We have 2100 watts of solar panels facing south (as you would expect) and they are doing a really good job.  Better than I ever anticipated.  I have not had to start the generator in three or more months.  It is amazing!

My ‘guy’ who supplies panels and stops by for lunch now and then is urging me to take three more panels adding another 780 watts.  I am going to do so.  “Why?”  Because the last 3 or four months have been summertime and relatively sunny.  The winter is not as generous in power generation.  The extra three panels may make the seasonal difference.

“But you have had 2100 watts for almost two years now.  What is the difference?”

Batteries.  I guess I was producing more power than I could store and so, when the new bank came on line ($5,000) five months back, the storage capacity simply got bigger and the panels filled it up.  Technical specs number crunching did not do the job for me on that score, but experience has.  Everything works so much better with the new batteries.

But here’s the good news: panels are a dollar-a-watt.  3000 watts of panels is a mere $3000.  Admittedly, with all the bits, pieces, controllers, inverters and cable, you can add almost double the price.  And a bit of expertise-labour added and you are looking at $10,000 easily.  Add batteries and you are looking at $15,000 or more.  But you city folks do not have to have an expensive battery bank.  Most utility companies offer a buy back arrangement that allows you to generate power (which they buy) and then give back to you later in the day.

But, for me (and not counting the batteries) in four months, I have paid nothing. Annualized, that would equate to $2000 a year in hydro savings (give or take).  That’s a five year payback.  Eight years or so if I factor in the batteries (which I should).

The math works in that case.

And now, over to the new, lower funicular…………..OMG what a treat!  We have used it a dozen or so times and it works like Juan Valdez’ mule, Conchita.  Slow and steady.  Two minutes of the metal cart hill climbing up from the sea.  No more barnacles.  No more sweating and lifting, falling and cursing.  It works beautifully.  Worth every penny.

“Dave, are you posting just to gloat?” 

Yeah.

Not long ago, any comment that was written to a post also went to my personal mailbox.  I could read it there or on the comment section.  Then the mail notification disappeared but that was OK.  I could read the page now and then and catch up.

For some bizarre reason comments aren’t showing up anywhere now.

“Dave, we’ve been meaning to tell you…….but……….like……….well………”

NOT SO FAST, YOU MEANIES!!!  ‘Totem‘ commented, told me about Orcas.  I commented back.  It showed up.  Then it disappeared.  Somehow I got it back.  Then it left the building again.  So, I KNOW there was at least one.  Maybe Julian Assange is vetting them before releasing them to the public.  I dunno…………….but comments are NOT registering.

Sorry.

AND WE’RE BACK!  I still do not get the email notifications but the comments are shown again on the webpage.  

Bookclub, this month, was scheduled on a tempestuous Sunday.  The wind was tipping 30 mph and the seas, though NOT particularly high, were choppy, nasty and confused.  It was going to be a bit of  a slog to go the almost ten miles from our place to the host cabin on the other island.  And, worse, the trip required going through one of the worst passes on the coast.  With the tide running, the wind blowing and the constriction of the waters through the pass, several book club members decided to give the day a pass. Instead of the usual flotilla, there were only three  boats intending to go that day from our region.

Because Sally expected a couple of city guests to accompany her this time, and with two months notice, she had asked two local women regulars to find alternative rides.  Ride sharing is common out here but everyone has a boat B and C in mind when Boat A is otherwise occupied.  As it turned out, the city guests didn’t show and Sal only had one passenger instead of three

That, as it turned out, was a good thing.

Sal started out alone at 11:00 ish, anticipating a noon-ish arrival at the host cabin.  She headed over to the neighbouring island and picked up her passenger and did so with whale accompaniment. A small pod of Orcas were surrounding her boat as she pulled up. Sal took it as a good omen.

She and her passenger then proceeded back to a spot further north on our island to form a convoy with the two other boats, one with two occupants, one with three.  They all headed from there to the pass.

The wind was up and that provided an exhilarating ride but the area of the ocean in which they gathered was somewhat surrounded by local islands and the seas were very manageable there.  That was not a good thing.  It suggested an easier trip than it turned out to be.

