When a 20-year-old nephew invites his aunt to join him for a weekend to watch him do something he loves (and of course take pictures of said nephew), well that is an invitation that cannot be refused.  Sorry, it is just too cool for a 20-year-old to want to spend time with his middle-aged aunt for the aunt to refuse.

Cal, a student at the University of Kentucky, has recently become enamored with sport climbing, much to his parents’ dismay.  Now how do I as an aunt reconcile the act of taking pictures of Cal with his parents’ disapproval of this risky endeavor?  Well, Cal is going to climb anyway.  I love a great photo opportunity; and I have never been to the Red River Gorge in Kentucky.  Cal’s mom graciously invited me to visit and I accepted.  Even if the weather had not been good enough for climbing, Mary Beth, my sister-in-law, and I would have had a great visit. However, the weather was spectacular, and the climb was on.

After Cal’s friend, Jessie, finished his shift at the Amazon warehouse, the three of us piled into Jessie’s car and off to the Red (Red River Gorge).  Destination?  Sunnyside in the Muir Valley (which they assured me would be in the shade).  First stop, the restrooms.  Just the sign at the door indicated that we were about to enter an alternate reality.

Then, we hiked approximately 1 1/2 mile to the outcrop (Sunnyside) where the boys planned to climb.  At this outcrop, there were three sets of climbers, two climbers on each team.  This is where etiquette kicks in. Climbers respect each others spaces.

The type of climbing the boys do is sport climbing, where bolts/anchors are already set into the rock face.  This contrasts with Trad or traditional climbing, where the climber sets his own bolts.

 Although the bolts are set (and each traverse is named), it is not always clear the best route to the top. It takes teamwork to figure out the moves required to climb each route, or complete the project.

The lead climber begins.  He works his way up to the first bolt and sets a draw http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quickdraw. The rope then is drawn through the draw.  The partner on the deck (ground) has the climber on belay http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belay_device.  This technique minimizes the distance the climber can fall on the ascent.

On each climb, the boys found a place where they could not solve the moves required to continue upward.  The hand holds and foot holds they found on each climb were sometimes quite tenuous.  

Eventually, the boys found the right moves to make it to the top bolt so that they could  top rope the climb.  Once the climb is top roped, the climbers can free climb the rock face knowing the guy on the deck is on belay and will cover them if they fall or if they just can’t figure their way up the rock face or get just too tired trying.

The goal of course is to Red Point a climb, which is to climb it with no stops, such as falls.  Unless you are incredibly good, you will  not red point a climb unless you have practiced the individual moves to make it up to the top.  And of course, once you are very tired, the chances of red pointing a climb diminish.

Once at the top, it is time to rappel.

The last climb of the day was Mercury Rising.  It starts with a fairly easy climb up and ends with a very difficult overhang.

The guys were tired by the time we got there.  You could see the hands shaking and the judgment was not perfect.  Up until now there were no real falls. Give-ups, yes, but falls no.  Cal worked very hard to climb to the overhang and overcome it.  He just couldn’t, although he was close.  He fell into air (better than slamming into a rock face).  I suggested to the boys that we were done.

Actually, I used the aunt prerogative and pointed out that they were making mistakes on stuff that earlier in the day they aced but now just couldn’t do.  They agreed.

We packed up and the boys were wonderful in making sure Aunt Sue was sort of keeping up behind.  Of course, the geologist I am, I just couldn’t help stopping to take a picture or two of rocks, especially the recumbently folded cross-beds.

Hitting the car, we decided we were hungry and thirsty.  We went to Miguel’s, the renowned pizza parlor and climbers shop.  

Beverage of choice?  Ale-8.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ale-8-One

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5oPAq2m__

So after a piece of pizza and an Ale 8, our day at the Gorge was complete.

http://www.rollglobal.org/2011/06/miguels/

Back to Lexington where MaryBeth had Rubin sandwiches for us in honor of St. Paddy’s day.

Something Nice

I have a lamp in my house.  I love this lamp, as far as know, this lamp is at least as old as me, as far as I knew, it was always in my parents’ house.  When I sold my mom’s house and then cleaned it out with the help of my son, I knew that I wanted to keep this lamp.  I of course had no clue where in my house it would go, but if something had to go, it wouldn’t be that lamp.

Talking with my mom in her apartment afterwards she asked me, “What happened to the green lamp?”  I told her that I had brought it home and intended to keep it.  She smiled and said, “I’m so glad.”

Time to switch gears and to talk about Mrs. Baker.  Mrs. Baker lived across Clayton Street from my childhood home.  She and her Husband Elmer lived there with their adult son Bob.  She had a dog named Midnight, a black Cocker Spaniel.  It was an old gray weathered house with flowers and vegetables in the back yard.  I don’t know if they owned or rented.  There was an apartment upstairs and they lived downstairs.  Elmer was a retired painter and kind of rough around the edges, a bit overweight with a big red nose. I don’t remember him talking, mostly he grunted.  Elmer sat on the porch (probably drinking beer, but I was small so I probably wouldn’t have registered that).   Mrs. Baker was a slight thin woman.  I remember her bustling around house and garden, pushing the gray hair from her wrinkled face.  Once I was with her in the basement and I watched her shovel coal into the furnace (even back then almost no one heated with coal).  I had never seen a coal furnace before.  Mrs. Baker didn’t drive so when she shopped, she walked, either to the Jewel down the street, caddy corner from the High School, or the couple of miles to the Globe or Heins Department Stores in downtown Waukegan. Sometimes my mom would drive her.  Mrs. Baker was very proud of her son Bob and had a picture of him in his Army uniform on the mantle.  Bob didn’t talk much either, but what would he say to a little girl?  Mrs. Baker had one piece of jewelry, which she wore with pride, a multicolored star pin from the Order of the Eastern Star.  I remember it scratching my face when she hugged me.  One thing I knew, even as a little kid.  Mrs. Baker and Elmer didn’t have a lot of money.

So you might wonder why I spent so much time with Mrs. Baker.  Mrs. Baker often babysat for my parents when we were really little.  My mom, who probably should have been a CEO instead of a housewife, needed to get out of the house often and Mrs. Baker didn’t seem to mind looking after us.  However, I probably spent more time there than my brother and sister because I was in love with Midnight.  Midnight was both my friend and guardian.  My dad told the story that once he came to pick me up after a night out, and Midnight wouldn’t let him near the crib where I was sleeping.  I still remember petting Midnight’s silky curly hair.

So back to the story of the lamp.  I told my mom that I had always loved that lamp and I couldn’t let it go.  My mom then told me the story.  One day Mrs. Baker came over to my mom’s house crying.  She said she found a lamp at the Globe that she really loved, and it was on sale.  She purchased it, and carried it home the couple of miles from downtown Waukegan.  Although not a steep gradient, it was an uphill traverse.  When Mrs. Baker got home, Elmer yelled at her and insisted she take it back because she was wasting good money on something so frivolous.  She of course couldn’t take it back because she bought it on sale.  She told my mother, “I just wanted something nice.”  My mom bought the lamp from Mrs. Baker, Mrs. Baker was able to go home with cash in hand, and our family now possessed the lamp.

I had never heard this story before.  I’m glad my mom told me this story; it was one of the last family stories she had the chance to tell.

So, of course, I found a place for the lamp.  It sits, as it did at my mom’s house, atop a table that came from my grandmother in one of my guest rooms.  Yes, I always loved that lamp, but now when I look at it, I can remember Mrs. Baker and Midnight.  Mrs. Baker, I wish you had been able to have more nice things in life, but you gave me a wealth of memories.

