a mile of this rain that we never get and would usually love, I said, "Wouldn't some brandy be nice?"

"Brandy and hot chocolate!" I raved. "Would that be great or what?" Then I paddled harder still. We made a very hasty retreat at the take-out, loading the boats and zipping back up to our cabin after dropping 2 of the 3 guests at their cabin.

Ardie pulled in behind us and as our guest and I unloaded boats, she opened the back of her Subaru wagon and set up an impromptu tail gate party. Mind you, Ardie had stayed behind at our cabin to read while I led the trip. But as the rain grew in intensity and duration, she got this cosmic flash: HOT CHOCOLATE & BRANDY.

She whipped up a pot of cocoa and grabbed the bottle of brandy. She headed for the take-out, but turned around when we passed her on the highway.

As we emptied the truck, she filled cups and we happily grabbed and drained them in record time. She also passed out warm jackets she'd grabbed from the garage. No wonder we call her Saint Ardith. Can you imagine our guest telling this story at work next week?

When the Coast Guard came to inspect Sanctuary last Monday, they told us that they'd talked about her and the lapsed C.O.I. last fall. Several inspectors asked how that could happen, remarking we've always been such a class act. Even they seemed to take pleasure in seeing the improvements as they climbed around on her.

So what's next? We've decided to keep Sanctuary

So that's our big news. Hope you're all doing well and that we cross paths again, either up here or on the bay. I still want to do some boat driving and I miss the whales, dolphins, jellies, Mola molas, otters, seals, sea lions and all the birds, so part of our discussions with prospective buyers includes me in the deal every month or two. I think a couple of reunion cruises would be a real hoot.

Take care and see you somewhere along the way, Heidi
See you out there, Steph & Heidi

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Well, as the title in the subject line suggests, I did indeed whip up a new video of the Steel Bridge cabins. This time, I made it all-inclusive, you know, like a cruise. Instead of one cabin per video, I blew through all of them. It came in a little over 15 minutes long, which I figured was okay, but You Tube did not. I realized after spending 6 hours straight editing this that there is a 10 minute maximum.

Back to the editing program I went, slashing some of the best of the lines. It's an interesting job taking video while narrating. You never really know what will come out. Those of you who have been on our whale watching cruises know this isn't foreign territory for me. But it turned out well enough for now and I probably will hit it again soon, since by the time I'd finished hacking and slashing, it was at 8 minutes with 2 to spare; I think of those as wasted minutes that must be used. I want to add some kayaking and rafting shots.

The birds in the background of the video are remarkable. They are singing and squawking and burbling throughout. It ends with a shot of our riverfront at Laughing Salmon and you may see a few young steelhead plip-plopping out there. Spring has been world-class great this year, with a lot of bird and fish activity.

This morning began with an email from L.L. Bean's field testing department. They have a manufacturer of transdermal patches of B-1 that claims, "This patch is adhered to the skin and disseminates B-1 preventing mosquitoes from tracking you down by camouflaging the trace amounts of carbon dioxide from your skin that insects use as locaters." He wanted to know if I'd be interested in testing it. I was on him so fast, it must have made his head spin. We do have mosquitoes up here and they can range from bad (our first year) to not too bad (last year), but I always have to use bug spray and I'd rather not. I offered to pass the patches out to guests and get their feedback as well, and he was thrilled. So if you're coming up, we may have a nice, natural solution to mosquitoes for you, plus, you'll be part of the Bean test pool. Cool, huh?

We took a long motorcycle ride last Saturday and wound into territory we've never seen before, passing the Pacific Crest Trail twice. The second location was just above where we took these pictures and still deeply covered in snow off the road. Canyons were incredibly narrow and the roads had no shoulders. It was just cliff>small road>cliff, all the way down to the distant, bright jade Salmon River. This is such great country for motorcycles!
If you have bikes, you really need to bring them up. If you ride up, we'll provide all of the toiletries to help you keep your load down; just bring a toothbrush, bathing suit, shorts, T-shirts. I imagine you'll be wearing jeans, boots and a jacket to ride, which will serve for cool evenings. See you up here! Heidi

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Things bog me down. I don’t want extra stuff, but parting with one of my motorcycles proved difficult. It was a cool, older BMW 100GS Paris/Dakar that was sold to me by a guy who has become a great friend of ours. I’ve written about him before; he’s an incredible mechanic and he maintains three private planes that belong to friends of his. This gives him use of the planes when he feels like flying. So when we’ve needed a brake job on Steph’s bike, or a bug tracked down on one of mine, Gary has flown or driven up, done some work, then hung around for few days for a kayak trip and long talks over dinners above the river. He brought his son Brian, who loves the area as much as his dad. When Gary asked Brian what he would do if he lost both of his parents, he didn’t hesitate, “I’d go live with Steph and Heidi!”

I’d put the GS on craigslist, but wouldn’t take anything less than my asking price. Over the past year, I built up a considerable list of email buddies who would drop in every few months, asking if I’d lower my price; I’d tell them no, they’d cheerily thank me and ask that I write if I changed my mind.

There were close calls when I thought the bike would go. One guy scheduled a trip up from the Bay Area on a certain weekend, then a major snowstorm was predicted. He held off, but after that, decided he better wait and see how stable his job was in the shifting economic sands. Most of the others kept fishing for a lower price.

Two weeks ago, a couple drove down from Portland to look at the bike. Someone who drives that far is probably going to buy the bike, I figured, which gave me mixed feelings not unlike our spring weather. The reason I put the GS up for sale was because I have a newer bike, a BMW 1150RT. It has an infinitely variable windshield that’s adjusted with the push of a button on the handlebar. It can be lowered so I get the wind on my head and torso (good for hot days) or raised so that I stay warm, avoid bugs, rain and snow. The GS has a tiny café racer-type windshield that protected me from pretty much nothing, and the bike was too tall for me, but I’d have kept it and sold the RT if it weren’t for that windshield.

When the couple planned their trip from Portland, we were in the middle of warm, sunny days and cool nights. Daffodils were blooming and Steph and I broke out our half helmets, tentatively putting the full face helmets away. But several days before the Oregonians were to head south, the forecast for their trip looked gloomy. Rain, maybe a little snow. Or a lot of snow. They came anyway.

The day they arrived, he looked the bike over thoroughly, then went for a test ride. When he came back, he checked the bike out a little more, then we agreed on the sale. (I held firm on my price, but he did manage to get a Trinity River Adventure Inn cap out of me.) As I filled out the paperwork, it started to rain. Rain is good. We need rain. But it came down in biblical proportions. We sat at the dining table, looking out on such pelting rain that the river looked as though it had a huge Mixmaster under the surface.

Part of the deal was the chance for the couple to stay overnight in one of our cabins, but they were going to stay at the Carriage House over at the Steel Bridge location. A person could drown in the time it took to drive those 6 miles. So we had coffee and waited. When there was a break in the weather, they headed over to their cabin.

Their plan, depending on the next morning’s weather, was to ride west, then north and inland to Grants Pass, thus avoiding snow at the higher elevations here and over the Siskyous. From there, they’d take I-5 home. They would trade off between riding the bike and driving their car. Each had brought their leathers for the trip, and they were impressive: Custom made, beautifully tailored, but considering the weather, I’d have been far happier in my synthetic gear with the snug Velcro closures.

In the morning, I checked the various road conditions for our guests. I’d have opted for Redding and north on 5, figuring I’d hit the pass below Ashland around midday, but they decided to go west, which is more scenic, plus they would avoid the snow. Steph and I had planned to escort them a hundred miles or so on our bikes, but the morning was cold, wet and gloomy. Plus, they planned to leave before 8. After calling in road conditions and wishing them well, I crawled back under the down comforter with Steph and we slept in.

The next day, we got a phone call. The new owners of the GS were safely home. They reported they hit every kind of weather one could imagine as they headed west on 299 which runs between Redding and Arcata. It was a perfect combination of everything we experience in the spring: Rain, sometimes heavy; snow that ranged from a few flakes to near whiteouts; scattered sun that seemed oddly out of place; raging winds; and even dense fog that necessitated slowing way down. I can’t think of any day that has held so many extremes, but those lucky people got them all. I didn’t feel at all guilty having cuddled up in bed and watched movies.

Since then, we’ve had a little rain, would love to get more, and have settled into the delightful pattern of sunny and warm days with cool to cold nights. It’s perfect motorcycle weather as long as we carry our heavier gear in case of a surprise.

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Boogers! I thought I’d create another video card “newsletter” today, but I forgot to take the little camcorder with us on a stunning hike along Lewiston Lake. The sun was shining, it was about 50 degrees out, and I could have captured 3 or 4 of the snow-capped vistas with the jade green lake below as we skirted its western edge. I might even have gotten footage of the golden eagle that took off from a tree just above us ("WHOOSH, WHOOSH"), then flew all the way across the lake. This would have happened if I was someone else holding the camera I didn't even have with me. Instead, I stood there in awe, finally asking Steph, "Golden?"

