AK Traveller

Interesting times

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Tue, 07 Jul 2020 06:38:00 +0000

I'm living in more interesting times than I ever have before. I imagine refugees from Syria, survivors of the Ebola outbreak, the Rwandan genocide or one of the many other crises in the world that have taken place during my lifetime would have more "interesting times" to tell me about, but this is my place, my time... and it has been crazy to me! But it is helpful for me to keep perspective - in fact, that has probably been the most helpful thing I can do for myself.

A new home

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Fri, 27 Sep 2019 07:29:00 +0000

I wrote this on Sept 1, after we'd been here for about 2 wks. One of the biggest adjustments has been the slow, stuttering and expensive internet access. And then my laptop has been wifi challenged on top of that. So I haven't posted it yet, but tonight it's all coming together so here we have it....

9/1/19

Flying to Anchorage from Glasgow for our a turn-around week I felt like I was at the beginning of a Ninja Warrior obstacle course. I was positive about my chances: I’m well trained up in transitions and was relaxed - yet focused on my tasks. It was a daunting list: move our ridiculous amount of stuff out of storage to either the Crash Pad or Unalaska, facilitate quality time with the kids’ friends, shop for back to school and living in Unalaska (hello Costco), get the car to the ferry in Homer, do all the “life maintenance” appointments we could fit in, hike, and get some quality friend time in myself.

I didn’t frost the cookie to myself, and was expecting to be extremely stressed. So imagine my surprise, relief, and joy when I found myself, on my second evening home, jet lagged but happy: hanging out with a small smattering of dear friends from different areas of life and laughing, connecting, telling stories, and catching up. On of my oldest and dearest friends had come up from Seattle following the peaceful death of her elderly mom, and that healthy reminder of mortality set the priorities for the week.

(Janet’s mom was just one of the moms in my life growing up - much like the parents in the Charlie Brown cartoons, we often were guilty of assuming our parents existed as a backdrop to our adolescent dramas. But, sitting in her service, I was in awe at her life. She was roughly my age now when she adopted her 2 daughters…stunning bravery. )

The days passed all too quickly, mostly filled with all good things. Of course there were the frazzled moments…alone in traffic…late to some appointment…with a car full of crap…and an endless list, but those moments didn’t dominate my week. Instead, I luxuriated in the love and support of friends and family: my nephew who helped me move furniture on 2 separate evenings, the hikes and other time spent with friends, dinner with my family, an evening with my book club, quiet time in the Crash Pad (a condo that we’re sharing with a few other out-of-town health care providers so that we can all have an oasis in Anchorage) ….all that is good in the world.

Tuesday was my crux day and I got our Unalaska car to the Trusty Tustumena at the ferry terminal in Homer on time, and got help from an old friend who drove it onto the ferry while I took a flight home. In the process I created a life lesson for myself by leaving the keys to the “Anchorage car” in the “Unalaska car” that was on the ferry for 4 days. Lelia came to the rescue by getting the spare key from Mom’s condo, but it was interesting how ballistic I went on myself. How many of us a) panic and b) berate ourselves when we make a mistake that, if anyone else had made it, we would have a) kindly said, “No biggie, we’ll figure this out.” And b) calmly problem-solve through it. AmIright?! AFGE

Murray arrived on Wednesday after tucking the Young Larry into her winter home in Ardfern Marina. Thursday…is a blur. Friday Sam and I flew out too Unalaska….

So enough about getting out here: We are in Unalaska!!! LIVING HERE!

In a nutshell: I love it. I’m so happy we’re here. I was terribly anxious about the kids. They have had to adjust in ways I don’t, and I worry how our nomadic life choices will affect them. They both miss their friends terribly, but I’m so impressed by their resilience. So far they’re meeting new friends, getting involved in activities, and settling in. I’m very, very proud of and impressed by them.

Unalaska is breathtakingly beautiful - that fact often gets missed in the stories about the terrible weather, WW II, the tragedies that the indigenous Unangan (Aleut) people have survived, and the Wild West fishing industry. It is a diverse community clinging between the mountains and the sea - thriving at the edge of the world. It is a liminal space in many ways - balanced between the Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea, Asia and North America, the land and the ocean, civilization and wilderness.

At this point our big effort has been devoted to moving in, starting school, and getting oriented at work. We’ve gone on a few fabulous hikes and just scratched the surface of the community. We’ve also rested a lot and I’m enjoying the feeling of getting rooted in my space.

**I'm posting photos on Instagram at akjenh. Mostly of hikes, because hiking makes me happy - which is when I take photos. **

The magical Isle of Islay

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Thu, 18 Jul 2019 19:17:00 +0000

Crinan Canal

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Wed, 17 Jul 2019 16:59:00 +0000

We have been steadily moving and exploring. I may write additional posts on the different legs, but for now there is too much. Let me sum up: We left Holyhead harbor the very night we arrived, and arrived at the Isle of Man the next morning, where we spent 4 adventurous days. Then we were off to Northern Ireland, bowing to the dictates of the prevailing winds. After 2 nights in Northern Ireland, the winds were good for our sail back across the North Channel to Loch Ryan in southern Scotland. Next morning we had a cracking sail north, past Ailsa Crag (clouded over or we would've stopped to climb it), and into Ardrossan Harbor, just south of Glasgow. There we sadly said goodbye to Ry, enjoyed a day in Glasgow, then took the train to Edinburgh for an overnight and to pick up Ella, another of Natalie's friends.

With Ella in tow, we sailed to Arran and anchored right under Brodick Castle. The next day we went further north to await our appointed date to go through the Crinan Canal.

The next morning at 8:30 am we were waiting at the lock...and thus began our day in the Crinan Canal - what an experience.

It's a beautiful waterway - so serene and cozy. At times also a little mind-bending as we glimpsed cars, houses, and even the sea below us. The narrow green corridors were periodically interrupted by the hard work of negotiating the locks.

Mentally it's challenging to repeatedly dock, throw/secure lines, and manage the turbulence as the locks fill and empty.

Physically the kids thrived on the work of cranking open and closed the locks, and running from one lock to the next. Murray and I stayed on the boat, so didn't get the workout they did, but I was still tired at the end of the day.

We went through the 15 locks in a convoy of 3 boats and developed a sense of camaraderie over the course of the 7 hrs. The kids, especially Sam, enjoyed being part of a larger team and he was thrilled to be invited to join their crews...But we wouldn't agree to give him up.

The hero of the day was another wonderful connection: weeks ago, a friend from Pomfret had emailed us that he had a friend who lived near the Crinan Canal. He mentioned, but we missed/forgot, that his friend was a pilot on the canal. The canal recommends private pilots to take people through, and we naturally thought after reading the literature available that we could probably do without. But the morning of, as we were arriving at the canal and thinking a pilot would actually be quite nice, Murray re-read the email and saw that George's friend was a pilot.

So we emailed him, just to introduce ourselves and ask if he had any advice...not only did he reply, but he came right down! And really made the day wonderful. I don't know what we would've done without him - I mean, obviously, we would have made it (I think), but the crews of the other boats (who had done the canal before) both raved about how smoothly and well this transit went all due to him.

We were all knackered when we got to the final basin, where we rested a day, explored, kayaked and ate at the lovely hotel/pub. We also met Mike's wife and got to see their amazing farm, overlooking the canal. A highlight of the trip.

Liverpool

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Sun, 07 Jul 2019 20:28:00 +0000

We made it to Holyhead, Wales by the appointed date to pick up Ry from the Glasgow airport. Murray was excited about visiting Liverpool, so, with the Young Larry set on a secure mooring, we boarded a train to Liverpool, planning to stay 2 nights with a day trip by Natalie and I to Glasgow in the middle to get our newest crew member.

I'd never had a yearning to see Liverpool - I knew very little about it aside from the soccer team, Beatles, and industrial past but was up for the experience.

After checking in to our room with a view

we set off to explore.

