A Wondrous Journey (Ch. 7) - Feats of Derring-Do: Sailing Over Tahoe

 "If you spend too much time thinking about a thing, you’ll never get it done.” – Bruce Lee

Wow. It was 9 years ago that I sat down and began to tell the story that my heart longed to tell: the story of my relationship with Deborah, the love of my life. I called this story "A Wondrous Journey" and it truly has been. Filled with twists and turns; unexpected gifts and challenges; and always, valuable lessons. And in the 1st 6 chapters, I wrote about our courtship - the story of how we met and fell in love. 

"Come Fly with Me" ~ Lake Tahoe July 2009

But then my mind stalled for awhile. What more could I write about? What might be the next path that I would explore on this journey? I was stumped for a bit. And I felt the press of time. As I've aged, it's become more and more evident to me that I do not have "all the time in the world" anymore to tell the stories that live in me. Thinking is not doing, as Mr. Lee observed. If I don't sit down and do this, these stories will fade away. And that would be a shame. I cannot let time just slip away like sand in my hands on the beach. 

Then like a dormant ember, sparked by the breeze of an opening door and leaping to life, inspiration lit the dusty cobwebs of my mind. "Ah ha! That's it!" And so the journey continues...

"As soon as I saw you, I knew adventure was going to happen." ~ A. A. Milne

The last chapter I wrote was about an adventure Deborah and I shared on the Rogue River back in our courting days. It was just the 1st of many semi-wild and memorable experiences we have shared over the years. So that's what I'll write about next for awhile: other feats of "derring-do" that have amused and thrilled us over the years. There have been many! There has always been an "adventurer's" gene buried inside this quiet stoic German/Finn - and all it took to ignite it was to be paired with a spunky, brave, extroverted Italian from southern California! And as they say, the rest is history! 

So here's the 1st entry in this next set of stories. A tale about sailing over Lake Tahoe. 

Lake Tahoe was the 1st special vacation place we went to together as a couple. We'd been to the beaches of Oregon. We'd visited Deborah's parents in southern California. But Tahoe was the place we chose for our 1st "exotic" summer getaways after getting married. Deborah had spent many summers there with her family growing up. Tahoe had long been a DeMattia destination. But this "world traveler" had never been there. So it seemed a perfect place to explore together. Close enough to drive to easily; but far enough away to feel "alien" and exciting. 

The 1st time we went was in the summer of 2008; two years after our wedding. But it wasn't much fun. I attended a week long workshop on Advanced Placement Economics at a local college there. The Medford District paid for our trip. We stayed at a North Tahoe relic: the "Circus/Circus" hotel once haunted by Sinatra, Martin, Sammy, et al. But because of my class schedule, we really didn't have time to explore and adventure. So we were happy to plan a return trip there the next summer in July 2009. 

Beach side, Lake Tahoe - July 2009

This time we stayed at the Tahoe Sands - a hotel directly alongside the lake in North Tahoe. Unlike the last year, we now could literally walk from our room down to the sandy beaches and bask and swim to our hearts content. And we did just that. Umbrellas and inner tubes and sunscreen were our daily gear. "Beach-bumming" was the vocation of choice. 

Looking a little pink! - Beach Bumming

We also spent hours hiking the trails in the pine woods around Tahoe. We shared mid-morning meditations as the warming pines censed the air. We hugged a tree or two just for the fun of it. We spent entire days outside until the sun set - and we ended those evenings with long walks along the lake as the pink glow faded. Good memories. 

But of course there had to be an "adventure": ("An exciting experience or undertaking that is typically bold, sometimes risky", as Webster would describe). And so we set off on one that Tuesday. We saw a sign advertising "Para-Sailing Excursions" - "Breath-taking Views!" "Safe, Fun, Thrilling!" "Don't Miss the Ride of Your Life!". How could we miss this? So we signed up for an afternoon excursion. 

We showed up at dockside and joined another couple to be ferried out to the speedboat for our rides. Gray clouds skirted across the sky and it was warm and humid. A breeze rustled the long locks of our teenaged boatman as he shuttled us out to meet our fate. We chatted nervously with him - making small talk, and pretending that we were all "cool" about the upcoming experience - even though at least I was a little anxious about the fact that I'd soon be 500 feet in the air over Lake Tahoe being towed by a speedboat. Not exactly in my wheel house! 

