The Old Prof

Well, this is another fine mess you have gotten us into Gary

Do you have things you love but don’t do very well, I mean beyond singing?

I like kayaking. I just can’t stay in the approved position with the kayak under rather than over me. It is damn annoying to try your very hardest and still have no athletic ability or balance whatever. There is a certain amount of unfairness in life. I rage at it and ignore all disabilities. And lose, time after damn time.

(Excuse the constant use of damn. I know some people disapprove of obscenity but I get, and have been for a long long time, annoyed at the unfairness of life)

Down the Colorado in a kayak, upside down. A mile off the Ventura pier headed for San Onofre in a Kayak upside down and afflicted with can’t get out ness.

Ok the Ventura thing was in a small craft warning but still no one else was floundering around in the four foot waves bringing their Kayak in to the beach under their left arm while stroking manfully with their right and arguing with a life guard that yes damn it I was coming into the beach whether he liked it or not. It was that or drown.

And then there was the Boston Harbor thing in Olympia Washington. Ever since I had tentatively told Joe I might try to get up there we had been talking kayak. I was sort of thinking of Steve’s solution of “sit upon not in, very stable semi kayaks”. That worked great in our channel Island adventure. But

Well, we put it off till the last possible moment cause Olympia Washington this time of year is cold and rainy. And rainy with “moments of sun” as they put it in their weather broadcasts. Finally we drove down to the bay. It was Rainy and Cold. Still… I really wanted to Kayak. I don’t know why. Things afflict me. We went into the shop and talked with the “girl” about the advisability of the whole operation. She said,” well, it’s rainy and cold and the wind is kicking up and the tide is going out and there are waves, but it’s up to you.” Put that way we had to think about it for a few moments. “So you think it’d be ok?” “Well, it’s up to you. Its thirty dollars for two hours and after two hours we come looking for you cause hypothermia sets in so fast in these conditions. But it’s up to you.” Put like that it seemed like such an easy decision. We walked down the floating pier to the Kayak storage area in the bay. It was kind of overcast and not really raining much. Sort of dramatic really what with the wind and tide and lonely gray bay with no boats at all out and the gulls huddled on their chosen posts ruffling their feathers to stay warm. I tried to pay extra good attention to the survival instructions. “When you go over take your paddle, pull this bag over the end. Cinch the draw strings. Loosen this cap on this tube. Tighten the cap on this tube. Then blow into the first tube and tighten the cap. That will make the paddle float. Place the other end of the paddle across your boat, turn backwards to the boat. Place your arm on the paddle, and cautiously throw your leg over the nose of the kayak. Then slide backwards down the nose of the kayak until you are over the opening. Enter the kayak backwards. Twist around. The boat will be full of water. Place this pump which I will shove under this rope to hold it until you need it, uh place this pump into the kayak and pump it dry. Now remember, when you go over, do not let the boat or the paddle float away. You will need both of them.”

Ok, fine. Seemed easy enough.

We put the kayaks into the water. They were long and narrow and looked fast as lightening. “Now shift your hips around”. What! I have never felt so unstable. Fear crept into my stomach and up into my chest where it is wont to live. “Ok. Now sit really straight and high. No don’t slump cause your balance is pretty high and if you lean in any direction you are going to go over. So when you paddle don’t shift you weight left or right….’ Ok?” It didn’t make sense to me but Ok.

Ok? OK!? This can’t be happening. I didn’t know they made Kayaks like this one! This thing is a narrow beautiful death trap.

So we backed out of the pier and turned and paddled down the harbor. And we laughed and joked and paddled around the harbor getting used to the kayaks and finally out of the harbor and into the, what? Bay, Straight, Inlet ?

Where the tide, waves and wind immediately hit us and it was life and death amidst the five inch waves every instant. (Well, that’s what it felt like to me) “Holy Hell” I casually thought. (My dad had a limited cursing vocabulary and it’s a good thing. I learned from him)

I thought about backing back down the straight and into the harbor. Turning around seemed suicide. I fought turning over into the cold water every second. Manfully controlling my terror of capsizing and embarrassing myself while getting cold and wet I, we, paddled on.