Sam noticed that an ornate building we passed was the Liverpool Central Public Library, and insisted that we stop in...and we were so glad he did. We were blown away! It blends old and new design in a public space that is so welcoming and invigorating.

After spending quite a bit of time in the library, we walked to the waterfront for dinner and messing about.

The next morning Natty and I took the train up through the Lakes District and southern Scotland to Glasgow...such a nice relaxing ride. There is a soothing quality to staring out the train window at the landscape whizzing by on a train.
We smoothly caught our connections and were there in time to greet Ry as he came out of security!

The way back was hampered by connections missed by mere minutes that snowballed into more and more time, but as the public transportation is so good, it really wasn't a terrible thing. However, I watched myself get tightly wound as the bus from the airport to the train station fell the crucial 5 minutes behind schedule but talked myself down...repeatedly.
And it was fine.
And we got dinner at the train station.
And even though the next train was packed with commuters for the first hour, we couldn't find seats together (or even good seats at all) and I embarrassingly crushed some people with a near fall on a turn, we still arrived in good time and in one piece to Liverpool.

Travel tip: VirginRail (who we took on the way up) is the rail company to ride if you have the choice.

We spent one more night in Liverpool and then took the train back to Holyhead.

Wooden ships, iron people

noreply@blogger.com (Murray) — Wed, 26 Jun 2019 12:16:00 +0000

Tuesday June 24th.

This is Murray taking a spin at the blog helm. It has been a great trip so far, for more of the highs read on below, but I want to start with the last 24 hours. We were coming off a 30 hour day. That morning we had left our beautiful tranquil anchorage way up the Helford River at a place called Tremayne Quay. We had spent 2 nights there due to weather and it was shocking how tiny the river got on each of the low tides. Fortunately we were anchored in a small pool in the remaining channel. When we went to get the anchor up on Friday morning the chain pulled up a huge waterlogged branch. The branch and the chain were intertwined and it looked like a bad situation. Fortunately we were able to get in the dingy and cut through the branch with a hacksaw and that allowed the chain to shake free. Phew!

Only slightly delayed we headed out around the Lizard and Land’s End. Yet more spectacular coastline - the whole thing has been so far: cliffs, dramatic headlands, wave dashed rocks. All very wild, in some ways similar to Unalaska (seriously), but Unalaska if it were scattered with occasional villages, castles, and green fields full of sheep and cattle! Jen has turned in to our navigator - I love navigation, but hate planning. She likes (and needs) to plan. Which in fortunate, because these British Isles are completely surrounded by powerful currents due to the huge tides. In New England, where I grew up sailing, the tides were mostly less than 10 feet. Here they are much bigger. Almost Bay of Fundy-sized in places. Alaska has big tides, but most of the places we sailed there were very deep, so the currents were usually slower than they are here. It is critical to understand the tides and the currents and look ahead, which fortunately is one of the many things that Jen is great at.

Jen timed our trips around the Lizard and Land’s End perfectly and we rounded them both easily and then started the longest “open sea” passage of the trip: 110 miles across the Celtic Sea/ Bristol Channel to Milford Haven. We began with motoring, but around 1 a.m. we were able to get the sails up. Which is when the dolphins showed up! I had just gotten Natalie up to experience sailing at night under the stars. Suddenly we were surrounded by about 10-20 dolphins. They stayed with us for 20 minutes. I don’t recall ever having them stick around that long in Alaska. We got Sam up and both kids went up to the bow to watch them play all around our the boat. The sailing got better through the night and the next morning the dolphins were back for another 20 minutes play session. We particularly enjoyed - or should I say they particularly enjoyed? - swimming behind us tickling (scratching themselves?) on the bottom of our dingy (the Portland Pudgy, who we have given the name Iliuliuk which is one of the bays in Dutch Harbor and means Harmony). The kids sat on the seat on the afterdeck (which the Brits call the push pit, a term I had never heard back home) and watched them play. We arrived in Milford Haven in the early afternoon. The Haven is an incredible deep water harbor, open in all weather and all tides - which is a rarity on this coast. It has been a strategic spot for centuries. The Vikings were here. Oliver Cromwell’s fleet left from here to subdue Ireland during the 17th century Civil War. The Royal Navy had a dockyard here through the First World War. It is a stunningly beautiful place. It is also a major petrochemical port in the UK with LNG and petroleum terminals and the largest refinery in the UK. If you do a panorama head swivel it is a remarkable contrast. Beautiful bays, cliffs and headlands interrupted by massive smokestacks, docks, tankers and shore tanks. We anchored in a lovely bay that was 300 degrees postcard gorgeous and 60 degrees Newark, NJ. Jen and the kids rowed to shore. Jen went on a hike and Sam and Natalie played on a beach and played beach soccer with some kids.

The next morning we got up early and started our push around St. David’s Head and Cardigan Bay. It was going to be another long passage ~ 80 miles. It started gloriously. Lots of wind and current in our favor. We had the sails up and were doing 9-10 knots as we rounded St. David’s Head……and then the tide turned. The wind was from the East, and flukey, so we didn’t have the dreaded wind over tide situation which can set up nasty waves (we saw plenty of that in the fjords of SE Alaska). But against the current and hard on the wind - which was flukey as I said - we were going nowhere. We spent about 4 hours going about 9 miles. Our ETA up at Porth Dinllaen on the Lleyn Peninsula kept getting pushed back further and further.

And did I mention it was raining all day?

And that both kids were seasick?

Morale was low.

And then the wind clocked ahead and the current got a little stronger and we threw in the towel and turned around and sailed down to Fishguard, to which we arrived at 3 in the morning in the fog. (Luckily the huge fast ferries that run to Ireland were done for the night.) We were so relieved to be there. And then when we went to put the anchor down it wouldn’t budge. The windless only wanted to go up, it had no interest in releasing the chain and the anchor. So we scrambled and put out the 2nd anchor and went down to get some much needed sleep.

I am so proud of my crew. I say my crew because I am the one who cooked up this whole adventure and Shanghaied them into signing on.

Sam has been a trooper. He hasn’t lost his passion for playing on his iPad or voraciously reading books, but he is contributing more and more in the running of the boat. He is our helmsman when we need the 3 of us to get the mainsail down. He (reluctantly) is becoming the next great Buttner male dishwasher. Most importantly, his perky energy and humor seem to kick in when the rest of us are flagging.

Natalie has been a super trooper. Positive, brave, up for anything. She is our designated mast climber and part of our foredeck duo (me and her). She has been playing guitar, painting, writing, and learning about how everything works. Yesterday she got really low during the long slog to Fishguard (if we had set out to go there from Milford Haven directly we would have gotten in 8 hours sooner [sad face emoji here]. And so she taught herself how to tie a monkey’s fist knot and practiced guitar. And when we finally threw in the towel and turned the boat south she rallied and helped us anchor the boat at 3 am.

And Jen. What can I say. She is incredible - anyone reading this blog already knows that. But except for the crew of the the Amber J out in Bristol Bay (you know who you are) you haven’t seen Jen at her strongest until you have seen her on a boat. She has such reserves of strength and willpower. Like yesterday when she spent 40 minutes fighting the diesel heater that wouldn’t stay lit. She won - thank goodness because we needed to warm up and dry out the cabin. I have already mentioned her planning skills in regards to her methodical approach to the charts and tide tables. But her organizational skills go much deeper than that. As some famous military figure once said, amateurs study tactics, professionals study logistics. Logistics: 1) the detailed coordination of a complex operation involving many people, facilities, or supplies. 2) the organization of moving, housing, and supplying troops and equipment. That's Jen! She is our logistician supreme.