If you have followed my blog, you know it has been a long time since I have written anything.  I guess I just have not had the heart.  My life changed fundamentally over the past year, and somehow, my energies turned to exploring my heart and not exploring the world.

In the past couple of years, I made a concerted effort to visit my mother every 6 to 8 weeks. Towards May 2011, it seemed more like at least every 4 to 6 weeks that I made the 6 hour trip through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois to Effingham,IL.

In May 2011, mom was hospitalized and I made it to Effingham twice in two weeks in a row.  My brother and I had already decided that my mom could not live alone any longer.  I had signed a contract at an independent living facility for her to come live near me in Ohio, but was wondering how I could make her agree to the move.  When the hospital told her she would be released, they released her to her home with a visiting nurse.  She looked at me and said, “They are going to release me to home and I’m going to give it one more try.” I told her at that point, “No you are not.”  She said,with no fuss, “OK.”

I’m not exactly sure when the transition from being an adult child trying to assert my independence from my mother (nicknamed by my high school friends as “the velvet bulldozer”)  to being the primary caretaker trying to find, for her, that balance between independence and safety.  Did I love my mother?  Of course!  Did I like her?  That, as it is with most parent-child relationships, has a complicated answer, and is in the end, perhaps, irrelevant.

Up until this time, Mom had taken care of her own business.  She had a wonderful doctor in Effingham, Dr. Flynn, who I respected because he did not let my mother bulldozer him.  She couldn’t have been in better hands. Also, she knew where every penny she had was and what it was spent on.

Because of that, I let her live alone in her house longer than I probably should have. I moved her to Ohio after she had recovered from the hospitalization enough to move. With the help of my son Andrew and a couple of friends we were able to load up a truck with her things.  Then Andrew took off early, and Mom and I left a couple of hours later.  By the time we got to the Waterford  (http://waterfordatleviscommons.com), Andrew and my friends had the truck unloaded, the furniture in place, the bed made ,and food in the house.

I sold her car, and now that she was here, she was entirely dependent upon me.  I had to find doctors for her to go to, take her to those doctors, make sure she was going to dinners, filled her prescriptions, and took her for lab tests.  After about 2 weeks, she seemed to have settled into the Waterford, and I left for a wonderful vacation with my daughter Becky. I was lucky.  There was a small window where that was possible last summer.

By the time I came back mom had made friends and was playing bridge a couple of times a week.  It seemed like the move was a really good thing.

My son Andrew came out and I took mom and Andrew to Carraba’s for a dinner that mom truly enjoyed.  But, that evening, she confided to Andrew her back was  hurting her a lot but ” don’t tell Sue”…..  A couple of days later I was taking her to the ER, where they diagnosed her with a collapsed vertebrae and suggested we see an orthopedic surgeon to explore having a kyphoplasty.

Before I could make an appointment, she was in severe pain and was taken by ambulance to St. Luke’s in Maumee.  It was the closest hospital, but not a hospital where her primary physician practiced.  The ER was a horrible experience, serious delays in getting pain medication.  Morpheme didn’t do it for her so they put her on a drug called Dilated.  Although it helped her pain, it increasingly made her delusional and paranoid.  St. Luke’s scheduled her for surgery with her permission without ever talking with me (I had health power of attorney and had left the hospital with everyone having my phone numbers).  My question upon learning about the scheduled surgery was how could they get informed consent from a patient who was hard of hearing, drugged up, and elderly and think that consent was valid?  I had to lodge a formal complaint.

With the help of her primary and my sister-in-law who felt they had not done the testing to determine if she was a good candidate for surgery, I had mom transferred to another hospital, St. Charles in Oregon, OH.   St Charles couldn’t have been better or treated my mom with more respect.  We did do the kyphoplasty, but with the confidence that all precautions were being taken for her health condition.

Then, it was was time for discharge.  She was discharged to a rehab facility near the hospital.  That was convenient for me since I work in Oregon.  She really hated it there.  No close captioned TV and one of the nurses was ditzy.  Mom didn’t sufferer ditzy very well.  So, after a couple of weeks, I got her discharged to her apartment at the Waterford and got a visiting nurse and physical therapist involved in her care, in her apartment.

The problem was, at the rehab facility, she was on pretty frequent doses of Oxycontin.   They sent her home with no medication and no Rx.  Her primary wouldn’t prescribe anything for her so she was very soon in severe pain again.  The visiting nurse did help run interference with the Dr.’s office, but we never got strong pain medication to help mom.

Once she was back in her apartment, she really couldn’t go down to dinner.  The Dr. dd Rx pain patches, which needed to be changed every 12 hrs.  So, now I needed to be there every 12 hours to change patches and to make sure she ate something every day.  I had to manage her medications.  Mom just couldn’t do it anymore or handle her finances.   I was buying Ensure, making her Ensure milkshakes… anything to get calories in her.  She started having trouble swallowing.  We weren’t making much positive progress, although there were some good days.

She was scheduled for an appointment with her pulminologist, which I took her to.  She was in respiratory distress when she got there; he wanted me to take her to the hospital,which I did.  Further testing indicated that another vertebrae had collapsed and she had obstructions in her esophagus.  Mom made the choice not to have any additional surgery and refused the procedure that would have diagnosed and perhaps fixed the obstructions in her esophagus. Her pulminologist (who was the admitting physician)  suggested we talk to Hospice.  We did and accepted Hospice Care, primarily because they were the only ones who could offer pain control,which until this point was inadequate.

Hospice came to her apartment, took over all the medication management (much to my relief), and sat with mom if she was in pain.  I thought with pain control she would be able to get back to some semblance of life.  It did seem that would happen.  I bought an electric chair for her and we spent a day practicing so she could go down to dinner and go to bridge.  She did do that for about a week.  Then I left to sign the papers to sell her house.  While I was gone, hospice and my mother decided she needed to go to their facility in Perrysburg.  I came home Sunday night and had a bit of trouble finding her, but finally did.

So, I came home on Sunday and mom was lucid.  I was thinking, they will get her pain under control and she will be able to go back to her apartment.

Monday night, Andrew stayed with me and mom. By Tuesday, I was thinking, I guess I better find a nursing home for her.  By Wednesday I knew she would die at Hospice.  As I tried to balance time at Hospice and time at work, I saw mom continue to slip into unconsciousness.  On Tuesday, mom still was somewhat conscious and one of my friends brought me lunch and visited.  On Wednesday, mom was not conscious and one of my friends visited and brought me dinner.  Thursday, I came prepared.  I ate dinner first after work, then came with my fleece blanket.  I spent the evening putting lotion on her lips and tongue and then settled down to sleep and wait.  About 9:00 I woke with a start and didn’t see that mom was breathing.  I went to her bed and couldn’t find any breath.  I called the nurse, she called the doctor and they called the time of death.

I was not prepared with a funeral home.  There was no one with me and no one for me to call to be with me.  There is not a more acute time of knowing you are alone, than in a situation like this.  I just told them to contact the cut-rate funeral home as advertised on TV.

So, I stayed a while.  E-mailed my brother who was in China.  E-mailed my son who was in Ecuador.  Called Becky, Andrew and Jeff to tell them their grandma had died.  Called some cousins and asked them to spread the word among siblings.  Then I went home.

I went to work the next day.  What else do you do?  Mom went to the cut-rate funeral home for cremation.  Life needed to continue.  Yet, it is a terrible thing to be alone at a time like that.  Now mom resides in my hall closet, waiting to be interred next to my dad.

So, I still reach for my bluetooth every night as I leave work to call mom to see how she is doing, but stop and realize I can’t call her.  I still miss her not commenting on my Facebook posts.  She enjoyed seeing those and eventually enjoyed hearing about the exploits of my kids and me.