We boarded the speed boat and drove out to the middle of the huge lake. Once there, the two crew members strapped up the other couple 1st and hoisted them up in the air. They squealed a little as they rose into the sky, and then again as the driver put the boat in motion and started towing them around the lake. All in all, it looked not so scary and a bit fun. The 1st couple was hauled back down and then it was our turn. 

Off We Go! - July 28 2009

Strapped in, belts cinched...up we went. Deborah squealed a bit - she's always been a bit wary of heights. I sucked in a deep breath as we rose and the massive blue lake shrank below us. There we were. 500 feet up. I remember being disappointed a bit. I'd expected a feeling of movement; of wind rushing past my face as we motored around the lake. But it was surprising calm. The boat below wasn't really going very fast; and we were just two little kites slowly tagging along with it. The view was unique; but one thing caught both Deborah and my eyes. The gray clouds in the sky were starting to darken and gather ominously. it was clear an afternoon thunderstorm was approaching and neither of us wanted to be up in the sky at the end of a metal cable when it arrived. 

High in the Sky

Look Ma - No hands!

Getting our toes wet

Fortunately, the crew had also noticed this and had begun to haul us down. They played around a bit with us, bouncing us near the surface so we could dip our toes in the lake. But all we wanted was to be back in the boat and headed to the shelter of shore. We settled safely into the boat and looked over our shoulders tensely  as the crew slowly stowed the chutes. The clouds were rolling down the mountains around the lake and a chill wind began to whistle. "Get us to shore", we silently whispered. The speedboat set off, But it couldn't go all the way in. Our intrepid teen boatman had to shuttle us the last 200 yards into the shore. 

Here it comes...head for shore!

As we climbed down into the small tender, the teen gave us a hand to steady us. As he did, both Deborah and I saw a sight we would NEVER forget. The air above the lake was so charged with static electricity that the kid's hair was LITERALLY STANDING STRAIGHT UP ON END, like a plugged in Einstein! He seemed totally oblivious to this fact as he revved the outboard motor to putt putt us in. We were aghast. Though we didn't say anything, I know what we were both thinking. Lightning bolts with our names on it were just about to be delivered! 

With all our mental force, we willed that little boat to go faster. When it stopped, 20 feet from the sand, we leaped out, as the thunder clapped and the skies opened up and buckets of rain began falling. We sloshed through the knee deep water and then ran to the nearest canopy we could find. Another monstrous roll of thunder boomed and the rain pelted everything. But we were safe. And the storm grumbled disappointingly. 

A Very Wet Deborah!

What an adventure! On subsequent trips to Tahoe, I never looked at the sky quite so naively again. Loved its beauty. But I've always kept a sharp eye on its intentions ever since. A good lesson learned. To this day, we still laugh at the memories of that July afternoon above the Lake. It set a precedent for other adventures that would follow. 

A friendlier Tahoe sky later that night

 But those stories are for another chapter...hopefully coming sooner than later...

¡Hola Paraiso! - Walking El Malecon

"There is no end to the adventures we can have if we only seek them with our eyes wide open." (Jawaharal Nehru)

It was time. We were ready to do some exploring. Deborah and I had soaked up the sun in the cabanas of the Sunset Plaza for a couple of days, but now we were ready to stretch our legs. Whenever we go away, we always like putting on our sneakers, holding each other's hand, and setting off on a long walk to who knows where. We love the exercise, and we love the chance to see something new. So that's what we wanted to do.

The view looking east from our hotel room. Downtown Puerto Vallarta is off to the right

Our destination would be Puerto Vallarta's famed "El Malecon" boardwalk. Everyone said "You must go and see it!" It had quaint shops, cobblestone lanes, street art and performances, food, history - all the culture you could want, and beautiful beaches too. All "just" 2-3 miles from our hotel - at least that didn't seem far to us! We've hiked further in the woods of Lake Tahoe, along the streets of Florence, Italy, and in the neighborhoods of southern California. Pshaw! "A piece of cake!" So, off we went that morning.