Because Sal was more knowledgeable of the pass and the destination, she took the lead. The other two boats fell back a respectable distance but followed her through the pass that so often causes grief to the unfamiliar.  Every year sees at least two boats hit the rock clearly marked on the chart.  Some are damaged severely.  People have been injured. Sal knew to keep the route to port and well away from that danger.  The other boats knew to follow Sal.

But the other side of the pass was a maelstrom.  The seas were boiling.  This was because the strong winds were coming from the west and had several miles of fetch with which to mess with the waters, the tide was receding towards the west adding to the conflict and the pass made the whole area ‘congested’ with those natural but extreme-that-day forces.

This area of marine confusion separated the boats somewhat more.  They could see each other occasionally as one or the other crested a wave and they would alternatively disappear as they descended into the troughs between the waves.  They did not have radios.

In theory, it became every woman for herself rather quickly but, in reality, Sally and her guest had been accompanied by the whales (who had taken another route to get there) and, as they bobbed and weaved through the waves, they were entertained and fully occupied by breaching Orcas and, of course, the business of navigating the confusing seas.  The other two boats had remained more closely together and, when one boat headed for shore, the other logically followed.

The waves had been too severe for one of the members and, with the constant pounding, her back went into spasm. The pain was so great, the captain of that boat went to the nearest protected waters.  The third boat was helmed by someone unfamiliar with the area and that was further complicated by having a new boat under her.  And these were unusually bad conditions.  She wisely chose to follow the other boat to the same safe place.

As it turned out, there was a large sailboat in the same anchorage and they took the injured woman aboard and, since they were leaving and heading back the way our crew had come, they took her home.  The others felt that the seas were simply not welcoming enough to carry on and so they followed the big sailboat.  Two of the original three boats turned back.

Sal eventually made her way to her destination, went ashore, enjoyed bookclub with her passenger and others and then, when it was time to leave, took the boat back into the fomented marine environment again.  The seas were better.  The tide had turned during the afternoon and the conflicting forces had turned to the same direction.  That was a good thing.  Sal simply rode the waves and almost surfed home.

This was one of those times where experience (and accompanying whales) made an otherwise difficult situation quite doable for Sally.  The others, without the unfortunate injury, would have also succeeded but the experience for them would have been more extreme and less pleasant.  It would have been a good experience for them because it would have added perspective instead of just difficult challenge.  But, even turning back added a lesson in wisdom and limits.  They did the right thing.

The main difference in this case was simply Sally’s experience and, perhaps a bit of a difference in boat handling skills.  Sal has been on the water for decades.  She is more familiar and comfortable in a broader range of conditions. She is good at what she does and she does it often.

And sometimes she may be a bit too confident…………..

Me?  I worry anyway.

So, where would you go?  Vancouver is now too much for you.  The outer burbs are not enough and the commute between them too long and irritating.  You think that it is no longer much fun in Vancouver.  You decide; “It’s time to go!”

Where would you go?

Within the last 100 years we have altered the temperature of our normal environment to the extent that we are setting records for heat, altering migration patterns of wildlife and have turned the arctic into a cruise-ship route.  Lots of things are on the move, so where would you go?

Going north ‘up’ Canada by any definition is flirting with being off the grid so maybe you not only commit to moving but you commit to moving off the grid as well?  Does seem a bit radical, don’t you think?  Or is it?  Lesser beings have done it.  You even know of a few. They weren’t special, wealthy or skilled and they are happy.  They did it.  So, it can be done.  “If Dave and Sally can do it, any doofus and dickhead can do it and I definitely qualify for that!” 

So, where would you go?

I’ve been thinking about it…….of course, the BC coast is a good place,  Been good to us. Strongly recommended.  But you have to be good with boats and such.  And we are on the firing line between the US and China.  And we are right under the faulty, unreliable ICBM missile trajectory of North Korea.  It truly is great here but we are in the right place to suffer some collateral damage should there be an armed conflict amongst those belligerents. Something to consider.  Plus, if Trump’s America prevails, there may be more than a few American migrants heading north. Could get crowded up here.

And everyone desires waterfront because Zombies can’t swim.  Jus’ sayin’………..

I think New Zealand is the best bet.  I’d consider Argentina, too.  Maybe Tasmania. Overall, I think the southern hemisphere will suffer the least.  And, it seems, all Hell could break loose in Campbell River…..what with all the ‘mericans, zombies and errant missiles.

