What Happens When Your Blog Becomes A Lesson Plan for Fifth Graders?

Tasha in her fifth grade classroom at Indian Lake Elementary School.

Tasha in her fifth grade classroom at Indian Lake Elementary School.

Our daughter, Tasha (Mrs. Cox), is a fifth grade teacher at Indian Lake Elementary School in Hendersonville, Tennessee where she teaches language arts, including writing. A month or so ago she called and asked if she could use one of my blogs in her writing class. “Of course,” I had replied. Parents often tell me they have shared some blog or the other I’ve written with their children. Most of my stuff is G-rated.

Tasha picked out a recent blog I had posted on Mt. Rainier National Park. It featured a picture of her brother, Tony, and of her son, Ethan, as well as lots of photos of the Park. I figured that was it. My work was done.

Mt. Rainier

Mt. Rainier

I should have known better.

When Peggy and I arrived in Hendersonville for Christmas, there was a two-inch stack of yellow Post-its waiting. Each one included a question from a student directed to me. It looked like I might spend Christmas answering them all. That would have been okay, but I also wanted to enjoy the season. Maybe jolly old St. Nick had brought me a rocket ship so I could zoom around the universe.

Tasha took pity. She organized the Post-its by category so I could answer a handful of questions instead of 5,472. She is good at organizing. She even wants to organize me. Lots of luck with that…

So here are the key questions and my answers. I thought the folks who follow my blog might find them interesting as well.

Why do you write a blog?

I started blogging with a specific purpose in mind. I wanted to write a book and a blog would introduce my writing to people. If they liked how I wrote and what I wrote about, they might like my book as well.

Since then blogging has also become valuable to me for other reasons. One, it allows my wife Peggy and I to share our travels and adventures with people who live all over the world. Two, I have made a lot of new friends who share their travels, photography, and ideas with me. Three, it helps me improve my writing.

Finally, I love to write and tell stories. Each morning I wake up excited to begin my blog.

Is blogging hard?

Yes and no. Since my blogs include both writing and photography, they take a fair amount of work. I often start by researching a subject I am going to blog about. Then I pick out photos. Peggy and I take a lot when we travel; I may have to choose ten from a hundred. I then use software to work over each photo to make it look the best I can. Finally I write and edit my blog. Peggy then does a final read-through to catch any errors I may have missed. Each blog takes from three to eight hours to produce.

Blogging can be a lot easier, however. I have friends who may put up a photo and write a few words about it, but still have a very good blog.

The platform I use for my blog, Word Press, takes care of all the technical aspects of blogging. If someone wants to start a new blog, all he or she has to do is go to Word Press and click on “get started.” Word Press will then take the person through the process.

Where do your ideas for a blog come from?

Since my blog focuses on travel, most of my ideas come from places we visit. I am always on the look out for good blog material. Maybe it will be a town we visit, or a national park, or an ancient site where Native Americans did rock art. When in Hendersonville over Christmas, my son-in-law, Clay (Tasha’s husband) took me out to eat outrageously hot (spicy) chicken that Nashville is famous for. My stomach is still complaining. I am going to blog about it.

Indian rock art found in New Mexico.

Indian rock art found in New Mexico.

But I don’t limit my writing to travel. Sometimes I write about when I was growing up. Or I may write about where I live in Oregon. A while back some baby goats were born next door. I visited the goats and wrote a blog about them. Recently I did a series of blogs about Tasha’s grandfather who flew airplanes across the Himalayan Mountains in World War II. He had to bail out of his airplane when it ran out of gas and walk out of a jungle that was known for its tigers and headhunters.

What is the favorite place you have ever been?

This is a really hard question because different places have different things to offer. How do you compare Dubrovnik, Croatia with the Redwoods of California, or a cruise through the Mediterranean Sea with an 18-day raft trip down the Colorado River? Or, to bring it closer to home, how do you compare Nashville, Tennessee with Chattanooga. Each is unique.

Dubrovnik, Croatia

Dubrovnik, Croatia

Tasha's mom, Peggy, stands next to a redwood tree.

Tasha’s mom, Peggy, stands next to a redwood tree.

My favorite type of travel is adventure travel. Peggy and I once took a boat ride up the Amazon River. This summer we were kayaking out among the Orca Whales off of British Columbia. I once climbed on my bicycle and did a 10,000-mile solo trip around the US that took me six-months. (I bicycled through Tennessee as part of my trip.)

If forced to choose, I would say my favorite place to be is out in the woods. I am never happier than when I put on a backpack and disappear into the wilderness. I’ve backpacked all over the US including Alaska and Hawaii. When I turned 60, I backpacked 360 miles through the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California from Lake Tahoe to Mt. Whitney.

