Dan and Hannah Try to Be Part of the Solution

I listen to a lot of podcasts – while doing the dishes, when I walk on my own, in bed in the early morning while Hannah sleeps.  Generally, during these crazy times, they are sports-related or solution-oriented for dealing with COVID -19 (CO’ stands for ‘corona,’ ‘VI’ for ‘virus,’ and ‘D’ for disease in 2019).

I don’t remember which podcast it was, but the point of one was the importance of supporting small businesses during these tumultuous times.  One suggestion was long distance tipping of waitstaff at restaurants that your frequent.  Another was supporting local farmers.  Immediately, that spoke to me since my three keys to boost my immune system are get enough sleep, exercise, and eat well, which means lots of fruits and vegetables.

Thanks to our crunchy (and that’s a good thing!) friends, Scott and Tree, we know about the Orange Circle Farm, a CSA, here in southern Maine.  Know what CSA stands for?  I didn’t.  It’s at the bottom of the blog.  I digress as I am wont to do.

You see, when Tree and Scott were away, they had us pick up their weekly bin of veggies from Farmer Jeff and Farmer Erin.  Now that I think about it, it makes sense that females who farm go buy the name Farmer This or That.  My childhood stories had no women or womyn farmers.  Geez, another digression.

Jeff and Erin

We just signed on to get a full bin of veggies each week throughout the late spring, summer and early fall.  We hit the quinella with our decision.

One, we are supporting a local small business.

Two, we are getting farm fresh food… let the OCF farmers tell you about their produce.

All vegetables are grown without using any herbicides, fungicides, or pesticides.  We focus on pest and disease prevention through holistic practices that include careful attention to soil health, cover crops, composting, crop rotations, row covers, mindful irrigation, and crop diversity.  They hope to be officially organic-certified in 2020.  My kind of folks.

Three, though initially it may be more expensive than the grocery store, though I am not sure that is actually true, we are now a part of a long-term solution to create sustainable agriculture without the use of crazy chemicals.  Paying $550 for a full share for the season, Hannah and I are not expected to work at the farm, which, if you know me, would have been a deal breaker.  Anyway, why would they want me screwing up their operation?

Four, we are providing the seed money (see what I just did.  Seed money for their seeds.  Oh, you writers think you are so clever.) for the Orange Circle Farm to buy supplies for the upcoming growing season.

Five, we are modeling what we believe, not just talking about it.  Giving voice to intentions is good, but it’s the action that completes the package.

I know not everyone could lay out that kind of cash for their veggies, but since we can, we did; as we try to be a small part of the solution.

CSA – Community Supported Agriculture.

Dan and Hannah Hike Zuma Canyon in Malibu, California

Zuma Beach!  Zuma Canyon!  I just love saying the word Zuma.  Gimme a Z, gimme a U, gimme an MMMMM, gimme an A.  By the way, Zuma is the Chumash word for both abundance and peace.

In our seven years coming to California, Hannah and I have never been to Malibu, just an hour south of Carpinteria.  Malibu lies 28 miles due west of Los Angeles, hugging 21 miles of shoreline on the Pacific Coast Highway.  A year ago, the Woolsey Fire (November 2018) and subsequent damaging flooding closed many canyon trails in the area.

On this last Tuesday in January 2020 with the Zuma Canyon Trail open for business, we jump on The 101 to Oxnard and then drive west to the Pacific.  With the steeply rising Santa Monica Mountains to our east, we tool along the Pacific Ocean shoreline heading for sunshine and blue skies on the hiking trail.  Like the opening number of La La Land, it’s Another Day of Sun.

As an exclusive enclave of oceanside mansions and uber-mountain homes, Malibu is a town of 13,000, home to Easy Rider’s Jack Nicholson and to America’s favorite berry, Halle Berry.  Taking a left on Bonsall Drive at Zuma Beach, we have trailhead parking for thirty at Zuma Canyon.

The trail begins and the skeletal remains of trees from the Woolsey fire are silhouettes to its power.