But most people would not leave their own country.  I know that so here’s a selection of other places worth considering:  PEI,  Nova Scotia and, especially Newfoundland.  All three are beautiful and all three will be more like the Bahamas within the next few years. Build out of concrete in case the hurricanes get stronger but, other than that, if you are gonna become extinct sooner rather than later, there is no better group to go out with than Newfies.  They know how to party and have a good time in all circumstances!

To some extent, this post is tongue-in-cheek but who amongst you has not considered moving?  And who has NOT considered moving off the grid (given the topic I sometimes write about)?  And, given that the world is changing fairly drastically these days, who wouldn’t look at their options?

Where would you go?

Kids and spouses here.  That’s nice.  They all get along.  Sal cooks.  We talk.  Dog gets walked.  Maybe do a small chore or something.  Summer days.

The weather is pretty hot, mostly windy (thank God) but occasionally the wind drops.  It can get warm then.  We’ve hit high 80″s.  27/28C.  The local town 30 or so miles away (as the crow flies) hit record temps last week + 33C.  Hottest in 120 years.  And some cruise ship (Crystal Serenity) is catering to 481 tourists plying the Northwest Passage through a relatively new no-ice zone from Alaska to New York City.

Note to Republicans/Conservatives: I am guessing maybe climate change is real.

But here’s something whacked (and it takes an especially secure person to say something this stupid.  Or especially stupid, I suppose?).  The sun seemed higher in the sky to me – as if the earth was tilted more than usual towards it.  If that were the case, the earth is deviating from it’s axis and we are all gonna die!

Or move further north at the very least.

The sun is at it’s apogee on June 21.  I built my solar array to capture that position and made it movable from that angle to a steeper one as the sun moves lower in the sky during other seasons.  On June 21, I have the panels almost flat horizontal. December 21st, my array is significantly more vertical in it’s angle.  But I was not precise. Not overly particular.  Close was good enough.  I am NOT NASA.  I am NOT even an avid sky watcher, astronomer or even a keen weather watcher.  But, for reasons just explained, I kinda know where the sun is when it is at it’s highest (June 21) and it’s lowest (December 21).

I also know that the north side of my house roof never got direct sunshine when the southside got less.  That could never happen.

So, imagine my surprise the other day (almost two months from the apogee) when I see the Sun rising so much higher in the latitudes and subsequently arching over my house from what seemed like a higher angle simply because the north side was illuminated and the south was still in shadow!  The solar array was being hit but at an angle indicating a more northerly source.

Well, that’s just plumb loco, isn’t it?  Loco dementi?  So, seeking some support for my sudden squall of weather related dementia, I told my family what I observed. They just laughed. “Dad, you are getting crazier and crazier alla time!  Hahahahahahahah”.

This dilemma is summed up nicely in the latin phrase……’Adversus solem ne loquitor’ – literally – do not argue against the sun but meaning: do not deny the obvious!

I am obviously a nut.

So, I looked it up.  Seems melting ice is creating the earth’s axis to change.  Seems Inuit elders told NASA that the earth’s axis has changed.  Seems some ‘scientists’ are making statements to that effect, anyway.  But, if you read what they are saying, the difference is not enough to illuminate the north side of my roof.

So, apparently, I am still a nut.

And 481 tourists cruise by the previously frozen graveyards of dozens of history’s Arctic explorers while drinking Margaritas (with ice made aboard the ship) and eating bon bons.

PS: The more I read, the more proven crazy I seem to be.  All sorts of people are asking the same question on the net and they are all regarded as nut-bars by the scientists. Astronomers are ROTFLAO’ing all over the place by such stupid questions and I, of course, am embarrassed all to hell. So, mea culpa, baby.  

Still….it did seem that way…jus’ sayin’….

I’ll move on to something I know a lot more about…like, well…….hmmmmmm…..? 

I’m a Green.  I really have no choice.  Being at the virtual birth of GreenPeace (Bob Hunter’s boat was right across from mine in False Creek back in the very early 70’s. Talked with Paul Watson, Patrick Moore and a few others now and then but as a neighbour only), being now so pure of heart living OTG and loving Gaia, my political stance is pretty much pre-determined.  Earth first.

Especially since I have tried all the other parties at one time or another and found them all extremely wanting in even basic manners, ethics and good intention.