I had already missed a perfect video op when, this morning, a fisherman caught a steelhead across from our cabin. Can you imagine watching a fly fisher work a fierce steelhead while you eat your oatmeal? It would put a fisher over the edge, but we’ve resisted the sport up here because we just have such full plates. Fishing is, after all, one of life’s prime obsessions and one doesn’t just dabble in it, as any one of our winter guests especially will attest. Plus, there are motorcycles that frequently need our attention, especially exercise. (Jeez Louise, that reminds me! We rode to Redding last week just after a big snowfall and the snow was piled way up on the sides of 299. We couldn't get over how much snow was on the east side of Buckhorn Summit. It was as though we took a few wrong turns and were suddenly at Tahoe.)

So I was 0 for 2 on the video card when I got the idea of introducing the neighborhood where our cabin, Sow’s Ear and Trout are located. Then it clouded up and I think we’re heading into more rain, so make that 0 for 3 for me. I will send more of those video cards, though, because several of you wrote to say you enjoyed the first one. I was even encouraged to include the audio on purpose, as well as shots of us with the dogs, so we'll work on that.

I'm including a few pictures you might enjoy. The steelhead fishers are introduced farther down in this newsletter; can there be a cuter couple? Another is of Steph climbing past waterfalls on The Black Dog, the creek behind our cabin. Steph named the creek in honor of our dog Bisco; guess what color she is. Those two have a gold mining scheme for the Black Dog, the rewards of which are apparently directly tied to my videography skills. Lots of talk. The last picture is of Scupper, who does not have a creek named for him, because it takes too long to say The Black and Brown and Tan and White Dog; plus we only have one creek and the river and they'd already named the river before we got here. This explains why the mighty Trinity is not known as The Black Dog River. Scupper is shown doing what he does every year around this time: Looking for Spring.

A fellow emailed today, saying he fishes up here in December near our Steel Bridge cabins. He wondered what time is good to come up for summer fishing and what his kids might do here. Fresh in from not having taken any of the 3 videos I might have, I jumped into a lengthy description of the things we’d have gone nuts over as kids. It was easy to come up with ideas, because they’re things we’re still doing: kayaking and rafting the river and lakes; going off the rope swing into the river in front of Alpen Glow (beer might be involved in our case); hiking and biking.

I must admit, we seem to have outgrown catching lizards to observe, but we still enjoy checking out the ones our young guests catch. We have a strict catch and release code here, which also applies to newly hatched dragonflies, butterflies and moths; everyone but our cat Alvin has signed onto the program. Alvin seems to be in perpetual detention for any number of transgressions, but I like to think the worst crime he has committed is just leaving a very freaked out lizard without a tail. They say the tail grows back, but I am in the midst of growing my hair long again and think I can speak for lizards everywhere when I say it doesn't grow back fast enough.

Possum the calico cat did catch a hummingbird last summer, but I got it away from her before she cooked her own goose. The bird rested up high in a hanging plant while I frantically conducted an internet search for hummingbird first aid. Then, as I attempted to pick it back up and take it inside, the tiny bird screeched, spun around and flew high into the silk tree, all the while spewing epithets. They are such tough little suckers and boy, did this one have a mouth on it. If I talk like a sailor, it talked like the Commander of the 7th Fleet.

A friend called one of the regulars at her bird feeder “Top Gun,” because it drove all the others away. His boorish behavior was rewarded by more feeders being placed, since he couldn’t possibly run all the birds off from all the feeders; but he sure did try.

I’m going to end this newsletter with some quotes from recent guests. We’re now officially in our off season, which means fishing is still good, there are far fewer boats on the river, and prices are lower. If, during what the big guns call "low season," you come up, stay at least a couple of nights, and beat me over the head to remember to take the camcorder on a lake hike, I will throw in a free dinner for your party. I will even make you the hot artichoke and crab dip that not one, but two, recent guests raved about below.

One of those guests is a sous chef at the very ritzy Calistoga Ranch (rooms range from $900-5,000.00 a night, which would make their lodging slightly higher than ours), so his compliment has a little extra ballast. Then again, another of our guests was Michael Caranci, of The Fly Shop in Redding. Wait until you read what he had to say about our cabins, their location, the fishing, and the dip!

2/16/2009: Our stay at the Miner's Cabin has been everything we hoped for and more. Your hospitality--including the amazing crab dip--has been wonderful from start to finish. We can't wait to come back! Thank you for making this trip so special for us. Erik Villar/sous chef Calistoga Ranch, Calistoga, CA

2/16/2009: [Loved] the beauty of the river and area, pampering and excellent meals and company. Hope to fish and hot tub next time! Janet & Mike Navara/Cloverdale, CA

1/25/2009: My wife Kerry and I, along with some friends, were fortunate enough to spend a couple of nights recently staying at the Trinity River Adventure Inn, specifically the Alpen Glow and Carriage House cabins. We enjoyed our stay immensely, spending much of our time simply relaxing and enjoying the beautiful scenery and tranquility of the Trinity River flowing just past the back deck. Of course, we made sure to wet a line, too, with some great success in the productive steelhead runs accessible only from the Trinity River Adventure Inn cabins.

As a long time Trinity River angler and guide, and the Director of Outfitters for The Fly Shop in Redding, I've had the opportunity over the years to visit many of the different motels, lodges, and cabins -- several of which have come and gone -- along the Trinity River.

For sheer seclusion, access, and cozy, comfortable accommodations, the cabins at the Trinity River Adventure Inn are certainly among the best. Steph's handiwork and painstaking care of the cabins is apparent, while I'm still savoring Heidi's crab dip on my taste buds weeks after the trip!

Michael Caranci/The Fly Shop Redding, CA
FFF Certified Master Instructor/www.theflyshopcom

I swear we didn’t give Michael a free stay or even a discount; they paid our regular rates. We did, however, give each couple a jar of our homemade lemon and lime curd, which tastes far better than it sounds. Well, that’s the news from our end. See you up here, Heidi

2/16/2008: Good Changes & the Battle

We're getting a heavy snowfall today and it is magical. The river is quiet; the winds that brought this system in are gone. The highway over Buckhorn Summit surely has icy spots. This is a good time to be inside. Unfortunately, this is the day a guy chose to come up from the Bay Area to check out my older BMW. I'm bothered by (and surrounded by) clutter. We have garages, barns and sheds positively stuffed with items we would pass on if we had the time to sort through it, but then we have to dupe someone into taking it. So there it sits.

I have debated selling one of my bikes for years, but each is unique. The older one has such character! It's an '89 thousand cc GS with the Dakar kit. Originally designed for the Paris-Dakar race, the bikes have over-sized fuel tanks, can take on extremely rough terrain and are as comfortable on the road as off. But it all comes down to the windshield in deciding which bike to sell. The newer 1150 RT has an infinitely adjustable windshield. It also has great brakes and it corners like the wind, but I could go with the old Dakar if it just had this windshield instead of the small, stationary one it has.

So I put it on craigslist every once in a while, but only half-heartedly. It's just such a cool bike and such fun to ride, even if it is about 3" too tall for me. I'd get an occasional nibble, but refused to budge on price and the bike stayed here. Then Joe came onto the scene. After a month of intermittent emails and offers of a sliding scale of reduced prices I refused, he planned to come up today to test drive the bike and if he liked it, trailer it home.

We were on a bike ride up to Trinity Lake a few days ago when the weather caved in and I emailed Joe to say Sunday was looking bad. Saturday was decent after a few snow flurries in the morning, but today's weather is not designed for test driving a motorcycle, so the bike remains safely in the little barn next to Steph's.

Oh man, this is where my day goes. Have I told you about Steph's new bike? He traded his BMW with the Buck Rogers spaceship sidecar, the one he and Bisco rode all the way to Washington and back. The one several of you have taken a spin in on a winery tour or a ride to Lewiston Lake. Like me, Steph decided to free up some space and sell one of his bikes. He put both 1200Cs on craigslist, and a fellow in Reno proposed a trade: the bike with the sidecar for a Harley Heritage Softail. The Harley is lower by several inches and puts far less pressure on Steph's leg that has the prosthesis, so this was a good trade, but as far as clearing out stuff, we have a negative impact situation between the extra parts for the new bike and the sidecar on the old bike. So we still have a beautiful 1200C for sale and this model has a custom Corbin seat, new tires and if you buy it, we'll throw in a night's stay up here at one of the cabins. This is especially helpful if you happen to want the bike and need to break the news to your spouse. We'll give you a gift certificate for the lodging, which you can give to your spouse. Once here, you can say, "Oh by the way, you know the trailer we hauled up here? Do I have a surprise for you!"