So yesterday was hard. Our first “bad day”. The previous 30 hour passage had been long, but the sailing was as good as it gets and dolphins!! And there is nothing more ethereal than sailing at night under a clear sky. But yesterday was type 2 fun, maybe type 3 (we have a divergence of views on how fun is typed). It could have been so so much worse. The wind and seas were uncomfortable, but totally non-threatening. Kids were seasick, but no one was throwing up or incapacitated. When I had cooked up this whole scheme I knew that there were going to be some tough days and that they were going to be one of the best reasons for doing what we are doing. Our modern world doesn’t often offer the challenges that our ancestors experienced regularly. Sadly we are hermetically separated from this amazing world by our screens, windows and windshields. We get upset by traffic congestion, slow internet speeds and poor cell reception. I have thought a lot about what it must have been like sailing to America in the 1600s. Even my grandparents who travelled by steamer pre-commercial jet travel lived in a very different world. We are reading a really fun book called "Topsails and Battle-axes" by Tom Cunliffe. It is about the Vikings who sailed to the Iceland, Greenland and North America centuries before Columbus.

There is a saying about the past: the boats were made of wood and the people were made of iron! Hopefully this trip will give us all more appreciation of our past and our present and so many other things.

The River Fal

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Fri, 21 Jun 2019 07:33:00 +0000

6/14-21 We pulled into the surprisingly bustling harbor of Falmouth mid morning on Thursday, June 13. We managed to snag a mooring buoy - only catching it by the aid of a fisherman who saw our plight and rowed over from his boat to help us transfer our rope through the fixed loop on the top of the buoy - I like being moored, and catching them is not usually a problem, but some of them are very hard to get a line attached to! We found out it was a Classic Boat Regatta and a Sea Chanty Festival that weekend - hence the full and busy harbor!

Although Falmouth is a significant port, lots of commercial traffic and a long maritime history so it would have been the busiest harbor we’d called at yet no matter what festivals were going on.

The tides were impressive, and the stone wharfs even more so...

Feeding the birds...

Our mooring was a significant distance to row from the marina or any docks where we could leave a dingy so we generally called a water taxi to get to and from shore.

Murray rowing us home through the boats

A huge jelly, hanging out near the wharf

We did lots of wandering through the town, sightseeing, shopping, eating,

looking at the beautiful classic boats - both at dock and out sailing - and enjoying the singing.

Not all of us appreciated the singing equally

However, the best part of our time in Falmouth was connecting with people - Murray had corresponded with a professional sailor and writer. He surveyed the Young Larry during our purchase process and has been a wealth of information and help. The morning after we arrived, he texted that he could see the Young Larry from the window of his house! He lives in Falmouth and recognized her at her mooring in the harbor. It was great to meet him in person: Murray picked his brain about a rigging issue, and he had invaluable advice about route planning.

Sunday as the hoopla from the festival died down we sailed/motored up the Truro River as far as we could go - and the wind followed us up! It was impressive to be away from the sea, up a river and have the wind whirling us about. It was Father's Day so Murray spent it on an adventure with his kids - hiked around, found the Old Kea Church and caught one of their twice monthly services.

After 1 night there we came back down to have work done on the rigging at Mylor Harbor, just around the corner from Falmouth. And another amazing connection: the man who owned the original Larry and built the Young Larry (in Malta) was in the area as well, having work done on his newest boat (still an old boat). He came over and we spent a fabulous hour or 2 talking to him. How amazing to meet him! And he confirmed that the Larry was in Falmouth Harbor as well on a mooring - we found her the next day.

There wasn’t anything except the marina and 2 little restaurants at Mylor, so the next few days while the rigging was being worked on we came and went. We got a bus pass and took the bus to see Truro and the cathedral there, Natty and I went into Falmouth and got her a wetsuit (which we’d been talking about for months) and loaded up on more groceries. We had hilarious bus connections but made it home in 1 piece to leave Mylor Wednesday evening for a picture-perfect sail down to Helford River again - up through the kajillion boats on moorings and into a little hole further up the river that Murray spotted on the chart.

The kids slept out on the deck and we planned to spend some time exploring the next day. Which started out well - Natalie got to use her wetsuit and jump into the river from the bowsprit, rigging, etc. But the wind really kicked up and we spent the rest of the day holed up in the boat watching the shore circle by. I got some much needed trip planning done - timings set, way points plotted and a sense of how we need to make the big push around Land’s End to Milford Haven. In the evening the wind died down and Murray took each kid out sailing in our PP. They all needed some fresh air and energy released by then! (we did take pictures, but I can't get them to load just now)

We start tomorrow and plan to round Lizard Point at 11:30 and be rounding Land’s End between 1430-1530 to keep the current on our side. Then an overnight push to get up to Wales by the next day. We anticipate it’ll take 18-24 hrs to make the passage. And we will keep pushing to get closer to Glasgow for our first visitor pick-up on June 27th. These last 3 weeks have flown by!

Salcombe to Falmouth

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Fri, 21 Jun 2019 07:10:00 +0000

View back to Salcombe

6/10-6/12 - Our 2 nights in Salcombe were very fun - we were moored in the river, with many other boats riding out the windy weather for a day, and took a water taxi into town. My 2 favorite things about Salcombe: the fancy and friendly yacht club and our amazing hike. We went on a fantastic walk around the headlands we’d come in past. Very craggy and intimidatingly steep. The South Coast Trail would be fun to do if you were on land, and we’ve joined it for little walks at different ports. This was our favorite part yet. Salcombe is built on steep hills that drop precipitously to hidden beaches between rocky crags. We walked up and down through town to Overbecks, a National Trust Garden and from there up to the top of the cliffs.

From the top, we walked along the top until the next valley, and descended into it where it’s possible to take a lower trail back to the town. Natalie and I weren’t satisfied and so continued on walking, cutting across sheep fields to meet up with the South Coast Trail again, and then we following it back along the bluffs to the Y. Murray and Sam headed directly back from the Y to one of the beaches we’d passed in order to catch a little ferry back to town. The tides here are Alaskan large so at that point of the tide, the ferry couldn’t get in close to the beach and their solution is to bring passengers out to the ferry on a specially outfitted tractor!

Anyhow, both parties got to enjoy the impressive walk along the precipitous cliffs. The trail zigs and zags through the sharp rocks cascading down to the jade green water below - beautiful and fun to negotiate.

Pretty little Salcombe

The next morning, Wednesday, June 12 we set sail for Falmouth/Helford River area. On our way we passed the isolated Eddystone Rocks Lighthouse - a solitary sentinel rising from the sea like magic. The lighthouse we passed was the 4th lighthouse on the rocks and was built in 1882.

We ultimately deciding on Helford River for our first stop and arrived just as the sun was setting. Helford River is a popular yachting area and lots of boats were moored among the tiny clusters of stone houses, green fields, and rocky headlands. We rested overnight then motored for Falmouth on Thursday where we were expecting a navigation chip for our charting system and Murray wanted to get some other things worked on.

Attitude

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Sun, 16 Jun 2019 16:18:00 +0000

Wed, June 12

I realize that this is an amazing opportunity, adventure, holiday, etc. that we’re lucky to be on. But it’s not all strawberries and Cornish clotted cream - adventures do include some misery and this is no exception.What we anticipated would be one of the best/most challenging aspects to this trip has proven to be true: constant, intimate, proximity to each other. All day, everyday, in a space less than 44 feet long. It’s brutiful.

View forwards from the galley

I believe that these types of situations tax introverts’ mental health more than extroverts’ - that's my bias. Overall we’re all doing a pretty good job being kind and respectful - with great allowances taken for fits of temper. We’re constantly hitting our heads and “swears” are flying freely. This is what sailors do. (Sailors drink rum too, but the rum rations thus far have been slim).

The kids are finding ways to have fun together instead of fighting/ignoring each other as they can with our home schedule. Working together to get the sails up/down and all the other boating responsibilities are what corporate team building exercises are modeled on. So we’re basically on a crash course in personal and familial growth. Which, as you can imagine, requires many bars of chocolate and bottles of wine for me. (Murray has his pubs and pints).