(Ok getting wet and cold and embarrassed was the only real danger but it seemed mighty important at the moment) I finally suggested we abandon this enterprise. I was afraid I couldn’t remember the instructions for remounting this sleek narrow unstable beast. It’s the old “hold a penny close enough to your eye and it blots out the sun” sort of thing. There was no real (well, not much) danger but I take my drama where I find it and if its not there I manufacture it and when you retell it life seems more fulfilling. With only a little effort life gets better and so do the stories.

We did decide to give up on the tour of the bay, what with the wind and rain in our faces and the tide going out to sea and the question of us going with it. Somehow everything now seemed clearer to us when in the actual water in the actual boats. It was the old “ Oh! I see. Wont do that again” which I must have said ten time in my life” Then there was the “hey, can you still feel your fingers?” question which after thirty minutes of cold wind and freezing spray neither of us could do. I also thought it would be good to feel sensation in my right foot again. We were met at the dock by the man who gives kayaking instructions for the company that rents them; rents the kayaks, not the instructions.

I’m not sure but he seemed sort of relieved to see us. Those things are probably expensive.

When we docked and got out, Joe who is manlier than I staggered a round for a minute or so while sensation came back into his whole right leg. He hadn’t mentioned that. The foot pegs may have been set a little wrong.

It was everything I ask for in an outing. Good conversation, good company, and stupidity. It was great! I will remember that “trip’ fondly forever or what ever part of forever remains.

Posted by Old Prof at 01:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

(With apologies to Sir Richard Francis Burton and his Pilgrimage to al Mecca and al Medina. I thought I’d better ad the disclaimer since no one seems to get my esoteric references, or jokes for that matter.)

Perhaps I should just call It: We Visit Family

Getting there was interesting but being there was great.

We didn’t try to fill all the idle hours but just enjoyed them. Digging in the yard, wandering a garden supply shop, putting up the bird feeder.

Birds can be stupid. Little brains I think. One bird liked the beautiful glass and chrome feeder. I sat there many a morning reading my paper and sipping my hot chocolate waiting for the birds. No joy.

Joe lives about five hundred yards from pristine wilderness crisscrossed with macadamized paths that wind along the gorgeous river in the gorge with the big trees framing Disney-like photo ops of Rufus ducks and sea gulls who must be paid to pose dramatically on white incredibly rock like rocks jutting up in the river.

I took a picture too of the great sign. No Swimming. Be careful of ice. “I kid you not” Talk about a redundant sign. No problem with me breaking that particular law. Especially since it was on a bridge over a section of raging water tumbling over falls. Olympians must be a very hardy breed of bird. Joe and Grant appear to be. The mist rose from the river, amidst the lush growth and heavy old trees where Joe and Grant (Grant is three) (Joe is his dad) walked out into the mist and stood and laughed uproariously as the mist blew in their faces Stood with looks of pure ecstasy on their faces as they looked at each other and turned back to the mist and turned and looked and laughed with each other again and again. Little Grant just split his face with a grin and stood with his arms wide and his fingers splayed and laughed.

Grant is like his grandfather and wakes up hard. Every morning I would get up and sure enough there were Michelle and Grant curled up on the couch under a comforter with Grants favorite CD or TV program softly playing as Michelle tenderly comforted Grant into full “awakeness”.

We drove the short distance up to Tacoma. There is an army base on the way. The part that seemed familiar to me was the arch that had a sign saying entrance to base with a road that began at the fence but which had no passage thru said fence. Must have been some renovation since it was built. Pretty army like I say.

I don’t know what Tacoma is like elsewhere, but along the river by the railroad station and Chihuly glass exhibit it’s a ghost town. A beautiful picturesque one though. They have a free tram running back and forth in this section and I guess elsewhere. I couldn’t believe the street traffic. There was none. In one three block section I counted, without strain, three people on the street. Two of them appeared to be drunk and arguing with each other. I don’t think I saw twelve people walking the street in twelve blocks. we went into an antiques shop and there was no one but us in the enormous building. Well there were people moving stuff here and there but no shoppers. It was jammed with antiques. The building seemed to have an entrance for horse drawn vehicles which turned into a ramp for that trafic which worked up to an upper floor. If the rest of Tacoma is like this they ought to make it an amnesty city for all those illegal aliens crossing the border. I’m afraid the ride up on the train might send them right back to Mexico however.