Nearing the end of my journey 360 mile backpack trek, Mt. Whitney stands in the background.

Nearing the end of my  360 mile backpack trek, I pose in front of Mt. Whitney.

Tasha joined me along the way for one week of my trip.

Tasha joined me along the way for one week of my trip.

How do you become a writer?

Write! I am serious. The best thing you can do to become a writer is to write all of the time. Keep a journal; make up stories for your friends; start a blog. One girl wrote, “I am writing a book at home, and I don’t know if there is a specific age to start. Do you?” My answer is that now is the perfect time, whether you are in the fifth grade or your seventh decade.

Reading is also very important. Read authors who are known as good writers and pay attention to how they write. Also read authors in the genre you want to write. For example, if you want to write mysteries, read mysteries.

It is also important to pay attention to the details of writing, such as learning grammar, avoiding spelling errors and painting pictures with words. A couple of students wanted to know how I found adjectives to describe my travels. It was a good question. Was it a black cat that crossed my path or a cat as dark as a moonless night? Two of the best tools an author can have are an active imagination and a good thesaurus.

My thanks to the fifth graders at Indian Lake Elementary School for inspiring this blog. Good luck in your future writing efforts.

NEXT BLOG: I bite a chicken and the chicken bites back.

I Am Dreaming of a White Christmas…

White oaks ans cedar covered with snow on the Applegat River of southern Oregon.

White oaks and one of our cedars dressed in white as seen from our patio.

I grew up listening to Bing Crosby singing White Christmas. It was one of my mother’s all-time favorite carols and became one of mine as well. As hard as I wished for a white Christmas in Diamond Springs, however, we never had one. I didn’t in Liberia or Sacramento, either. Alaska was a different story. (Grin)

This past week, I was hoping, hoping, hoping to wake up and find the ground covered in white. The local weather forecasters even hinted that there might be some snow in our future. It wasn’t to be, however. Sigh. As this post goes up, we are off in Tennessee celebrating Christmas with our daughter and family. Who knows what is happening on the Upper Applegate River?

It does snow here, though, in the Oregon foothills of the Siskiyou Mountains. And when it does, I dash outside with my camera. With that in mind, I went searching through i-Photo looking for snowstorms of the past, so you—and I, could have a white Christmas. All of these photos are taken from our property. Enjoy.

Peggy and I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for joining us on our adventures this past year. We’ve enjoyed having you along. May all of our friends around the world have a joyous holiday season and a wonderful New Year.

Curt and Peggy

Upper Applegate Valley of southern Oregon covered in snow. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Another view from our patio looking out across the Applegate River south toward California.

Southern Oregon forest covered with snow. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

This time, the forest is decorated with a low cloud.

White oaks in the Applegate Valley of southern Oregon covered in snow. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Our white oaks covered in snow.

A close up.

A close up. Can’t you just feel it? This is the type of snow I put on my tongue and let melt.

View of driveway on Mekemson property in southern Oregon.

A view of our driveway with the snow coming down.

Snow falls on cedars in Upper Applegate Valley of southern Oregon.

Huge, white, fluffy Flakes.

Doe and buck black tail deer in snow in southern Oregon.

A doe and a buck black tail deer, part of the herd that owns our property, wonder what we are doing out in the snow storm.

And what is a snowstorm without a snowman? I called this guy George. He reminded me of someone.

And what is a snowstorm without a snowman? I called this guy George.

And this was Peggy's joyous creation. Happy Holidays everyone.

And this was Peggy’s joyous creation. Happy Holidays everyone.

 

 

Coming Soon… The Bush Devil Ate Sam— and Other Tales of a Peace Corps Volunteer in Liberia, West Africa

Cover for book by Curtis Mekemson.

It’s countdown time here at the Mekemson household. The Bush Devil Ate Sam will be available worldwide as an E-book by the end of they year. Below is a promotion piece I’ve written for the book.

 

Scruffy soldiers with guns pointed in all directions were scattered around my yard when I returned from teaching. “What’s up?” I asked in a shaky voice. Liberian soldiers were scary.

     “Your dog ate one of the Superintendent’s guinea fowl,” the sergeant growled. The Superintendent was the governor of Bong County. Apparently, he was quite fond of his fowl birds. But Boy, the perpetrator of the crime, didn’t belong to me— and he regarded my cat Rasputin as dinner.

     “Why don’t you arrest him,” I suggested helpfully. “Not him. You!” the sergeant roared.

In 1965 I left the chaotic world of UC Berkeley and the student revolution of the mid 60s to become a Peace Corps Volunteer in the even stranger world of Liberia, West Africa. The Bush Devil Ate Sam is the story of my experience. When I arrived, descendants of freed slaves from America ruled the country with an iron grip while the tribal people were caught in a struggle between modern culture and ancient Africa.