The honest truth is that the first 1-2 weeks I was in a foul mood - I really wasn’t excited about buying a boat. I already fulfilled my “live aboard a sailboat” dream with the Katalla and I’ve not had any nostalgic thoughts about doing it again. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize until it was too late that this Young Larry idea was one of Murray’s enthusiasms that he would runaway with. So with my grudging consent - for the higher purpose of a family holiday - here we are.

But upon our arrival at the Young Larry, the reality was a tough pill to swallow. How did I find myself back on a boat, hitting my head repeatedly, in a perpetual stoop from low ceilings, wearing the same clothes daily because it’s so damn hard to change lying down in a shoe box or standing in a postage stamp-sized floor space where the head clearance is offset from the foot space so you have to stand at a slant, all of it moving, and without any solitude to process? .…and add to it the docking drama, a hand pump toilet and no easy shower…it was a bit much.

My process to wrap my head around being in a situation that I didn’t choose, don’t want, can’t get out of, and have to make the best of for my kids is: Internally - loud and confusing, dark and consuming/Externally - Real. Quiet. And I lose my sense of humor. We’ve all been there, and we all know; this is not pretty.

It took until Weymouth - and a talk with my good friend Dot to get my attitude adjusted.

It also helped that we found a wine and cheese bar at the harbor, steps from where we were tied up, and Murray and I tucked in there 2 of the 3 Weymouth nights.

All of which means that, right now, in this quiet moment, sailing nicely with both kids occupied and a cup of tea in hand, I’m congratulating myself that resiliency is one of my character traits…and I am bouncing back to enjoy the adventures we’re having. Tomorrow is another day to manage...

Tidal racing - Studland Bay to Dartmouth via Weymouth

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Wed, 12 Jun 2019 21:47:00 +0000

We left Studland Bay aiming to catch current all the way to Dartmouth (60 nm) - but we had a lesson in tidal races/Channel currents. Ultimately, we didn’t pull out far enough to catch the main current, got caught down the side of the bay, and nearly into a tidal race off St Albans headland which was very exciting! The race is where 2 tidal currents meet and the white caps were impressive. This particular race extends up to 3 miles off the headland and we slid down the side of it to stay on the outside of Weymouth Bay. We then tried to push past the Shambles off the Portland Bill (which is the other headland of the same bay), but realized we were going to be in for a very long sail indeed, and weren't in a good position to make best use of the current.
We were being carried along sideways faster than we could sail in our intended direction. Finally, at the last minute we safely could without being sucked into dangerous waters, we decided that wisdom was the better part of valor, cut our losses and headed cross-current into the bay. We then got to "ooo and aahhh" at the very cool rock formations of the Jurassic Coast all the way to Weymouth, at the head of the bay.

Weymouth was a little beach town - past it’s prime perhaps, but plenty to entertain us in the ways of shops and walks. It was the venue for sailing in the 2014 Olympics - there is good viewing of a wide bay and I imagine it was spectacular…seeing the setting makes me want to watch footage of the races.
After obsessing from the water over how to get around the tidal races at The Portland Bill, we took a bus up to see the lighthouse from land-side, which was a eye-openingly windy excursion.

We also got lunch at a true local’s pub and were regaled with stories from a sailor who was in both Her Majesty’s Navy and the Merchant Navy - he had been all over the world. Favorite place? The Caribbean (I think we should take advice from an expert).
Portland is also the site of many quarries (St. Pauls Cathedral is made of Portland granite) and there is one abandoned quarry that sculptors have used as a playground. You can wander through it to find all manner of sculptures carved out of granite in the now-overgrown hills and ravines of the quarry. That was my favorite part of the day.

Another highlight was the Nothe Fort and especially an exhibit of nearly 1,000 military ships/planes/etc made entirely out of wooden matches and matchboxes (to scale, with moving parts). Sam and Murray went first and Sam was so enthralled he brought me to see it another day - when to our delight, the man who made them was there! He was very chatty and appreciated Sam’s fascination with his collection.

He reminded me of my Congdon side - technical, detailed, full of engineering knowledge, and very, very persistent. Really shocking what people can accomplish when they spend their lives doing it.

The next day we had to start late in the day to juggle the tides/currents - we left Weymouth at 1 pm for a lovely sail, ghosting out of the harbor, past the massive Portland harbor (major embarkation point for the Allied troops on D Day), and around the infamous Portland Bill - our timing was perfect and no tidal races or whirlpools in sight.

In order to get to Dartmouth (still about 50 nm away), we decided eventually to start the engine - and it was a long day motoring, our longest day yet. Cream tea then dinner on the water, and we tucked the kids into bed with the engine vibrations for a lullaby. I slept a few hours but Murray refused to lay down until we were safely into Dartmouth and anchored in the heart of the town at 4 am - our first night navigation. Scary but successful!
We woke up in the midst of a busy town that straddles the Dart River with multiple water taxis and ferries. After getting some words of navigational wisdom from the harbor master launch, we motored up the river to explore. We enjoying the quiet pastoral bends until the turn of the tide, when we eased back downriver, through the dance with the ferries, and out past the double castles at the mouth of the river.

And sailed past another picturesque lighthouse on another breathtaking headland…they never cease to amaze.

Our first few hours we made good time but as we rounded the point we were heading directly into the wind - which was picking up and due to increase through night. Wisdom being the better part of valor, instead of pushing on we ducked into Salcombe Harbor, a historic river harbor now filled with posh summer homes elegantly cascading down the steep hillsides. It’s undoubtably nicer to come into these narrow, winding harbors in the daylight rather than 3 am.

When wanderers cease to roam

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Tue, 11 Jun 2019 21:02:00 +0000

Three years ago, when we bought this house, my mom gave me this exquisite book. But I couldn't bring myself to open it because I wasn't done wandering.

I felt like a cage door had shut on me. It was a gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless.

Actually, the house was more like just another lock clamped onto a cage I was already in.. Overall, I've spent roughly 8 yrs on and off scheming to escape my gilded cage. It's been miserable and futile. Because I created my own cage with my own thoughts.

Truly, I knew that my emotional response was not consistent with the reality of my life. Because of that, I worked hard at keeping my mental, emotional and physical strength up in the face of increasing depression. I took a Mindfulness Mediation class (highly recommend), I ran, prayed, saw a therapist, volunteered, slept, and stayed busy. I had made commitments to my family - and I'm not a quitter. So I kept on keeping on.

But I was living in the Slough of Despond and getting really worn down with the emotional effort. My body and mind weren't able to keep my emotions and heart going anymore.

As a result of some reading I was doing, I decided to tackle what I put into my body: food and supplements. Hence the dietary overhaul and a arsenal of self-prescribed supplements (yes, my MD husband knows about this).

Which finds me, about 7 to 10 days into my detox, glumping along my daily routine, grimly fulfilling
the consequences of my life choices: children, this huge old house, all the things that stole my energy
and will to live so that I had nothing left with which to pursue what I really wanted.
I thought jealously of a friend who loved being a mom and I thought, "Well, that's fine for her. She achieved her professional goals, then achieved her family. I haven't achieved any of my professional goals, and I'm too tired with the family to start now...wah, wah, wah." (this was my near constant mental chatter)

Then, truly like a shock, I thought, "What if I let go of that? Of achieving the job that I am fixated on? What am I missing out on because all I can think of is what I don't have? Why don't I try pretending that I've already achieved all I wanted - that this Present is my goalpost."

Remember Eustace in Voyage of Dawn Treader? When he became a dragon because he was such a nasty person and then Aslan returned him to his better self by tearing off the dragon skin? That's what it felt like. Shocking. Searing. Painful - in a good way.

Or like when it's been a miserable grey week. Blah. Then you wake early one morning and the storm has blown away, leaving the world sparkling new. So fresh you want to get up NOW just to feel the air, see the sunlight, breath in the invigorating energy. That was what this change of heart felt like to me.