The Chihuly glass museum disappointed me in its paucity of Chihuly art. The bridge to the Museum does have an interesting display overhead in glass framed boxes and that’s nice but seeing glass behind glass is not the same experience as looking directly at the work. And we got there just as the glass blowers were going on break. But…The Czech Glass display “Czech Glass, 1945-1980: Design in an Age of Adversity” was absolutely seductive. Wow! Those flowing draperies out of glass just amazed me. There is something about good glass work that moves me like good religion or a pure tumbling swirling river.

Posted by Old Prof at 11:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The trip to Olympia Washington on the Coast Starlight.

Waiting at the “station” (just a few rain shelters and a couple of benches) in Simi Valley California.

The train was an hour late

Two fellow travelers told us stories of their last trip when the train broke down and they were bussed for hours and the rest rooms quit working and etc. They said Amtrak compensated them with a free ticket but they let it lapse. They weren’t at all surprised that the train was late. They thought it would be hours later. Not a good way to start the trip. I could have done without the horror stories.

And now my story from scraps of notes made along the way

Notes:

It’s now about 1:10 p.m. We’re aboard the Coast Starlight. My impression so far is that every one of the train personnel is either a low-grade moron, grumpy as hell or both. I believe they wait till evening to fly off to tall downtown buildings, perch on the eaves, swoop down on inattentive theatergoers, fly off to barren pigeon infested lofts and devour them with a little salt, angrily spitting out the buttons and zippers which lie amid the pigeon droppings and an old greasy discarded Taco wrappings.

We stop often to let other trains pass.

Oh, it’s nice to see we’ve stopped again. the moving thing was stressful.

I believe we are slowing down again though it is a thing for experts. This is the closest thing to walking cross country that I have experienced. One is at one with the ripples on the rivers we cross. And there is ample time to examine the contents that burst from the black garbage bags thrown from what ever ancient pickup truck that had rolled down through the scrub brush trees to the bottom of the railroad cut which serve as the trash repository for an invisible “rurality”.

Paso Robles at 7:05 p.m. “this is not a smoking stop”. True enough. it is rather a slow uneventful one.

I am thinking of walking ahead and having some sandwiches made for when the train makes the next stop.

10:53 p.m. She-“we’re stopped huh?” Me:” is that right?” I had paid no attention, it being the normal condition of an Amtrak train as I have come to know it.

Leaving Sacramento at 2:49.

She (notmy wife this time), walking up to the porter, and asking to have her seat changed because she was grossed by the person she was sitting next to. He: “well ma’am you’re going to have to sit next to someone so just grin and bear it.”

Yep-as service employees go these are the surliest, most uncooperative, grumpy, don’t give a damn bunch that I have ever encountered. They stop just short of calling you a stupid chump.

But… there is ample legroom. And I just got two hours sleep-12:30 a.m. to 2:30 a.m.. And I dozed off again after an hour or so until 4:30 a.m.. The seats are hard and have been sat in enough that there are funny lumps and empty spaces in the wrong places. And like all seats of this type the seat back curves are symmetrical but improperly placed so when your body is positioned right your head is hanging back off your shoulders towards an empty space behind you. The pillows they hand out are a nice gesture and about 9 inches long by 5 inches wide and an inch and a half thick. I didn’t actually measure them. Seasoned travelers can be told by the large comfortable pillows they are carrying from home. The seats do look nice though and there is more room between elbows and elbows than is possible on an airplane. And how pleasant to be able to get up and walk up the aisle three or four cars and back. The restrooms are centrally placed in each car and down a stairwell to the lower deck. There are plenty of them and usually no line. While they are not clean they are bearable. They do get worse as the trip progresses but you gradually get used to it and your standards decline.

In the late evening when it might be pleasant to go to the observation car and observe, people are staking them out to and lying across two or three seats to get a little more room to sleep. The lounge seats are uncomfortable enough that one guy is sleeping on the floor with his legs out in the aisle and he doesn’t care.

Spent about an hour sidetracked in Portland. The industrial port district is pretty interesting though; All steel girders and industrial detritus right on the water.