While we didn't free up any space, Steph loves the Harley, and has delighted me by either coming up with any number of suggestions to ride our bikes somewhere, or instantly agreeing when I pitch the idea. We thought we'd be safe on our Costco run and wouldn't walk out of there having spent more than we intended, since we had so little space in our bags. As you're about to find out, that plan failed, too.

Thanks to YouTube, I've been thinking about making videos of each cabin, including the approach, a walk through each room, strolling down to the river. I thought it would be especially helpful to shoot 360 degree views, because so many times it's not what they show you in pictures about a place, but what they don't show you. We will really shine with videos. I could include walks to the river; shoot fishers drifting by; take movies of guests kayaking, or hanging out in the hammocks. This time of year, I can show people coming in from fishing, cuddled up in front of the wood stoves, playing poker at the dining tables, or drinking beer in the hot tub! Problem is, we have never owned a videocam. I needed to borrow one.

So there we were in Costco. We were on our way to the $14.99 Christmas lights when I saw these tiny Flip videocams that seemed to have it all in something the size of an ipod. It has a zoom. It has programming to go from the camera to the computer and YouTube, Yahoo, MySpace, or other online video sites. It has an editing program; you can make movies with it. It shoots and holds an hour of video. There is no cord; it plugs directly into a USB port on the computer and it charges while it downloads. It was $144. While I wasn't compelled to buy a videocam for any other reason (stills were more important for whales and the Sanctuary Cruises web site), I loved the idea of creating videos of each cabin in each season, which means if I found one to borrow, I'd have to keep borrowing it. So I showed the camera to Steph, told him what it promised, and suggested we give it a try.

We have a good deal of TV experience and have spent days and days in editing studios watching wizard-like editors work their magic for our gray whale project, as well as working on a show Steph wrote and starred in for the Outdoor Life Network. I had a bit of an idea about the huge learning curve I'd have to grapple with. I took a deep breath and opened the little box. The model is called Mino, which I like to think is pronounced minnow. The directions said:

1. Turn on.

2. Press red record button.

3. Have fun!

This was my kind of videocam, but how good would the quality be? I shot our cat Alvin as he watched what we call the river movie outside. I zoomed in and got a close-up of him. Then I walked over by the window and the over-exposed view adjusted. The picture warmed as the camera adjusted the white balance and showed the river and trees. I paused the camera, turned it off and fumbled around to find the nifty pop-out USB, plugged it in and a few seconds later, was watching Alvin's movie. The quality is good and clean and all that we need. I'll include a link in the next newsletter so you can see it.

Princess of Whales Goes Hybrid

Yesterday, the press began what will surely be a long love affair with Princess of Whales, our former whale watching catamaran. We sold her to Hornblower Cruises and she has been turned into a green machine, with wind turbines on the top of her bridge, a large solar array covering a newly installed roof over her sundeck, new engines, a new galley with a drop dead gorgeous recycled glass counter top... In fact, most of everything about her is new, including her name, which I missed.

We were the only whale watching company on the Monterey Bay that was willing to pay the far higher cost of biodiesel for our boats. It wasn't an easy thing to do, but we felt really good about it. Hornblower has continued her legacy and expanded it exponentially with their retrofit, which should be called a forwardfit. This is a pretty lame clip from Channel 2 in the San Francisco Bay Area, but it's still interesting:

http://www.ktvu.com/video/18264825/index.html

And here is an article on her: S.F. to Host Nation’s First Hybrid Boat

Heidi's Trinity River Adventure Inn Breakfast Strata:

I finally wrote down our strata recipe, which has been requested since the very first time I cooked it. That was for a very cool family that stayed at Sow's Ear a year ago on Thanksgiving, and we have become friends, which happens a lot with our guests. The latest request was by Bonnie Erhke; she's the woman who caught that enormous steelhead. This is a perfect Christmas morning recipe, so you might want to try it.

Strata consists of three layers of bread cubes, each covered with a mushroom mixture and grated cheese. The whole thing is covered with a custard mixture, then it sits in the refrigerator until you're ready to bake it. It is easiest prepared the day before, then baked the next morning. It can be prepared and cooked the same day, as long as it soaks for at least an hour prior to baking. Kids can be involved placing the bread cubes and distributing the mushroom mixture and shredded cheeses. Since we don't have kids, I tried letting the dogs help. After I bought more sausage and cheese, I fired them as helpers.

This recipe is very flexible (more cheese or sausage, less cheese or sausage, substitute herbs, even drop the mushrooms if you didn't get the M gene) and has proven to be quite popular at the inn. The only way you can screw it up is to cook it in a tall baking dish at the recommended temp, because the top will brown beautifully way before the center is cooked. If you use a deep dish, reduce temp to 325 and expect to cook about an hour and 15 minutes, instead of the usual hour. To check, pull a few cubes at the top aside with one spoon while fishing out some of the center with another. When it's lightly set throughout and not soggy in the middle, it's done.

We put it on the table on a pizza stone that baked with it, so it stays warm during breakfast for second helpings. It's wonderful for Christmas morning accompanied by fresh fruit smoothies, coffee, and maybe some eggnog.

6-8 servings. Preheat oven to 350.

Mushroom Mixture:

1-1 1/2 # sausage (anything from country sausage to hot or mild Italian sausage, linguica, chorizo... mix your favorites)

2-3 c sliced mushrooms (I prefer cremini, but also add some reconstituted dried porcini that my sister gathers every fall, when I have some)

3/4 c finely diced onion

2 cloves pressed garlic

Custard:

1/2 t freshly ground pepper

1 t Italian herbs rubbed between palms

dash or two Tabasco (I like them all, but often use regular & chipotle)

4 large eggs

2 c milk (if I have half and half to use up, I might make 1/2 c of the milk 1/2 and 1/2)

1 1/2-2 c grated cheese (this is a key ingredient and should be a superb cheese, or mixture of cheeses. Consider a sharp cheddar, nutty Swiss, Costco's mixed Mexican cheeses, dried Parmesan. The better the flavor, the less cheese you need).

Equivalent of one large loaf day old (or very lightly toasted) bread: Bread may be buttered before cutting into 1" cubes. As with the cheese, this is a key ingredient. Basic strata recipes call for Italian bread, which is often crappy white bread with no personality. If you can find good Italian bread, use it. I like to mix breads, but the main one is Costco's rustic wheat loaves that are found in the bakery and packaged in twos. I also use good French bread, especially sour. Leftover or stale bread that's frozen for a while works fine. Traditional strata recipes call for removing the crusts, which makes no sense. The crust is the personality. It's also common to leave the bread in whole slices, but it's easier to serve the cubed version, especially if you use breads with substance.

Use a large, heavy pan. Brown sausage 5-10 minutes, while breaking it into small pieces. Cook fattier sausage more, firmer sausage less. Since some sausages have things we just don't want to know about in them, I remove it from the pan, chop it after browning and discard anything that reminds me of surgical tubing or refused to be chopped smaller. Drain most of the fat for a leaner strata, or leave it all in the pan. Add onion and quickly fry until lightly browned. Add garlic (which browns much faster) and cook another minute or so. Return sausage to pan, add mushrooms and cook covered 2 minutes to release the mushroom moisture (they won't break when done this way), then uncovered another 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Set aside to cool (you can distribute the mushroom mixture evenly with your hands if it's cool, but if you're in a hurry, use a spoon).

Prepare custard by mixing ingredients in a large bowl and beating just enough to thoroughly break up eggs.

Butter or Pam a 9" by 13" Pyrex dish or other baking dish. You'll probably want to use Pam if you left all of the fat in the mushroom mixture. This is similar to ordering a non-fat mocha with the whipped cream. Arrange 1/3 of bread cubes on bottom of dish. Cover with half the mushroom mixture, then sprinkle with 1/2 c cheese. Repeat bread, mushroom mixture and cheese. Arrange remaining third of bread over top, pressing down gently. Sprinkle remaining cheese over the top. Slowly pour a thin trickle of custard mix over all of the bread, giving it time to soak into the exposed layer especially (gravity takes care of the rest). Cover and refrigerate up to a day or at least an hour.

Uncover to cook. Place on a baking sheet on the lowest rack in oven. Bake at 350 for about an hour. It will be gorgeously browned and bubbling. If it browns too soon, cover lightly with foil and reduce heat to 325 and cook another 10-15 minutes. You can also make this dish in individual ramekins, but it will cook faster. Just check the center for doneness. A soon as the custard is slightly set, it's done. As the dish cools, the custard will continue to set up more.

Typical Teen Variation: Double the meat and cheese, leave out the mushrooms, onions, garlic and seasoning. And maybe the bread. Serve cooked or raw, with ketchup.

The Battle

We have a woman in our family who's fighting cancer. She's the type of person everybody falls in love with because she's kind and thoughtful and funny. She's in for a long battle and we know she can do it, but she needs help. So what could we do as she prepares for her first round of chemo? Steph wrote this; it's her battle poem.