I quickly discovered that being a Peace Corps Volunteer was anything but dull. Army ants invaded our house. Students snacked on squirming termites for breakfast, and the young man who worked for me, announced that the scars running down his chest were the teeth marks of the Poro Bush Devil.

On the teaching front, my seniors took top national honors in social studies, but the national government determined that a student government I had created to teach students about democracy was a threat to Liberia’s one party state. I was told my students would be arrested and I should pack my bags.

These are only the beginning of the tales you will find in The Bush Devil Ate Sam.

Half of the profits from this book will be donated to Friends of Liberia, a nonprofit organization that has been in existence since 1980 and is made up of Returned Peace Corps Volunteers, people who have served on missions in Liberia, experts on international development, and Liberians. In addition to supporting the fight against Ebola, the goal of the organization is “to positively affect Liberia by supporting education, social, economic and humanitarian programs.”

Wandering the Far West in 2014… Interim 2

The cover: A tufa tower in Mono Lake with Sierra Nevada Mountains in Background. Eastern California.

The cover of our 2015 calendar: A tufa tower at Mono Lake with Sierra Nevada Mountains in background. Eastern California.

I am still working on my blog about Peg’s dad and his experience as a Hump pilot in World War II. In fact, Peggy’s brother, John Dallen Jr., is now helping. I’ve been learning a lot. For example, yesterday, I discovered the approximate location where the plane John Sr. was flying crashed in the Indian jungle. I find the new information fascinating, but the research is slowing down the post.

In the meantime, I decided to put up another interim post or two. Today is calendar day. Each year, Peggy and I create a calendar for our families using photos we have taken during the year. Family birthdays and anniversaries are included. This year we are mailing out 28 calendars, which include 80 birthdays and anniversaries.   It’s quite the production.

Since the photos we use on the calendar reflect this past year’s adventures and are among some of our favorites, I thought they would be fun to share on the blog. If you are a regular follower of Wandering through Time and Place, I am sure you will recognize several of them. All photos were taken by either Peggy or me. Enjoy.

January: Burney Falls. Northern California

January: Burney Falls. Northern California

February: Cactus flowers. Valley of Fire State Park, Southern Nevada.

February: Cactus flowers. Valley of Fire State Park, Southern Nevada.

March: Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area in southern Nevada.

March: Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area in southern Nevada.

April: Old road with April flowers in Death Valley National Park. Eastern California.

April: Old road with April flowers in Death Valley National Park. Eastern California.

May: Weathered buildings at Bodie State Historical Park, a ghost town in Eastern California.

May: Weathered buildings at Bodie State Historical Park, a ghost town in Eastern California.

June: Sierra Nevada Mountains form the East. Peggy and I have backpacked through these mountains numerous times.

June: Sierra Nevada Mountains from the East. Peggy and I have backpacked through these mountains numerous times.

July:: Mt. Rainier National Park. Washington State.

July:: Mt. Rainier National Park. Washington State.

August: Humpback whale dives when Peggy and I are on kayaking trip off Vancouver Island.

August: Humpback whale dives when Peggy and I are on kayaking trip off Vancouver Island.

September: Burning Man in remote northern Nevada desert.

September: Burning Man in remote northern Nevada desert.

October: Rainbow caught in waves on Oregon Coast.

October: Rainbow caught in waves on Oregon Coast.

November: Sunset in Sedona, Arizona.

November: Sunset in Sedona, Arizona.

December: Bell Rock in Sedona, Arizona.

December: Bell Rock in Sedona, Arizona.

 

 

Now Playing in Our Back Yard: A Turkey Fan Dance… An Interlude

Wild turkeys use their tails for a fan dance in southern Oregon. (Photo by Curtis Mekemson.)

Wild turkeys use their tails to perform a fan dance in our back yard.

It’s pouring down rain as I write. Northern California is getting slammed and some of the rain is slipping across the border into Southern Oregon. The Weather Channel has named our deluge THE MONSTER STORM. Get out your hammer, Noah. I sat in our sunroom (very much a misnomer today) and watched the rain fall while Peggy listened to Christmas carols and worked on a quilt inside.

Our deck reflects the rain.

Our deck reflects the rain. The last of fall adds a touch of color along the Applegate River.

Rain splattered windows provided a view of our cedar tree out of the sunroom.

Rain splattered windows provided a view of our cedar tree from the sunroom.

I was escaping from work, playing hooky. Things have become a bit hectic around here. Christmas and a trip to Tennessee are just around the corner. So I have been shopping, writing the Christmas letter, and putting together the annual family calendar.

