Connections and History

 

Big Ray (in CR)

Key Largo, Tuesday, January 19

Just returned from a whirlwind trip to Key Largo to visit friends, who I go way back with. I first met these guys when I was beginning my relationship with my first husband. They volunteered to help us with a fundraising benefit, and the friendship grew from there. Later our kids grew up together, and K even worked with S for a while. During the 40 plus years, we drifted together and apart as family, work, in my case, divorce, and lifestyle changes occurred. It was a wonderful visit and a great time to catch up on our lives and reminisce about life’s events. To me, there is such a strong feeling of history and a “rootedness” with old friends that I really appreciate.  

Captain Dave and Kim take me fishing

Yours truly trying my hand at fishing (ha!)

Musings on a Divorce

As I drove back from the Keys the other day, I began thinking about the sense of history and loss that often occurs with divorce. Does it always have to be that way? No, of course not. But I think in many cases there is a necessity to move on and sever ties because of previous hurts and discomfort. Therefore, not only do you lose the relationship with that person, but often their family and friends as well. Also the shared events and experiences you had together.  I have found over the almost 20 years of coming to terms with my own situation that I still have slightly wistful feelings about the history part. But I’m also content with these musings and don’t feel they disrupt my life in any meaningful way anymore. 

Wood stork with other bird friends

Reflecting (with random photos)

kitchen view of the goat farm across the creek from my camper

Getting Old(er)

Having “reflection time” like this is very important to me, albeit a little lonely, at times. Collecting my thoughts and digesting, or processing, the events of this past year, as well as taking stock of my life is a good mental health activity. As I just turned 67, and Ray is heading even closer to 70, aging is good wake up call to making the most of life, and being grateful. As corny as all that sounds. 

10,000 Steps

I am feeling good about exercising and eating reasonably healthy. I really enjoy walking and often put in 3-5 miles a day. A big part of the “10,000 steps philosophy” is documenting how far you walk each day. This can be done with an electronic watch type device (Fit Bit, etc.) or an IPhone app. There seems to be an almost “magical” allure to walk this distance daily for good health.  of course, mileage varies on how long your legs are (or short in my case), as well as your stride. It seems estimates of 2,000 up to 2.500 steps equal a mile. Imagine the difference between Ray (6’6”) and me (5’)!  

Home sweet home

Health is a Blessing

Another piece of my “introspection” is coming to terms with aging and health. I am become increasingly aware of the importance of health, as well as how fleeting it can be. Part of this is the realization that I’m well into my 60’s, and between Ray’s illness, Covid and my brother’s recent heart surgery, health is up front and personal. In my face, you might say. Another plug for continual exercise, walking, yoga, etc. Yada, yada.

Downtown Greenville, SC 12/20

"Seestahs" NC 12/20

Can you Hear Me Now?

Hearing is another important part of “health.” Unfortunately, my Dad, Ron, has become pretty deaf in recent years. It seems cruel that the latest technology offers tiny hearing aids, with even tinier batteries that challenge even younger, more coordinated fingers. Poor Dad, he patiently replaced these pesky batteries (which only last a few hours) for years, and tried troubleshooting the defects on the devices (which frequently broke), as well as remembering not to throw them away by accident because they’re so small they’re almost invisible. The better ones, at $5-6K, are not covered by medical insurance, so it’s an out of pocket expense. Communication by phone, even with FaceTime, can be quite frustrating for all involved. Couple that with being socially isolated because of Covid restrictions, this past nine months have been really tough. PS He got his first vaccine shot this past week. So maybe there’s hope of communal dinners and social opportunities sometime in the not too far, future.

Morning sunlight filters through the live oaks

Kite surfing near Skyway Bridge

The Importance of Writing….Documenting My Life

And….as crazy as it sounds, I like to record events of my life with words and photos for times not only to share with myself, but with friends and family. It is a good way to stay in touch. Who knows? When I’m in the nursing home reflecting back on my life, maybe I can reread this stuff and feel a little more fulfilled. Or when dementia hits I can ask myself, “Who the hell is that woman?” Or something!

Frog Creek Reflections

Covid Blues, or I have no right to complain….

 

Thankful

First I have to say that most of the time the virus did not affect much of my life. In CR we don’t socialize much, we are always outdoors, masked in the grocery stores, and otherwise keep to ourselves pretty much. The same in the States. Either indoors with few trusted friends and family, or outdoors. In fact, I just left a small gathering of local folks outside, and when more people joined I went back to the camper.

Kayaking - a good way to avoid people

Test Frustrations

I took a Covid test just before I left CR in case I needed to prove it somewhere unforseen. Back in NC that allowed me one visit with my Dad. So I took two more to try and stay with the Covid rules at College Walk who required a negative test result within four days of the test. Unfortunately, the results don’t come back for a day or two - which only gave me a day or two to visit for my allotted hour.  We did manage a few truncated visits, however.   