At the end of her life, she no longer was passing judgment on what we did, but enjoyed hearing about how we all lived our lives. She did so love all three of her kids and all 8 of her grandchildren.   She so wished that she could have reconciled with her daughter Chris and granddaughter Andee.  She would have loved to see pictures of her great grandchildren.  Perhaps, that is the only regret we both had.

As primary caregiver, executor and trustee, my job is not done.  I have had to make decisions about the disposition of her goods.  It would have hurt her to know that her stuff was not actually worth all that much and that I gave almost everything to Goodwill.  It has hurt me to give so much away.  However, after months of living with mom’s stuff in my living room, I had to do something.  The guy at the consignment store was discouraging.  So, a couple of weeks ago, I made another couple trips to Goodwill.

I still am still seeking closure.  I will be so glad when the estate is settled and all expenses are paid.  My mom left us three kids with a wonderful legacy, and she left her grandchildren a wonderful legacy as well.  She did get to die pain-free, which was her wish.  For that, I can only say the people at the Hospice are simply angels.  I could go to grief counseling at hospice, but I don’t know what that would accomplish.  I loved my mom.  I did the best I could do for her.  She died.  I miss her.  But what else is there?   I don’t think hospice can help me with that.  Only living my life will be able to fix what I am feeling.  Get on that bike and rotate those pedals.

 

 

 

 

 

If you have followed my blog, you know it has been a long time since I have written anything.  I guess I just have not had the heart.  My life changed fundamentally over the past year, and somehow, my energies turned to exploring my heart rather than exploring the world.

In the past couple of years, I made a concerted effort to visit my mother every 6 to 8 weeks. Towards May 2011, it seemed more like at least every 4 to 6 weeks I made the 6 hour trip through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois to Effingham,IL.

 In May 2011,mom was hospitalized and I made it to Effingham twice in two weeks in a row.  My brother and I had already decided that my mom could not live alone any longer.  I had signed a contract at an independent living facility for her to come live near me in Ohio, but was wondering how I could make her agree to the move.  When the hospital told her she would be released, they released her to her home with a visiting nurse.  She looked at me and said, “They are going to release me to home and I’m going to give it one more try.” I told her at that point, “No you are not.”  She said,with no fuss, “OK.”

I’m not exactly sure when the transition from being an adult child trying to assert my independence from my mother (nicknamed by my high school friends as “the velevet bulldozer”)  to being the primary caretaker trying to find, for her, that balance between independence and safety.  Did I love my mother? Of course!  Did I like her?  That, as it is with most parent-child relationships, has a complicated answer, and is in the end, perhaps, irrelevant.

Up until this time, Mom had taken care of her own business.  She had a wonderful doctor in Effingham, Dr. Flynn, who I respected because he did not let my mother bulldoze him.  She couldn’t have been in better hands.  She knew where every penny she had was and what it was spent on.

Because of that, I let her live alone in her house longer than I probably should have. I moved her to Ohio after she had recovered enough to move.. With the heip of my son Andrew and a couple of friends we were able to load up a truck with her things.  Then Andrew took off early, and Mom and I left a couple of hours later.  By the time we got to the Waterford  (http://waterfordatleviscommons.com), Andrew and my friends had the truck unloaded, the furniture in place, the bed made,and food in the house.

I sold her car, and now that she was here, she was entirely dependent upon me.  I had to find doctors for her to go to, take her to those doctors, make sure she was going to dinners, filled her prescriptions, and took her for lab tests.  After about 2 weeks, she seemed to have settled into the Waterford, and I left for a wonderful vacation with my Daughter Becky. I was lucky.  There was a small window where that was possible last summer.  By the time I came back mom had made friends and was playing bridge a couple of times a week.  It seemed like the move was a really good thing..

 My riding miles have really sagged since completing RAIN (http://geosuesbicycling.wordpress.com/2010/07/18/dry-hot-hard-rain/).  However, I haven’t been far from the bicycle scene.  In August, I volunteered to drive SAG (Support and Gear) for two bicycle rides, my Toledo Club’s signature event, MARR (aka. Mad Anthony River Rally  http://toledoareabicyclists.org/), and Akron Bicycle Club’s Roscoe Ramble (http://akronbike.org/content.aspx?page_id=22&club_id=133645&module_id=32187).  

In both cases, I was asked to SAG in part, because the ride organizers know my addiction to taking photographs.  However, the primary purpose of a SAG driver is to be there for the riders, making sure they have access to extra water, a floor pump if they experience a flat, and a ride if they cannot carry on, for some reason.  

A SAG driver should have the following items:  A cooler with ice-cold water and sports drinks (the ice in the cooler also can be used for first aid), some snacks, a floor pump (for Schrader and presta valves, or an adaptor), but especially tire irons, spare tube, maybe a spare tire, paper towels, degreaser, metric allen wrenches, screwdriver, spoke tool, and first aid kit.  I also like to carry towels in case the riders are too hot and want to soak their heads with a wet towel.  Oh yes, perhaps the most important thing, a bike rack or car that can carry at least two bikes, riders, plus all the equipment above.  In my case, I also feel that a camera is an essential item.  

The Mad Anthony is a relatively scenic tour within the Maumee River Watershed.  Northwest Ohio is notoriously flat, but this route does meander through charming towns, shaded roads, little hills (rises), and crosses the Maumee River a couple of times.  It also provides a Chris Cakes breakfast and well stocked lunch and water stops.  SAG drivers are serious about their duties.  I helped with two flats, SAGed one sick rider back to the start, and provided water and sustenance to random riders.  

Mad Anthony refers to Anthony Wayne, http://americanrevwar.homestead.com/files/wayne.htm, a general in the Revolutionary War who also commanded troops in the Northwest Indian War, leading a decisive victory in the Battle of Fallen Timbers, which occurred near present Day Maumee, Ohio.   He was noted for his bravery and quick temper, hence the nickname “Mad Anthony”.  

Pictures from MARR follow:  

SAG divers Extradanaire!

 

OMG a flat! SAG drivers carry floor pumps so that riders don't need to use their little pumps or CO2 cartridges.

 

Mother/Daughter riding past the Fallen Timbers Memorial

 

No one passes up the breakfast stop

 

  

But you can only eat if you can catch the food (Kriss Kakes Breakfast)

 

Downtown Whitehouse

 

Don't forget to look at the ditches while riding. If it's MARR, there must be Indian Paintbrush

 

MARR is mostly flat with little rises to keep it interesting

 

Taking a break

 

Through country landscapes

 

Oops, missed the turn!

 

Fitting welcome to Grand Rapids

 

Crossing the Maumee - 100 mile Route

 

RR trestle in view - crossing the Maumee - 62 mile route

 

Charming Houses in Grand Rapids

 

Lunch Stop along the River

 

Flowers along the canal approaching the lunch stop

 

These girls rode the 62 mile route. Yea!!!!

 

Grand Rapids Town Hall

 

Leaving Grand Rapids behind

 

The audience

 

Barn built into a hill

 

WPA Bridge, Wind Turbines in Bowling Green behind.

 

Wind Turbine, Bowling Green (aka Blowing Green)

 

Tontogony Town Hall

 

Sea of soybeans

 

FedEx delivers the hill

 

ROSCOE RAMBLE  

Roscoe Ramble, a two day route, rambles through the rolling hills of Amish Country between Canal Fulton and Coschocton (Roscoe Village) and back on the second day.  The scenery on this ride is spectacular, and although I’ve never ridden it, probably worth all the climbs.  Again, the SAG drivers take their task quite seriously.  It was so hot on Saturday that I had to rescue two riders for heat exhaustion.  After they skipped a big hill and tenured in an air conditioned car, they dragged their bikes out of the car for a downhill ride into Coshocton.  Setting up occasional water stops with ice cold water turned out to be a very popular thing to do on this ride.  I went through gallons and gallons of water and sports drinks.  