The first mile of our walk was uneventful; just walking along side the busiest thoroughfare in the city. Dieselly buses clanked and stank as they rattled by; motorcycles and sedans swerved maniacally around them, and the sidewalks soon filled with people all walking to work. Life like in any other city on a Friday morning. But there were differences. No one was in a suit and tie. We passed some magnificent buildings (like the Sheraton Buganvilias), but right next door to it was a vacant concrete shell of an empty building. And as we got closer to downtown, we began to see more and more people just standing around, looking at us as we approached.

Oh yeah. And it was hot. And humid. And we were sweating. And sweating. Our hands were slippery with moisture, even though we had only been walking for about 20 minutes. The funny thing was that we seemed to be the only ones sweating - none of the Mexicans we passed seemed to be bothered in the least by the weather... sheesh!

We had begun to enter Old Puerto Vallarta, and now the main street was lined with shops and flags.

And the people just standing around began to come to life. "Hey, senor! Come and see what I've got! Good stuff here. Come take a look!"... "Hey, senorita! Take a look - you never know what you'll find! 1/2 price today!"... "Buenos dias, senor...come have a free shot of tequila and look around!". We had entered another Mexican "gauntlet" - just like the time share reps at the airport. The only difference was these people were selling blankets, earrings, hats, and tacos instead of a resort. They were very sharp sighted too. One guy saw the bracelets we were wearing that were our identification at the resort and yelled to us, "Hey! We met at the Sunset Plaza! Don't you remember me? Come over here!"... Clever!

Just when we were beginning to think we had made a mistake coming here and having to wade through all of this, we turned a corner, and there it was: the entrance to the Malecon, The cacophony of the vendors died down a little bit as the sea breeze took its place....beautiful...

There were statues every where along the way.

There were street artists, like this man sculpting a sand Virgin Mary.

And then there were the Birdmen of Papantla. We had heard of this daily act, and there they were right in front of us. 4 brightly costumed acrobats climbed to the top of a 100 foot pole and then leaned back and slowly fell to the earth, twirling to the sound of ancient pipes and drums. An incredible show!

We were grateful for the show, but I was even more grateful for the rest. I was pooped after only 40 minutes of walking (and so were all the other tourists who had plopped down around us to watch the Birdmen!).  It was time to go find something to eat...and a margarita to boost our spirits a little bit.

Too tired to resist, we were "shanghaied" by another friendly sidewalk barker who shuffled us upstairs into a nearby restaurant: The Bar Oceano. We enjoyed the view, the margaritas, and the fajitas. In just an hour and a half, Mexican culture had washed over us like a wave. We laughed at how much we had seen and experienced in so little time. How much more did we have the energy for?

We got up and continued our stroll. We saw more shops - Deborah stopped and bought a beautiful "peasant" dress from one very excited lady who fussed and fussed over her as she tried it on. Then when we left, eagerly looked out the window, hunting for the next "catch".

We finally came to the Malecon's most famous landmark, its Arches. These Arches are part of an amphitheater next to the Naval Museum there. We stopped for a picture.

There was more of the Malecon to walk - the "Zona Romantica", Viejo Vallarta - still lay ahead of us to wander around. But the weather had gotten the best of us. All we wanted to do was go back to the hotel, change our clothes, and dive into the pool. We could return to finish the "Malecon Mile" another day.

We turned around at the arches and started the steamy slog back to the resort. We walked by the city's famed Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe, with its distinctive crown-shaped dome, but didn't stop for long.

We walked through a couple of more of the city's flea markets, but had little stomach for more haggling, and for carrying anything else with us on our trek back.

We could've hailed a cab. A number of drivers slowed as they neared us and offered us a comfortable return to home. But we were stubborn. We had walked down here. We were going to walk all the way back. An adventure begun must be ended properly. It was a looong ways back, but we would do it.

Looking back to our hotel from the Malecon. Our hotel is the tiny orange one way far away!