On an immediately obvious single track trail, we have lush green leafy plants guiding us into the canyon.  The black skeletal remains of oaks and sycamores bear testament to the destructive Woolsey Fire.  Followed by winter rains in 2019, the landscape is alive with fresh branches sprouting from the riverbed trees as well as there are bushes in full bloom, all regenerating in one year’s time.  By the way, the fire began in Woolsey Canyon inland from Malibu.

Wildfires can travel at high speeds over long distances very quickly

Lush hillside just fourteen months after a devastating wildfire.

Billed as a hike of 2.8 miles round trip, the trail is well-marked until it leads us across the dry riverbed.  The parched stretch of rock and stone reminds us of what we would see hiking in the Arizona desert.  Knowing that we are going up the canyon, we don’t find it difficult to cross the dry creek bed and find the trail on opposite side.

After about a mile the trail peters out.  Gone girl.  We can only guess where it once was.  Bushwhacking along the creek going from one side to another, we learn from another hiker that there was once a lake at creek’s end.  Today, there is a meandering mini-creek through the boulders of the now narrowing canyon.

How cool is this creek!

Knowing we cannot lose our way, we enjoy the rock scrambling and stepping in and around the mountain creek.

The dry creek bed from the Zuma Loop Trail

Returning for the trailhead, we take to the Zuma Loop high above the creek bed with a panorama of the dry arroyo that yells Arizona from the mountain tops.  In less than two hours, we are back at the trailhead and ready…

… to feast on our Subway subs with potato chips for lunch at Zuma Beach.

Dan and Hannah Bring You a Coast of Maine Symphony

This morning Hannah and I awake to five inches of heavy, wet nasty snow.  If you live in the north, you know it’s the back breaking kind.  Knowing we’ve this heavy lifting ahead, we get out at 630A to put shovel to snow.

Our home on Chases Pond Road predawn on March 24, 2020

Hannah shovels as part of Team Rothermel

Since the coronavirus has temporarily turned our lives upside down and inside out, we no longer play pickleball, go to the gym, and now we can’t even walk the beaches here in town.  Just yesterday the town closed the beaches because, the story goes, they were drawing too many out-of-staters to York.  Suffice it to say, many beach walkers were not six feet apart.

The beach at York Harbor at high tide on March 24, 2020

Though bummed, we understand.  Beaches or not, Hannah and I still gotta walk every day during all this uncertainty.  Today, we park at the York Public Library and walk to the north end of the Cliff Walk in York Harbor.

The north end of the Cliff Walk starts just to Hannah’s left

There we have front row seats to the coast of Maine symphony.  And now you do, too.

Dan and Hannah Hike the East Fork of the Cold Spring Trail in Montecito, California

Learning just last week (January 2020) that the Cold Spring Trail had officially reopened after the January 2018 debris flows through Montecito that took the lives of 25 people, Hannah and I take The 101 north from Carpinteria.  Winding through Montecito, we come upon the trailhead parking at East Mountain Drive in twenty minutes.

At the trailhead, where once East Mountain Drive crossed the Cold Spring Creek, now a forbidding chain link fence blocks all but foot traffic.  Following the yellow lines dividing the former road to the creek’s edge, we look over to the road forty feet beyond.  There is no evidence of any bridge abutments, let alone the bridge that washed downstream from the amazingly powerful flow of water, mud, car-size boulders, and trees.

Immediately, we have a choice of two trails thirty feet apart.  A hiker returning from her climb suggests the second trail which will take us along the creek bed to the east.  It turns out to be a fortunate choice as we head into the mountains on the shady side of the East Fork of the Cold Spring Creek.

 

We choose the East Fork this morning

As a narrow single track, the trail has overhanging trees providing protection from the penetrating sun.  As the trail’s soft, moistened dirt caresses our feet, the switchbacks take the hurt out of the climb on this 67F morning on the central coast of California.

We come across a small waterfall, which begs to be videotaped.  Enjoy.