Day 1:  

East meets west - ABC and TAB friends together

 

Akron Friends - Gee Tom, I think you need two of those

 

Toledo Friends - getting it started

 

The Ride Starts in Canal Fulton

 

Things that SAG drivers can see that riders probably miss

 

The fuzzy free range chick

 

Off into the rolling countryside

 

Farms nestled among hills

 

Gardens everywhere

 

Past Lehman's Hardware store in Kidron. You can find everything an Amish farmer or anyone else would need at this store.

 

Into the heart of Amish Country

 

Milk stop

 

The youngest rider

 

Lunch time at an Amish Farm in Charm, Ohio

 

Amish gardens paint the landscape

 

Extra Water stops were much appreciated on this very hot day

 

A calf taking refreshment opposite the water stop

 

Oops, almost missed that water stop at the top of the hill. All downhill to Roscoe Village and Coshcton from here

 

Day two:  

Sunday morning, eat breakfast, load luggage on truck

 

2nd order of business, get the bike ready for an early start. Get as many miles in as possible before it gets hot.

 

Misty Morning Climb

 

How many bicyclists can fit on one hill?

 

Success!

 

Pacing on the path

 

The bike path through historic Millersburg

 

Shared Use

 

Sunday afternoon in Millersburg

 

Side show

 

Ribbon of Road

 

Top of the hill garden

 

Roll on up

 

And have some water, fruit, and sports drinks

 

Posture adjustment

 

Ok, so two days are a bit much

 

View from the top

 

Making Friends

 

Fallen and Done

 

Home Stretch

 

When my friend Pat asked me if I wanted to do a leg of her cross-country bicycle tour through the western states, I said I would consider it.  Then she mentioned that she planned to ride Seattle to Portland after her sojourn out west.  I told her, that’s the one I want to do!  With a daughter in Portland and a son in Seattle, it sounded like the perfect trip for me to try out a loaded bicycle tour.  Another advantage of doing that ride was I could use my daughter’s bicycle and panniers.  With the cost to take a bicycle on an airplane, that’s a huge advantage!  So I committed.  In addition, the timing was perfect!  I always have a report due on July 1st and we were going to do the trip the week of July 4th.  Apparently, the stars were aligned.  The trip into Portland was promising as I saw Mt. Hood clearly from my window seat.

Mt. Hood on the Approach to Portland

 

Because of airplane schedules, we had only 3 days to do the trip.  Pat planned the whole thing and on July 7th, Becky and I picked up Pat and Laurie at the Hostel in Portland and the four of us drove along the Columbia River to Astoria.  We found a very new agey restaurant, had a leisurely breakfast, and then got our bikes ready to go for the next three days.        

Pat, Laurie,, and me in downtown Astoria

 

The first hurdle was the Astoria Bridge.  Now this bridge is HIGH!  Freighters sail beneath it, no draw bridge necessary.  How high was this bridge? — well the approach was a spiral road!  Round and round we rode until we reached the starting elevation.  The guys in the bike shop in Astoria told us that it would be no problem riding over the bridge since there was a wide berm.  Well, let me tell you, that statement is akin to describing a 12-year-old ballerina as an overweight middle aged lady.  THERE WAS NO BERM!        

The Astoria Bridge Across the Columbia

 

The hill climbing order among the three of us was established early.  Laurie was always first, being the thinnest and the most fit.  I was second, and Pat, experiencing the disadvantage of riding a Bike Friday, was 3rd.  Partway across this highly travelled bridge, Laurie’s pannier fell off her bike.  Ooops, thought I, dangerous situation.  She needed to stop and retrieve the bag.  I took the middle of the lane to prevent cars behind me from potentially hitting Laurie as she retrieved her bag from the roadway, and then, wheee!  It was the downhill section of the bridge.  I got there first.  Now, I must say, I am sure there was a beautiful view of the Columbia River from the Astoria Bridge.  I never saw it.  I am deathly afraid of heights and getting over this bridge was a true mental challenge for me (thank you for no winds).  I would have had a hard time driving a car across this bridge.  I know my heart rate was over the safe limit, and not just because of the climb, pure terror comes to mind.  I only saw the pavement in front of me….. (I think I glanced towards the river once – very quickly).       

The Washington Side of the Astoria Bridge

 

The Journey Begins

 

Once over the bridge and into Washington, we took Highway 101 along the Coast.  It was a flat but spectacular ride to Illwaco, where we took a side trip to an overlook of Cape Disappointment. ( http://www.fortcanby.org/visit/cape_d.html  and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Disappointment_(Washington).  The view from the overlook was awe-inspiring and we agreed that it was worth the climb.       

Pat and Laurie at overlook at Cape Disappointment

 

View of ocean from Cape Disappointment

 

Back down the hill to Illwaco, and we headed west inland and then north up the Willapa Bay, destination South Bend, the town where we would leave the coast and head inland.   As we bicycled along the coast, we passed slough after slough.  A slough (in Washington) is a tidal creek.  (http://www.wordiq.com/definition/Slough_(wetland)  As we continued north, the sloughs became dryer and we saw more of the lowlands associated with these features used for agriculture.  Along the way we stopped at a sculpture garden, which was, not surprisingly, located in a slough.  Hidden in the wetlands and woods were many whimsical sculptures.  We were glad we stopped.  We enjoyed the sculptures and the rangers allowed us to fill our water bottles, which turned out to be the most important thing we did this whole trip.  Another bicyclist, who had come from South Bend, warned us to fill our bottles because he said there was NOTHING in-between.  He was desperate for water and this was still pretty early in the day, the maximum temperature had not yet been reached.       

       

Emily Dickinson quote in bronze

 

       

After we left the sculpture garden, we rode about 40 miles over scenic but largely uninhabited terrain — very scenic but no place to refill a water bottle.        

Along Willapa Bay

 

The temperature was 95 degrees and the water was being consumed very fast.  We were riding over rolling hills hugging the coast, and we were starting to feel the effects of dehydration.  Laurie rode ahead to look for water, I stayed with Pat, who was struggling on her Bike Friday.  Only about 10 miles to go to South Bend, but it seemed like we had a century ahead of us.  Laurie did find a campground but Pat and I missed it.  Suddenly, we saw Laurie in our rear view mirrors.  She had filled up all her water bottles and shared what she had with us.       

Water everywhere but not a drop to drink.....

 

Pat climbing

 

Finally, we reached South Bend (67 miles for the day).  We had to climb  a hill, but the motel Pat found was worth it, the Seaquest Motel.  http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g58751-d579294-Reviews-Seaquest_Motel-South_Bend_Washington.html       

       

This motel is clean, spacious, and charming; I couldn’t recommend it more highly.  We had a nice kitchen in our room so we made a trip to the grocery store to buy breakfast food.  In the grocery line, we asked about places to eat dinner and were told that a local bar was good.  “Make sure”, chuckled the man in line behind us, “you tell them you hate loggers and love owls.”  Yes, it was a local bar.        

