To the Oregon Coast

Our party split up on Monday morning: Mark and I headed out to go for a ride in the Willamette Valley while Hannah, Cary, Hazel and Nathan set out later for downtown Portland and then on to the coast. The plan was to meet in Lincoln City late that afternoon.

We rode on a bike path / trail that day that had been recommended on an Oregon cycling website. It was pretty ... but we were enveloped in towering trees most of the time, and that did get a little old after a while. Nevertheless, we got in about 43 miles. 

We have a goal of cycling 1000 miles in July. Mark will probably reach that goal before we head west again later this week to ride in the Marin County Century, but I'll need that 100 miles to reach my goal. Why are we doing this? Because we are headed to France in three (!) weeks for a three-week cycling trip. The first week will be spent on our own in the area of Bourg d'Oisans in the French Alps (see, e.g., here and here), then we will be joining a two-week organized cycling tour from Geneva to Nice. Thus the heavy training all summer. (There are a numbered of archived posts from September 2012 [see bottom right of blog page] about a similar trip we took that year.)

Wheat field in the Willamette Valley

Our destination that afternoon was the Ester Lee Hotel and Cottages, a place Mark and I had stumbled upon in September 2011. We were captivated by this quaint, "retro" place that is on a bluff overlooking the ocean. The beach is just a short walk down a (very steep) hill.

Mark standing in the doorway of our cottage in September 2011. I could never have imagined at that time that we would one day return with my son, my daughter, my son-in-law and my granddaughter.

One of our favorite pictures of us, taken by a couple of lesbians on the beach who were both from
- you guessed it - Utah (Salt Lake and Tooele as I recall)

When we arrived, Hannah, Cary, Hazel and Nathan were settled in their cottage "suite." It had a patio outside that we enjoyed sitting out on that evening. Mark and I got a room in the hotel next door because we had not been able to reserve a place big enough for all of us that night. (We would all move the next day into a bigger, nicer cottage.)

Old postcard showing the patio suites. The Stewart Suite was where the two blue lounge chair are in the foreground.

After getting settled in, Mark and Nathan enjoyed a walk along the beach with the dogs while Hannah and I sat and chatted on the patio outside their room. Below are some pictures that Nathan and Mark took while out for their walk. As is obvious from these photos, we continued to enjoy amazingly good weather while on the coast.

The view of the Esther Lee from the beach

Hannah and Hazel ready to watch the sunset

We had lasagna from Safeway in the Stewart Suite that evening, then sat outside to watch the sunset. It was glorious ...

and magical.

Wedding Weekend

Our main reason for going to Oregon recently was to attend the wedding of Mark's niece, Sarah. The festivities started out with a rehearsal dinner cookout on Friday evening in the back yard of Sarah's parent. Pictured below are Mark and his four siblings, their mother, and Mark's paternal uncle and his wife. 

Mark giving the photographer the eye

Mark talking to two of his grand-nephews, Gavin and Kyle

Cedric, Mark's grand-nephew

Next on the agenda was wedding day. The service was held in the same Lutheran church in Sandy, Oregon (pictured above) where Mark's father had been pastor for many years. Though he is gone now, each of Mark's sisters and two of his nieces, including Sarah, have now been married there. Mark took advantage to tell stories of his youth to Nathan about goings on in his dad's church as well as the parsonage next door. Let's just say that Mark had a somewhat wilder youth than did I.

The happy couple, Sarah and Chris

The reception was at an outdoor venue not far from Sandy. The weather turned out great, and even a bit *too* sunny. We actually had wonderful weather for the entire trip, which in the Pacific Northwest, is saying a lot.

Our son Nathan came along and made himself helpful at the reception by taking on various chores. His favorite, however, was pouring pitchers of beer for the bar tender who actually served it. In the above photo, he is talking to Mark's oldest nephew.

Below is Mark with his uncle's only grandchild. Louis and his mother came in from Montreal for the event. Uncle Bob is in the background. He and his wife have lived in West Vancouver for over 40 years. I passed very near their house dozens of times when I lived in Vancouver from the mid-80's to the mid-90's.

The reception was a lot of fun. Mark and I even got to dance (see lead photo.)