Having said that, I have been a harsh critic of the Green party ever since I joined it back in the day.  Nincompoops.  They seem to be naive, silly, unfocused and, strangely, somewhat elitist.  It sounds odd, but they are loathe to listen to the public and even most of their own members (maybe it is just me) and the party, tho uniquely democratic in so many ways, is usually deaf to input from the hoi polloi – especially if it is about economics.

Which, in light of the latest debacle, seems odd but it isn’t.  It seems a narrow, single-interest group timed their late-submitted proposition to boycott Israel to the then-dissolving Green party forum and, by employing Saul Alinsky tactics, kinda hijacked the platform.  Or so I gather….

Politics is an ugly business and, it seems, the Greens play in the mud as well.  Well, maybe better put; they got played by the mud this time.

But in a normal political party, that ploy would never have worked.  All the parties I have been involved in are run by a slightly mad power group and there is little tolerance for ‘revolutionaries’ in any of the parties.  Political structure-wise, all parties are conservative and rigid.  “Follow the rules, toe the line, be blindly loyal, do as you are told” .  That is the basic operating rule of thumb and the most egregious offender/defender of that faith I ever encountered was the Reform Party – later (d)evolved to the Harper Conservatives.

When I considered running for the then new Reform Party, they promised in their WRITTEN political platform a plank that stated the MP would first represent their constituents and secondly, their own conscience. Loyalty to the party was the THIRD priority.  Even though I had some basic conflicts with the rest of their platform and certainly some of the personalities I encountered, the simple fact that I could speak my mind, vote my conscience and put the constituents first, meant that I was in.

Plus my hidden agenda was that I was gonna preach GREEN to the party if I got in.

That exercise did not last long.  At the Reform-turned-Canadian Alliance ‘electioneering school’, they made it crystal clear that we were obliged to say what Stockwell Day told us to say, do as he told us to do and the WRITTEN and stated MPs freedom to speak was just a way to appeal to the public.  It was NOT going to happen.  That plank was a bald-faced lie.

I walked out.

And that kind of duplicity has been manifestly illustrated by the NDP, Liberals, Socreds and even BC First and the Conservative Party over the years.  They all seem to lie straight to your face.

So, sadly, in politics lying is a given…… 

But I have to make the point: I am not naive.  I know that leadership has to make decisions.  I know that not all decisions can be made by consensus.  I know that communication amongst volunteers and the power-mad is poor at best, negligible most of the time and downright two-faced lying bastards a lot of the time.  T’is the nature of the beast, I guess.

I do not expect perfection.  I do not even expect ‘good’ behaviour.

But I do expect some of the ‘basics‘.

Example: when Adrian Carr ran the Greens, she was offered a chance to speak at a pulp mill.  She went.  She preached Green and, after that speech, she was presented with a cheque for $5000 from BOTH management AND union. One cheque, two signatories. Unprecedented cooperation.

She refused it.

That the contribution showed ‘real people’ showing ‘real concern’ for the environment and in a pulp mill no less would have been a huge political milestone at the time for the party but it was refused because it smacked of ‘corporate’.  Then, of course, they went and blew their feet off with putting too late emphasis on Proportional Representation when the average Joe didn’t know what it was, what it meant or how to spell it.

And the list of mis-steps just goes on and on and on.

For every crooked, stupid, giant mis-step the BC Liberals have done these past ten years, the NDP and the BC Greens have equally missed every opportunity to show up with something better.  They haven’t even, for the most part, shown up!

And now this:  Elizabeth May is likely the best MP Canada has ever had.  She works harder than ten others.  I like and respect her a great deal.  But she is NOT a leader.  She COULD be, but, so far, she refuses to wear the crown.  She prefers the female approach of consensus building.  (God bless her, everyone). Trump (and that old-school, George Patton managerial style of his) prefers the MY-WAY-OR-THE-HIGHWAY approach.  (The devil take him!)

The reality is that both ways are required now and then.  A lot of stuff can be discussed and committee’d and logic, reason, analysis and commonality will prevail and the party can move as one in a certain direction.  Democracy at work. Sometimes the issue is so sensitive to the party that massive majority or consensus is required for the party’s survival because splitting the party would be worse.

But sometimes a leader has to step up, take charge, make the right decision and let their career rest on it.  If their ‘leadership’ turns out to be wrong (ie. the Brexit Referendum), they should resign.  It is called the honourable thing to do.  Leaders should have that strength at the very least.