Now, Laurie and Pat wanted seafood, but I don’t eat fish and seafood if I have a choice.  I use the excuse that I don’t eat these things because of the bioaccumulation of heavy metals in fish tissue.  Although that is true, I’m really am just a picky eater and don’t like fish and seafood.  So sue me, I a midwest denizen.  I ordered a hamburger.  When it came to the table it had mayonnaise, tomato, and lettuce.  These attributes were not advertised on the menu.  I told the waitress, ” I didn’t know it came like this, I cannot eat this”.  OK, you need to get a picture of the woman before I relate what comes next.  She was a BIG woman, wearing a sweat drenched T-shirt.  I think she was the bouncer as well as the bartender, cook, and waitress (probably the owner).  She challenged, “What do you want me to do about it?”  Obviously, she was not going to volunteer a new hamburger for me.  I said, “I guess you need to make a new hamburger that I will pay for.”  If I had said anything else, I think I would have been bounced, which was not an option since I was hungry.   By the way, the hamburger was good, and since it was very reasonably priced, I figured it was a good deal.  I left the bar with all parts intact.       

We did sleep well that night.       

Leaving South Bend

 

A very foggy morning greeted us on the 8th.  We wanted an early start to get as many miles in as possible before the heat became too oppressive.  Rolling out of South Bend in the fog, we passed oyster processing plants.  Debris on the road was not glass, but oyster shells.  We started out wearing jackets, which were soon abandoned.        

We were told by the lady at the tourist center in Seaview that when we reached Raymond (http://www.northwestplaces.com/trips002/Raymond001.htm), we would see miles of metal sculptures along the road.  We were not prepared for just how many we saw.  Loved it!  Metal sculptures of deer, bobcats, native americans, birds, and etc. stretched from south of town till well north of town. Really, a surprise every 500 feet or so.   It looked as though Raymond had a very active arts and crafts community.  It was apparent that the major industry there was lumber, and off into logging country we rode.       

       

We spend the rest of the day climbing “Mountain Passes”.  Fortunately, the grades were low enough to climb easily in granny gear and the berms were wide for most of the mountainous section of road.  We only rode 47 miles from South Bend to Elma.  The scariest part of this trip were the RV’s.  We had logging trucks pass us, no problem, big but gave us room, but the RV’s were scary, some of them passed us with only a foot to spare.  This is what I think of RV’s: a)  They are rented and the drivers have no clue of how big a footprint they make on the road; or b) They are owned but only driven once per year so the drivers are inexperienced; or c) The drivers are just rude.  Give me a semi, leave the RVs at home!        

Logged area in the fog

 

The route through logging country alternated between deep forests, clear-cut areas, and new growth forests.  We especially liked the deep uncut forests because they provided shade.  However, even clear-cut areas had their own beauty, with fields of Shasta Daisies and Foxglove providing color between the stumps.        

Much loved shaded sections of road

 

Shastas in logged areas

 

Time to descend

 

Along this route, Weyerhaeuser had many signs along the road explaining the logging progression.  (Three year growth, 3rd cutting, etc)  In one case a sign indicated that the downed trees were due to hurricane force winds.  Obviously, Weyerhaeuser has a very effective PR department  (http://www.weyerhaeuser.com/Sustainability/Footprint).  Now cars may be going too fast to read all the signs, but bicyclists can catch them all.        

Since we started so early in the morning, we were craving a coffee fix but had not passed any espresso shops for a while.  (Expresso shops are found in the most unlikely places in Washington).  We found a most wonderful coffee shop in Monetsano.  When in a good coffee shop, one must also sample the pastries.  These were astounding.  The proprietor also filled our bottles with ice water.  Fortified, we headed for Elma along a largely straight flat road.       

Best Coffee shop ever

 

We arrived in Elma much earlier than we had anticipated.  We headed for the air-conditioned local library and hit the internet.  We also found out that there was a local swimming hole.  Since we were too early to check into our hostel, we hit the swimming hole (Always pack a swimsuit just in case).  Lots of families and dogs were taking relief from the record breaking heat at the ponds.  We were grateful for the very cool water.        

Local swimming hole in Elma

 

Lion dog

 

After swimming, we had an excellent dinner and then headed for the hostel.  The hostel was run by a cowboy, a real cowboy (He once had a ranch).  He and his wife had bought a chunk of property outside of Elma and this guy had developed it into a disc golf course ( http://www.dgcoursereview.com/course.php?id=1307).  We no sooner got to the hostel and put our panniers down in the kitchen, when the owner, Jay, said, “Come with me”.  He made us, and taught us to, play disc golf (which none of us had ever done before).  His course was amazing and incredibly difficult (SMS CJ would love it).  Of course, we only wanted to take showers and go to bed, but play disc golf we did, still in our cleats.       

Hole 17 down by the trees. The cows are obstacles for Hole 18

 

 Morning of the 9th — Pea fog, lights necessary.        

Riding in the foggy forests

 

We left the hostel with the promise of coffee about 20 miles out at a store called Bucks.  We almost missed it in the fog.  Coffee was free (donations accepted) but horrible.  It was quite a gathering place for locals.  Since this is the only establishment along a long section of road, it is highly rated among bicyclists and motorcyclists.  There was a picture of the store from 1918 on the wall; it’s been an oasis for a while.  The woman who ran the store was telling us about the guys from all over the world who had stopped there.  No longer a gas station, it has electricity, but no public water.        

Buck's Store

 

Buck's Store

 

Leaving the store, we were warned to be careful of deer crossing the road (a useful warning).  The next several miles were incredibly scenic.  Eventually, we descended into Shelton, seeing glimpses of the Olymipic Range to our right.  A good reminder that were on the Olympic Peninsula, and our first glimpse of the beautiful snow-capped mountains.  The descent into town was steep.        

Once you descend into a hole you have ascend that hole.  That can be a problem on a bicycle.  We found a deli shop in Shelton had some good coffee and pastries, and then, well fortified, walked our bikes out-of-town, our first and only bike walk.   There was no way we could have ridden out of that town on that road.       

Once on level ground, we had a mixed ride, some hills, some flat, some shade, some open land.   We rode through an area of wonderful homes nestled in pine trees on the water.  It reminded me of growing up on the lake, only prettier.   Occasionally we caught a glimpse of the Olympic Range.        

A glimpse of the Olympics outside of Shelton

 

        

We could smell the pines as we rode through

 

Towering trees

 

We eventually descended into Union and were greeted with a beautiful view of an arm of the Sound with the Olympic Range rising above.         

An arm of the Puget Sound at Union WA with the Olympics in the background

 

We took a break at an arts and crafts store in Union.  The view from the front porch was spectacular and there were many interesting items inside and outside of the store as well.  The proprieter let us fill our water bottles.        

       

What's that you're reading?

 

Back on the road, we followed the water until we had to turn northward toward Bremerton.       

A few miles before we reached Bremerton, where we needed to catch the ferry to Seattle, we found a cop at a speedtrap.  He told us we were on the right track and then in response to our querry about the ferry, he chuckled, “You will have some elevation change to deal with”.  He knew what we were getting into, but we had no clue.  Once we got to Bremerton, we thought we had it made.  Wrong!  Up steep hill, down scary descent, up steep hills, and on and on.  We thought we were almost done, but the hardest riding we had to do was once we were in Bremerton heading for the ferry; there was no straightforward path except Route 3, which is a four- lane divided highway.       

We finally made it to the ferry.  We were shocked when we rolled to the toll booth and were told, no payment, just go the the front of the line.  Woh!  No digging into panniers for payment.  We were the first on the ferry, tied our bikes in designated areas, and headed upstairs for food, drink, and scenery.   The trip to Seattle was beautiful!  Mt. Ranier was in clear view, Puget Sound a deep blue, and the hills cradling the Sound deep green.  The Seattle skyline emerged in clear relief against the blue summer sky.       