I am also up to my eyeballs in writing an extensive blog about the time that Peggy’s father was forced to bail out of a damaged airplane into the jungle known for headhunters when he was flying supplies into China during World War II.

And last— very far from least, the final proofs on the book about my Peace Corps experience in West Africa are supposed to come in today or tomorrow. I can’t figure out whether I am more nervous or excited. The book should be available world-wide as an E-book by Christmas. So keep your eyes open for The Bush Devil Ate Sam. Several of you helped me choose the title. I will post how to obtain copies on my blog as soon as it is available. Peggy and I are donating half of whatever profits we receive to fighting Ebola in Liberia.

A carved rendition of a Liberian Bush Devil that I purchased from a leper in Ganta, Liberia in 1965.

A carved rendition of a Liberian Bush Devil that I purchased from a leper in Ganta, Liberia in 1965.

One result of all this activity is that my blog production has slowed down. So I was delighted this afternoon when a flock of turkeys that hangs out on our property came by and put on a fan dance with their tails. It was a blog-ready show! And the rain was taking a break. I grabbed my small S-100 Canon and ran out to join them.

Wild turkeys on display in southern Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

The turkeys line up for their dance.

Turkeys strut their stuff in southern Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Begin.

And strut their stuff.

And strut their stuff.

Doing the turkey trot.

Doing the turkey trot.

With tail feathers extended. Next blog: Peggy's dad crashes his air plane in a remote Burma jungle.

With tail feathers extended. Next blog: Peggy’s dad bails out into a remote Burma jungle during World War II.

A World War II Blimp Hangar, a Guppy, and a Cow Escape Route… The Oregon Coast

Eight blimps called this hangar in Tillamook, Oregon home during World War II. (Photo at Tillamook Air Museum.)

Eight blimps called this Tillamook, Oregon hangar home during World War II. (Photo at Tillamook Air Museum.)

I’d been through Tillamook, Oregon several times and never spotted the huge blimp hangar that was built there during World War II. It is plainly visible from the Highway 101. Who knows what I was thinking about when I made my way up and down the road? It must have been a heck of a daydream. I saw the hangar this time, however, and it was like, “Wow!” I immediately changed plans and decided to stay in the area for another day. The hangar was something I had to visit.

How I missed seeing this building is a mystery to me.

How I missed seeing this building is a mystery to me.

Today it serves as a partially abandoned air museum. (Most of its airplanes have been shipped off to Madras in eastern Oregon, where it’s hoped the vintage aircraft will survive better in a drier climate.) The facility is definitely worth a visit, however. The 170-foot high, 1000-foot long building was built to accommodate eight, 252 f00t K class blimps. One hundred and twenty-foot tall doors open up to a cavernous interior.

The Tillamook Air Museum shown here, served as a blimp hangar during World War II.

Here are the massive doors. The airplane in front is known as a Guppy. I’ll show you why below.

A view inside the Tillamook Air Museum that served as a blimp hangar during World War II.

This view inside the hangar gives an idea of its massive size.

This illustration inside the Air Museum provides a perspective on the various sizes of blimps. The blimps housed at the Tillamook Naval Air Station were K-Class.

This illustration inside the Air Museum provides a perspective on the various sizes of blimps. The blimps housed at the Tillamook Naval Air Station were K-Class.

Blimps played an important role in World War II: They protected convoys and shipping lanes by spotting German and Japanese submarines. The blimps’ ability to fly in almost any type of weather, hover, and provide unobstructed views of the ocean made them an excellent choice for submarine patrol. The Tillamook facility was responsible for the coastline between British Columbia and northern California. Nine other naval air stations covered the rest of the west and east coasts of the US.

This illustration at the museum shows where blimp naval air stations were located during World War II.

Another illustration at the museum showed where blimp naval air stations were located during World War II. Sorry about the quality, but I found the illustration interesting. The dark symbols represent blimp hangars still in existence.

An introductory film and numerous World War II era photos at the museum provide an overview of the hangar’s history. I also found other interesting information on the war including posters, balloon bombs and a cow escape route.

World War II Woman Ordinance Worker poster found at the Tillamook Air Museum.

Among the other World War II items found at the museum were a number of WW II posters including this one for WOW, a Women Ordinance Worker.

The first ICBM? As the Japanese war effort was reversed and the US began its air raids on the country, Japan initiated a desperate ploy:  the use of  the jet stream to carry explosive-loaded balloons 6200 miles to the Pacific Coast.

Speaking of ordinance, this fading photo of a balloon has a story to tell; it may have been the first ICBM. As Japan faced defeat in 1944, it initiated a desperate ploy: the use of the jet stream to carry explosive-laden balloons 6200 miles to the Pacific Coast of the US and Canada. Some 6000 were launched but only 300 reached their destination, and they fell on rain-soaked forests, causing little damage.

