What a Long, Strange Trip...

So I'm looking at the time on the computer, 5:00 A.M. Nope, didn't just wake up. Been awake and asleep several times over the last three days, just not for very long at any one stretch. I picked up some sort of stomach bug that's nastier than any I've had since the Pakistan trip years ago. Sweats, shivers, frequent trips to the head. Was really sweating it when I saw the long border lines yesterday. Made it home O.K.

Anyway, I didn't start this to whine about being sick, but to kind of shed a little light on the kind of summer and year it's been. I remember towards the end of last summer, asking the Good Lord for a little help in getting out of what had become a four-year rut. Careful what you wish for, right? Wait a minute, isn't the New Year's crap supposed to happen January first? Not in my line of work. After so many years in the classroom, my mental year pretty much starts September first instead of January.

Last Fall turned out to be a good rut-buster. Fly-fishing trips down the Methow and Yakima rivers with my buddy Steve were priceless (I hope he still has one more in him this fall). Hunting season was full of September grouse hunts, back-to-back Ketchum and Stanley hunts in October, and a good trip to Bonner's Ferry in November.

Spent many weekends along with the annual after-Christmas trip steelhead fishing out on the Peninsula. Finally bought a spey rod despite earlier claims of never wanting to be one of those fruity-snooties. Learning to cast the damn thing has been both fun and frustrating. But I have managed to catch some fish with it.

Spent four days in Arizona with Carew and Rodly in February. My bulging belly really became apparent and frustrating while struggling to make it up a climb that previously would have been a walk in the park. It's incredible what steep granite can do to bust up denial. Spring break in Stanley was a hell of a good time catching up with some old Idaho friends and getting some rare fishing time with Mick.

Which bring us to this summer. Which really kicked off for me with a trip to Northern B.C. I had only met the lodge owner, Hannah, twice, but she graciously accepted my offer of trading some volunteer work time for some fishing time. what an experience. They must have liked me O.K. because I was invited to come back up. In between Canada trips, it was north to Alaska to visit my buddy Doug, and spend some time with eskimo folks. What an eye-opener. The second Canada trip? Even better than the first. It really gave me a chance to establish some new friendships that will hopefully continue on.

The weight? Lost 25 pounds so far. Which is a good start, but still a long uphill battle to get back to healthy. But I'm getting there. Hunting season should account for another twenty pounds, and if this stomach crud keeps holding on, I might lose more sooner than I thought. Not worth it.

So it's back to work on Monday and the start of a new year.

Six Heroes

I have a few heroes. They are people who I have looked up to, who have traits and values I admire. The list is pretty short. Here are six of them. There are more.

My Aunt Doris - Who lived life with a smile on her face. Who was a model of class, dignity, and thoughtfulness, even when she was fighting leukemia.

My grandpa Bernie. Who always had that twinkle in his eye. Who always made sure I thought about what I said before it came out of my mouth. Who taught me to never take myself too seriously.

My first principal, Bud Kuhlman. Who has shown me the right way to do the job, and the right reasons for doing it.

My former principal Chuck Turner. Who has shown me how to deeply care for my students and the people I work with on my own terms.

Edmund Hillary, of Mt. Everest fame. Who taught to give back to those who have given to you, and to never take success for granted.

Bill Russell, of Boston Celtics fame. Who has personified the phrase "It is far better to understand than to be understood." Say what you want about Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, etc. It's a team game and Bill Russell was the best to ever play it. Period.

Anyway, I thought of this topic, when I came across a couple of videos of conversations between Bill Russell, and Kevin Garnett, who happens to be my favorite active player. So I thought I'd put them up on the old seldom-viewed blog.

Kevin Garnett & Bill Russell Conversation - 1 (Mar 6, 2008)

Kevin Garnett & Bill Russell Conversation - 2 (Mar 6, 2008)

Take Me to the River

After a few days of fighting the Seattle traffic and talking to Department of Retirement employees who could give a shit, I headed for the water Wednesday night. After a couple of hours standing in the river waving a thirteen foot stick on Thursday, the jaw muscles relaxed, the brow unfrowned and life was good again. Sure it was a hot, humid day, and I didn't get a steelhead to bite, but the smile was back on.