But to let a splinter group ‘steal’ a plank from your platform by way of Saul Alinsky tactics and then consider resigning over it, is NOT showing leadership.  Liz should not only have to stay as the leader (which she announced today that she will), she has to quash the uprising, stall the proposal against Israel, take her own sweet time reviewing it and, she should make sure she grows a spine in the meantime.

Then, when it is time for another Green group meeting, put the topic back on the agenda and say, “I stalled this nonsense last year.  Now you can vote on it properly and with all the members having their say.  If I did wrong, the proposal will pass and I will, too.  I will resign.  If we kill this sucker, then taking leadership was the right thing to do and I intend to do more of it.”  

When the temperature gets warm out here, the wind blows.  Generally speaking, we can count on a nice breeze even when everywhere else is reporting record temperatures.  In other words, it’s still perfect out here in OTG land.

This interesting local weather phenomena is because there are a few fjords nearby and, when the high pressure area’s heated air abuts the cold glacier upper area, the cold air flows down and we get a nice cool breeze.  Despite that marvel of local nature, yesterday was warm. And so was the day before.  It was so warm, we tapped out at about 82 degrees F or 25C.  And, of course, it is ten degrees hotter the minute you step away from the breeze.  So, I don’t.

Day one was a bit too warm because we went into town.  Had to do a big shop for guests coming.  And our Pathfinder had a recall on the airbag.  I usually dread that sort of encounter whereby you get a free airbag and a report that the whole mainframe sub-assembly is ready to go and the mechanic is suggesting a $10,000 fix or else we are sure to die.  That didn’t happen.  They were perfect.  They even gave us a free air-conditioned courtesy car and it was a brand new Nissan Titan.  I drove around like king of the world for a few hours.  Fun.

Day two was kinda warm for Sal.  She worked the day at the little hot-as-hell post office. It’s a good 15 degrees hotter in that little bake-oven.

My neighbours went up into the back forty to do some work on the water system.  It was ten degrees hotter still up there.  Because of the tools and the work and because one neighbour defines work as wearing jeans and an undershirt regardless of temperature, they were melting.  I was in the breeze all but naked in a pair of undershorts working on a table for the boatshed.  A revolting picture but cool.

Today, the wind is up (about 18 knots) and there are the occasional whitecaps.  It is gonna be lovely.  I’ll work at something trivial, Sal will probably quilt, we will do what we do and another day in paradise will unfold.  Honestly?  I am not sure it can get any better.

There’s only one problem: no real fodder for making the second book worth writing.  Keep taking a run at it and coming up roses.  Literally, it is all good.  All nice.  All the time.  Hard to write a story without conflict and challenge.  Right now, we seem to have it made. Enveloped in bliss.  Happy as clams.

Well, the bilge pump is acting up a bit.  And we are running a bit low on beers.  And bloody Netflix hasn’t added anything interesting in a long time.  So, I don’t know, maybe all hell is about to break loose……

Last May we did a deck extension to accommodate the lower funicular (the absolutely beautiful, brilliant lower funicular) and it served the purpose well.  So well, we started using it without actually finishing the deck.

But….we have guests frequently and they stay in the adjacent boatshed (where they belong!) and the new-ish deck just never got around to growing hand rails on it’s own. One could ‘pitch’ right off the end and die a certain death on the rocks below.  It was time to finish that job.

“I think we better put rails on the lower deck.”

“OK, but I am pretty busy quilting.  And baking.  Plus there’s book club and yoga and I work at the post office this week.  And the garden is going crazy!  How long is it gonna take?”

“With your help, maybe four hours or so.  Not counting getting the lumber.  Simple, really.”

“You putting in the mid cables as well?”

“OK…six hours.  Two half-days tops.”  

Four half days later, it is done.  It’s good and strong.  It’s safe.  You’d have to be a doofus to fall in now.  Mind you, the season’s major guest days begin in a few days and there are a few doofuses expected amongst them…………….

Sal also finished mending the wall inside the boat shed (only 12 years late).  And re-routed the electrical wiring to look nicer.  The place is almost a one-star.  It would definitely rate one star in a backwater jungle country somewhere.  Maybe.  A one-star in a Bangladeshi poor village after a flood, fer sure.