Hiking....

More Alone Time

I won’t have as many visitors this year. Some friends are not easily (or want to be) available because of Covid, or related influences. Indoor activities such as restaurants are practically ruled out, as are museums, movies - anything indoors. Since returning I’ve been in stores only a handful of times, for food mainly. Almost everything I do is outdoors, and I’ve practically only been with family and a handful of friends since arriving back in the US in mid-December. There are a good number of mask-less folks here, although public places - stores, etc. even though they do require a mask. Between the constantly depressing news about illnesses and deaths from Covid, and feeling “on guard” constantly - I find Covid very invasive. 

Camping 

And I’m not even actually dealing with it directly! I can’t imagine how hard it is for those who are sick, have kind of recovered but still have after effects, and those touched by death. It’s outrageous that some people think it is all a hoax! To think that many people who have easy access to clean water, masks, space and ways to avoid transmission, yet refuse to comply with safety measures, just blows my mind. It’s also very disturbing how many millions of people on Earth have little or no access to these, making them much more vulnerable. Covid has certainly exposed the inequities of our world.

Washing out the masks

Etiquette

Wearing a mask in public is a no brainer for me. When I walk by people I hurry to pull up my mask. As I pass by them I hold my breath. Well used hand sanitizer sits in the cupholder of the car. I avoid restaurants, indoor activities, and try to make food shopping as brief as possible. The difficult times come when I meet up with friends, albeit outdoors, and try to decide whether I need to wear the mask. Do I stay if more people join a small outdoor group originally well spaced? Do I go inside friend’s homes without the mask? Obviously, hugging and handshakes are out, but occasionally I spontaneously touch someone’s arm in conversation, then pull away guiltily. I find myself feeling almost apologetic at times when I am the only person pulling up my mask. Yet I remind myself that I have to live within my comfort zone. And, although healthy, I’m 67. It’s a strange and frightening time.  

Real Estate Adventures : Buying the Church

I just bought a church for $35K.

 

Yes really.

 

First, some history.  My brother in law and my sister have bought a number of small, very run down homes, fixed them up and either sold them or rented them. They have managed to ride in on the wave of rapidly increasing housing markets in Jupiter, FL, NC and SC over the years. 

Probably won't keep the inside "alter's cross

Down the road from them is a tiny building that was used as a church. The three of us have been looking at the church for a couple of years, dreaming of its possibilities. I even contacted the owner and almost bought it, but we chickened out because it needed a lot of foundation work. And god knows what else. Anyway fast forward to now and it was still available, and Ron needed a project. Also, property values have skyrocketed there. Even run down fixer uppers have become very pricey. So now it made more sense. Ron is very excited, having already begun tearing out interior walls. As of this writing they are signing on with an outfit that will jack up the back of the house and build a proper foundation wall. 

Ollie makes sure the well is pumping water

When the electric was turned on recently the well still functions, and we hope, so will the septic system. Although I’m also excited, realistically I won’t be around for 99 % of the work, but I DID provide the funding, for now. So….another adventure. 

Reaching New Heights: Part 1

Beginning the hike

One of my most physical challenges of late was hiking to the near peak of Chirripo, Costa Rica’s highest mountain in early December. One of my partners in this endeavor, Kim, and I spent weeks regularly hiking the steep hillsides of our neighborhood, in preparation for “the BIG one!”

A pretty soggy walk

Test of Our Mettle

Full of enthusiasm and energy we met up with Hattie and our guide, Ken, the afternoon before the climb. After a hearty dinner and chilly overnight in a small cabin, we set out at daybreak for the day’s hike. Luckily, we had the forethought to send our larger packs with a porter who left them at the base lodge for us. Overcast in the beginning, we encountered a steady rain after a couple of hours, that intensified as we gained altitude. Much of the trail was a steady incline, with some steep and overgrown parts. Several meadows offered some relief for our aching thighs, although they were flooded from previous rains. Visibility was limited to a few yards around us as the raindrops pelted down. Our gear provided some protection, but our feet, lower legs, arms and hands went from just wet to numb rapidly. 

The one and only shelter

With only one small shelter early on in the hike, there was no respite from the weather. CR’s strict policies to protect the environment, not only limit the number of visitors, but not allowing any new structures, ie. shelters or even a bench! So on we trudged. By late morning we had reached halfway at 7 km. My enthusiasm started to wane as my legs began to feel heavy. I put myself into auto mode, monotonously humming little tunes, and feeling victorious for every km signpost we passed. Ken’s information about the area and his encouragement helped to spur us on. There was no stopping because of no shelter, and the dampness immediately chilled me to the edge of hypothermia. The last couple of kilometers really put me to the test - the cold, fatigue and the altitude nearly kicked my ass. I went into full determination mode for the 14th and last kilometer. When I felt I could barely go on, I glimpsed the base lodge nestled into the mountainside ahead. With a burst of adrenalin I pushed my way through the fog and raindrops, almost panting to reach the end. It had taken us over 8 hours for the 14 1/2 km!