On the Ferry

 

Rainier with South Seattle in foreground

 

Seeing Seattle

 

Once the ferry landed, the bicyclists are off first.  They take off like bats out of hell to get ahead of the cars.  We hit the bike path along the shoreline and kept going until we hit the elevator  by Pikes Market.  We took the elevator up to the north end of Pikes Market and rested, along with the homeless people.   Son Jeff met us there, and then Jeff and I hurried off to take the bus that would take us to his house in Seattle.  The busses all have bike racks on the front.  Yea!  I was ready to ride a bus by then.        

Resting after the ride at Pike's Market Seattle

 

The park north of Pike's Market

 

Jeff's House

 

That evening Jeff and I had dinner in the Fremont District with my nephew Mac, who is in Seattle for the summer.  On the way to dinner we stopped off at the Fremont Troll (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fremont_Troll).  The Fremont Troll is built under a bridge abutment.  Down the hill from the troll are statues of the three billy goats gruff!  After dinner, Jeff gave Mac and me a tour of his office and lab at the University of Washington.       

Jeff and Mac at the Troll (note VW bug in Trolls hand)

 

Troll

 

Jeff and Mac with UW library in backgroud

 

Jeff explaining his work

 

The next day, Jeff and I took the train to Portland.        

Union Station Portland

 

Joining, once again, with Becky and Josh where we watched the final of the World Cup.  It just doesn’t get better than this.  Two kids, a son-in-law, and the World Cup!  The next day, I watched Becky, Josh and Jeff play in the same indoor soccer game.  It was fun to watch them play together, it was the first time I saw Becky and Jeff take the field together.  Left the next night (Sunday) on the red-eye for home.  Of course, since airlines have such logical routes these days, I flew to Charlotte NC before flying off to Detroit.       

Home again, it was nice to see Echo when I walked in the house.       

During my recent visit to Portland, I spent several days with my daughter Becky and Husband Josh.  They took me in, fed me, and entertained me, what more could I possibly ask? 

During my visit, I observed that Portlandites take three things very seriously, microbreweries, bicycling, and gardening.  Portland’s nickname, after all is the “Rose City”, and for a good reason, roses grow everywhere, including the International Rose Test Garden (https://www.rosegardenstore.org/thegardensoverview.cfm) located in Washington Park, comprising 9 acres of rose gardens.  Roses decorate interste berms, and populate gardens all over the city.  The city water valve covers have roses imprinted on their iron covers. 

 

 

 

One of the things I found most enjoyable was walking around their neighborhood, Sellwood.  Sellwood is one of those places where a short walk takes one to the grocery store, restaurants, the library, bookstores, and even a Columbia clothing store.  The bus route is 1/2 block away and a bike bath provides a highway to downtown Portland. 

Charlie

 

Charlie, Becky & Josh’s dog, is a herder and loves to let me know where I can and cannot go.  However, when it comes to walking, she is happy to take my lead.  I led her through the streets near Becky & Josh’s house and enjoyed the gardens filling the yards and spilling into the sidewalks.  I hope you enjoy these street scenes as well. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It seems as though anything can grow in Portland! 

It’s a good thing I didn’t have more time to take pictures.  The variety of flowers was infinite, and no SMS, I cannot identify them all, or even most of them!  So many varieties I’ve never seen before, so many whimsical gardens! 

My journey started with travelling along the course of the Maumee from Perrysburg to Fort Wayne, approximately 90 miles.  When the trip was along the old Rte 24, one could glimpse the ever narrowing stream through the trees while waiting for the chance to pass a truck.  Now, with most of Rte 24 four-lane limited access highway, there are no more views of the Maumee, but no trucks to wait for either.

Our Lady Maumee / Decked in sequins for evening / Roiling mud beneath.

Back to Effingham, Illinois to visit mom.  Mom lives in our converted summer cottage on Lake Sara.  The place always evokes memories when I visit.  I often wonder if I should just eventually buy the place.  But no, I don’t think my kids would visit very often if I did.

On Satuday I took a bicycle ride around the lake, and included a couple of side trips as well (Much to Mom’s dismay; she doesn’t think I should be on the bicycle more than an hour).  The advantage of riding alone is one can stop and take pictures at will.  It was an absolutely perfect day for riding, the wind from the south west, so of course I headed west and then south so that the ride home would be easier.

Shumway Cove with fishermen, Blue Point Baptist Church in background and the incredibly smooth Moccasin Road

Blue Point Baptist Church

Cousin Laura is buried at Blue Point Baptist Church

Lovely rolling road around the Lake

Redbud line the edges of woods in early spring in Illinois

Fields not yet ready for planting, solitary tree in background

North by Northwest

 Hitchcock did not actually film the airplane scene in Illinois (it looked like Wyoming to me but was probably California), although it was set there, but he did capture the essence of the plains. http://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images?_adv_prop=image&fr=yfp-t-701-s&va=north+by+northwest+movie&sz=all

Spring planting - no till field

I know this picture doesn’t look like much, but it says a lot.  The field was being planted and fertalized as I rode past.  There was minimal tilling, which is a soil conservation technique.  More commonly, fields are fully tilled (you wouldn’t see grass growning) to minimize weeds.  However, a fully tilled field is subject to much more soil erosion.

After the bike ride, I went into town to run some errands and visited some old haunts.  One of my most vivid memories of Central Illinois in the summer were the Church Picnics.  One of the best was always in Teutopolis.  Memories of fishing for toys, bingo, (beer for the adults or in some cases, anyone taller than the boards), and chicken and corn for dinner.  The Catholic Church in Teutopolis dominates the landscape.  There is even a statue of Mary in front of the Elementary School.

Bell tower and former entrance to the Franciscian Monestary in Teutopolis, IL

Then there is the old Effingham Courthouse, a real classic, virutually untouched.  If ever a building should be preserved, this is it.

Old Effingham County Courthouse

Sorry for the poorly shot picture.

Across the Street from the Court House is the old Heart Theater.  I don’t believe it is open anymore, for a while it was a second show theater.  When I was young, this was the place to go.  Every Friday, a new show would be playing.  Yes, it was the place of many dates, but guys, sorry the most memorable movie was the one I went to with my mom and my parent’s friends, Sparticus.  My mom’s friends got thrown out of the theater for the dispariging remarks they made during the course of the movie.  Much more memorable than hand holding.

The Heart Theater

 

And then, the most popular place to eat before it burnt down and before TGIF

The Green Lantern

The trip home.  I decided to travel from Effingham, IL to Richmond, IN along Hwy 40, the old National Road.

Lincoln walked here.

Between Illinois and Indianapolis the topography was much hillier than I expected.  I thought Indiana was flat, wrong!    What was intersting about the route was the use of Indiana Limestone, especially on Public buildings such as court houses.  The Indiana limestone is a fine grained homogeneous rock which makes an excellent building stone as well as an execellent stone for carving intricate designs.

http://igs.indiana.edu/geology/minRes/indianaLimestone/index.cfm

In alm0st every town I traversed, the use of the Indiana Limestone was evident in public buildings, however, the Indiana Limestone has also been used nationwide as a building stone.

The Courthouse in Terra Haute, IN

Details on the Terra Haute Court House

Other towns, other uses of the Indiana Limestone.

 

 

So finally to Richmond, In.  then north to Toledo.  Quite a trip.  The advantage I was hoping for by riding with my friend Hubert (who is the best pacesetter ever) is diminished.  I really do not do well on hills.  We will be dealing with hills till Indianapolis.  Yet, the hills are doable, and the history is paramount.  There is just so much to see along the old national road.