Of course, it's not perfect. I'm not perfect, this world isn't perfect. The bunnies have been driving me nuts while I've been writing. My office is a mess. And I still mull over what I want to do about a profession. But it's not a fixation now. I've already Arrived and the rest is...well, it's not the priority it once was.

That cage that I created, I un-created. It's obvious to me that clearing my body helped clear my mind. I'm incredibly grateful I took the plunge and motivated to find a way to keep making positive food choices.

PS There was a critical precursor to this seismic soul shift: This winter, driving home from the Boston airport in miserable traffic, I suddenly thought, "Why don't you forgive yourself for not becoming a midwife?" And I started to.
Forgiveness was the first step and opened the path to healing. Clearing my body so my heart and head could figure stuff out was the second.

Adventuring by foot

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Tue, 11 Jun 2019 19:04:00 +0000

We decided to pay a visit to Corfe Castle on the Purbeck peninsula - supposed to be very cool place even though it’s a ruins. I had a suspicion that it would be walkable but also that there was a bus (not direct - connection in Swanage, one cove over). So after futzing about on the boat for awhile, we piled in the PP and made for shore. We started walking about 11:30ish. We asked for directions at a farm tea room near the beach and she didn’t bat an eye when I said we were going to Corfe Castle so I figured that meant we could walk it. Up a pretty lane with a cluster of posh houses and onto the Downs, for a gorgeous walk - amazing views, good walking and lots of cows and sheep with lambs roaming around.

Unfortunately, we had to descend from the first one into a valley in order to go back up another Down. Even worse, in between them, we had to walk along a narrow country road with cars flying by at terrifying speeds (country roads in any culture…) - I tried to find a way off it and wandered up to a golf course where a friendly lady confirmed that our route did indeed briefly join the road and if we kept on, soon we’d see signage to Corfe Castle.

Sure enough, when we defied death long enough to make it to our walking trail we were on the path to Corfe Castle (3 3/4 miles from that turn off - Sam nearly rebelled). The most frequent signage was in the form of low, gravestone shaped markers, with words carved into them - they take their trails seriously here. Soon we had an option for an “Under Hill” route vs “Over the Downs” route - Sam and I chose the Under Hill route and Natalie walked over the downs. Our route was overgrown but clear - skirting between the farm fields and the steep hill. We got thoroughly thistled-up but the cows/horses/sheep distracted us. We found Natalie in Corfe village and rushed to find lunch as we were starving. Had lunch in a pub garden then explored the massive ruins - absolutely worth the walk!

To get back we had a few options: Bus to Swanage and walk the coast back? Or walk the whole way back? A bribery stop in a sweets shop gave me the leverage (Clotted Cream Fudge) to get Sam to agree to walk back so we headed off - all of us on the Downs walk this time, which turned out to be my favorite. You can see the ruins of Corfe Castle for some time and it was awesome to imagine what it might have been like to approach it when it was standing.

You can see the ruins of Corfe Castle just over Sam's shoulder

We did the Underhill route for the final Downs, and cut across up and over (rather than the long way around to the tip of the peninsula where it would have been fun to see the Old Harry Rocks from land but oh well) to Stutland Bay and the boat at 7 pm.

We hailed Murray on the handheld VHF and he came to get us, focused on enjoying a pint at the picturesque pub where he’d had one last night. We all had dinner there to celebrate 16.5 miles hiked (I think my GPS might have overestimated but I’m not sure) - lamb shanks and curry in honor of all the adorable lambs we saw during our hike (and a brie and cranberry baguette sandwich for our vegetarian). Then back to the boat, for a bit of a movie and bed.

All in all, a very successful land excursion. Sam crushed it - even in terrible footwear! Next stop we’ll get him better shoes pronto. Corfe Castle was worth the beautiful walk and now we can plan to visit sites within 5 miles of the coast without car hire or figuring out the bus. It’s very annoying not to have WiFi to figure things out.

First family sail

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Tue, 11 Jun 2019 18:41:00 +0000

After we woke in Lymington to calm weather, smooth water and took our shot at getting out of the marina at 6 am and had it all go smoothly - we were giddy with relief! We motored across to a mooring buoy outside of Yarmouth to wait for the tide ($13 for 2.5 hr on a mooring - the harbor master doesn’t waste any time collecting his dues). We sailed off the mooring to catch the current through the Needles Channel - exhilarating, beautiful first sail, flying past the Needles in a strong current.

We made good time to Studland Bay, greeted by the Old Harry rocks.

Kids got a touch seasick, but quickly revived at anchor. We launched the Portland Pudgy - our sailing dingy that we mostly row in order to get into the beach - and rowed into the beach. The kids and I went first, then after we realized how warm the shallow water was in the sun, Natalie rowed back to get bathing suits and Murray - who got a pint at the picturesque pub up the hill from the beach. Dinner was veg curry back at the boat and the kids finished watching Prince Caspian.

The first week of any boat journey

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Sun, 09 Jun 2019 09:16:00 +0000

At long last we introduced Natalie and Sam to the Young Larry!

It was a long trip, repeatedly counting bags from plane, to train, and finally into the welcoming
automobiles of Andrew and Maire.

Last transfer to the final train

We were tired but had that essential burst of arrival energy that carried us through some unpacking and dinner with them in their lovely house. Seasonal asparagus and strawberries!
As anyone knows, when you first embark on a boating adventure, you don’t actually go anywhere for at least a week. My memories of commercial fishing in Bristol Bay as a teenager include the first days of working in the dusty/muddy boatyard getting the boat ready: hauling nets, painting the hull, and doing other dirty jobs while my dad slaved away getting everything else sorted.
The Young Larry was in a very different marina - quite a posh one in fact. But there was still a lot to do. Andrew spent the better part of 3 days going over the boat with Murray, and I started provisioning for the trip. Natalie and Sam helped out however they could.

It was a pleasant 15 min walk to Lymington High St along the river.

Lymington is a very yacht-y town with lots of touristy shops and the ever-helpful Tescos for groceries.

The first sail on Friday was lovely!

Docking, not so much in the tight marina.
But we managed with the help of Andrew and Maire.
My biggest fear is the bowsprit: 9 feet spear pointing from our bow. On the Katalla you could walk
out on it but not on this boat. All those expensive yachts with their flimsy fiberglass shells that our
bowsprit could pierce right through...it literally gives me nightmares.
Another key difference is that the gears and throttle are only on 1 control instead of 2...to go ahead
you push it forward into gear and further to accelerate, the opposite for reverse.
We punctuated the boat work with a walk through the salt marshes to the impressive Hurst Castle fort, and dinner at a nice pub.
On Friday our dear friends the Broads came with their 3 boys and we had planned to go out for a sail. Unfortunately things did not go smoothly - we reversed out of the slip with only one small scare, but
then, when Murray went to put it into forward it was jammed in reverse and back we went, towards the next finger of boats.
With 5 children littering the decks we leapt around, attempting to soften the blow with our fenders.
In a typical show of spousal support I grabbed the controls and again tried to put it in forward which,
since it was stuck in reverse, gave us a burst of speed into the innocent boats behind us. Natalie has
a description of the whole scene from her perspective on her blog too.
Along with the horrible crunch/sliding sound, there was a woman on a boat we were aimed at (but we slid by without even touching) who was shrieking like a harpy at us! Like…crazy lady shrieking. I was sputtering, “we’re not even touching your boat!” as we were sliding past, en route for the others, but she didn’t shut up until Natalie snapped, “Yelling at us isn’t helping at all! We’re doing everything we can - you can come help if you want!” That’s my girl…We all got a huge laugh at that afterwards.
Thankfully, no one was hurt, the damage was shockingly minimal, and the best thing was that Alexa and Rupert were there to help - both in the moment with the boat and afterwards with our nerves.

We took the kids to the oldest Lido (saltwater pool) in the UK, one that is 3 min from the boat and which Sam had been begging to go to.