I printed it over a photo of a giant sequoia, then I tore the edges and burned them over a candle. We rolled it up, tied it with timber hitches out of raffia, then put it into a Grolsch beer bottle and closed the built-in cap. I knotted the protruding raffia into a sinnet of half knots, beaded and tied off the bitter ends. Then we packaged the bottle and mailed it to her; a message in a bottle. It's something she can read when she needs to, and she says she's reading it every day. Maybe you know someone who's fighting a battle. If you do, feel free to use this. All you have to do is change the last line.

The old ones are Awakening. They stretch their muscles, easing their creaking frames into armor.
Their strength returns in steady waves. They sharpen swords and repair harnesses.
They apply talismans, war paint and magical feathers.
All invoke the blessings of their creators.

They are Vikings, mau mau, guerillas, doughboys, legionnaires.
They are spies and brigands, assassins, saboteurs; warriors of every sort, of every era.

Often at odds, they gather on the same side for this campaign.
Their Warrior Queen is threatened and they unite for her.

Counted among them are one old pirate and a sea nymph.

See you up here, Heidi

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11/9/2008: More Fall Color & Great Fishing of All Kinds

Once we got a few good rains and some whipping winds, I thought the colorful fall leaves would be gone, but they're still here in all their raging, riotous beauty. Alpen Glow celebrated the season by getting a new log swing for river watchers. A lot of driftboats are on the water now, with both steelhead and salmon fishing doing well. The swing looks down on a really good fishing hole, making this a nice place to hang out even if you're not into getting a line wet.

Steph and I headed east to Shingletown yesterday to check out an estate sale and we were awed by the colors: that fiery red that is almost too strong to believe it's natural; the golds that pop as you round the bend; those deep rusts that are so rich and pleasing. It was such fun to venture out, even on what began as a gloomy day. We had a mission.

We needed to find another sideboard for our kitchen, since the old one was appropriated for Trout. Steph has been combing craigslist and he found what looked like a winner: thick quartersawn oak, which is the method of milling oak that makes it look like a tiger print. Simple design; not exceptionally large, but maybe it would serve well as another work surface, holding serving and cookware in the cabinet and drawers below. So that was our excuse to bug out for an adventure.

We arrived precisely at 9, the sale's starting time, but we knew earlybirds would have hit hours before, so I anxiously scanned vehicles that passed by going the other way. Whew; no oak sideboards. When we got to the place in the forest, there was a flurry of bargain hunters. The lot was sloped and there were several cabins, sheds, a garage and a workshop; ants at a picnic.

The owner of the place had been an artist; he also proved to be a creative and talented woodworker. There were so many things to explore and appreciate, but cool stuff was flying out the drive, so I got busy and scouted the sideboard. Hold. Then old lamps. Hold. Hold. Hold. Trout pictures. Hold. I started a pile.

I couldn't buy the freestanding sauna that was so handsomely and creatively - but permanently - constructed, but I still had to spend a minute or so, looking it over. Same with the log shelves. I analyzed their design, which I can recreate, but there was so much more to take in; if only we'd brought the camera!

Small outdoor tables, slingback chairs and old glassware that is heavy and deep claret and cobalt colored and will be very nice for Trout found their way onto our hold pile, all before Steph had parked the truck and walked in. A tall and narrow cabinet with a glass door was grossly over-priced. The woman of the couple conducting the sale nodded knowingly when I pointed this out.

"It's my husband," she explained. "He loves cabinets and he does price them too high." She accepted my offer of 1/3 the asking price, but we also paid $2 less 5% each for a couple of hummingbird feeders, which was no screaming deal. Some things were great bargains, while others weren't, but all of our purchases had purpose.

The kitchen stove was leaking propane and although others noticed it and complained to each other about it, no one acted. I told the woman they had a gas leak. She said they'd tried for 2 hours to get someone to come out about this the day before, to no avail. I pulled the stove away from the wall while she fluttered around anxiously, asking if I knew what to do. Turn it off, I replied.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed with relief at my unique suggestion. I peered and felt down toward the bottom of the stove, but couldn't see a shutoff. Someone reached for a long lighter, which I grabbed and told the woman to put in our pile.

"Yes," she agreed. "That will be free." Steph located the shutoff outside and even when I illustrated how an inline shutoff works, she acted as though I had invented the light bulb. It wasn't that she was dumb; she just wasn't a hands-on kind of person. We talked several times in our three hour visit, which is how I learned she and I were born in the same hospital in Redwood City - Sequoia - just 2 years and one day apart. It's almost as though she had an inner sense about this, because she specifically asked where I grew up.

Steph joined me in the living room of the small main house. We gazed at the handcrafted circular stairway, again filing away how this guy made a piece of functional and compact art out of a peeled log and thick slabs of wood for treads, each with an understated brace below that was made of a contrasting wood. I thought for the fiftieth time it was lucky we already had our places, or we'd be writing an offer on this one.

I found myself wondering about the owner. Who was he? How had he ended up there? Fall seems the natural time of year to ponder such things as life and death and how the man's hand fit on the little antique saw I put in our pile (and had to take out of the hands of two other shoppers who missed or ignored the HOLD AREA signs). Was he old when he died? I figured yes. I also thought he must have been satisfied with life because of all that he had created on two acres, which is not to say he was done with living; his address just changed.

Once our pile threatened to be a challenge to fit into the truck, we discovered we were done. It's funny how that works, like water finding its own level. After tallying up our purchases and haggling over the total just enough to feel good about it, we took time to peek into areas missed in the beginning. Up past the bocce ball court, in the expansive guest house and recreation room, we were weighing whether one of our cabins needed a nice small chest. Probably, if we could get $20 knocked off the price.

Just then, we heard, "Help! Can anyone get me out of here?" It was the estate sale woman. She'd left the main house and entered a bathroom in the rec hall and someone closed the door. Craftsman that he was, the owner hadn't perfected this one yet. The door wouldn't open either direction and no door knob was involved. I suspected a sprung hinge, but pushing the door toward the hinge wasn't enough to let it swing free. Steph pried a jamb off and effected her escape.

"You saved me again!" the woman cried out, and the hoped for $20 discount on the chest was ours.

With everything packed and wedged and prodded into place, I scouted down by the splashing, lively creek one more time. There was a large, handmade wooden chair and matching table that could double as a footstool. It was heavy and whispered of long afternoons in the sunlight-dappled shade. Surely it would be more expensive than we'd be willing to pay.

"Oh, that chair?" the woman asked. "$15 I suppose." Probably includes the table, I suggested. She nodded and said, "I think the owner enjoyed sitting down there." Of course he would, just as we love sitting by the water here. Land with water passing through it is what binds us with the man we never met.

Talking with a neighbor up there, we learned the owner wasn't old. He was a health fanatic. Active, energetic. He lived in the Bay Area and the Shingletown property was his getaway. He had swum just before experiencing a massive coronary. Maybe he was 54.

This morning, I read about a huge study of over 18,000 people that combined a test called CRP with treatment by a drug called Crestor. The test has proven to be very helpful in identifying people at risk for heart attacks and strokes, despite the fact their cholesterol levels are low. The idea is that people with high CRP have inflamed arteries and are therefore more at-risk for heart attacks and strokes. Once they know about their risk, they can treat it with Crestor, an expensive but effective drug that so far has proven not to have the side effects of other statins, such as Zocor. You know how it is with drugs: win some, lose some. But two of the least controversial results from the study are Crestor appeared to be both safe and effective.

What are the chances we'd be out in Shingletown yesterday because of an estate sale, then today we'd learn of a test and treatment that might have lengthened that man's life? If any of this hits home, see your doc. It's a $25 test and could save your life.

Cramming the chair and table onto the truck was no small feat, but they really did belong with us. Most would agree our best purchase was a fine, antique secretary. Unlike the newer and nothing special tall cabinet we bought, the secretary was underpriced. It went for $125 less 5%. $50 more got us an antique rolling chair for it. They will add a lot to Alpen Glow, where their perfect home is located under the open stairway that leads to the master loft.

However, when we moved the tall, "nothing special" cabinet into place between two of our river-facing windows - a spot only about 24" wide and just capable of accommodating the 21" cabinet - we discovered it is definitely one of the gems. The oak sideboard has grown on us as well. It's so solid and elegant; Steph's already added a shelf inside and was sanding it in preparation for a new clear finish as I wrote this.

So that was our Saturday. Not an inexpensive one, but rewarding and evocative. Maybe as you spend time at our cabins and use some of these pieces, you'll find yourself thinking as we are of their past lives near Lassen and the artist they lived with. It was a grounding, yet ethereal experience discovering them and bringing them home. See you up here, Heidi

10/28/2008: Fish & Fall Color

Fall colors are spectacular, the river is full of fish and we've knocked out some major projects around here. Last week, our friend Randy sprayed the outbuildings at our place and for the first time in four years, Sow's Ear, Laughing Salmon (our cabin), the two barns and the wood and potting shed are all one color. What a pleasant change this is!

