The Lost Sierra

The Lost Sierra...means something entirely different to me now. We lost one million acres of conifers and pines. We lost the music...singing birds, wind in the needles. We lost the incredible production of oxygen that we were blessed with year-around from that magnificent forest. We lost the experience of communing with contented wildlife. If we stay inside the green zone that holds the little village of Chester, California we can almost forget what it is that we lost but, as soon as we dare to wander from the village limits we are overwhelmed with The Lost Sierra.

Four Weeks Without Sunshine

Unheard of, even in the mountains of California. I didn't realize how this would affect me... SAD. We drove to SoCal in mid-December. It was sunny when we arrived. We rode our bicycles up and down the south slope of the Verdugo Mtn. neighborhoods until we were soaked with sweat and upon return to grandma's secluded pool we stripped down and enjoyed 58 degree 'plongettes' followed by full-body basking under the 70 degree California sun. The good life. A couple of days before Christmas, life got cloudy (and Lisa slipped off a curb in Glendale spraining both ankles). Rainy and gloomy skies took over on Thursday, obscuring what should have been the beautiful holiday season sunsets that we had experienced during previous years at grandmother's house. Two weeks of SoCal grey encouraged us to return to the north and make sure all was well at our Plumas County mountain cabin. The year had started with a couple foot of accumulated snow. I grabbed a shovel and got to work....after planting Lisa in our woodstove-warmed living room. Ankle brace bound, she was not to leave the house for at least two weeks. It snowed and rained and snowed non-stop for the next week. Then Thursday the sun almost broke through. It only rained a fraction of an inch that day. Friday saw the return of the moisture monster. And it didn't stop until the next Wednesday.

More Doing...Less Saying

I thought this would be the year of serious blogging for me, Nope. More doing...less saying. We keep coming up with new health hurdles. This was the 'Year of Chuck's Colon Tumor." Hurdle crossed. Part of my recovery after surgery was to do no lifting, pushing or pulling. So, that meant much less time at the bicycle shop building and working on bikes, much less time lifting and loading kayaks. We recreated softly by taking our Transit van to quiet locations where we could hike, read and play with the dog. Due to Lisa's ongoing chemotherapy we are seriously trying to avoid any virus exposures. Yes, we still wear our masks around strangers and we avoid crowds, for any reason. An average of 2,000 Americans are dying each and every week, even here in the last month of December 2022. Over one million Americans have died from this nasty virus in the last three years...and it's not the only bug out there that's trying to infect us and do us in. I don't mind behaving like a hermit, an antisocial paranoid man in his seventies. Attending baseball games, partys and concerts is way over-rated...made for some great memories but, enough. The entertainment industry gets no more of my hard-earned cash. I'm savoring these last years with my best friend and our happy Labrador and occasional visits with our vaccinated family.

The Three Month Gap...

.Once again, we made it out the other side of an important health challenge. The creative side has to be put on hold, somewhat. We just concentrate on healing. Hiking has been our main recovery activity...6,000 steps most days and 10,000 steps at least once a week. Putting one foot in front of the other...going the extra mile...has both Lisa and I feeling strong and satisfied that we are going to be allright. Many of our friends are struggling and some have expired, leaving our world a quieter place. Each day is a gift...I've been saying this for decades.

High Impact American...Redundancy

I believed that I could be a "low-impact American". Low impact on our natural environment was the goal. Decades later I understand the ridiculousness of such a concept. If you were investing a couple of months into backpcking the Appalachian Trail, The Pacific Crest Trail or bikepacking across this country, you would have a new view on what it is to be a low-impact American. The entire concept, lowering your impacts on the environment is possibly unAmerican. So, how do we work our way out of this conumdrum? Become a tidy homeless person? Which is exactly what long distance backpackers and bikepackers are practicing. However, how do we behave when the pilgrimage is over? Self-propelled adventure pilgrims have educated themselves about what it takes to survive...the difference between needs and wants...an increased awareness does result from such an effort. American society will however, suck you right back into a wasteful lifestyle...and your environmental awareness will undoubtly fade. I've done this. I've been conscious of my impacts...lived simple through bicycling and hiking full time, eating out of my organic garden and avoiding high-impact behavoirs like flying high above the earth and being pulled by a motor down the river or across a lake. However. I have taken several steps backword over the last couple of decades. Living in a remote location and creating a child will do things to a person who wished to live a low-impact lifestyle...motor vehicles, can't live without them now. Far-flung travel with hopes of inspiring and enriching the child...unavoidable!

What A Summer!

My turn to go under the knife...we've all got something to be removed, replaced or re-alligned. Last August we didn't sell a bicycle or a kayak. We didn't sell a helmet or a t-shirt...We were evacuated, our town was destined to burn to the ground. We zipped back to the upper Midwest to say goodbye to my mother and to console my sisters. Our first Summer vacation ever. The Dixie Fire came right to our doorstep, then it turned and blowtorched it's way to the Lassen Volcanic National Park, directly north of us. What a Summer that was. This Summer is hot and extremely dry but thunderheads are building above me as I write this. I am hoping that the rest of this season is far less eventful. The supply chain seems to be fixed. Our bicycles seem to be coming from Taiwan, Cambodia and Vietnam...not China. The quality is still very good but the prices have jumped considerably. Kayaks are in and the lakes still have water and good views. Time to cut it here...sounding like the Chester Lake Almanor Chamber of Commerce.