We sidetrack often to let freight trains through. And we stop often to take on or let off passengers. We averaged about 60mph in places from Eugène to Salem and got up to 70 to Portland. Before that, coming out of Simi the only times I checked the GPS we were at 30 and then 40 mph for long long stretches. And thru the mountains they announced that the rails were in such shape that there was a speed limit. I checked often being unable to believe the speed. pretty much 20 to 30 mile per hour.

The temperature in all the cars except the diner is perfect. But the dining car is frigid with cold air blowing on you. Announcement “Ladies bring a sweater.“We think something is broken”.

Absolutely everyone is amazed at the crabbiness of the staff.

Oh. The kitchen is always out of a couple of the menu items and the “special” seems to be what is left and thus “available” and changes slowly through the course of the dinner. Tonight with the choice of six items, two were not available and the only vegetable entrées turned out to be corn and red beans, which is known as “a medley of vegetables”. The waitresses didn’t actually know what the medley was going to be and explained we would just have to wait and see what the cook put on the plate. (Note. It was the same Medley coming back down, five days later. The medley is not good) None of the other vegetable choices (and they looked interesting) were actually available though we were passing through a country that grows them profusely There were green French-cut snap beans also but they see mostly to be decorative much like the “Inedible” nearly cooked carrots of a later meal. Colorful, decorative but not actually chewable. They were an interesting combination of limp but tough. Still the actual food was pretty good.

Announcement: “Salads are now available. We have found lettuce.”

Announcement: “butter will be brought aboard at the next stop.”

Into Olympia three hours late. 33 hours on the train, Simi Valley California to Olympia Washington.

It’s a pretty little Train Station and the staff says it the only station in the U.S. that is staffed completely by volunteers. The train ought to try that. The, I suppose, hired personnel don’t want to be there.

Return trip 14 April 2006 On the return leg I went to the personnel running the station and asked when the train was due and they explained that they didn’t check for another twenty or so minutes and went on reading their magazines. I just stood there perplexed. Then one of them said “Oh I guess we could call early”, and did. The train is said to be 30 minutes late. It was supposed to leave at 11:39.

Well it’s 12:30 a.m. and we are on our way. We have seats 44 and 45 on a bulkhead right by the water and next to the stairs to the restrooms. Perfect. Lot of leg room. Talk about luck.

Announcement “For those waiting for the dining car we have not even started calling names.” Calling people names would not have surprised me. Not calling names does.

We’re at 70.3 mph coming in to Centralia at 12:41 p.m. And “We’re stopped”. Now At 12:52 we’re moving again. At 12:56 p.m. we are doing 80 mph.

We have all the legroom in the world.

A young woman asked the man who’s doing the seating “can I move seats?” He: “No, the train is full.” She: “But I can see seats that are empty.” He “believe it or not I know what I’m doing.” End of conversation.

At Portland Sandy went down to the restroom. She has a form of amnesia caused by Valley Fever. As she came out of the restroom the train stopped. They load and debark right there by the restrooms. And she said “everyone got off so I got off but I couldn’t see you so I got back on.” That would have been fun.

He: “Let’s go smoke in the restroom. It will be fun. They won’t catch us.”

On the trip up to Olympia there was an announcement. “Someone has been smoking in the restrooms. If we catch you you will be put off the train and the next one isn’t for 24 hours. It is a federal offence and we mean it.” I must have heard that wrong. Federal? I believe they would put you off and enjoy doing it.

3 p.m. at Portland. Announcement. “We are entering the Union Pacific rail which have a history of breakdowns, so we will see.”

The seats are thin in the important places and hard and uncomfortable. Mine slopes down in front and wants to slide me slowly to the floor. Oh. It’s caught in the foot rest. That’s better. But darn, not by much.

The train is paused at Salem at 4:02 p.m. Sandy asks if there’s time to get off. “Why” I reply? She wants to get a drink of water and go to the bathroom both of which are available on the train and variously three feet and twenty feet from us. At Eugene. Sandy: “I’m just going to get off and walk around.” That would have resulted in Sandy standing in a little station and waving as the train pulled out. Picture me in total panic. If it weren’t for the honor I’d just as soon she didn’t have amnesia.