Ice creams and chips after a swim

Playing in the cabin

We had a good day catching up and Alexa kept me from freaking out. As Murray says, she has a good
effect on me.

Next day we found an angel of a mechanic who addressed the gears and offered to do a quick “once over” engine class with Murray on Monday.
Somewhere in the next few days we went on one of our infamous death marches, the highlight of which was Sam’s introduction to cream tea - in a tent in a u-pick strawberry field. Amazing! He is a huge fan of cream tea now and we plan to adopt it as a family tradition.

Tuesday morning, at long last, we were ready to go, the wind was calm, the tides favorable and we gently eased out of our slip and away from our first marina home, into our great family adventure.

Packing up is hard to do

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Sun, 26 May 2019 04:20:00 +0000

We have just accomplished a rather monumental moving task (at least the first step of it). At the beginning of April, we were living happily in our serene neighborhood: where Natty could bike to school and Sam free-ranged with the local kids up and down the street. (My job was not working out, but that's another story for another time.) We were planning an exciting 3 month sabbatical for the summer and this alone would have been enough to pack for.

But then April happened, and April showers didn't just bring May flowers. April brought Opportunity....which as we all know is inseparable from Challenge. And after we'd agreed to the Opportunity to move to Unalaska, the Challenge was packing our entire house up in addition to packing for the summer - in less than 30 days.

It's healthy to purge...and moving is the prime time to do it. So I pushed the kids and myself (Murray doesn't need a nudge in the purging direction) right away to start a giveaway pile. But I didn't push them to actually pack for the move because there was serious processing of the transition happening and I didn't want to pour lemon juice in their open wounds.
Instead, we focused on packing for the summer with them. We had big duffles open and agonized over what to bring vs buy there. We bought foul weather gear (only AK girls shop for foul weather gear and a strapless bra to go under a prom dress on the same outing).

Meanwhile, I was surreptitiously sorting/packing what I could for Unalaska.

Sunday, May 19 we had a Bon Voyage party and, finally, we had to tear off the bandage.
This was the charge I gave Natalie and Sam last weekend: "Pack 1) a bag for the next 3-4 days with stuff that you will also wear for 1-2 weeks in Anchorage in August. 2) finish packing for 3 months sailing, 3) get your room ready for the movers to pack it, and 4) tell me what is staying in storage in Anchorage." (we're downsizing in Unalaska).

Friends, this is high-level packing.

Sidenote: It was the last 3 days of school for Sam. Murray was on call Friday and Tuesday night. And Murray and I kept working at least 1/2 days up until Wednesday. Would NOT recommend that to anyone.

Murray was manic - in a useful, productive way. I don't produce an ounce of adrenaline anymore, so I didn't move quickly, but I am a midwife - and that is excellent training for the grueling process we put ourselves through. Here are some guidelines that I have found to be true - during long call shifts and in life:
1) Keep your priorities straight. My kids' health, including emotional health, is important, and if that means delaying the inevitable until they can handle it, taking a deep breath and answering kindly when they ask ridiculous questions, or stopping packing to make them food...SO BE IT. People matter more than things.
2) Know your scope of practice. I pack well. I do not do other things well...therefore I consult, collaborate, and delegate.
3) Be flexible with variations of normal. Be confident to call it when veers out of normal, but until then be tolerant.
4) Keep moving forward - I had to resist being paralyzed my fears and overwhelmed by the size of our tasks, but doing just what was in front of me, then the next thing, then the next...that gets me through tough situations.
5) Perfection is the enemy of the good - this is related to "Keep your priorities straight." I may be opening boxes in Unalaska and thinking "Why did I bring this?!?" but it's done.
4). Be present. I practiced mindfulness; acknowledging the stress and releasing it over and over again. Which then allowed me to savor the last moments in our Anchorage life as I dashed around. And now that it's over, I'm proud of my kids, impressed with my husband and so very, very weary.

I write this from New Haven, while Murray is at his 30th reunion. I got to connect with our New Years crowd, but bowed out of the dinner (Murray took Natalie as his date), and instead stopped by an Indian restaurant/bar and had a delicious cocktail and a chaat snack alone. I then put the boys to bed and enjoyed the quiet: ready for tomorrow and the adventures it will bring.

Natalie at the Maya Lin "Women's Table " sculpture

Sam, reading over Ben Franklin's shoulder

The trials of being Sam

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Mon, 13 May 2019 06:46:00 +0000

Sam was shockingly easy to potty train. And I say that not as a reflection of our superior parenting skills of the second child. It's just the way he is. However, his achilles heel has been wiping. (Hmmm, this post might need a TMI disclaimer).
Natalie got after me one day, inquiring why I was so insistent on making him learn to wipe himself and I said, "How old are you? 8. So I have been wiping other peoples butts for 8 years. I'd like to be done with that." She instantly got it - it was one of the few times when I had a successful argument . Very satisfying. (By the way, hats off to you parents who've been doing this longer).

Back to Sam: Flushable wipes are a godsend, but I forgot to buy some a week or so ago, so we've moved onto no-gimmicks, good ol'fashioned toilet paper. But the combination of old house with poorly designed bathrooms and short little 4-yr old arms means it's hard to reach the paper in most places we adults put it. I didn't realize that Sam was as strategically advanced as he is until yesterday I heard a yell, both demanding and plaintive, "No one can move the toilet paper from where I put it!"
"Oh, ok. Where do you put it?"
"You can't move it from the back of the toilet! I put it there!"
I guess he figured it out. Far be it from me to obstruct progress.

Hello Again!

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Mon, 13 May 2019 06:39:00 +0000

It's been a long time since I dusted off the old AK Traveller blog but I think it's time to get going again. Because....we're taking our kids off on another adventure! Actually, 2 adventures, back to back.

First off: We're sailing "around" the UK this summer. Not necessarily Circumnavigating the UK (that's waaaaay too goal oriented for us). But we have bought (?!?!) a 44 ft gaff-rigged yawl in Lymington, UK, and we're going sail about in it, headed along the coast in a westerly/northern fashion from May 29-August 14. Or thereabouts. And this adventure was the impetus to re-start my blog so you all can enjoy my musings on our escapades.

This is a Very Big Adventure. And is a touch Romantic (in the classical sense).

But that's not all! When we return, we're not really returning.

And so the second adventure begins: We're moving to Unalaska!

Just like that. We're in the midst of negotiating the contract and securing a house to rent simultaneously as I'm restarting this blog. (and moving out of our house in Anchorage).

I rather fancy our family as the carefree, nomadic type: with sun-kissed, ruffled hair and adventure-shabby - but still hip - clothes. Sailing here, caring for a remote, underserved community there. However, as with so many things, the reality is far from Instagram-perfect. My kids are upset, so I am upset. We have a great community here: our kids like their schools, friends, neighbors, etc. We live in a safe neighborhood, near to our work, grocery stores and restaurants. It's easy, convenient living. The American Dream.

And we're moving to a wind swept island where the Pacific Ocean meets the Bering Sea. With no hospital. To offer care to a community that endures the worst weather the earth has to offer and a migrant labor population that comes from all over the world to work in a harsh, demanding fishing industry.

I'm excited, sad, regretful and thrilled, all in the same body.

Honestly, what family uproots itself from a safe, predictable, structured life to go sailing for 3 months and THEN moves to the ends of the earth? WHO DOES THIS?

Well, apparently, Murray and I do. (insert friendly wave).

I'm don't have much to say to defend ourselves. I can write more later when I've processed it a bit. And my kids have processed it a bit more as well - currently I'm helping them process it and That. Is. Really. Hard.

'Cause they're not happy. (this will not be as shocking to any of my readers as it was to Murray and I. We're strange. Our kids are cool. This is a big difference.)

Anyway. I didn't think 2 parents working full time and living in mid-town Anchorage was worth writing about, but I do think sailing the Young Larry with Natalie, Sam, and Murray will be. As will living in Unalaska.