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." (Neale Donald Walsh)

By 4 pm, we were back at the Sunset Plaza - exhausted, but glad we had gone on our journey.  It was a unique experience to walk around a city in a lesser developed country and experience all that we did: to see the contrasts of riches right next to sheer poverty, to feel the persistence of the vendors whose lives relied on their ability to attract customers without making them feel like "marks", to savor the cool sea breeze at the same time as the sun steamed our necks, and to wade through all that was vibrant and alive.

And most of all, it made me more appreciative of all that Deborah and I had back at home. That would be a thought that would come to us more than once as our vacation here in "Paradise" continued.  We had stepped out of our "comfort zones" just a little by coming here to Mexico - it would've been easier to have just gone someplace that we had always gone to (Lake Tahoe, the Oregon coast) - and we would've settled comfortably into what we liked, seen what we've always seen. But in doing that, we would've missed a valuable gift.

"One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things." (Henry Miller)

This trip was bringing us closer and closer together. Through its challenges and new experiences, we were feeling a greater appreciation for all that we already had...and most importantly, for each other.  Gracias to Puerto Vallarta for that special gift... it has anchored us ever since!

There is more to tell about this trip...but I'll save that for that next chapter... Adios, amigos!

¡Hola Paraiso! - Living the Cabana Life

"Pour me something tall an' strong - Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane. It's only half past twelve, but I don't care. It's five o'clock somewhere." (Alan Jackson & Jimmy Buffett)

Even in Paradise, you have to wake up sometime.

Deborah and I had come to the Sunset Plaza resort in Puerto Vallarta to get away and to relax.

And not just to "relax". But to REALLY RELAX. To relax like we had never done before. To relax like it was an Olympic sport, and we were the Michael Phelps', the Nadia Comanecis, the Usain Bolts, the Jenny Thompsons of relaxing!

Sounds easy, right? Boy, would you be wrong! It was hard work relaxing, 24-7, living the "cabana life"!

When we woke on our first morning at the Sunset Plaza, we knew there was nothing we wanted to do more (after eating our free breakfast!) than to put on our swimming suits, slather on some sunscreen, gather up our Kindles, and head down to the "adults-only" pool area and enjoy some major league "lounging". What could be better! By 11 am, the morning clouds had cleared - the sun was out - it was 90 degrees - the absolute opposite of what we had left behind in drizzly, gray Grants Pass, Oregon. We just wanted to soak it all in!

So we'd set up camp in our little cabana. We learned which one had the best view...which one had the most shade at certain times of the day...we learned how to deftly hang our towels around the cabana to make it even shadier... and how to stay, just out of eyesight of the ever present beach vendors, hawking their wares like friendly buzzards. We became true "Cabana Commandos".

And what made "Cabana Life" even better was that anything we wanted - food, drink, free massages, etc. - was brought to us by smiling, sharply dressed, always dependably there when you wanted them, servers.  "Would you like a margarita? Or a "Miami Vice"?", they'd ask. Deborah and I would look at each other and say "Bring both, please". "Would you like something to eat?", they'd inquire. And we would order the fish tacos, the chicken taquitos, and the fresh guacamole....yum!

And when we got hot, we'd slide into the pool and cool off, and think "This is the life!."... Ahhhh....

But as idyllic as this all sounds, we both began to feel a little unrest, a little stirring, almost immediately as we slid into this pampered life.

"Breath in. Breath out. Move on." (Jimmy Buffett)

We both were surprised at how it took a full day and a half of doing this before our minds would actually begin to slow down - to accept that "It was Ok" to just hang out. Our minds were so used to living life at a faster speed - our days measured by "what we were supposed to be doing", "where we were supposed to be going", and that somehow we were "missing something", if we weren't running around, taking pictures somewhere. Thankfully, we got over that compulsion! We began to enjoy the rare pleasure of reading quietly together, people-watching, taking cat naps, and free massages every day. It was heavenly - especially if we pale-skinned Oregonians could manage to also not get too sun-burned while doing so!

But as days passed, the "Cabana Life" began to lose its charm.