The next morning, a brunch was held at Sarah's parent's home for the two sides of Sarah's extended family. More food. More visiting.

Nathan really hit it off with Sarah's brother, David, standing at left. 

In between brunch and a final family cookout that Sunday, Mark and I managed to get a ride in along the Columbia River. Once again, the weather was spectacular.

On Sunday afternoon, the Stewart Family (my daughter Hannah, her husband Cary and their daughter Hazel) arrived. We had arranged for them to drive down from British Columbia to meet us in Portland, then go to the coast for a couple of days. Hannah had already met most of the members of Mark's family at our commitment ceremony last August, but there were several present she had not met, nor had they met Cary.

Uncle Nathan had fun with Hazel.

I loved the saying on her shirt: "Let's go on an adventure!"

Four family birthdays ended up being celebrated that evening, including Mark's 60th. Mark's "cake" was a huckleberry pie - Mark's favorite - made by his mom.

Mark, two of his grand-nephews, Gavin and Cedric, wait for pie.  It look's like Hazel is helping herself.

Hazel and "Papa"

It was a wonderful weekend full of family and fun. I look forward to the next time the family gathers.

Oxbow Park Ride: A Free and Happy Spirit

Last night marked the start of activities for the wedding of Mark's niece. But before that, Mark and I went for a ride east of Gresham, from our hotel to Oxbow Park. The scenery reminded me a lot of the Fraser Valley east of Vancouver, B.C, but yet it was different. Lots of nurseries growing the trees that end up at places like Home Depot. Berry fields. And the occasional wheat field, such as the one above, contrasted against the dark green of evergreen trees in the background. And lots of quaint heritage farm houses and barns.

Mt. Hood is visible in the distance

Sweet peas were growing everywhere - in fields and alongside roads. I love sweet peas.

Oxbow Park, near Sandy, Oregon, was one of Mark's high school haunts. As we rode through the park, past scenes like the ones pictured below, he told me how he and his friends would skip school and go the park to smoke pot and "drink anything we could get our hands on," listening to the likes of  the Doors, Jimi Hendrix and others. (It was the early 70's after all.) "Of course," he said, "most of the time it was drizzling rain; but on sunny days, you could be sure we'd skip school."

His comments reminded me of our dinner the night before with Mark's mother and sister. Somehow the subject came around to how Mark and his friends used to smoke pot in the Lutheran parsonage where they lived, next to the church where Mark's father was pastor. As he has said before, Mark lamented the fact that he hadn't felt free enough to be a true hippy back then. But, if he taken off for life in a commune, his life likely would have been totally different. I'm glad he didn't, but I am thankful for his free and happy spirit.

Hood River and the Columbia

Late Wednesday afternoon, we arrived in Hood River, Oregon, the next stop on our way to Portland where we will attend the wedding tomorrow of Mark's niece. We had picked Hood River because we planned to do a ride up the Hood River valley the following morning. We had a lovely evening, eating outside overlooking the Columbia River.*

It was far too windy yesterday morning to do our planned Hood River ride, so we had a lazy start to the day, then headed for Portland, stopping at Multnomah Falls along the way.

Then on in to Gresham, the eastern suburb of Portland where we would be staying. We arrived early enough that we were able to get in a 28-mile bike ride along the Columbia River. It was a gorgeously beautiful afternoon with hardly a cloud in the sky.

Mt. Hood is clearly visible in the distance

*Thanks to my son, Nathan, for taking most of the photographs in this post.

McKenzie Pass and the Three Sisters

Mark and I started out early this morning for what had been billed (by Mark) as a "64-mile ride" up to McKenzie Pass and down, then up and over again. Hmmm. Mark had arranged all the motel/hotel reservations on this trip as well as the cycling routes. I decided, contrary to my nature, to just "go along for the ride" and see what he cooked up.

Well, it began yesterday when I discovered a chipmunk in our bed in a "rustic" motel outside of Bend. That resulted in a room change, and I have tried not to think about how many chipmunks have defacated on the bed linens of the room we took. (But it had a nice, firm mattress.) Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow and accept that chipmunks are part of reality. At least we're not talking squirrels and rodents who shall not be named.