I hope you agree.

Memory

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Sun, 14 Apr 2013 01:58:00 +0000

Memories are funny things. Some have a tactile quality: like my memory of a family trip from a few years back. I take out it out like a smooth beach pebble. It's a round, sun-warm memory to rub through my mental fingers - and it's unexpectedly pink.

{I think because it was such a spontaneous trip. The spontaneity created enough anxiety to make the relief of the fun, carefree days all the sweeter - yet how does that translate in my mind to pink - a color which I hold no affection for whatsoever? Cotton candy, saltwater taffy? My sweetie-pie little girl?}

There is a malleble quality to most memories. They are warped depending what our minds emphasize. It's intriguing to spend a day with a story-teller friend, knowing it'll be so fun to hear them tell others about our day. Often when I hear the stories they recount, I'm surprised by the adventurous life I've unwittingly led. (What a talent that kind of memory is! A dangerous one if, say, you publish your exciting, embellished memories as a Memoir and people want it to be factual truth, a la James Frey)

As I get older, the children grow, my mind is getting forgetful and the memories of their hilarious comments fade, I try to write more down. The other day a friend reminded me of a story another friend had told her about an episode with Sam. Shockingly, I'd forgotten about it. But in her retelling my memory awoke and there it was, the car ride, my puzzlement, and the punchline - so fresh, funny and 4 he is.

He was talking about spelling his name and was trying to figure out where the "o" was.
This had been an ongoing conversation that hadn't yet been resolved, since Sam doesn't have an "o" in his name - and I'd told him that, multiple times.

Samuel Frank Buttner. No "o!"

Finally, after spelling it, re-spelling it, firmly denying the presence of an "o", I asked, "Why do you think you have an "o?'"

"Because you say "Oh, Sam"and "Oh Sam". So where is the "o" in my name?"

It still cracks me up, 3 weeks later. And now I wrote it down so even if I forget it, I can remember it here. And laugh like a 4 hear old laughs in sunshine, splashing down.

I know it's easy to remember the worst things, unkind words, crushing disappointments. But it's equally easy to remember the love you felt, the crashing joy, the belly laughs. And the positive echoes reverberate around your present day and bath it in a rosier glow.

Or ...just forget everything, including the bad stuff and the day you're having is the best ever. That's Murray's strategy, "How's your day?" "Never Better!"

Here's to life, and the best memories of it.

The best laid plans....

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Sometimes I get sucked into this amazing blog maze of uber-crafty, oh-so-talented moms/homemakers/artists. And I begin to think, because of their chirpy, can-do tone and beautiful "Ta-Da!" pictures, that I, too, can whip out a well-crafted home in the time it takes me to run a load of laundry.
And this virtual encouragement adds fuel to a not-so-closely held secret: I'm a closet crafter. I love to submerse myself into a project and come up hours later with...something. I don't have loads of talent or time, nor have I developed great skills, so my finished products are not usually what I had envisioned, but they make me happy in that crafty "look what I made!" way.

Along with crafts for myself, I often embark upon ambitious craft ideas with my kids. Which almost always go awry. And takes great willpower to keep a positive attitude so as to not quench my childrens' creative joy.

Take last Tuesday for example: it was a snow day. But one of those faux snow days our school calls which means the weather is just unpleasant enough to get administrative types worried about a lawsuit but not bad enough to keep anyone trapped in their home. So we called a friend over for a playdate and I conceived the brilliant idea of having the girls make flowers on sticks.
How perfect; the girls would be occupied while I got a ton of stuff done and the flowers would, of course, be adorable enough decorate with at Easter.
What is wrong with my ever-optimistic brain?!?

After reading through some nifty tutorials, I cut some strips of paper and set the girls up. (I have a lovely box of patterned craft paper from Michaels. This paper is the best random Michaels sale product I ever purchased. It's a never-ending supply - I bought it 3 years ago and am still using it. Better yet - I still like most of the patterns. This weird box of scrapbook paper has been the source of much crafty joy in our house. Thanks, Michaels!)
Once I had cut the paper and given the instructions, I instantly realized that, instead of freeing me up to do the myriad of chores I had to get done, I was now tied to supplying them with information, assistance and supplies.
In fact, 2 hrs later I was the only one still working, as I hot glue-gunned flowers to sticks while deflecting impatient demands from the girls as they cycled through the kitchen in their running games. ("Are you done yet? Can we make more?" The answers, "No and No.").
3 hours later we had 4 flowers done, the table covered in scraps, the rest of the house chaos and no dinner. Hmmm.
But big smiles on the little people!

Attention!

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 16:31:00 +0000

Detox lesson thus far: Pay attention to what my body tells me.

If I feel great - strong, light, cheerful - after a few days of eating well, that's my body being happy.
If I'm sluggish and want to sit on my bed and stare into space after eating a meal, listen up! My body is struggling to process something I'm digesting.

All the (helpful) detox reading I did had this in common - whether they loved or hated fish oil, pushed the fruits and abstained from all sugar, a recurring theme was: It's your body, it has it's own chemistry and it tells you when it's running well or not... if you listen.

Teaching childbirth class I speak the same theme, but in a different context. My spiel includes a reminder that our bodies know how to grow and birth a baby, even if our minds don't. Otherwise we'd be extinct, right? Kinda common sense that rises when you silence the fear/negativity that surrounds pregnancy and childbirth in our healthcare professions and culture. So many of my nursing triage calls would answer themselves if people took the time to know and trust their own bodies.

But life is so busy we don't have the time to learn from our bodies, about our bodies. We're running from one thing to another, usually in a car, while talking on a phone and eating. This frenetic activity results in a lack of connection with our physicality. Body awareness is one of the unsung benefits of exercise. I would add that it's helpful to step away from loud music, classes, reps counting or workout targets. Removing the distractions allows us to pay attention to how we feel and what our body thrives on.

And attention is powerful stuff.

Be the change...

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Tue, 12 Mar 2013 10:27:00 +0000

It's been roughly a month since I've overhauled my food choices. My body is talking and I'm trying to keep listening. I'm keeping a vague food/mood journal, which, even in it's meager form, is helpful. In recent days I've eaten a fair amount of foods I suspect my body doesn't process well, and my energy levels are lower than they have been in the past few weeks. Nothing in vast quantities (ok, except the battered, fried clams on Thursday night - whoa baby.) and no drastic responses, but the signals of low energy, food cravings, irritability and negativity are there.

If I hadn't felt so good, I would think being sluggish and melancholy was normal (after all, it has been for years). However, now I'd like to get back to the light, strong and happy body of a few days ago. The powerful lesson from this month is that my food choices will help get me there.

Reassuringly, my mood has remained stable and positive. Which shows me that as I heal my physical body, my emotional balance now has resiliency.

I don't have a rule book I'm going by. This diet, while perhaps sounding stringent, is not about reaching a goal or pushing myself to be a high achiever in the detox universe - there are no green smoothies in my world. I don't like them. If I liked them, (and had a blender) I would eat them but I don't, so I won't.

It's not about deprivation, misery or body mastery.

It's about living a full and happy life. Being a happy mom, present with my kids. Being kind to our Earth. Thinking clearly, remembering things. Expressing myself. Connected to my body - knowing it is me. I think better, laugh more, run with more joy and have more love to give when there is balance in my physical body.

If you suspect you could make positive changes in your life, go for it. Try it out. When I started this I had nothing to lose, but I had no idea the gains would be so big. Surprise yourself! It's really fun.

Detox diet

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Mon, 25 Feb 2013 02:43:00 +0000

I might as well share more about how I'm doing on my "What is happening to my body since I turned 40 and why am I always bloated and frighteningly depressed" detox diet.