After the painting was done, we had a Pepsi on the patio. Randy gazed out at the river and spotted at least 30 salmon in the middle of it. We have seen a lot of fish out there, but this was the largest group so far. They were all around 2 feet in length, with some larger ones, too. They just hung in place, waiting.

I didn't think this picture would show them at all, but it does. I need a Polarized filter for the camera, but you can see them out there. They ran both directions from this central point, but you can't see those fish because I also don't have a wide angle lens. As our friend Rick always says, "It is what it is," and this is pretty good.
One fish I did get a clear shot of appeared today and Randy was back again; this time he helped re-position our little log cabin Trout in its new location upstream. Back on the patio for the requisite Pepsi, he looked out at the river and pointed to a spawner working downstream. It was battered and had a lot of white scars and scrapes; it moved slowly, and as it got close to us, it turned and swam over to the bank. We watched it for a while before I decided I had to run for the camera, even though it was probably too late. But the fish was still there when I returned and I got several pictures of it and another spawner nearby.

It seems to me we never really work on our place, just the vacation cabins, but then I tallied up some of the large and small jobs Laughing Salmon has received since we bought it four years ago this month. They include a new roof, which was a monstrous job. We used 30 year architectural roofing, which weighs a ridiculous amount; this was a project our friends Howard and Deanne helped with, which truly saved our butts. We put in new interior walls with a 3 color fresco paint job. Steph tiled both bathrooms and the kitchen counters. He refinished the kitchen cabinets and a lot more. We painted the cabin two years ago, but that and the roof were the biggest outdoor projects.

While standing at the kitchen sink last spring, I looked out at the area under the silk tree and thought it would be nice to have a lawn there, instead of the bare dirt/mud that the dogs and cats track in with abandon. During the summer, I thought of laying sod one of these days and that's where the project stopped; a list of other projects always loom in front of me and most of them are inside at the computer, which isn't where I want to be nearly as often as I am. While Steph tackles cool stuff outside, I'm mucking about in Quickbooks; I wanted my own outside job.

Two weeks ago, Steph and I hit Lowe's in Redding for materials for Trout and I thought I'd cruise over to the garden department to see if they had any sod. Sow's Ear has a small dirt area about 10' by 6' and I thought I might sod it, since I couldn't possibly take on the larger project at our place. But sod was $1 per 5 square foot piece and we had the pickup. So we bought 40 pieces and I went to work as soon as we got home. By nightfall, Sow's Ear had a happy little lawn in front of the wood box.

Next, I used the hula hoe to loosen the soil beyond the patio at our place, past the silk tree. I laid the remaining rectangles and even though it was only a small patch of green, the effect was mesmerizing. We wanted more.

Last Saturday, Steph called Lowe's to see if they had sod on sale again. (This time of year, they get it in on Friday and cut leftovers to half price on Sunday.) They had a pallet - 100 pieces - so I blasted down and got it.

Over the next two days, I pulled away from inside work to play with my grass and dirt. What a joy it was, even though I could barely move in the morning. I mostly work on my hands and knees, and have touched and smoothed and weeded and shaped every square inch of it. This job gave me the exquisite feeling of accomplishment I never get from paying bills or sorting out taxes or working in Quickbooks, because as anyone who works with Quickbooks knows, no matter what you do right, Quickbooks will find a way to mess it up, or lose it entirely.

And talk about instant gratification. Where there was dirt is now green and lush grass. I know the dogs like it, because each day, I have found a couple of piles of poop on it. Nothing says lovin' like...

The whole county is rich with fall color. Each turn evokes exclamations as we drive along. Last weekend, we wrapped up our work and took a motorcycle ride, passing bursts of red, orange and yellow so bright, the trees looked like giant chrysanthemums. Walking up to water the new grass at Sow's Ear, I was taken by the fall colors there, too. They're even brighter today, but I need to get outside and finish cutting in the edges of the big sod job. Besides, it is a really pretty day and as much as I have enjoyed spending some of it with you, it's time to go.

By the way, the Miner's Cabin is still available for Thanksgiving and all of our cabins are available for Christmas. We're not sure about New Year's availability yet; a couple of parties have voiced some interest.

Christmas in the Mountains! The four Steel Bridge cabins would be great for a big group of family and friends. Picture the crackling fires in the wood stoves. Twinkling lights inside and outside your cabins. We'll show you where to go to cut your own trees for your cabins and even provide some ornaments for them. Then there's the steelhead fishing. If you don't fish, there are hikes along the lake; strolling through Old Weaverville, listening to the community band and carolors in the bandstand; maybe even soaking in the Jacuzzi tub and watching snowflakes drift down outside.

Oh! That reminds me: Several large salmon have been caught at the hole in front of Alpen Glow. Our neighbor up the road from the Steel Bridge cabins who has been coaching our guests was down yesterday, giving more of them some tips. This weekend, we have a bunch of hotshot fly fishers staying there, and I can't wait to hear how they do.

See you up here, Heidi

9/10/2008: Labor Day Review, BBQ a Turkey & the Moving Hot Tub

August 2007 was our first August for the Trinity River Adventure Inn and we were sure it was going to kill us; we ran full tilt boogie the entire month. Our guests were many and varied and up for everything, so we ran river trips, cooked huge meals, cleaned like crazy and fell into bed exhausted near midnight each night, but it was as much fun as it was work. Labor Day Weekend was the grand finale for a completely wild and successful month.

2007 was just a warm-up for 2008.

Last year, we had one cabin and managed a second; this year's Labor Day Weekend, we had five cabins and all but Dragonfly was rented. Last year, we cooked for four; this year, we cooked for up to 12. More guests wanted river trips than we could accommodate, but we took the folks who booked earliest and it was marvelous.

The "weekend" began August 29th, when the Awerbuck family from Monterey arrived. David Awerbuck is a head and neck surgeon whom I met at the end of 1999 when I came down with a vile sinus infection. He cured what a GP couldn't, then brought his wife and young kids whale watching with us. That was the last we saw of each other until we re-connected in the summer. When he heard where we are, he got excited about bringing his family up to check out our new location.

David, his wife Astrid and their kids Mara, Daniel and Talia arrived just in time for Talia's 8th birthday, so our first dinner was capped off with the requested pan of brownies topped with candles. As soon as dessert was out of the way, the kids were off exploring. They swung in the hammocks and we could see a flashlight bobbing as they ventured along the shoreline. This is what kids used to do on a summer night, and we loved seeing it.

On Saturday, a big group of locals launched everything from inflatable kayaks and rafts to catarafts across the river from us. As they got their gear ready, I commented to Steph that a couple of them were the people who "won" a gift certificate we donated to a fundraiser for cancer research. They have one of the biggest and fanciest places on the river and he, Wayne, is pretty well-known for his massive plasma screen TV that is located a couple of feet from the river. It's housed in a faux boat that sits upright on its stern; he can watch ball games while he fishes.

Watching TV has little appeal to me anyway, but especially when I'm outside, so the whole TV in the boat thing leaves me flat. Wayne said women don't get it, but that men clench their fist, pull their elbow backward and say "Yes!" when they hear about it. Some do, some don't; most of the men who have done the river with us have shrugged and asked questions like, "Isn't that one of the reasons you go outside; to get away from television?"

But Wayne is a character and a prankster. Last time they went by in their boats, he was dousing everyone with his water cannon. Steph considered giving him a Trinity River Adventure Inn salute with our fire pump. Even though it was a lot of work, he finally decided to go for it and hauled the pump down to the river, attached the hard line suction hose, slipped it into the water and laid out a roll of fire hose. He started the pump, then sat in a chair by the river, waiting.

As the big bunch of boaters neared Steph, they were oblivious; nobody paid any attention to the running pump as he waved and smiled. In fact, they waved back and eased his way. Then, as Wayne got within reach, Steph got out of his chair and picked up the nozzle, cranking it open and unleashing 250 gallons per minute of pretty cold river water their way. There was a flurry of activity as paddlers and rowers scattered, but Wayne handled it differently. First, he tried for evasion. Then he stopped, loaded his 5 gallon per minute water cannon and turned toward Steph. As you can see, it wasn't much of a match. However, the people with Wayne cheered Steph on, saying that alone had made their day. Like most kids who have all of the toys, Wayne probably gets this reaction a lot on the rare times when he's completely overpowered.

While we hung around our place harassing the river people, our neighbors and friends Ron and Carolyn took the Awerbucks fishing on Lewiston Lake on their patio boat. We barbecued their catch-two beautiful trout-for the dinner's appetizer. We were joined by the Butler family that night. They're also from Monterey, and friends of the Awerbucks. Their arrival was a jaw-dropper.