Easily crossing the creek two or three times, we climb further into the mountains in light shirts and shorts.

High above the valley, those more adventurous than us can go further up the mountain.  Opting for the trail to the right back down, we have a steeper descent (due its one mile length as opposed to the 1.5 miles we took to climb up) on a trail with full sun that has switchbacks with views to the Pacific.

Santa Barbara County looking out to the Channel Islands

Looking down to the trailhead

Though the Thomas Fire of 2018 denuded the landscape and made it ripe for the deadly debris flow, Mother Nature takes a W today with regenerative green carrying the day.

After we park in downtown Montecito to pick up the Thursday special, Mojado chicken burritos, at Los Arroyos, I wonder if you can guess which is the car we rented from Enterprise?

Post script – Click here for Ray Ford’s history of the Thomas Fire and Montecito Debris Flow of January 9, 2018.  Ray Ford pictures from 2018

Cold Spring Creek after the debris flow

 

East Fork of the Cold Spring Trail after the debris flow

How Dan and Hannah Remain Hopeful in these Coronavirus Times

Lying in bed this morning a little after 6A, Hannah and I are in no hurry to get up as our day is wide open now that the coronavirus has turned our world upside down.   On Day 3 (March 18, 2020) of me getting the importance to self-quarantine, to keep a social distance, and to not go out unnecessarily, Hannah says pillow to pillow how important it is to remain hopeful and to trust.  I am sensing she is reminding herself what she has always believed.

Attitude can carry the day during times of crisis.  I embrace the belief that these times don’t happen to us, they happen for us.

So how do Hannah and I remain hopeful in face of this unprecedented upheaval?  It’s early, but this is what we are trying now.

One, stay in contact by phone, email, and text with the good folks in our lives.

Two, think what we can do for others.

On a March 16, 2020 walk in York Harbor, Maine

Three, get our 10K steps by walking twice a day and soon biking once the temperature hits mid-fifties.

Four, write.  I draft for an hour or two every day and publish this blog to connect with the people in my life as well as to have a creative way to express myself.

Five, continue to sit evenings with Hannah sipping a glass of red wine.

Six, avoid cable news.

Seven, read.  Currently, I take all week to go through the Sunday New York Times, especially feasting on the Sunday Crossword Puzzle (yes, I do use my iPhone when I am stuck).  I have two books going, The Penny Poet of Portsmouth by Katherine Towler and The Obstacle is the Way: The Ancient Art of Turning Adversity to Advantage by Ryan Holiday.

Eight, listen to the inspirational talks from the ministers at Unity of Santa Barbara on YouTube.

Nine, have our grandsons read a book to us while we FaceTime.  Then we read a book to them since we are not going to visit them each week for a while as we usually do.

Ten, start our day with stretching exercises, then journaling for me, letter writing for Hannah, and finally meditating for twenty minutes.

Eleven, shower early in the day.

Twelve, listen to podcasts together, then discuss how we can continue to remain hopeful.

Thirteen, watch TV that inspires.  Currently, we are watching season 3 of This is Us.

Spark any ideas for you?  What do you do to remain hopeful?  Please comment in the space below so readers of this blog have more ideas from which to choose.

Dan and Hannah Want to Be a Part of the Global Solution to Coronavirus

I admit, my focus on the Coronavirus was way too narrow during the past weeks (early March 2020).  Then all hell broke loose in York, Maine and all over the country.

Hiking in Santa Barbara

Reasonably, I figured that, though I am in the danger zone being well north of 60 years old when it comes to the Coronavirus, I believe I am one healthy 72-year-old.  I pickle, rock the elliptical and recumbent bike at the gym, and recently hiked up and down a slew of canyons into the mountains above Santa Barbara.

I figure that if I get the Coronavirus, I’ll feel crappy and feverish for a while and then I’ll get over it.  A week ago, I even thought, how bad could it be if I just got the damn virus, and then was done with it.  I’m healthy enough to weather that storm.  Or so I think?