I have a colossal number of food sensitivities - for most of my life after eating an offending food I've gotten an itchy mouth, hay fever symptoms if I touch my eyes and some GI upset. My hypothesis is that as I age, my system reacts with more intensity to what it doesn't like, and I'll improve my well being if I listen and obey. Overall, I want to feel good, minimize emotional roller coasters and maybe reset my system. I'm lucky that it's a choice to eat this way: I don't have to. So if I bust into my kids' Valentines chocolate one night, oh well. Tomorrow is a new day (and I was pretty bloated that night, but that was the extent of the fallout).

Before going all Dr Oz on this detox I read a lot. My research included countless Internet hours, "The Plan", "UltraMetabolism" and thumbing though many more detox books/ideas. Based on my reading and my needs, my guidelines are:
At least 64 ounces of water a day. No gluten, dairy or sugar. None of the foods I'm sensitive to (I don't call it "allergic" because it's not anaphylactic but it's very similar to hay fever or other environmental allergies). Minimal caffeine (I cut it out entirely for a few days, now am back to 1 cup of coffee a day - as always, it must be a great cup). Minimal alcohol. I've had 4 glasses of wine in a 10 days (although one of them, while in itself innocent, was the gateway to a wild night with the leftover Valentines chocolate - not my finest hour, but not the end of the world either).

Highlighting the negatives is so limiting, so here's what I do eat: lots of vegetables, whole grains, our usual meat (local farm raised) and seafood and making sure I drink water. I've also added in some supplements, most notably Fish Oil, and am adding seaweed seasoning as dietary thyroid support. Additionally, my Lenten "Fast" this year is to mediate every day. This is such a positive thing. (And I keep slogging on with the exercise - trying to get something in most days of the week. It's a struggle but pays off when I can get it together.)

Turns out these guidelines mean eating how I normally do, only more so, and cutting out the "extras." I try to always focus on cooking, eating and feeding my family whole, minimally processed foods, emphasizing vegetables and whole grains. I find I'm eating even more veg and am satisfied enough not to miss the rest. The rest of the family isn't on the detox plan and one of the downsides is that occasionally I end up making 2 meals to satisfy all the members of our family. But even that is not such a trial and tribulation and as I get better at making my meals, it won't happen as often.

We've even discovered a new favorite way to eat carrots: Long carrots, peeled and halved - or even quartered if they're fat - rolled in olive oil and sprinkled with salt. Roast them at 400 for 20 minutes, turning them once. They come out soft on the inside, crispy on the outside and the kids love the long shape. I roast a lot at once and have them for the next day.

My staple breakfast has become brown rice with an egg and some kimchi. It's like my own mini Bibim Bop - What's not to love? (Although when Mur is making the kids sourdough waffles, there is a whiff of envy.)

I might blog more about how it goes. So far (10 days in) I feel much better, my depressed mood has lifted - although that may be because I have a project to focus on - and I think I've slimmed down a bit (although the scale hasn't budged. But that's not saying much. My weight didn't change when I ran a marathon, why should it change now?). And I really am eating quite well.

Here's what Murray thinks of all of it.

Cheers!

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 02:47:00 +0000

I'm on a crazy detox-esque diet, which means, for me, no dairy, gluten or sugar. So far I've only fallen off the wagon hard once in a week of it...not bad, hey?
Surprisingly, I've eaten quite well throughout. Dinner tonight was a riff on a recipe I had book marked ages ago, and happily rediscovered: Spinach and chickpeas from Smitten Kitchen.

I have a fondness for chickpeas - they're my favorite legume (if one is rating legumes). However, the dish I made is only a nod to Deb P's rather than the exact thing. It does have chickpeas and spinach, lots of garlic and smoked paprika (one of both of our favorite ingredients which makes me feel like we'd get along swimmingly and have so much to talk about - isn't the internet weird that way?).

The starting point is chickpeas, which I cooked a vat of this morning in my pressure cooker. This is a great, fast and easy way to cook beans and every infrequent time I do it, I wonder why I don't do it more often. Hopefully every time I do it, it will be less of a pause before I remember to do it again. Baby steps.

So then I had all these chickpeas - way more than I could use to make hummus with (which I did make, and which is delicious) and they become the foundation of our dinner. The other cornerstone was an oil that everyone should know about: a basic rosemary garlic oil that is so easy to make and so delicious it could be used for world peace. It is a combination of Nigella's Rosemary Oil and perhaps (my memory fails me) Michael Chiarello's Roasted Garlic.

Pour 1/2 cup of Extra Virgin Olive Oil in a pan over low heat, add a head of peeled garlic cloves (for this I only used about a half - no good reason, I just got tired of peeling cloves) and cook until cloves are toasty tan and smell amazing. Then, dunk 2-3 springs of rosemary in the oil and cook a minute or 2. Turn off the heat, let the rosemary cool in the oil then pull out and discard. Done. Delicious. (I already mentioned that but it bears repeating).

2 cups Chickpeas - check. Sweet, crunchy chewy roasted garlics - check. Hefty glug of rosemary garlic oil (1/3 cup or so) - check.
I sautéed some D'Artangnan Anduille sausage I'd bought today - because our grocery store started carrying D'Artangnan meat products and I figure I better buy them so they keep stocking them - you know "vote with your money" philosophy. And tossed in a cup of chopped butternut squash to saute with the sausage. The squash finished cooking when added along with a 1/2 cup of water to the chickpeas. The addition of the water also helped the garlic melt into the dish and steamed the next item in - one of those salad boxes of baby spinach. The finishing touch was the smoked paprika and the juice from 1/2 a lemon.

All in all it was comfortingly tasty and filling. The kids had hot dogs (bribery for good behavior during haircuts) and we all enjoyed baby broccoli. And even though Mur is alarmed about the potential for intestinal combustion, I think I'm going to have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. Without dairy to exponentiate any danger, I'm feeling confident I'll be fine - better than fine, actually.

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Wed, 28 Nov 2012 17:29:00 +0000

I wrote this as a part of a reflective writing experience at the medical conference in San Diego we went to this fall. It's a snapshot into a small part of my job as an Ob/Gyn RN. One of my favorite duties is the "COB" or Complete OB visit. It's each OB patient's first visit for the pregnancy and is quite comprehensive. As the RN I sit with the patient, get a complete medical history and bombard them with education, etc. I really enjoy it. It is one of the few times in my job where I be one-on-one with a patient, really hear their story and offer them something in return - information, encouragement, congratulations and sometimes just a listening ear. Here's a vignette:

At my first view of her the lightness of a COB visit vanished. She looked unwashed, a little stinky - although I couldn't smell her - and rough. I picked up the clean new chart that belonged to her and shuffled through the paperwork, organizing it as best I could so as to focus on her in the interview, not my many forms. She would need it.

After a decade in healthcare it's hard for a patient's story to surprise me, but I'm often surprised by how much I still connect with any patient whom I can sit with and listen to. I'm a slow interviewer. I lose track of my prenatal form flow and listen: To her grief at the pregnancy, some poor choices, the consequences she was working through. To a resolution to do better and an oblique request for absolution. I also listened for what I didn't hear: excitement about the life growing inside her. I doubt she sees much in this world to be excited about.

But I left the room and passed her off to the OB with a sense of hope - and admiration. She came. She told me as much as she did and she listened to my response. That's where she's at, and I hope I met her there.

PS I don't see many patients after this first visit. I haven't seen this woman again and, sadly, I can't even remember her name. But I think of her from time to time and I hope for her and her baby.

noreply@blogger.com (Jen) — Sun, 23 Sep 2012 03:20:00 +0000

Walking home in the dusk today, Sam told me that he's lost the magic light in his eyes.
The magic light is how he used to be able to see in the dark.
And now, since it's gone, he can't see in the dark anymore.

He's sad about it; he doesn't know where it went and wishes it would come back. But philosophical and not too distressed. I was glad to be kept in the loop.

In typical Sam fashion, the conversation soon turned to other things.

And parenting had suddenly regained some of the magic that had been lost in the daily grind.