• You can only eat so much guacamole, and drink so many margaritas.
• The "Adults Only" pool began to attract families with kids, and it was tiring "chasing them away, por favor".
• The "fun" of laying around in wet swim suits all day began to fade. I just wanted to be dry and cool.
• The people we sat by the pool with may have changed, but the scenery was becoming stale and the cabanas confining.

Deborah and I began to realize that "Paradise" was feeling a little empty - we were feeling empty. We had always been active when on our vacations - exploring, walking, learning and seeing something new. We realized we missed doing that. And we also were reminded of an important life lesson.

A life without disturbance may sound ideal, but it isn't life at all. No disturbance - no challenge - no motivation to do anything but sleep - no change; this is a life for the "dying". And a part of us knew that, and that's the part that stirred us. The part that whispered, "Let's go do something a little uncomfortable - a little daring - something new. Something we can talk and laugh about when we remember this trip".

"I just want to live happily ever after, every now and then." (Jimmy Buffett)

So, we looked for some opportunities to do just that: explore Puerto Vallarta and experience life in a foreign country, on our own - and to leave the cabanas behind for a little while.

I'm sure they didn't stay empty long. They whisper a "siren song". But we were tired of being "Mexican mushrooms". It was time for an adventure or two.

"At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder. What would Jimmy Buffett do?" (Alan Jackson)

I think he'd move the party elsewhere... which is what we did!

"¡Salud, pesetas y amor y tiempo para gozarlos!" ("Cheers to money and love, and time to enjoy them!")

¡Hola Paraiso! - Our Anniversary in Puerto Vallarta

"A vacation is having nothing to do and all day to do it." (Robert Orben)

So what would your "dream vacation" be? Would it include sun, sandy beaches, and blue skies?

Would it be a place where you could have every wish granted - every need met?  A place where you were pampered as if you were royalty (or even better, A Kardashian!)? A faraway, exotic place that you could go to and leave all your cares behind?

Sounds pretty good, doesn't it. Well, that's what Deborah and I decided to do for our 8th anniversary a couple of weeks ago. Since we got married in September, we never got to go on a real honeymoon. The school year had just started - I was working - so our "grand celebration" was to spend a day and a night in lovely little Ashland, 40 miles from home. So now that I'm retired, we decided to do something "big".

We were very certain that what we wanted to do was something we had never done before, and to go somewhere we had never been.

We wanted something "tropical", "exotic". We said we wanted to do nothing but "relax at a beautiful resort...for at least a week". We considered Hawaii (too expensive); the Bahamas (too far away); Costa Rica (too unknown), until finally settling on Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

It seemed perfect: Pretty inexpensive; only a 4 1/2 hour flight; and the resort we were going to stay at, The Sunset Plaza, advertised that it was "small and quiet" and even promised us our own "personal butler". Paradise seemed to await us. But surprisingly, when we told friends and coworkers about our plans, we heard a far different story from them.

"Oh no. You're going to Mexico? Haven't you heard? It's very dangerous there - drugs, tourists kidnapped!"... "Mexico? Didn't you hear about the hurricanes there? Good luck!"... "I would never go to Mexico - you get sick just from the water!"... "Mexico is the last place I'd go - there's just too many Mexicans there!"

We had never heard so much pessimism, and grumpiness, and distrust, and negativity...mostly from people who when you asked them if they'd ever been to Mexico ironically said "No"! So we stopped telling people about our plans, and quietly looked forward to our getaway.  We were ready for a week in Paradise.

I feel about airplanes the way I feel about diets. It seems to me that they are wonderful things for other people to go on. (Jean Kerr)

We flew out of Medford on September 24th, the morning of our anniversary. We knew better than to expect "comfort and bliss" on our flights to Los Angeles, and then on to Puerto Vallarta. Both, though relatively short, had their own special "challenges": wailing 2 year olds seated two rows behind us; obnoxious passengers loudly telling no one in particular "How fun they were!", and scruffy single guys off on a fishing trip wondering when the drink cart was coming around...at 9:30 am... and offering all single women within eyeshot a free drink! Sigh.... We patiently endured it all because we knew Paradise awaited us.