Friday on the Methow with my dad and his buddy Al was also a smile-maker. Yes, it was hot. Yes, we didn't catch a ton of fish. Yes the sky was hazy with smoke. But, hey, this was the first time fishing a river with the old man in quite a long time. We've been hitting the lakes in the tubes the past few years, but there's just that something special about sharing a river that we'd been missing out on.

Reverting Back

The other day, I was hanging out with my buddy, Carew, who was up from Arizona visiting family and friends. He said being over at his parent's place was like being sixteen again, asking to borrow the car. We started talking about how, here we are, in our forties, still feeling like we were kids around our parental units. What is this power they have over us?

Sometimes we just act like kids. This morning, my brother Lee and I were over at our dad's house helping the old man with a little bathroom renovation work. Lee was doing his best to make me laugh, and I was trying to crack him up behind Big Daddy's back. Maturity, right?

Why is this? Lee and Carew both have kids of their own, and I was a step dad for a few years, but here we were reverting back to being the kids ourselves. Out on the river yesterday, the old man was cussing more than I've heard him in a long while. Rather than bust out laughing, like I would have with anyone else, I found myself suppressing the laugh so as not to get Dad pissed off even more. Go figure.

Invictus

Have you seen the movie "Invictus"?
If you haven't, you're missing out.
What do you know about Nelson Mandela?
Unbelievable perseverance.
Gentle strength.
Forgiveness.
You'll want to know more.

Salmon

What is it about watching salmon and steelhead? Love it. Is this just a built-in predatory interest?

I'd like to think it's more than that, some sort of deeper connection. Many native cultures have special beliefs reserved for salmon, maybe they had something figured out that we don't yet. I don't feel the same watching the fish in my friend's coy pond or someone's fish tank. Might be a matter of seeing a wild fish in a wild setting.

Recently, I spent a fair amount of time on my hands and knees just watching a steelhead alevin while fishing a river in B.C. An alevin is a baby fish with a yolk sack still attached to its belly. It will feed off this yolk sack until it's grown enough to get nutrition feeding on its own. Science lesson in the summer? Scary.

I enjoyed watching the little fella much more than any T.V. show I've seen lately. Why?

Here's a video I took in Alaska last week of pink salmon on their way upstream to spawn. See if you can spot the lone chum salmon.

Nomeward Bound

Where to begin? Sometimes you get lucky and are able to gain experiences available to few. The last week and a half was one such experience. I'm a fan of Nick Jans' writing. His stories of living with the natives of Alaska are unbelievably well-written in a personal way. Well, with the help of one old friend and several new ones, I was able to get my own brief glimpse of a truly unique culture.

I've spent plenty of time around natives in the lower 48 over the years, beginning with summers in La Push in the seventies. The Eskimo culture has some similarities to other native cultures, but theirs is a unique life, based on where they call home, and now, the influences of the modern world upon their lifestyles, like four-wheelers, four-stroke outboards, and cell-phones.

My friend, Doug, is the director for a school in Nome that flies native kids in from their villages and gives them choices of all kinds of technical and cultural courses along with experience of life outside their village. This program is almost precisely the opposite of where the test-crazy politicians are taking our schools. Which means the kids actually gain practical and relevant knowledge and skills.

Doug and his girlfriend, Dar, gave me the chance to head out to her family's fishing camp with them for a couple of days. You would have a tough time trying to find genuinely nicer, kinder people anywhere. I'm sorry, but southern hospitality pales compared to Eskimo hospitality.

Do yourself a favor and read some of Nick Jans' work, he does a much better job verbally describing the culture than I ever could. Here's some pictures. And my biggest thanks to the people of Nome and Brevig that gave me a truly life-time experience.