We made it!

Yeah!!

A Welcome Meal

Expecting our arrival the kitchen crew had saved a hearty lunch for us, which we devoured. Still chilled with numb feet and hands, we went off to the bunk room, stripped off our wet clothes and shoes, and climbed into bed under several blankets to rest and warm up.  We managed to keep a pretty good sense of humor about our soggy clothing, plastic garbage bag rain and foot gear, as well as the rather basic accommodations. I couldn’t understand why the two flights of stairs to our room exhausted me until I realized my body was dealing with over 10k feet altitude, while it’s used to sea level. Unfortunately, I barely felt sense of accomplishment completing the day’s hike because I was SO cold.

What do you do with wet sneakers?

This guy is trying to get some solar heat

The temperature outside was in the 40’s and continuously raining. Inside the stone and metal lodge wasn’t much warmer with no heat, or hot water. The only warmth was from our food and drink. We spent the rest of that first day, and night in bed wearing all our clothes (including 3 layers under winter jacket and hat) under the covers. Apparently, years before, wildfires had engulfed the area, resulting in very strict rules about any outdoor fires or even inside fireplaces. The lodge was powered only by solar panels, so no heat, and after 8pm - no lights. It was quite spartan - and downright frigid. 

Reaching New Heights: Part 2

 

No Respite

The plan for the next morning was to hike the last 2,500 km to the summit and back. Exhausted, chilled and a bit dispirited, Kim and I opted to stay behind, while Hattie and Ken would do the next hike to the summit. We managed to gather all our wet belongings and spread them out to dry, (Ha!) then explored around the lodge for a couple of hours before the fog rolled in with more steady rain. We watched as several pack horses loaded with huge sacks arrived and were unloaded by the staff - the only way supplies reach the lodge. 

An hour later Hattie and Ken returned because the trail had closed due to the weather. We spent the rest of the day bundled up and mainly in bed, dozing and reading as it was the only way to stay warm. Thankfully, the meals were hot, delicious and plentiful. The place felt a little eerie because everyone was masked and avoiding each other. Gathering places were cordoned off, so there wasn’t anywhere much to just hang out. 

The latest in rain gear....

A hearty breakfast for all

Getting ready

Going Down…

It poured the rest of that second day and all that night, but just before dawn the rain let up and we prepared our descent. Luckily, we had brought extra dry clothes, and most of the wet stuff went down with the porters. But…shoes were another story. In an attempt to keep our feet somewhat dry we tried plastic bags over our socks before putting on our sodden boots. This time the rain let up and the clouds parted. A frigid wind nipped at us for the first few hours, but as the the sun rose, we actually started taking off a few layers. 

The Easier Way

The views we missed on the way up were quite spectacular. Tall spires of rock, Los Crestones, towered above the lodge in the distance. Silvery streams bubbling over slippery rocks crisscrossing the mountainside. Colorful wildflowers contrasted with the stark grey rock. Clouds scudded across our views like giant, soft cotton wool creatures obliterating the views of nearby peaks and valleys. At one point we could see San Isidro below us resembling a miniature city. 

We trudged through gaunt charred skeletons of trees burned from decades old fires. Lush meadows of delicate clumps of grasses, and flowering shrubs, disguised inches of floodwater that slowed our pace considerably. One part of the hike led us through a fairy-like forest with gnarled old trees and fallen logs smothered with grey blue lichen and mosses. Another section involved a precariously narrow walk along a very steep cliff edge. 

Relief and Accomplishment

The hike down was quite a delight, and much faster, as gravity helped us along. A big plus - it was not raining. Finally, my sense of accomplishment rose up as we tramped past steep hills dotted with coffee bushes toward the cabin. Kim and Hattie would stay there overnight, while I met up with Ray later that afternoon.

Our arrival was followed by a welcome cold shower and a huge lunch. As I hitched a ride down to town where I had expected to meet Ray (no cell phone service impaired correct communication here!) I found him parked along the hugely rutted and washed out road. He presumed he was meeting us at the cabin, and managed to get stuck in a ditch along the way. He hailed some local farmers who had just pulled him out, so he was staying put until I arrived. It was such a relief to be dry and in a warm enclosed vehicle, it made me even more happy to reunite with Big Ray. 

Back down past the coffee farms

Would I do it again? A definite maybe.