A black guy coming back from the dining car says “I hope she goes to hell and is a maid in a black man’s mansion.”

Klamath Falls at 11:10 p.m.

We where in Chico at 6:29 a.m. on Saturday the 15th of April It was a long night. I fell asleep several times. Mostly I read a book. I used my own little light since the train reading light wasn’t bright enough to see the words. I was smart enough not to complain and get chewed out about it.

Sacramento 9:41 a.m. We have been doing 30 miles an hour. “May I have your attention? At this point the dining car is open for service.” [Loosely speaking]

12:04 p.m. in Oakland. There is a long line of people waiting to get on. Poor deluded fools. And there is no way to warn them.

Oh. At breakfast they didn’t have the stuff to make the sort of exotic omelet. (It had stuff, besides eggs, in it) I had the plain omelet. Good choice and an easy one. When they actually have food it is pretty good. The cook is ok. They just don’t have ingredients. Note to Amtrak. Get ingredients.

1:04 p.m. we’re stopped again. That is the normal condition of an Amtrak train whose motto is “sometimes we roll.”

Finally room in the observation car. 1:15 p.m..

We are getting into a better quality of graffiti sprayed on the buildings next to the rails but we’re rolling just that little too fast to enjoy it at this time. Some of this stuff is really artistic.

Announcement “thank you for riding with anthrax.” I must’ve heard it wrong or they are funnier than I thought.

In the dining car, the woman across from me turned to the waitress and said “this is not what I ordered.” The waitress replied “it’s what we had.” She didn’t eat it but did apologize to the waitress. Good move on her part.

But the waitresses in this dining car were better than those going up to Olympia. Quite nice really. There is just a no nonsense, get out of my way, I’ve got a lot to do and you’re annoying me air to the personnel. They are probably short handed and sick of it. In general all the personnel going south were marginally better than the north bound crews. And the lady running the little “Café” which sells sandwiches, soft drinks, candy and etc. was very nice and funny to boot. I was gratified to have met her. Well, surprised is probably closer to the truth.

7:52 p.m, near Lompoc. Something is finally going on. It’s like the train has resumed moving. It’s out of character. …… And we are at a dead stop again. And sitting and sitting.

We did almost 60 mph there for a few minutes.

We got in to Simi Valley about 12:30 a.m. It’s a lonely station that time of night (No one, absolutely no one, is there or in sight. Its just trees and bushes and soft lighting) and there are no restrooms. It’s very well lighted though in a kind of pleasant way and Simi has almost no crime rate, probably because every L.A. policeman and FBI agent from Los Angeles lives here. Still I was glad when I saw the headlights of the taxi as it made its way up the lonely street and into the big empty parking lot and picked us up.

The train was four hours late.

Called a taxi, $12.60 to get home. $12.60 to get home! It was $11.50 to get from home to the station when we left.

Posted by Old Prof at 02:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Wednesday our college discussion group meets over lunch and its my topic. I am topiced out. The best I could come up with was someones elses suggestion that we do the origin of adages or phrases. I’m hoping I can get them to carry some of the load so I am passing out prior to the discussion the following instruction sheet.

Phrase Origins

No, no hear me out.

Cliché, or truth said in a homey recognizable way?

I doubt that any adage ever sounded one hundred percent new. Such statements are after all just universally recognizable truths put in a witty or pithy way. The first time it was said I bet the recipient just sort of smiled and said “ yeah of course, like you needed to say it. That’s so old hat”. But every cliché is new to the one who hears it for the first time. We aren’t born knowing the whole gamet of truths in shop worn terms. To call something a cliché is a cliché. (Still, aphorisms save us from thinking and make us sound intelligent )

Of course one may get tired of overdone clichés. How many times have we heard, “I don’t care” and on hearing the old Germanic reply, “don’t care was made to care don’t care was hung. Don’t care was put in a pot and cooked till he was done” and thought “well, gag me with a spoon”

So what is your favorite phrase, aphorism, cliché, adage, saying or saw? What is the wisest, deepest or most useful truth condensed into a short statement that you know? Is there a clause you find particularly witty, apt or apropos? Share it with us. And if you know its origin share that too, even if the origin is just you.

We will I guess see what we will see.

Posted by Old Prof at 04:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)