Even four days ago, I thought that Hannah and I would still go with our daughter Molly’s family of four as planned to Utah to see its national parks during school spring vacation week in April.

Then last Thursday night Molly got word that her Lexington, MA school district was shutting down for two weeks.  That got my attention.  I never saw that coming!   A helluva wake-up call.

State Rep Patty Hymanson

Then Friday an email from a family friend, Patty Hymanson, who is also an MD neurologist and the Maine State Representative for our part of York, advised against any unnecessary air travel within the US.  That was enough to kibosh the Utah trip.

The ellipticals at Coast Fitness in Kittery, Maine

But Hannah and I still went to our Coastal Fitness gym on Saturday.  At the gym, we play it safe by wiping down our elliptical and recumbent machines before and after using them.  The staff is wiping down more of the hard surfaces.  And, there are fewer people going to the gym these days, which reduces the possibility of infection, doesn’t it?  Now that I think of it, maybe fewer people should have been my first clue to rethink my choices.

Face Timing with our daughter Molly and her whole family Sunday night, we found the first seeds planted in rethinking our position about indoor pickleball and working out at the gym, that we promptly dismissed.

After indoor pickleball was cancelled early Monday morning (March 16, 2020), Molly texted us about the importance of social distancing in order to slow down the spread of the virus.  You see, if the rate of infection can be slowed, we the people can minimize the chance that the health care system will be overwhelmed by a spike in cases needing hospitalization.  More than just thinking of ourselves as individuals, we need to start thinking of our whole community and to “flatten the curve” of this potentially deadly virus.

Dan, Molly, Hannah, Max, Tip with Owen in front in Big Sur, California (February 2020)

Molly sent along a link to The Daily Podcast from the New York Times, Learning to Live with the Coronavirus.  It is compelling.  Click here to listen to this podcast.  It’s well worth your thirty minutes.

And just like that we gave up the gym, for the time being; we’ll walk in the neighborhood, at the beach, on a local golf course, or through the in-town woods and bike when it gets just a little warmer here on the coast of Maine.

I finally got it!  There’s a new normal that I am going to have to get used to.

Rather than focus on how the virus affects us as individuals, Hannah and I want to start being a part of the global effort to support the health care community in fighting this pandemic.

Join us.

Dan and Hannah With Their Son Will Hike the McMenemy Trail in Montecito, California

Before Hannah and I hit the beach this morning in Carpinteria, our son Will, still not adjusted to the three hour time change from the East Coast, gets up very early and runs five miles through predawn Carpinteria to the high school; he then warms down by walking with us for three miles on our Pacific sands.  Ah, to be healthy at 36!  And at 72!

Returning to the San Ysidro trailhead with Will this morning, we have a new trail in mind, the McMenemy Trail.  This trail has been inaccessible due to the devastating debris flow of 2018 and then the heavy rains of 2019 throughout Santa Barbara County.

Will and his sweet Mama

Shaded by Eucalyptus trees, the McMenemy (pronounce enemy with an M) Trail is soon a meandering series of switchbacks up the hillside with views to the Pacific.  As Will and Hannah hike ahead, I think of our third child.

Through his public school years, Will balanced sports, studies, and friendship without obsessing in any one area.  As a Division II basketball player at St. Michael’s College in Vermont, Will had his most fun athletically when he left the team his senior year and played intramurals with his buddies.

Brooks, the big brother

With his wife Laurel and our nearly two-year-old grandson Brooks, Will eagerly awaits May when he will double his fun as his family will grow in an unexpected way.

Since I was born without the grilling gene, much to Hannah’s chagrin (make that horror!), Will takes control of barbecuing, be it fish, burgers, steak tips, or chicken when we get together.  I figure, we each play to our strengths!  Do I hear an Amen!  Tonight in Carpinteria, he will lightly char chicken chunks to a barbecue crispness for our dining pleasure.