Picture this: 2 adults, 3 kids, a medium-large dog and all of their gear for 3 days. We have had families that size who couldn't cram all of their stuff into a Suburban, but the Butlers arrived in a well-packed and un-crowded Toyota Prius! They get the Conservation and Compression Award.

With the arrival of the Butlers, there were now 6 kids and once dinner was finished, they scattered like ants after a picnic; more flashlights and squeals of delight at their discoveries while the adults chatted at the candle-lit table over the river.

Our river trip the next day included most of our kayaks, plus the raft, with Randy Mordecai as oarsman. Randy expected a mellow paddle down the river in his own kayak, but when he brought three more paddlers, we realized Steph would need to join me in his kayak so we could mother hen our chicks down the Trinity. Parents and kids traded in and out of the doubles, while most of the other adults paddled their own boats. Eli the dog took to his loaned flotation device as though he'd always worn one, and the grab handle proved useful when he bounded out of the boat to test his water wings.

Our lunch stop in the shade turned into a blackberry-picking bonanza and in about half an hour, we had enough berries for the night's dessert, plus a couple of jars of blackberry preserves for pancakes. The kids surprised us by managing to turn in their containers with something in them, since they ate most of what they picked. This is a great berry year.

After our river trip, the kids had a great time on the rope swing over at the Steel Bridge cabins. Doesn't this look like a hoot? The river is about as warm as it gets, which isn't saying much, but who cares when you have a swing to aid your splashdown?

Maren Butler proved to have an affinity for all animals.

She was often found cuddled up with Bisco or Scupper, or looking for Alvin. A trip to the bathroom in our cabin turned into a sidetrip to visit the animals and we'd find her smiling and patting their heads. The fondness wasn't one-sided; they realized Maren is a cool kid.

Most animals wouldn't think of this, but when ours learned Maren has to have a heart operation, they dolled up a Trinity River Adventure Inn T-shirt for her. Bisco is part border collie and her signature and paw print was precise and attractive; she helped Scupper with his. But Alvin? Some days, Alvin's a dog. Other days, he's a cat. His paw print turned into several as he marched right through their message, so I'd say he was having a cat day.

I didn't get to meet our other guests at Steel Bridge until they were leaving on Monday. They stayed at Alpen Glow and when I walked into the kitchen to show them the assortment of TRAI embroidered caps for a family member who couldn't make the trip, I was asked what the device hanging over the refrigerator is. It's redwood and square, with a compression handle on the top.

"That's a tortilla press," I told them. "My mother gave it to me."
"You were right!" they exclaimed to one of the women.
"You don't see them like that any more," she said. Most of us have run across the round metal tortilla presses, but the more rustic models used to be made of wood and were square, even though they produced round tortillas. The one my mom gave me is a piece of art that I have used, but thought it looked good over the fridge. It's kind of funny that the only guests who have asked about the tortilla press was the Aldana family; they're Hispanic. Note in their picture to the right that they brought two dogs. Goldens are such scene stealers.

We weren't exactly dead by the time our last guests headed out, but we declared an afternoon off. I read and napped in a hammock for hours. It was warm, shady and the river noise had a magical effect. I kept thinking, "So this is what our guests do. No wonder they don't want to leave." Steph spent a fair amount of time on the couch, doing pretty much the same thing I did. A motorcycle ride was considered, but dropped due to the potential energy expenditure; you have to have some to use it.

Fall bookings have been good and we've already signed up several fishing groups. The Fly Shop and Sac River outfitters in Redding both proved to be a nice fit with TRAI last year. This year, with more cabins and options, they're sending even more business our way. Bob Marriott's Fly Shop near Disneyland works through Sac River and we'll have the owners of both businesses up here in October with their guests. We're pretty jazzed about that. The fishers we attract are conservation-minded; they never leave a mess in their wake, either on the river or in our cabins, and they are fun. What more could you ask for?

It's hard to believe people think this far ahead, but we only have one cabin left for Thanksgiving; the rest are booked. The Miner's is still available and would be an ideal choice for someone who wants to barbecue their turkey, since it has a minimalist kitchen. It's easy to do, even for novices. My first attempt was back when I had Heidi's Old Princeton Landing in Princeton, north of Half Moon Bay. It was a deli; a bar; we made specialty coffees; it was a sailboard shop; and I made custom T-shirts. I also did some catering. Two of my regulars requested a custom meal for their daughter's wedding rehearsal dinner. The entrée and method of cooking had been the subject of intense debate for weeks. My suggestion of out-of-this-world barbecued salmon fell flat because someone on the other side didn't eat fish. It had to be turkey and it had to be barbecued. I agreed to do it.

Trouble was, I had barbecued a lot of salmon, but I'd never barbecued a turkey. My mom had extensive experience, so I called her for directions. I have always had a rule never to try a recipe first time for business, but I was busy and all of a sudden, the day arrived and it was time to cook. Mom had warned me the bird cooks surprisingly fast since it's not stuffed, so I had everything ready for transport on time. But just as I put the turkey on a red chard-covered platter and started to arrange green, red and black grapes around it, a wing tip snapped off. It looked really funky. What would you do? I snapped off the other wing tip at the same spot, then stuck a grape on a stem into each opening. Nice effect.

My store manager and I drove up to Montara to deliver the meal to the awaiting party. I impressed upon her the need to float in, arrange the meal and get out, so we'd barely be noticed. Everyone seemed impressed with the meal and after we'd arranged all the dishes, we backed away from the table and made for the door. I was in the lead. In just a few seconds, POOF! We'd be gone and they could sit down to eat.

I opened the front door and charged through it. Except it wasn't the front door; it was the coat closet. No matter how fast I thought and how many ways I approached the problem, there was no way I could get out of the closet without being seen. With more than a little embarrassment, I backed up and into my manager. There was a momentary Keystone Cops episode when we nearly fell to the floor, then we smiled back at the party with assurance; we would make an exit with our next door choice, which we did.

A few days later, the parents of the bride came by to pay the catering bill and return my serving ware. They raved about the food and how lovely everything was. They said it couldn't have been better if they had prepared it and there was no way they'd have taken it on; especially the barbecued turkey. I asked why.

"Our daughter married a cookbook writer," I was told. "He just finished a book on grilling. It was published by Sunset Magazine."
There are some things you just don't want to know in advance. This ranks pretty close to the top for me, even after all these years. However, a cozy dinner for two in the Miner's; a barbecued turkey and grilled vegetables; a pretty salad and a nice bottle of wine? What could top that?

The Old Lewiston Bridge Lighting extravaganza is the Saturday after Thanksgiving; it is easily our favorite event up here. Hundreds of locals turn out for it, and a lot of out-of-towners show up as well. The entire intersection of Old Lewiston is one big street party with Christmas music, hot chocolate, a couple of crowded and happy bars and free cotton candy. I never have figured that one out, cotton candy for a winter party? But it's very popular and no kid goes home un-sticky. There is a big fireworks show over the water, then Santa Claus arrives in a sleigh towed by a quad. We won't cook for guests this Thanksgiving, but we will offer kayak or raft trips on the lake or the river for adventurous souls, and we will offer meals around the holiday, so think about it.

Interior work on our little log cabin Trout has started, sort of. The futon frame we bought for it was dark cherry and we had a lighter wood in mind, so Steph has stripped it and stained it much lighter. We're debating how we want to do the shower and toilet and so far, are deadlocked. However, another fall project was to move the hot tub away from our cabin and out to a rocky outcropping overlooking the river. Steph did that while I was in Redding shopping and it looks great there. Trout will go on the upstream side of a big oak not far from the tub, so guests in Trout will be as close to the tub as we are. Imagine this scene with the large family staying at Sow's Ear over Thanksgiving. That tub's going to get a workout.

Well, what else should I tell you? Days are warm to hot this time of year. Nights are crisp and mornings require a jacket or fleece. Some days, we have our morning coffee down by the river. I swing in the hammock and Steph sits in a chair next to me. We've been watching a rainbow trout or two that work back and forth a few feet from the shore. Haven't seen the otters in several days, but they were making a real racket last week across the river.

We took our bicycles into the Weaverville bike shop and had them re-built, removing the results of years on the salty coast. As fall deepens, we'll do more rides up Brown's Mountain Road. It's still a little too hot, unless we head out fairly early in the morning.

More salmon are getting up here and we've seen several caught as we've paddled by shore fishers. It never ceases to amaze me how large those ocean-going creatures are. Talk about an incredible journey. The bald eagles at Lewiston Lake have been spotted by all of our recent guests. David Awerbuck got this picture. We often see eagles at the lake and osprey down on the river.

How are you doing on donations to your important causes? We're doing well. We've booked a couple of donated stays at our cabins and just ran a river trip for four complete with a dandy lunch that included grilled pastrami and provolone sanwiches with avocado. These offerings helped our local volunteer-staffed library, the American Cancer Society and the food bank. Unlike most food banks, ours is not a non-profit, so the only return we get is the satisfaction of helping some folks. We donate food, gift certificates, toiletries and toothbrushes that our dentists generously contribute to the cause, even though that fact may have escaped them so far.