The view of the "Sisters" as we happily commenced our ride

The view of the sisters near McKenzie Pass

And the 64-mile ride turned into a 75-mile ride. All I can say is that I'm grateful for the campers that Mark approached at a trailhead to see if they had water. That saved our bacon. 

So, here's the deal. At about mile-marker 11-12, we reached the calcified remains of a lava flow from an eruption that occurred approximately 1500 years ago. This was near McKenzie Pass. We were exuberant that we had reached the pass and had our picture taken. 

Little did I know that we had approximately 60 miles yet to ride. 23.5 miles down, down, down. First through the lava field, then through the band of Ponderosa Pines that eventually gave way to Douglas Firs and Cedars. We were enveloped by rain forest. It was magical. I had to put on my jacket, it was so cool.

But, of course, then came the long 23-24-mile ascent *back* up to McKenzie Pass. What had been billed as a 64-mile ride turned into a 75-mile ride. 

It was a longer day that I had anticipated, but it was a good day. 75 miles, 6200 vertical feet. May my back forgive me.

Yoga: Finding Community

I had a cool experience yesterday. I was going to use the word “neat” to describe it, but I’ve been self-conscious about doing so ever since using it in describing something to my 15-year-old son. “Neat?” he said, laughing. “Who uses that word?” So I’m dated.

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. Life has been really, really busy lately; but I’ve also not felt a desire to write.

Mark and I have been putting a lot of time and effort into training for a bicycle tour we are doing in late August and early September in France. We experienced a setback in early June when our bikes were stolen, followed by a weeklong trip to southern Utah with the kids. Then, when we got back on the bikes in mid-June and putting some serious mileage on them, I developed severe lower back pain. 

It took me a couple of weeks to realize that my bike had not been properly fitted. By then, the pain was debilitating on climbing rides. I became increasingly depressed about prospects for training the rest of the summer. Because of this, I decided to go to some yoga classes at a studio very close to our house to see if that would help. 

I was caught totally off guard by how much and how quickly I came to love yoga and how much I looked forward each day to going to a class (first two weeks for $30). I loved how my body was feeling after class – stronger, more limber, cleansed. My lower back pain began almost immediately to improve (and I took my bike back and had it refitted, which also has helped a great deal) and continues to do so.

But there was something else. Part of it was the sense of positive energy I felt in class and the sense of peace that I became aware of and benefitted from. Part of it was the energy, enthusiasm and wisdom of the teachers. But part of it was also the growing sense that I was becoming part of a community of others like me who are seeking health, wholeness and peace, who are loving and accepting with no ulterior motives. 

This sense of community has been growing over the past couple of weeks, but it was the experience I had yesterday that gave texture and substance to this sense of community. I had gone to a yoga class and had then popped into the grocery store next to the studio. Upon entering the store, I heard a female voice say, “Joseph!” I was momentarily stunned. No one has called me by name in any store that I have entered in the area I have lived for the past three years. 

I looked in the direction of the voice and saw one of my yoga teachers (my favorite) with a huge smile on her face. (She has always been exuberant and had met Mark and knows that we are a gay couple.) As I walked toward her, she put out an arm in a gesture inviting a hug. I responded, surprised but pleased. She then started asking me about my upcoming trip to Oregon (which we are now on), about the class I had just attended (with a different teacher), etc.

It was a small thing, yet a huge thing. I am part of a community of loving, respectful people. I look forward to getting to know others in that community, to sharing and growing, to learning what yoga has in store for my physical, emotional and spiritual self and to contributing my own peace to that community.

“I like the fact that my attraction to yoga is growing organically out of me. Because of this, I am developing confidence that I will learn more about yoga, but not necessarily on what I perceive to be my timetable. I have to learn to trust that path. The same applies to my Buddhist path. I’m not immediately going to try to go out and learn all I can about the path that has been opened to me, as if I could just put on such knowledge like a cloak that would envelope me. No. This process must be organic and grow out of me. By allowing this process to play out, I will be led to where I need to go.” 

Journal, 5 July 2014

P.S.: The lead photo was taken on Big Beach in Maui in May 2012.