We finally landed in Puerto Vallarta at 3:15 pm. After schlepping our bags through customs, we headed to find our shuttle. But to get to it we had to go through "Time Share Alley"

Our instructions from the travel agency had warned us to not be enticed to stop and chat with these salesmen, lined up like eager sharks along this "gauntlet" before the exit. But we were groggy, and when one handsome young agent called us over to "help us", we wandered over. Surprisingly, he was polite; he gave us a map of the city, and then even poured both of us a shot of tequila (which we much enjoyed after our testy flight!). And then even more amazingly, he let us wander away without making any kind of sales pitch! Deborah was amazed! (Especially since she didn't know he was a sales agent - until I told her in the cab ride away). Our luck seemed good!

I'll never forget how it felt when we stepped out of the airport doors. Though the skies were gray, the heat and humidity slammed me like I had just opened the oven door. As I stood there waiting for our cabbie to load our bags into the trunk, I began sweating as if I had just ran from the plane to the car. Welcome to the tropics, Senor Schnorenberg! 

Twenty minutes later we arrived at the Sunset Plaza. The resort's manager, Javier Vergara, personally checked us in, offering us glasses of champagne and cool towels. After patiently sitting through a "welcome/sales pitch" from the resort's "concierge", the 1st of our personal butlers, Ruben, escorted us upstairs to our room, promising our bags would be brought up shortly.

When we walked into the room, a surprise awaited us (actually, awaited Deborah!)

I had called Javier the day before and asked him if he could arrange for some roses to be in our room when we arrived, since it was our anniversary. And boy did he! This beautiful bouquet and a luscious piece of chocolate cake greeted us. Mucho gracias!

We looked out of our 14th floor balcony and were amazed at the view.

Looking south from our balcony. Old Puerto Vallarta in the distance.

Pools and hot tubs below

Though the skies were grayer than we expected, and both of us were sweaty, we quickly unpacked and then decided to go for a short walk to stretch our legs before dinner.  Puerto Vallarta's main thoroughfare ran just a block away from the hotel. Buses and cars rattled and buzzed by as our heads swiveled taking it all in. We walked alternately on concrete sidewalks and then genuine cobblestone streets. I'd never seen real cobblestones before!

But as we stepped off a curb, Deborah's hand slipped out of my sweaty grasp, and the next thing I knew she was on all fours scrambling to get up! How did that happen? We didn't know. But her fall cut short our little trek, and we retreated back to our room to take a much needed shower and then go to dinner.

The resort boasted of its Italian restaurant, "Luciano's", so we went there. But it was empty, except for us - and we soon discovered why. Let's just say that the chef should've left "Italian cuisine for the Italians" and stuck with what (I assume) he knew best. Though disappointed, we enjoyed margaritas and nachos at the outside bar, and went to bed looking forward to the next day. Thunder rumbled outside of our window as night fell.

So despite the testy flight...and the steamy weather...and some unexpected scraped knees...and the lukewarm ravioli...and the gray skies...we were still in paradise. We were here to enjoy ourselves.

Our adventures would continue the next day.

Buenas noches mis amigos!

Walking In The Woods

"Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world." (John Muir)

Have you ever wanted to travel back in time?  To journey 100's, even 1000's of years into the past so that you could feel and smell history come alive all around you?  To meet great legends and visit the sites of epic adventures?

I have.  And I know a place to go where such a fantastic trip is possible.

Have you ever longed to sit in a sacred place?  Somewhere where you could feel the presence of God with every fiber of your mortal being?  A place where your spirit and soul naturally hushed and felt at peace?

I do.  And I know of such a place; a place so large that it could swallow up thousands of visitors in its embrace, yet all who came there would feel intimately welcomed.

Do you ever seek the company of those that are patient and strong?  Who persevere in spite of all challenges and obstacles?  Whose very success is born out of being one with their surroundings?  Who through their quiet presence inspire the same in all those who come in contact with them?

We can't help but be drawn to such companions.  And I know where you can unfailingly find them.

In the woods.