Fishing at the Pier in Waukegan

Blowin’ in the Wind – The Dead River beyond Cattails

This isn’t an adventure, but a reflection — a relection on my childhood home, Waukegan, IL (home of Jack Benny and Ray Bradbury), which can only be described as The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.  It’s also a reflection on the 40th anniversary of the 1st Earth Day (April 22, 2010).  This reflection was spurred by my reading the book, “Lake Effect” by Nancy Nichols, — Two Sisters and a Town’s Toxic Legacy (c) 2008 Inland Press.  http://www.amazon.com/Lake-Effect-Sisters-Towns-Legacy/dp/1597260843 

Mostly I remember the good about growing up in Waukegan.  As a thriving industrial town in the 50′s, 60′s, 70′s Waukegan was prosperous with good schools, industrial jobs that provided a good living (2 cars and a boat in every driveway), a vibrant downtown, nice parks, a Lake Michigan exposure, a wonderful library, and a strong civic spirit.   

American Gypson Co Silo and Lake Freighter in Waukegan Harbor - Remaining Industry along the lake

Waukegan Pier looking towards downtown

Deeply incised ravines bisect the town (glacial rebound).  These are the same ravines my grandmother gardened (she was a billy-goat) and Ray Bradbury and I played in; no I don’t know Ray Bradbury, but when I read his books, the ones placed in Greentown, I knew exactly the spots he wrote about. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Bradbury).  My dad used to take me on long hikes in the ravines (seemed long then) on Sunday mornings (before mom insisted I go to church with her because I was too old to stay away).  Those hikes probably engendered my love of hiking, and of nature in general.  My sister and I shortcut through Powell Park on our way home from Immaculate Conception (Powell Park being where I first smoked a cigarette because my sister made me, so I wouldn’t tell that she and Margaret were smoking).  There was a certain innocence and optimism living in Waukegan back then.   

When I was in High School, in the late 60′s early 70′s, the town was still prosperous.  Yet, the rumblings of environmental damage from all the factories that made the town prosperous were beginning to be felt.  I was responsible for some of those rumblings.  I, along with my friends (Dave Goodsell, John Oberstar, Kathy Stevenson, Sue Sternberg, Wanda Spinelli and I’m sorry, but I just don’t remember everybody’s name), organized the very first Earth Day Celebration at our High School in 1970.  We organized a glass drive, made posters, and I got the first Region V director of the U.S. EPA to be the keynote speaker at our school.  Sternberg wrote wonderful environmental skits that we performed at assembly.  We had a whole week of lunch time assemblies to educate our High School about environmental issues.  I jointed ZPG (Zero Population Growth – highly ironic since I eventually had four children – seemed like a good idea at the time).  My father was tolerant, but my mother was afraid my environmental activism would harm my father at work; some heated family discussions ensued.  The Zion nuclear power plant had just been built, and there were issues of thermal pollution to Lake Michigan to be considered.  

Illinois Dunes Beach State Park with Zion Nuclear Power Plant in Distance

The news of PCB contamination in the Waukegan Harbor from Outboard Marine were just surfacing (although it took a decade for action to be taken).  Our Mayor Sabonjion http://www.waukeganweb.net/pastmayors.html , always a Waukegan booster, offered to drink the water in the harbor (raw) to prove it was safe.  

Waukegan Harbor - view looking east towards Water Treatment Plant

Then there were industrial discharges from US Steel, Johns Mansville, the Tannery, the Manufactured Gas and Coke Plant (as in steel making) and other industries that were worth protesting against.  In fact, the Coke Plant was located directly across the street from the Municipal Beach.  (To this day, when in proximity to a steel mill or coke plant, the smell evokes in me nostalgia for the beach).  Smokestack scrubbers were not common.  (Smoke emanating from smokestacks was a sign of prosperity at one time.)  I was invited to the local radio station to talk about environmental issues, my 5 minutes of fame.  I felt we were making an impact. 

Perhaps we did make an impact.  My parents recycled from that point on.  I’m sure other people in town did too.  (Although, it was a kind of tense moment when the popular guys, who wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence in High School, dropped off their weekend’s worth of beer bottles at my house  for recycling.  My parents were way more cool about that episode than I would have ever expected.)  But, the impact was going to happen with or without my pathetic High School efforts.  Eventually, the US EPA, and later the Illinois EPA took action against the industries.  In response, the industries went bankrupt or simply abandoned the Waukegan plants.  Old and antiquated, they were dinosaurs.  Yes, Outboard Marine was no longer contributing to the pollution in the Harbor, but how many jobs were lost?  Johns Mansville went bankrupt; lawsuits from mesothelioma broke their back.  US Steel closed its doors.   The sins of the fathers were paid for by the sons and daughters with health issues and loss of jobs.  

In the early 80′s, Waukegan was on its deathbed.  The housing stock deteriorated.  Waukegan Township had huge welfare rolls to serve.  The malls closed.  When I visited, it looked like a ghost town, typical rust belt.  But, by the late 80′s, Waukegan had been transformed into a bedroom community.  It started looking better.  The Waukegan Harbor, once a place for Coast Guard vessels, Industrial shipping, and fishing boats, had become the North Shore’s docking place.  

Water Color of Fishing Boat in Waukegan Harbor - Shirley Shaft

Docks south of Waukegan Harbor

The area south of the Pier and yacht club, once a desolate beach, was now filled with gated docks for recreational boats.   (http://maps.google.com/?ie=UTF8&ll=42.363744,-87.809258&spn=0.02486,0.0842&t=h&z=14) Fewer industries are left lining the harbor, but Lafarge Corporation, National Gypsum, and Blue Circle Cement continue to operate there and were part of a consortium that dredged the harbor with the twin objectives of making it a better shipping channel and dredging the PCB laden sediments from the harbor http://www.epa.state.il.us/environmental-progress/v27/n1/harbor.html.   Since, then, the city of Waukegan lost its funding for the Great Lakes Legacy cleanup.  US EPA and Waukegan goals apparently didn’t mesh.  The dispute seems to center around whether the land use around the Harbor will be residential or remain industrial.   Residual levels of PCBs remain in the Harbor. 

 

 

Mixed Use of Waukegan Harbor - Recreation / Commercial Shipping

  

So, what is the legacy of a rust belt city like Waukegan?  The book, “Lake Effect” blames the cancers of two sisters on the environmental problems in Waukegan.  It is actually a reasonable hypothesis, since both girls ate abundantly of Lake Michigan fish that their father caught.  Chemicals tend to concentrate in the fatty tissues of species higher in the food chain, which include fish, birds, and of course, humans.  As the book points out, it is hard to quantify the effects of anthropomorphic chemicals in the environment.  Many Wakeganites moved away once the jobs were gone.  How do you measure the effects of exposure to chemicals in the environment if the population is not stable?   How much has the Lake Effect had on my own family?  

My dad, who was an engineer at US Steel, died of prostate cancer that was discovered too late.  My brother developed prostate cancer in his early 40′s.  I had an ovarian cyst at age 17.  My father in law had colon cancer.  My aunt died of breast cancer; a cousin survived breast cancer.  Were these genetic effects?  Where they due to exposure to chemicals?  Were they just random occurences?  There really is no way to pin these questions down; there are too many variables.  We know that exposure to PCBs, Dioxins, heavy metals, petroleum constituents, and chlorinated solvents can potentially cause reproductive problems and/or cancers.  These are all substances to which Waukeganites were potentially exposed during the height of industrial prosperity.  It is the job of a risk assessor, such as myself , to recommend land uses that minimize potential exposure to these constituents.  However, daily, our bodies confront exposure to anthropomorphic chemicals for which they are not prepared to process. 