I was amused when I came across a report on the cow escape route. Tillamook takes its cows seriously. Some of the best dairy stock in the US is located in the area. So it isn’t surprising that the local farmers decided their cows needed an escape route in case the Japanese invaded. Woodsmen were called upon to plan out paths through the forest. Using old logging roads, deer trails, and hunters’ routes, a cow getaway plan was soon organized.

No one asked the cows what they thought. Given that their idea of exercise was to leisurely travel from well-stocked barns to grass filled pastures, they may have preferred to hang around and provide the Japanese with milk, butter and cheese rather than hightail it through the rugged wilderness with udders bouncing.

The guppy airplane at the Tillamook Air Museum.

It isn’t too much of a jump to move from cows to a guppy is it?  One look at the front of this cargo plane explains its name. The Guppy is part of the Air Museums collection.

Inside the guppy.

Inside the Guppy.

Building the two hangars at Tillamook was a massive undertaking. Unstable ground, a ferocious winter, and the use all provided challenges.

Building the two hangars at Tillamook was a massive undertaking. Unstable ground, a ferocious winter, and the use of wood instead of steel for the structure all provided challenges. Steel was being used at the time for other war purposes. (Photo from Tillamook Air Museum.)

A blimp is launched from the Tillamook Air Station during World War II.

A blimp is launched from the Tillamook Air Station during World War II. Note the men holding ropes for a size perspective. Missions could last as long as 15 to 20 hours and some blimps were equipped to stay out as long as 59 hours and travel over 1400 miles. (Photo from Tillamook Air Museum.)

A final view of blimps arrayed outside of the Tillamook hangar during World War II.

A final view of blimps arrayed outside of the Tillamook hangar during World War II. Next blog: I find a surprise in the museum that takes me back to World War II and my wife’s father. (Photo from Tillamook Air Museum.)

 

A Wild Ocean and Crashing Waves… The Oregon Coast

Rainbow created in waves crashing along the Oregon Coast at Depoe Bay. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

A moment of sun creates a rainbow in waves crashing along the Oregon Coast.

A winter storm on the Oregon Coast is a sight to see. In fact, motels along the coast promote storm watching. Here’s one such pitch: “Sit back and relax in your cozy room by the fireplace and watch through your huge picture window as furious waves pound the rocks below.” And furious they are.

A storm was raging when I drove down the coast a few weeks ago. In between torrential rainfall, the sun would peek out, and I would stop to admire the crashing waves. I didn’t have a huge picture window, so I admired the waves as they were meant to be admired, up close and personal. Following are several photos I took.

Dramatic waves crash ashore on the Oregon coast. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Very few shows are as dramatic as ocean waves during a storm.

Powerful waves crash ashore on the Oregon coast. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Rules numbers 1 and 2 when enjoying waves like these: Keep a distance, and never, never turn your back.

Spouting Horns at Depoe Bay shoot waves into the air. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

One of the best know spots for watching waves on the Oregon Coast is in the community of Depoe Bay where the ocean shoots through lava tubes and is thrown high into the sky through what is known as the Spouting Horns.

View of Spouting Horns at Depoe Bay on the Oregon Coast. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Another view of the Spouting Horns. I could almost see a ghostly face staring back at me.

View of waves thrown into the air at Spouting Horns, Depoe Bay, Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

And a third view.

Wave retreats at Depoe Bay, Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

The wave’s energy expended by crashing against the rocks, the water flows back into the ocean.

The Devi's Churn on the coast of Oregon. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

It’s known as the Devil’s Churn. Waves come driving in from the ocean and are forced up a narrow channel, turning the water into a frothy, whipped cream like texture.

Devil's Churn on Central oregon coast showing whip cream like texture of waves. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

A close up of Devil’s Churn showing the whip cream like texture of the waves.

Devil's Churn on Oregon coast whips waves into a froth. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

The Churn at work.

A final view of the Devil's Churn.

A final view of the Devil’s Churn. Next blog: A hangar large enough to accommodate eight blimps in Tillamook, Oregon.

 

When Orcas Go Swimming By… British Columbia Sea Kayak Adventure: The Conclusion

Orca family in Johnstone Strait, British Columbia.

We dropped what we were doing to watch the orca family pass by our campsite. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

“Orcas!” Kimberly cried out, and we all went dashing for the beach with our cameras. Kimberly liked to perch on convenient logs and rocks, looking out at the Johnstone Strait. It gave her a front row seat on the action. I get it. I can stare out at the Pacific Ocean for hours— watching the waves roll in, listening to the lonely calls of seagulls, admiring the crazy antics of pelicans, and, yes, looking for whales.