On his last visit home in York, Maine where Hannah and I still live since we moved from Arizona in 1982, Will looks for things to do to support us around the house when he comes home.  He gets right to mowing our lawn, solidifies our brick walk with polymeric paver sand, and puts cold pack tar from our garage to our sinking driveway to provide a smooth ramp in for our cars.  Yeah, he plays to his strengths.

Reminiscing done and now the steepness of the climb getting my full attention, I join Hannah and Will for views of the mansions of Montecito as well as the Pacific coast shoreline out to the Channel Islands.

The McMenemy is a moderate workout with a 1000’ of elevation gain into the Santa Ynez Mountains.  While the trail is mostly dirt at the lower elevations, it is rocky into the mountains.

 

Creek crossing

Once at the high point, we swiftly descend on the dusty and rocky trail back to the San Ysidro Creek.  Fording the miniscule creek, we retrace the first mile of the aforementioned San Ysidro Trail back to the trailhead.

Driving into downtown Montecito minutes away, we order take-out from Los Arroyos, our favorite Mexican restaurant in Santa Barbara County.  Today’s specials (take-out and specials are how Hannah and I roll) are chicken burritos (Dan) and steak burritos (Hannah and Will) topped with a chili-based mole (pronounce mol-lay) sauce has a chocolaty look.  The special includes ice tea, which both Will and Hannah claim is the best they have EVER tasted.

Proud parents

And by the way Will and Hannah each hit 30,000 steps!  It’s the least we can when Will comes to sunny California in January.

Dan and Hannah Make Things Happen for Their Son Will in California

Carpinteria morning

Environmentally-induced exercise is in our DNA.  Hannah and I began running regularly in 1973 at the start of the running boom.  After running five times per week for thirty years, we woke one morning to hear our creaky knees say no mas.  Our three kids, Molly, Robyn, and Will,seem to have the same genetic predisposition to move and groove.   As you all know, motion is lotion.

The beach at Carpinteria with Santa Ynez Mountains in the distance

Ergo, prior to our son Will heading to Anaheim, California to represent the athletic department of Ithaca College at the 2020 NCAA Convention, he takes the Amtrak north to spend a few days with his sunshine-induced, exercise-crazed parents.

Will and Hannah on the bluff above the beach in Carpinteria

Before breakfast, Hannah and I walk three miles at the Carpinteria Beach just 300 yards from our winter rental.  Will does us five better by running five miles before he joins us for a cool down.  He’s on his way to a day of 30,000 Fitbit steps!

After Hannah’s to-die-for buttermilk biscuits and my oatmeal with blueberries, chia seeds, flax, almonds, sunflower seeds, walnuts, protein powder, raisins, and cinnamon, Will is sufficiently fueled to hike the San Ysidro Canyon just twenty minutes away in Montecito.

Will and his mom on the San Ysidro Trail

The San Ysidro has become our trail of choice when we introduce visitors to hiking on the Central Coast of California.  On this typical January day in the 60s, we skirt the now bowl-shaped ravine, scoured by the January 2018 debris flow.

Will and his pop

Will and his mama

With Will in the lead, he takes it easy, well aware of the years of exercise recorded on his parents’ 72 year old bodies.  With a 1000’ of elevation gain to a dribbling waterfall this dry winter of 2020, the trail is always one we try to determine exactly where Hannah fell in 2017, the year before the catastrophic, channel-changing debris flow of 2018.  Check out the pictures below.

Though the landscape has changed because of the 2018 debris flow, we think this is where Hannah fell 25′ in 2017

 

After a short siesta, Will and I take our beach cruisers to ride the Carpinteria Beach at mid-tide.  Will can both bike on the wet sand and take selfies, a talent that he has not as yet passed on to his old man.

Dining on take-out of Los Arroyos grilled chicken burritos washed down by a Dos Equus, Will is no match for his three hour time change and the fact that he awoke at 3A in New York this morning; he heads for bed at 730P.

I am sure he is well aware that we will not let up and have a full day of activity for him tomorrow.  Oh yeah, mission accomplished; Will hits 32,000 steps, a current Rothermel Family personal best.