As for whether clients of the food bank genuinely need help or are freeloaders, I'll let my mom settle it. She always said, "I'd rather give to someone who didn't need it, than not to give to someone who did." See you up here, Heidi

Even if you think it's going to kill you. Even if you can't imagine tomorrow without them. Gotta let 'em go. Peace, Heidi

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June 8, 2008: A Fast Run Down the River to Our Steel Bridge Cabins

May 18, 2008: High Flow Starting to Drop, But What a Change It's Been!

March 6, 2008: Big News & Big Fish

February 16, 2008: Snow Blind

[This was sent to us by a passenger on one of our Sanctuary Cruises whale watching trips. It's so good, I decided to post it on our TRAI site as well, especially since this is the woman whjo became a friend and made the stained glass window above.]

Jon Cronk was out with us a few weeks ago. It was his first time with Sanctuary Cruises and he was treated to three friendly humpback whales. He got so many great photos, he brought us a CD of them when he joined us last Sunday. On that day, we had MORE friendly experiences! Jon was busy taking pictures while another passenger, Bobbi Dunham, absorbed the experience. Here is her letter, accompanied by Teri Garcia's photograph of the eye of the whale:

If I could have handed someone a wish list of special things to include on a special day, the list would not have included all the wonderful things that happened on our Sanctuary Cruise. I wouldn't have dared ask for the things that actually occurred. But sometimes, magic happens.

Magic happened on Sunday, October 16, 2005.

We have a young friend from Switzerland who is in the United States in an English language immersion program. She has always loved whales, largely because of the "Free Willy" films, but has never had the opportunity to see them. So, we planned a whale watching outing, largely for her, but also for ourselves. We'd gone on two other occasions and always had a wonderful time.

I did some research online because I wanted to make certain we chose the tour that would give her the best experience possible. Sanctuary Cruises appealed to me for several reasons. The welfare of the animals themselves figured prominently in the content of their website. And I loved the idea of one tour per day, so the maximum attention could be given to that tour.

The night before our cruise, I lay listening to the pounding of the surf, and was a little anxious about the weather and ocean conditions, but the day dawned sunny, clear, and calm. We arrived at Moss Landing early, had a look at our boat, and said a brief hello to an extremely capable looking man we later learned to be Captain Steph. We returned to the dockside and waited in the warm sunshine, soaking in the atmosphere of the picturesque dock, while the cranky sea lions barked about whatever cranky sea lions bark about.

Right on time, Captain Steph walked toward those of us who had gathered at the dock, and we made our way to the Sanctuary, a solid-looking, immaculately clean vessel with a four-footed first mate. I remember now that Captain Steph told me right before departure that he loved this boat, that the best things always happened on this boat.

Steph told us the swell was high that day, despite the idyllic appearance of the sky and lack of wind, but that if we liked E ticket rides at Disneyland, we would love the trip out to open water. We did. We sat on the seats in front of the wheel, spotting jellies, scanning the horizon, and hanging on tight till our bodies found their natural rhythm to ride the rise and fall of our sturdy little boat's progress through the swell. That alone was worth the price of admission. We left all the extra hats and coats we had lugged along inside the cabin, never needing them.

Along the way, we saw otters feeding in waters conventional wisdom had told us was too deep for otters to feed in. Captain Steph told us about seeing an otter floating in water of that depth with a crab on it's chest/menu. I guess Sanctuary isn't the only object on the sea whose size belies its capabilities.

We were also delighted to see small groups of sea lions, arcing in and out of the water in an impossibly lyrical dance, then stopping as a body and looking back at us, as if to ask if we had gotten their picture, and did we perhaps agree with Captain Steph's quip that they thought the whales were over- rated.

A very short time into our trip, Captain Steph told us that he had spoken to a ship we could see a couple of miles ahead of us, and that we might be seeing something pretty wonderful fairly soon. Captain Steph slowed the boat's engine and you could nearly taste the anticipation. I can't remember which happened first, the sound, the smell, or the sight of our first whales of the day. It was Big Fin and her calf. We spotted their blow and heard that mighty blast as their breath plumed into the sky. Two incredibly graceful forms arched into view, the familial rise and fall of cow and calf, a lifelong rhythm we were fortunate to see at it's beginning. Steph told us to wait, wait, wait, NOW, take your pictures, and we all got our first shot of those fabulous flukes.

The whales were just being whales and we were completely thrilled. Captain Steph, with uncanny accuracy, born of experience, instinct, and maybe a little assistance from a depth sounder, kept us right in position to get another good look when they broke surface again. More blow! And this time we were close enough for our first whiff of whale breath - once smelled, never forgotten. Another great photo op, and they disappeared again with a graceful flash. Captain Steph pointed out their footprints, the slick left behind by the water being displaced by their mighty flukes. We watched, trying to comprehend the power of a creature which could do that - and be no threat to us.

And this was just the beginning. As Steph said a little later, trying to decide which whale to watch was not the worst problem to have. We saw so many. It seemed everywhere we looked, there was blow and those graceful forms breaking the surface. It was too good to be true, too many whales to see all at once.

We slowly moved away from the whales we had been watching, because as Steph said, the primary concern was not to change the behavior of the animals by our actions.

I wish I could remember the exact sequence of events. Steph said he had spotted another cow and calf, which was so unusual for the time of year. She had been seen before, but didn't have a name as yet. He again slowed the engine, and waited to see the animal's response to us. Nothing could have prepared us for what then happened. Nothing. She came to us. In friendship? In curiosity? She came to us and showed us the wonder that is a whale in a whale's world. Without fear, without aggression, she came to us.

The sea was a little rough, and we made our unsteady way from one end of the boat to the other as she dove and rose again and again. She blew her plume right into the boat with us, and we didn't even mind her breath. She showed us her belly, she raised her flippers out of the water, she displayed her majestic flukes. We were all in awe, and I remember someone asking if this happened all the time, and Steph saying, no, no, that something truly special was going on.

I don't know how long this lasted. She never seemed to tire of us or of showing us her beauty, and we would never have tired of her. But Steph, mindful of her calf skirting us a short distance away, said we should no longer engage her, and we prepared to end the most magical moment of our lives.

But it didn't end. We moved off and she followed us. I watched in fascination as she dove under the boat, moving from side to side, fore and aft, looking at us all, raising her massively elegant head out of the water, diving right beneath us, never touching the boat, though only missing it by mere inches. We reached our hands toward her as she would lift her flipper, then she would roll, and slip beneath the boat, leaving us to watch that gentle thrust of her flukes, using just enough of that amazing power to propel herself, never enough to harm us in any way. I thought my heart would burst from the joy of this once-in-a-lifetime chance to interact with one of the most magnificent creatures of this magnificent ocean. She was so incredibly beautiful, and graceful. Gentle. Then, regretfully, but respectfully, we moved off.

We were busy scanning for the by now familiar puff and blow of a rising whale, when, the unimaginable happened. She surfaced next to us again. It was magic. Pure magic. She showed us every square inch of herself, her beautiful, generous self. "She likes us," someone cried out. She must have. We saturated our senses with her, and while others may someday discern the reasons for her amazing actions that day, I am content to simply be amazed by them, connected to her by them, changed by them. She awoke something innate deep in my heart, and it clamors to be heard today, and hopefully tomorrow, and everyday for the rest of my life. It was suggested our beautiful friend should be named. I suggested 'Mon Ami'. Whether that name sticks or not, it is how I will always remember her. My friend. May God grant her and all her kind, long, healthy, contented life.

And thank you, Captain Steph and Sanctuary Cruises for giving us one of the best, the most magical days we will ever know. Bobbi Dunham

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After a break, we got back onto the river last week and kayaked from the old bridge in Lewiston down to our place. Our guests were from Corral de Tierra, which is about 3 miles from our house in the Monterey hills. We had never met, which isn't surprising, but that they found us and we all got along so well is.

It was a soft blue day when we ran the river, with just the beginning of wispy clouds edging up over the mountains' ridges. Steph and Rob took a slow bell so Rob could fish and his wife Karen and son Nick went ahead with a couple of locals and me.

The colors of fall have both brightened and deepened. Ask me in the summer what season I like best and I will say summer. But come fall, these rich and vibrant hues take my breath away and I glory in the season. I know I'm not the only one who revels in each season because it's fresh and new.

While the paddlers went by, I took picture after picture, which was not always easy since I had Bisco on the bow of my boat and she is not averse to standing slightly off center.

Note Bisco looking back at me as though to say, "Check out the golden reeds over their heads. Did you get it? " That girl misses nothing.