Looking for orcas in Johnstone Strait, British Columbia.

Perched on a rock, Kimberly keeps a sharp eye out for orcas.

We had barely arrived at our campsite when the first family of orcas came swimming by. We were still in the middle of tucking our kayaks away in the forest above the tide line. Everything was dropped, including the kayaks. There were whales to see.

Sea Kayak Adventures group watches orcas in Johnstone Strait, BC. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

The rallying cry of “Orcas!” sent everyone scrambling for a view.

A baby orca surfaces in Johnstone Strait, BC.

A baby orca surfaces. Our reward for being vigilant. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

This was our last campsite before heading home. Once again we had returned to Vancouver Island. We were located at Sea Kayak Adventures’ Little Kai Camp and would be there for two nights. Seeing orcas on our arrival was a good omen. We were happy campers. Not even the surround sound of fishing boats or a deluge of cold rain could dampen our spirits.

Beach at Little Kai Camp on Vancouver Island. and Johnstone Strait.

The beach at Little Kai camp.

Who can complain when surrounded by good people and beautiful scenery? But our trip was drawing to a close. After several more good meals, another kayak adventure, an evening of fun and story telling, and more orcas, it was time to pack up our kayaks and paddle back to Telegraph Cove. An orca gave us a final British Columbia send-off.

Our group works its way south along Vancouver Island. Shortly afterwards the skies opened up and dumped buckets of rain on us.

Our group works its way south from Little Kai Camp along Vancouver Island. Shortly afterwards the skies opened up and dumped buckets of rain on us. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Driftwood on Johnstone Strait, Vancouver Island. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Back at camp, I found interesting driftwood.

Heart shaped rocks found on Little Kai Beach off of Johnstone Strait. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

We were amused to find that previous kayakers had collected numerous heart-shaped rocks off of Little Kai Beach.

Dinner is served on Sea Kayak Adventures' trip on Johnstone Strait.

Dinner is served.

Fishing boats shattered the quiet of our campground. BC fisheries had declared an eight hour fishing season to reduce the number of salmon trying to get up streams.

Fishing boats shattered the quiet of our campground. BC fisheries had declared an eight-hour fishing season to reduce the number of salmon trying to get up streams. Boats came from everywhere. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

We wrapped up our final evening with a campfire, story telling, songs and a skit.

We wrapped up our last evening with a campfire, story telling, songs and skits.

The final morning we posed for an 'official' group photo.

Our ‘official’ group photo.

Bear on Johnstone Strait, BC.

Kayaking back to Telegraph Cove, we came on a black bear. We weren’t able to determine how he managed to get the stick lodged in his fur. Was it the shaft of an arrow? (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Since we had begun our kayak adventure searching for orcas, it is appropriate that I end this series with a picture of the final orca we saw. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Since we had begun our kayak adventure searching for orcas, it is appropriate that I end this series with a picture of the final orca we saw. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

 

Free Corky— and Stay Out of the Death Vortex… British Columbia Kayak Adventure

 

Sea Kayak Adventures likes to stop for lunch at the beach next to Orca-Lab on Hanson Island.

Sea Kayak Adventures likes to stop for lunch at the beach next to Orca-Lab on Hanson Island. One of the researcher’s cabins is on the left. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

“Paddle, Curt and Peggy, paddle!” Julia yelled at us across the water. The tides of Johnstone Strait between Vancouver Island and mainland British Columbia can be ferocious. And we were caught in the current— the death vortex as the guides described it. We had been futzing along behind the group, happily paddling along, and matching strokes. Matching strokes is more efficient in kayaking, and it is certainly more aesthetic. I doubled my efforts and so did Peggy, paddling fast and digging deep, not concerned about style, driven by adrenaline. What seemed like an hour later (mere minutes), we were out of trouble. Afterwards, I continued to be unaesthetic, and we moved up to the head of the line.

The day had started out foggy. In fact the guides were worried about whether the fog would clear. As I mentioned before, sharing a narrow strait in zero visibility with huge cruise ships is at the top of every kayaker’s bad-idea list. The sun came out, however, and, beyond being caught in the death vortex, we had a great day of kayaking. The highlight, from my perspective, was visiting the site of the Orca-Lab.

A side view of the Orca-Lab and an out buildings. Tents were located behind these buildings, which I assumed housed some of the volunteers who come fro all over the world to work at the research facility.

A side view of the Orca-Lab and an out building. Tents were located behind these buildings, which I assumed housed some of the volunteers who come from all over the world to work at the research facility.

Some 150 orcas live and travel in Johnstone Strait and Blackfish Sound during the summer and fall months when the salmon are running. Orcas are quite social with the primary grouping built around the mother. She and her children stay together for life. Maternal groups form pods of extended family members and, beyond that, join together in clans, who more or less speak the same language: they share common calls.