And a neighbour was pitching out a square of carpet and so the boat house just got a nicer floor.  Decor improvement: $0.00

Sal’s been dragging ocean debris up to the deck….“we need a new end table…..”  Raw materials for an end table: $0.00

I cobbled the deck lines together from old sailboat rigging cable I had tucked away and some marine fittings just hanging around…… bits and pieces for assembly:$0.00

This is pure OTG.  Can-do, make-do. Try to get Sally-to-do, too.

Labour costs: $0.00

Total project cost: $0.00 (altho the govt. may tax me on the improvements so we’ll see if that remains true.)

I can afford to keep doing this kind of hobby for a long time. I certainly have enough accumulated ‘stuff’ to cobble crap together for the rest of my natural life and the cost is limited to just creating more space under the house.

I am going to call this manly hobby ‘hard-quilting’.  It’s already a trend out here, we just don’t have a name for it. We do now.

Just so long as Sal keeps helping.

This blog was interrupted by a ‘poinking’ sound.  Jack the raven was outside calling to Sally.  ‘Poink!’  Translation: “I am here for breakfast!”  Sal, of course, runs down from her upstairs computer, dives into the fridge and comes out with valuable, hard-to-get-here, food from our town trips including cheeses and meats.  “Well, what am I gonna do, Jack doesn’t like anything else except eggs and I was saving one for you.”

Thanks. Very kind of you.

These blogs lately are NOT great.  Apologies.  Some days are ordinary.  Still perfect bliss in paradise but ordinary perfect bliss, if you know what I mean.

Which reminds me of an Amazon book review last year By Lisa on February 5, 2016 of our book….”…….and sometime life is boring. Slow moving book, sometimes I would just put it down because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Other times it was interesting. I just kept telling myself that this was a real life story, and sometime life is boring.”

And, as painful as it was at the time, she is right.  Sometimes life is boring and slow moving.  Mind you, I am becoming more and more slow moving all the time so that may portend for a lot more boredom to come.  Hard to say…..so let’s try on yesterday.…..

By late morning we had contacted our neighbours up the coast and gotten their requests. We were headed over to the other island to pick up a few things for us and them.  They needed milk.  It was to be a quick trip. I was also gonna ‘check out’ a jeep to buy for the community.  Some of our even-slower and older area dwellers were having a hard time getting from the dock to the community centre so I was looking for a cheap 4×4 to buy as a community gift. I figured I could get one for $1000.00.  Plus we needed some lumber to make the railings for the lower deck.  That’s a bit overdue given the guest schedule.  And Sal wanted to pick up enough ‘dairy’ to tide us over til our next town trip.

So, off we go in the boat.  And the day is just beautiful.  Windy, sunny and full of life.  The trip alone was a delight.

We cart some glass recyclables from the boat to the ramp, I get the car and we load up and head out along the logging road.  Lots of traffic as the tourists come to hike the woods at the end-of-the-road trails.  All with packsacks, hiking boots, shorts, ‘swooshes’ on things and floppy hats.  They are a cute but too abundant subspecies in summer.

Can’t find the old jeep.  We look.  It’s not there.  So, we take the recyclables in.  NEW sign at the depot: NO glass.  “WE DO NOT ACCEPT GLASS.”  Which is odd, don’t you think? There are 12 separate bins.  None for glass.

So, we head to the store and they take the bottles but, in the meantime, we see friends. Twenty minutes later, we all go about our business.  I go the bookstore, “Oh, good to see you.  We’ve sold out of your book.  Can I have ten more?”  And fifteen minutes later after chatting and signing and generally ‘being a local author for the few tourist-customers in the store’, I leave.  Sal had been busy talking with another person she knew.

Went to the lumber store.  Talked politics with the owner for the time it took to buy and load 8 two-bys.  Then a few minutes with another neighbour who was next in line but in no hurry. And then off we went.  “At this rate we won’t get home today!” 

Went shopping for the less-than-two bags of groceries but that took an hour because of Paul, Gloria, Doug, Tina and Sherri.  All encountered in different parts of the tiny store.  And ten minutes later, Paul again.  He came back for more.

And then we went down the road for an ice cream cone and met Paul for a third time.

By the time we got back to our boat, we had encountered Karen and her friend as well.