Farther downstream, the banks were covered with elephant ears, which or may not actually be elephant ears. We have a friend who said he heard they were something else, but he couldn't remember what. Anyone out there know? I love them. They define tenacious; their roots clinging to rocks that are under frigid, fast-moving water in the winter and spring. Then they leaf out and grow to incredible proportions. Come fall, they go from bright green to stunning reds, oranges and golds before losing their leaves and starting over.

The dragonflies do a similar dance, but it's multigenerational. They laid their eggs in the water last summer, then they died. Those eggs are now in the river and streams and after they turn into nymphs and start feeding, nothing many times their size will be safe from their chomping jaws.

We kayak all year up here and I am getting excited about those winter paddles when we finally dress for the water temperature. In the summer, if we dunk, we are back into the warm air quickly; not so when the air is 30 degrees. Bald eagles soar overhead; fish dart past us; everything seems heightened, drawn with a crisper line.

By the Dawn's Early Glow

A few weeks ago, our friend Carolyn joined me in The Big Red Truck program for our fire department. We took an engine and scoured several areas of Lewiston, conducting inspections for fire defensibility of structures. The department was paid $25 for each inspection, so we raised $2650. I'm hoping I can get the chief to cut loose with some of that money for a headlamp, lighter gloves and one of those cool new ballcaps with LED lights in the bill.

During our inspections, we found a couple of wood-frame cabins next to each other that had pine needles in piles and all around on the ground, including the steep bank that leads down to the river. I wrote a detailed description of the river access on the forms, because that water is gold for fire fighting: close and unlimited. But thick, burning pine needles would make the trip to the river with a Flotopump miserable and dangerous.

A neighboring trailer had pine needles over the bank as well. It was inhabited and I knew the woman, so I explained what was wrong and she promised to fix it. I encouraged her to call 911 if she even suspected a fire and gave her my phone number in case she needed anything.

A week later, our friend Ardie came to visit, as she does every 2 or 3 months. She joined Steph, the dogs and me on a hike and we passed the drives for those cabins. I asked Steph if he wanted to check one out, because it was a vacation rental and really cute. "I can see it any time," he shrugged, so we went on. I pointed out things I had noted on the inspection: the driveway north of the rental offered better access for engines, because it didn't have power lines nearby; it had large, visible numbers, while the vacation rental had no numbers at all.

Later that day, the three of us went to Weaverville, where Steph and I bought the most powerful fire pump we could find for inch and a half hose. We were spooked by the distance between our places and the firehouse and wanted our own equipment.

Early the next morning, Steph and I were toned out for a fire down the road from us. We went straight to the fire because the guys who live close to the firehouse would be bringing several units, including the water tender. The call came in at 0543 and Zack, my partner on the Hayfork fire who lives 2 blocks from us, was on scene and reporting what he saw to dispatch at 0548. Steph and I were there a minute later. Pretty good response time.

Even from our driveway, a red glow was visible 300 feet in the air and when we neared the fire, I realized it was the vacation rental. It was fully involved, with flames shooting thirty feet into the air. There would be no saving it, so we'd concentrate on the nearby trailers, wooden sheds, cabins and trees.

My mind raced. I remembered the cabin had a 5 gallon propane tank lying on its side under the riverside deck; that it had pine needles all around and that the steep bank down to the river was thick with them. As we got closer, I saw the bank was on fire in several spots.

As soon as our engine arrived, we pulled out the pre-connected line and started to work at controlling the spread of flames heading for the cabin to the south. That one had given me fits on the inspection: No hose bibs at all, so no hose. All wood, including the deck, and pine needles everywhere.

Zack was the I.C. (Incident Commander) and he did a great job. His assessment was right on; he called in the neighboring FDs as well as CDF and coordinated with the various teams as they arrived. Steph is excellent at watching out for all of us - especially me - as he fights fires. He prioritized where we should shoot our precious water until backups arrived.

The CDF guys got the task of scrambling down the bank covered with burning pine needles to launch the Flotopump. It was a nasty job, but what the heck, I thought; they're young, and they're paid.

Long after day broke, when things were under control and we could rotate off the hose and take a break, I had a neighbor go get Ardie. She was staying at Sow's Ear and had missed our exit. Ardie provided the photo coverage seen here and later sent a CD of the pictures, complete with a very cool custom-made cover that included a collage of some of the pictures on the disk.

She gets mad at me for saying this, but Ardie is almost 85. I know people in their 40's who couldn't transfer pictures to a CD, then make a custom label for it, on a bet. Nor could they tromp up the hills we do on our hikes with her. Of course, there is the small problem that Ardie usually leaves a pertinent part of her camera gear at home, such as the cable that would have allowed a direct transfer to our computer, but that has nothing to do with age; it is just Ardie, and it gives us stuff to laugh about during evening cocktails.

Five hours after our arrival, we got our first cup of coffee. It was from Woody, a neat old guy who makes really lousy coffee, but boy, was it appreciated. Then he gave me little chocolate bars to pass around to the crews; no one had eaten since the night before.Then the Red Cross arrived with coffee, cookies; that was also very appreciated. A little while later, Mel, our chief came back with breakfast burritos, which we inhaled.

Look at the picture below. This is the deck of the cabin that has no spigot or hose and was surrounded by pine needles. The burn line was moving rapidly to this cabin when we arrived and it wouldn't have been many more minutes before it would have been blazing, too. Remember Clint Eastwood asking, "Do you feel lucky? Well, do you?" The owners of this place sure should.

Six and a half hours after our arrival, we were cut loose from the mop-up, which was aided greatly by a backhoe working down the road. This is the second fire where we were able to shanghai a backhoe to pull down walls and turn over debris to put out hot spots and cool what was left. Steph worked the hardest and longest and was the dirtiest from this fire and I could have kissed that backhoe operator for saving us both from the rest of the back-breaking tedium of mop-up. As one of the CDF guys said, "Half an hour of excitement followed by hours of misery."

As with the fire earlier this year, our department had a real success, despite the fact the burning structure was lost. Not one of the trees that were on fire when we arrived was lost, nor were any of the surrounding trailers or cabins, some of which were just a few feet away. What could have been a huge tragedy was averted, but that doesn't mean we wouldn't love to save a building that is burning when we get to it. That's Steph, Bobby, myself and Zack below.

What I don't understand is that woman I spoke to the week before, who lives near the cabin that burned. She smelled smoke and at first wrote it off to a woodstove or fireplace. When the smell increased, she got up, walked all around her trailer feeling the walls, then went back to bed. Several minutes later, when she heard popping, she looked outside and saw the flames. She tried to call 911, she says, but her cordless phone went dead.

Rather than run to Woody's, her neighbor's, and beat down his door if she had to, she took the time to grab her cats, put them in the car, then drive around the area honking her horn.

You know me; I'd be the first one rounding up animals, but way before that, she dropped the ball. Four words: precious moments were lost. Had she looked beyond her place at first and checked the neighbors, she could have made a difference. At least no one was in the cabin at the time.

A week later, the seasonal employees at CDF were sent home and the station that had responded to the Bucktail fire was closed until next year. We'll sure miss them.

Steph has teased me about becoming a junior fire marshall, but I have insisted he is wrong.

"It's EXECUTIVE Junior Fire Marshall, buddy," I said, "EJFM." I am expecting my red plastic Hartford of Connecticut Insurance Junior Fire Marshall hat any day now. Remember junior fire marshall helmets? In grade school, we had to conduct a fire inspection at home and when we did, we got our helmets. When my helmet comes this time, I expect it will have "EXECUTIVE" across the top and on the sides, like chiefs' helmets have "CHIEF."

I think I tried to turn my parents in for negligence back when I conducted my childhood inspections. I KNOW when we had a very small fire behind our stove, which was quickly put out by my dad, I refused to go back into the house for hours. My parents said it was safe, but what did they know? They didn't even have one Junior Fire Marshall helmet between the two of them.

One last note on fires: We responded to two almost identical calls just before the cabin fire. Women had set their stoves' ovens to clean, but they had not scraped up excess food that had fallen to the bottom. Self-cleaning ovens work at very high heat for hours, so if you leave food in there, it's going to burn. The flames can't break out with such a small amount of fuel, but they are alarming.

Remember that baking soda will quickly smother grease fires on top of the stove. Scrape out the bottom of the oven and wipe down the sides before setting a self-cleaning oven to clean. Above all else, think about how you will respond to a fire or other emergency and talk it over with everyone you live with, as well as neighbors. Have a plan and leave room to modify it if circumstances dictate the need.

Another First

• First Kayaking Trip, which was in a boat by herself; she and I went down to Steel Bridge, a trip several miles long.
• First Motorcycle Sidecar Ride, when I took her for a spin with Bisco in the sidecar with her.
  
• First Ride on the Back of a Motorcycle, when Bisco made it clear she wanted the sidecar to herself.
  

8/8/2007: From Sea Otters to River Otters

Wednesday July 26, 2007

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Wednesday July 11, 2007