Dr. Paul Spong established Orca-Lab on Hanson Island in 1970. It has been functioning ever since to study the local whale population. A number of hydrophones (underwater listening devices) are positioned around the Orcas’ territory to listen in on their ‘discussions.’ These sonic recordings are supplemented by visual sightings of orcas as they pass by Orca-Lab and from other land-based locations in Johnstone Strait.

Julia drops a hydrophone into the water to see if we can pick up any orca calls. Is that a huge orca photo bombing the picture under her arm??? No, unfortunately, it was a view of a peninsula modified by Julia's shirt. I was excited for a second, though.

Julia drops a hydrophone into the water to see if we can pick up any orca calls. Is that a huge orca photo bombing the picture next to her waist??? Nope, it was a view of a peninsula modified by Julia’s shirt. I was excited for a second, though… (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

In addition to Orca-Lab’s ongoing scientific studies, it works to improve whale habitat, free captive whales, and oppose whale hunting. Number one on its “Free Willy” type campaign is Free Corky. She was captured when she was four years old and has now been in captivity for 42 years. You are more likely to know her as Shamu of Sea World in San Diego. Orca-Lab wants her reunited with her family.

A frontal view of the Orca Lab with a Welcome Home Springer sign. Springer is the poster child of reuniting orca whales with their families. Orphaned as a child, she wandered far from home and begin approaching fishing boats for companionship. Close to starving, she was captured, fed and returned to her pod where family members adopted her— and taught her to stay away  from fishing boats. Each year, she returns to Johnstone Strait.

A frontal view of the Orca Lab with a Welcome Home Springer sign. Springer is the poster child of reuniting orca whales with their families. Orphaned as a child, she wandered far from home and began approaching fishing boats for companionship. Close to starving, she was captured, fed, and returned to her pod where family members adopted her— and taught her to stay away from fishing boats. Each year, she returns to Johnstone Strait. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Orca-Lab beach on Hanson Island, British Columbia. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

There was some very impressive driftwood on the beach at Orca-Lab, including this massive example. One might assume there were some large trees around…

Giant cedar tree on Hanson Island near the Orca Lab in Johnstone Strait, British Columbia.

We went for a walk and found this giant tree that the folks at Orca-Lab call Grandma Cedar.

Grandma Cedar on Hanson Island BC near the Orca-Lab. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

I took this photo of Grandma Cedar looking up.

Some photographers will go to any length to capture a photo of Grandma Cedar, as David demonstrates here.

Some photographers will go to any length to capture a photo of Grandma Cedar, as David demonstrates here.

On the way back to the beach, I found some strange mushrooms growing along side the trail. On close inspection I discovered they were carved out of wood. My thoughts: the folks at Orca Lab were having a slow day.

On the way back to the beach, I found some strange mushrooms growing alongside the trail. On close inspection, I discovered they were carved out of wood. My thoughts: the folks at Orca-Lab were having a slow day.

Back at the beach I found smiling faces— Wendy and Dennis.

Back at the beach I found smiling faces— Wendy and Dennis…

Dead stump with green growth on beach next to Orca-Lab on Hanson Island, Johnstone Strait, British Columbia.

A stump with green hair. Could it be Treebeard of Hobbit fame… (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Driftwood found next to Orca-Lab on Hanson Island, British Columbia. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

This entwined piece of driftwood…

Old driftwood and rope on Hanson Island near the Orca-Lab.

An interesting combination of old wood and rope…

Sea kayaks of Sea Kayak Adventures waiting on Hanson Island next to Orca-Lab.

And our waiting kayaks. Our’s is third from the left. I was surprised she hadn’t escaped given that we had tried to dump her in the death vortex. It was time to saddle up and head for our last campground. Next Blog: I conclude the kayak adventure in British Columbia.

The Monster on the Rock— And Sasquatch… British Columbia Kayak Adventure: Part 4

First Nation people had chosen this rock on Berry Island in Blackfish Sound, British Columbia as the location for a pictograph warning people to stay off of the island.

First Nation natives had chosen this rock on Berry Island in Blackfish Sound, British Columbia as the location for a pictograph warning people to stay off of the island. The dark line marks how high the tide climbs.

The third day of our kayak trip was a ‘layover day.’ It was a layover in the sense that we would be spending two nights at our camp on Compton Island, not that we would be sleeping in and relaxing. There was kayaking to do. Berry Island and a pictograph was our morning destination. We found the pictograph on a tall rock cliff that hung over the water.