We all, no matter where we live, are exposed to hormone mimicking chemicals and known carcinogens; hormone mimicking chemicals tend to promote cancers and reproductive problems.  Yes, every soft plastic container contains phthalates, a known estrogen mimicker; think of the nipple on a baby bottle; microwavable meals you buy from the grocery store; soda bottles, and plastic wrap.  Our modern life would not be possible without this class of chemicals.  Every time we dispense gasoline, we are exposed to benzene fumes, a known Class 1A carcinogen.   Every time we char our meat on the grill, we expose ourselves to benzo(a)pyrene, another known carcinogen, also a constituent of petroleum products.  Although dry-cleaners now use fewer toxic chemicals, it was only a decade or so ago that they used solvents known to be carcinogenic – remember the smell of clothing fresh from the dry cleaners?  PCE, TCE - eg. chlorinated solvents, very bad.  I don’t know about you, but I played with mercury balls from broken thermometers when I was a kid.  Kids from my era also made lead soldiers and there was lead in paint and gasoline. One of the newest environmental issues is the presence of pharmaceuticals in surface and ground waters.  Every day, we are exposed unintentionally to chemicals.  Is it Waukegan’s toxic legacy or just ordinary exposure, or perhaps just bad luck? 

Personally, my fascination with water issues, began with the 6th grade field trip I arranged at the Water Treatment Plant (thank you jackie Gerard), which is located adjacent to the Waukegan harbor.  My interest in environmental issues were heightened with my environmental activism in High School, and lived with me through graduate school where I earned an MS in hydrogeology (and an almost PhD in Engineering Geology).  Yet, as I progressed in my studies and profession, I saw the burdens business bore because of the environmental regulations put in place starting with the Nixon Administration.  How do you strike a reasonable balance between environmental protection and job retention/creation?  Do you need to have clean groundwater if no one is drinking it or being exposed to it?  Can we safely reuse contaminated land for non-residential purposes?  My answer is yes, we can reuse these contaminated areas and should.  Reuse for appropriate (brownfield) purposes can actually protect future generations from unintended inappropriate uses, such as housing.  With appropriate engineering controls, some of these properties can even be made suitable for residential use.  Redevelopment of these orphan properties can create new jobs and opportunity.  I think that is Waukegan’s goal. 

In the course of my career as a hydrogeologist, I became a human health risk assessor.  My purpose in doing that was to help businesses create jobs, while still protecting the general public from undue exposure to chemicals.  My current job?  I manage the groundwater monitoring program for a hazardous waste facility.  Our RCRA permitted units have no contamination associated with them, an example of the efficacy of engineering controls.  Only the pre RCRA sanitary landfills have some low levels of contamination, and the BP refinery is our downgradient neighbor.  How did this former Crusader Rabbit get to this place?  Working for the “polluters”?  Hard to say, but I always have to fall back on the risk assessors mantra, “No exposure, no risk”.  The key is in making sure there is no exposure. 

My ties to Waukegan run deep.  My grandma moved there with her family when she was small.  My grandfather had a boiler maker business on South Market and built part of the Coke Plant.  Later, my grandfather was Lake County Supervisor.  My grandmother worked for many years until just a few years before she died as the County law librarian.  My dad was born and raised there and spend most of his life there.  My siblings and I were born and raised there.  My uncle was Township Supervisor.  The father of my children was born and raised there.  I still have cousins there.  My affection for the place runs deep. 

I am sorry for the industrial legacy that caused cancers and other health effects;  the same industries, following today’s regulations, would be so much safer; but the clean-up costs for those former industries are staggering.  Yet, driving through town there are signs of hope and renewal.  I wish Waukegan the best in overcoming its toxic legacy.  There still is the thrill of going home, walking along the pier, and experiencing the thunder of the waves crashing against concrete.   So, 40 years after the first Earth Day, Waukegan is a different place, with different objectives.  If there is hope for Waukegan, there surely must be hope for other Rust Belt cities such as Cleveland and Toledo.  We all share a Great Lakes Legacy. 

Sailing on Lake Michigan

The Pier in Waukegan

So 40 years of Earth Days have seen increased protection for our citizens, but at the cost of domestic jobs.  My vision?  — Reuse of brownfields sites for safe, beneficial, job creating uses — Due diligence is siting housing in former industrial sites (e.g. gentrification) adjacent to prime lakefront property (because who doesn’t want to have a condo that looks out on the lake) – well-paying but clean industrial jobs close to places where people actually live. 

And just a note:  Hey you Texans, no we will fight sending our water to you.  Bring the jobs back up here where we actually have the resources.

  Dead River = a River that only flows to the lake during floods.  It is a swamp at other times because the sand dunes inhibit the flow to Lake Michigan.

In my adopted town, Perrysburg, OH, we know it is spring when the Walleye Fisherman dot the Maumee River.  It’s an orgy of fishing from early March to late April.  Fishermen line up shoulder to shoulder to try for their daily limit of 4 Walleye, as the fish migrate from Lake Erie/Maumee Bay to spawn upstream in the muddy Maumee River.  Yesterday I haunted a few of the parking lots and river access points to better understand this phenomena. 

http://www.thenaturalresource.com/walleyerun/#hotspots

Walleye Fishermen in Perrysburg, OH

Fishing by wading and by boat

What I saw were guys (mostly, but women and children as well) dressed uniformly in camouflage waders, warm jackets, and caps, holding rods and trailing nets.  They come from all over the country;  I talked to one guy from Chicago who comes every year, wouldn’t miss it.  Once he gets his limit of four, he just keeps fishing, catching, and releasing – better than going back to the motel.  These guys spend days, and hours per day in the river.  One guy I talked to said he fishes with the same guys every year and gets to know them pretty well, so even if an East wind is blowing, and the fish aren’t biting, he just stays, fishes, and yaks. 

Talkative Fisherman with 1/2 daily catch

Walleye are worth catching.  They are big, people like to eat them.  They are a prize.  They are so popular in Toledo that our Pro Hockey Team is named the Walleyes. 

http://www.toledowalleye.com/ 

The Fisherman was disappointed with this catch - too small he said

Walleye are not the only sports fishing prizes in the Maumee; fishing for White Bass and Red Horse is also popular.  The Maumee is the largest watershed of any River in the Great Lakes System.  It runs from Fort Wayne Indiana to the Maumee Bay, on Lake Erie.  Efforts to improve the water quality of the Maumee River have been on-going for many years.  The river is not only popular for fishing, but also for recreational boating.  Downstream in downtown Toledo, Great Lake Freighters carrying grain and other good are seen everyday when the river is open (not closed due to ice) for shipping.  Hence the Maumee is the lifeblood of our region. 

http://www.epa.gov/glnpo/aoc/maumee.html 

Threats to our fisheries come not only from local sources of pollution (and those are significant and important) but are potentially threatened by actions from as far away as Chicago.  The current controversy concerns the migration of Asian Carp, an invasive species, through the Chicago Canal into Lake Michigan.  The Great Lakes States are very concerned that the Asian Carp will invade the entire Great Lakes System, destroying native fisheries.  There are calls to fill in the Chicago canal, which would have a negative impact on commerce by barge in the Chicago area.  Currently, the carp are being killed by poison and electric shock barriers.  No one knows if that will keep the carp out of Lake Michigan, there is suspicion that they have already invaded. 

http://www.nrdc.org/media/2009/091202.asp 

Walleye fishing is a part of this area’s culture and psyche.  I can only hope that they continue to run for many years to come.