A picture I took in my family's woods long ago

I have felt this reverence for the trees within the forests of the Pacific Northwest all my life.  I was lucky to have grown up in the country where on our family's property we had an acre of forest to call our own; a magical place we Schnorenberg kids simply called "The Woods".  We built forts and "cathedrals" in the woods; played games; jumped over creeks; waged titanic "wars"; wrote poetry in and about them; picked and ate buckets of blackberries there; buried our beloved pets in its embrace; and returned, time and again, to simply stand quietly in the trees' company.

"If you would know strength and patience, welcome the company of trees." (Hal Borland)

All of these thoughts were spurred by a "spur of the moment", Spring vacation adventure that Deborah and I had last weekend.  We decided to take a hike in the great redwoods of northern California, just a couple of hours away from home.  We drove to Jedediah Smith State Park, and then bumped along a dirt road/path for another 5 miles before finding the trailhead for "The Boy Scout Tree Trail":  a 6 mile hike (round trip) in the heart of the redwoods.

Deborah and Izzy on the trail

From the very first steps we three took (Deborah, me, and of course Izzy!), I knew we had entered a magical, wonderful new world.  Our hike became both an adventure in "time travel", as well as a pilgrimage to a place as sacred as any temple, and a walk in the company of true beauty and strength.

A simple narrative, recounting what we did, what we saw, wouldn't do justice to what I experienced there.  So much of what makes the forests so awe-inspiring - especially ones as majestic as the Redwoods - can't really be expressed by words from the mind.  Instead it's one's heart and soul that are touched.  But I can share some impressions that have stuck with me ever since.

• The incredible silence that wrapped itself around us as we started our hike and that accompanied us the whole time.  I felt it immediately and it instantly hushed my mind and soul.  I knew I was in a different world, and that I was welcome there.
• The humility I felt walking among these giant sentinels.  I have seen one, or two, or three trees of such size before, but never had I walked for hours among trees that were ALL so massive!  They stood along the trail, rugged and scarred.  Some stood alone and apart; others stood fused together with another of their kind.  Some were shells, burned and hollowed by lightning.  Others were graceful and straight, as clean as if they were museum pieces

Deborah among an Army of giants

• There was so much beauty to see!  At times I simply couldn't take it all in.  I looked upwards, gawking at the towering trees; only to stumble over their roots.  As I'd catch my balance, I then would see tinier, but no less impressive, "citizens" of the redwoods welcoming me along:  trilliums, white and innocent; little mushrooms wearing their bright red and gold "party hats"; and shamrocks everywhere - a veritable leprechaun's lawn!

A trillium

"Let's party!" say the mushrooms

Shamrocks and a leprechaun stump?

Deborah, Izzy, and I tramped and walked for a couple of hours, soaking up all of the beauty and holiness of this wonderful place.  We tired before we got to the end of the trail, and reluctantly decided to head back.  But the redwoods had one final gift for us.  

The afternoon had been mostly gray and cloudy, a typical March day.  But as we rounded a bend on our way back to the trailhead, shafts of sunlight split the towering trees and warmed a solitary spot on the trail.  We stopped and stood in the heavenly light, warming our faces, bodies, and souls.  We stood their silently and gratefully for a couple of minutes, and then continued our journey back to the car.  We bumped and splashed our way along the dirt road again back to the highway, and then back home, happy and contented.

As an added treat, we stopped at the Bridgeview Winery in Cave Junction and celebrated our adventure with a sweet glass of their "Blue Moon Rising" riesling.

John Steinbeck wrote the following about these redwoods in his books "Travels With Charley".

"The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe. It's not only their unbelievable stature, nor the color which seems to shift and vary under your eyes.  No, they are not like any trees we know.  They are ambassadors from another time.”

So, a toast to these ambassadors from another time.  I am grateful for all that you shared and inspired within me.  What I'm most grateful for is the reminder that the reason I'm drawn to, and find so much that is good, within the company of trees:  strength, patience, beauty, peace, etc. - is because all of that also exists within me.

The trees are God's ambassadors.  And though they may stand for centuries in solitary silence, they bring a timeless and powerful message from God to anyone who is willing to stand in their presence and listen - with their hearts, not their minds.

I love you.  I am here.  You are always welcome.  Stay with me.

I know I will return again soon.

(And I'll bring both of my favorite hiking companions along too - wouldn't be as fun without them!)