Our layover was not designed to be a kick-back and relax day. Here we are carrying our kayaks down to the water. The number of people required to move Peggy and my kayak suggests how heavy it was.  (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Our layover was not designed to be a kick-back day. Here we are carrying our kayak down to the water. The number of people required to move it suggests how heavy it was. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Extreme high and low tides in Johnstone Strait meant we often had to carry the kayaks a fair distance to water.

Extreme high and low tides in Johnstone Strait meant we often had to carry the kayaks a fair distance to water. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Stretching across the rock face, ancient First Nation natives had painted a monster to warn people away from Berry Island, where they buried their dead. It was an early no-trespassing sign— probably implying that the monster would eat you if you landed. I had seen its modern equivalent in west Texas, except there, the sign had declared that trespassers would be shot. Such admonitions make one hesitate; at least they do me. When my choice is to be eaten by a monster or shot by a Texan, I choose neither.

Mary and Rod, two of our kayakers from Idaho, paddle up close to get a look at the pictograph. It was above there right paddles on the shaded rock face. Can't see it? Don't feel bad; neither could I. (Photograph by Peggy Mekemson.)

Mary and Rod, two of our kayakers from Idaho, paddle up close to get a look at the pictograph(s). One is barely visible above the right paddles. Look closely and you will see two round eyes. Another is above the left paddles— red, round and also barely visible. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Rod seemed quite happy with what he saw, however. Or maybe he was happy the monster chose not to eat him.

Rod seemed quite happy with what he saw, however. Or maybe he was happy the monster chose not to eat him.

Our guide, Nick, told us another story; this one had been passed on by the kayaking community. A lone, female kayaker had stopped to camp on Berry Island and had set up her tent for the night. Shortly afterwards, a boulder went flying by her head. She neither saw nor heard anyone, but another boulder came whizzing past. It was time to vacate the premises. She grabbed her kayak and paddled away as more boulders landed nearby. When nothing else had been hurled at her for two hours, she paddled back in, grabbed her tent (rather quickly, I suspect) and hightailed it. Back in town, the locals told her that Berry Island was also known as Sasquatch Island. Had Bigfoot been lobbing rocks at her? The Sasquatch/Bigfoot Research Organization claims this is a common practice of the big, hairy fellow. See here.

Heading back for camp and lunch, our guide, Julia, found a starfish that made Bigfoot seem normal in comparison. Julia handled it with aplomb, sort of. As for lunch, we ate the delicious salmon that I blogged about in my last post.

Starfish in Blackfish Sound, British Columbia.

This amorphous mass is actually a starfish. Here it rests on our guide Julia’s kayak skirt.

Julia picked the starfish up to show us. I think there was a slight 'ewww' factor. There certainly would have been for me.

Julia picked the starfish up to show us. I think there was a slight ‘ewww’ factor. There certainly would have been for me. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Sea Kayak Adventures cooks up a delicious lunch of freshly caught salmon at its camp on Compton Island, British Columbia.

The fresh salmon delivered to us the night before by a fisherman, ended up as a delicious lunch. We weren’t the only ones interested in the salmon, however…

Bald eagle on Compton Island in British Columbia.

Each bite was carefully monitored. This bald eagle had already eaten the salmon’s guts, and he was eager for more fish. Sushi would be fine.

In the afternoon, we went searching for whales again. Along the way, Quy taught us how to blow kelp like a trumpet, and we saw a mysterious yacht that looked like it was straight out of a sci-fi flick.

Kelp beds off Vancouver Island in Blackfish Sound, British Columbia.

Floating kelp provided something of a challenge for kayaking through, but it also provided an opportunity.

Quy taught us how to cut up the kelp so it could be blown like a trumpet.

Quy taught us how to cut the kelp so it could be blown like a trumpet. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Here Lindy takes a turn. Peggy had also tried her luck. My advice to them: they should keep their day jobs.

Here Lindy takes a turn. Peggy had also tried her luck. My advice to the two of them: they should keep their day jobs.

Nick looks on in amazement at the performance.

Nick looked on in amazement at the performances.

The whales kept their distance, but a curious seal stopped by to check us out. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

The whales kept their distance, but a curious seal stopped by to check us out. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

This futuristic yacht didn't look nearly as friendly as the seal. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

This futuristic yacht didn’t look nearly as friendly as the seal. At first we thought it belonged to the military. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Blackfish Sound in British Columbia.

I liked the contrast here between water, clouds, and islands. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Back in camp, Mary celebrated her birthday...

Back in camp, Mary celebrated her birthday…

Peggy and Curtis Mekemson on Compton Island off of Vancouver Island, British Columbia.

Peggy and I shared a quiet moment…

Evening on Compton Island, Blackfish Sound, British Columbia. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

And evening settled in. Next Blog: Peggy and I get caught in a powerful current.