Loaded, we cast off, delivered the milk to nearby people and headed over to our beach. Sal jumped off the bow of the bobbing boat, went up the ramp and sent the lower funicular into the sea.  I tied up the boat to the lowered cart, unloaded the lumber and groceries and left while Sal lifted 300 pounds by funicular up an elevation of twenty feet or so, transferred the load to the next lift and took that it all up another 80 feet.  We’d been gone almost six hours.

Like I said, ‘not great’ story-telling or even ranting but that was our day, the busy part of the day, anyway.  The rest of the day was easier.  Slower.  MORE relaxing.  That is life for us out here. That, and marveling over the cucumbers Sal has grown, feeding the Ravens, drinking wine and well, I had a nap…….

A day in the life, eh?

“Hey, Dave, J here.  Do you have KB’s phone number?”

“Yeah.  Think so.  I’ll check.”

“Some folks back in town here lost their dog at the beach festival last week.  I am gonna get KB to put a notice in the newsletter.”

“Oh yeah?  What kinda dog?”

“Blue – something, a tick hound by the name of H.” 

“That’s funny,”

“That is not the funny part.”

“Tell me…..”

“Seems they looked high and low.  Called everyone they knew.  Finally went to a dog psychic in the city.”

“What?  You means someone who can communicate telepathically with lost dogs?”

“Yeah.  And the dog psychic says H is in a house being cared for and is OK.  The house is on your island and has a red roof.  So, I am going to ask everyone on your island to look for H.”

“Gonna use your real name?”

“Good point.” 

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Sal and I got a concrete step poured yesterday.  Actually, it is a concrete ‘covering’ of an old steel stair in the line of stairs I have referred to in the past as the sea stairs.  When we came here over 12 years ago, getting up the slippery, hard-barnacle beach was a scramble so I put down a series of heavy galvanized steps that covered the basic height of the tide.  I didn’t expect that steel-in-water would last forever but I thought they might last my lifetime.  And that will prove true if I croak tomorrow but not a long time after.  One of the steps is pretty much ‘done’.  It is so weak that stepping on it invites an accident. So….what to do….?

I can chop that one out but that leaves a missing tread.  I can chop them all out but many still have a half-life and the stairs are still mostly useful.  I can reallocate the spacing but that is incredibly hard.  So, what to do……?

I chose to encase the eroding steel (after cleaning it of sea life) in a thick ‘skin’ of concrete.  Yesterday we did that.  The day before we prepped.  As soon as the tide fell enough to reveal the bad step, we went at it.  I can’t believe how much cement powder and heavy sand I used hoping the steel stair frame and mesh would add the strength normally provided by the small rock component in the usual mix.  The mesh didn’t allow room for the small rocks.  The equivalent of maybe three ready-mix bags and I was still a bit short.  But, if it works, I will eventually re-do the entire steps (about 14 of them).  And they will ‘see us out’ for sure.

Sal’s not happy about this job.  But I don’t see why.  She just has to lie there.  It’s me running around, mixing, cutting, trimming, fitting.  All she has to do is lie under the sea stairs structure on slimy wet rock with bugs and crabs underneath her and with sea-life hanging in her face to ‘weave’ the support wires through where the cement will go.  In the dark.  It’s a smidge claustrophobic, wet, and barnacles squirt her in the face but, hey!  Life is always tough under a set of stairs.  At least there were no spiders.

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Trump………….what’s to say…………he’s doin’ all the talkin’ and it is not working out so well for him.  And it may be too late to shut up.  If Clinton debates him (and she should not) then she is going to have to find a way to talk over him, yell insults and/or interrupt with dignity and grace.  That’s a tough job.  Sal is the only one I know who has mastered it so far.

If Hillary doesn’t get a ‘handle’ on Trump’s bluster and crap, she’ll just be left standing there waiting politely for her turn to speak…….which will never come.  He’ll talk-bully her and look stupid, ignorant and ridiculous in the process but she’ll look inept and weak as well.

Sal knows………

Actually, Hillary should just hire Sal to stand in.  Jeez, I would almost feel sorry for Trump if he had to face Sal.  Like the lady she is, she would just walk over to him and punch him in the face so hard he tips over and then she would tell the audience, “Sorry. It had to be done.  So, I did it. Now back to regular programming.”