Gothics Peak in the Adirondacks on the August long weekend

Here’s the pattern – I register for a marathon, try to run, can’t, realize I won’t be ready and register for a later one in a different city – for the last four marathons. And I have just changed my latest registration mid-October in Hartford, Connecticut to a half marathon, knowing that if I did the full 42 km I would end up drooling, injured and incoherent. My breath, such as it was, seems to have deserted me so I will walk/run the Hartford 21 km and simply consider it training for the next upcoming adventure…

This November Jim and I (we each have own place and we no longer try to define our relationship but it runs deep and is exclusive) are going to Nepal to climb in the Himalayas to base camp of Everest. I am excited; and given my recent lack of breath, somewhat anxious, but mostly excited. I will definitely blog regularly en route when I can. We have been going to the Adirondacks every couple of weeks to train. Last week we peaked Dix Mountain. The evening before we hiked in about ten km, set up camp at dark and the next day we went straight up that crazy, steep mother for 16 km with fully loaded packs. I thought I was going to die. I kept choking on bugs – I think they would get caught in the vortex of my ragged breathing and get sucked down. Jim, on the other hand, was fine.

Our daughter, Sabrina, and her boyfriend Ben trekked up Gothics Mountain with us a few weeks ago. They were such good company and we had a great time.  Sabrina has just decided to do the 2016 Ironman in New Zealand. I will definitely be sitting that out but what fun it will be to watch her. In the meantime, I will keep trying to muster through my five km loop.

In some hive bathroom in bee language it is scrawled “for a good time visit Arlene’s deck”. For the first time in my life I am gardening.

I don’t count the overgrown jumble when I lived in my cabin in La Salette when “watering and weeding” were just some Russian words.  I did weed my small effort once with a whipper snipper but it didn’t appear to help.  In the fall I was a devastated bride left standing on a barren harvest alter. I have enjoyed the fruits of Jim’s bountiful and beautiful gardens in years gone by but it has been many, many moons since flowers and fresh produce have been grown at 211 Keays Road in Balderson.  And so with hope in my heart, a shovel in hand, and soil from the old manure pile, I started to dig and plant and dig and plant and dig and plant – with the gentle moderation that is my way. (Please stop laughing).

But behold  –  I have beautiful flowers in terra-cotta pots on the deck, vegetables in raised beds on the concrete pad, blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, raspberries, cranberries,  grapes, rhubarb, herbs and a multitude of other flowering perennials bordering my deck along with planted shrubbery in the front. I can’t seem to remember the names of most of what I have planted, even those that I have bought and paid for (note: if you are a gardener and your perennials happen to need thinning – please don’t throw out the thinnings). I find deep satisfaction in pulling out weeds by their roots (except when they are actually plants) and with the exception of the edibles, I have a hard time remembering what is planted where. I don’t know what any one flower will look like until it blooms so a wander through the garden is always filled with muted anticipation and wonder  (Hopefully not the same type of wonder that is found in Alzheimer’s).

But it needs to be said, I could never have done it without help.  Thank you Glenda for the perennials and for getting me started; thank you Max and Colin for your awesome digging muscles, and a big thank you to Jim for building the raised beds and the ongoing tutelage and help.  So far in my short gardening career what I have learned is this:  – rain is good, very very good, fresh basil is amazing in creamed seafood, finding zucchini is like Christmas every other day, I don’t have a shred of instinctual gardening ability, good dirt is something to be valued and bees really do like flowers.

Nationals have come and gone and what an experience it was!

A heartfelt thank-you for all your wonderful support. The good wishes, attending the triviar night, donating items for the silent auction, and the financial contributions were so very much appreciated by me, Jim, and most especially Max. Without it, he would not have been able to go to Saskatoon. Here is a brief rundown of how he did.

Max won his first match.  They were fairly evenly suited and it was a great fight. (the fellow that he beat finished up placing forth). Max’s second match was to the son of a five-time Olympian and the Romanian champion. (in the picture) Max was doing awesome and holding his own but in the end, he got caught in a hold and ended up passing out. His opponent continued on to claim the silver medal.  Max’s third round was unfortunately only twenty minutes later. Even though he had not fully recovered he was somehow still dominating (these guys were all so big) after rolling the guy seven times. His was almost assured a win but during a split second lapse in concentration he got pinned and lost the match.  Max finished up ranking 8^th out of many in the weight category above his own (his weight category was cut). He gave it 100% leaving nothing in the ring and was satisfied with his performance. You win some, you lose some. Overall, a character building experience.

My catch phrase that I have always said to the kids during stressful performance situations – “it’s not like you’re going to get beat up or anything” – didn’t apply in this case (as Max dryly informed me). It’s all well and good to go toe to toe against muscled mutants ten pounds heavier than you are who are trying to beat the snot out of you (at a national  competition in front of crowds of people), concentrate on intricate technique and speed while being contorted into positions that defy logic and sense – but really, it’s very hard on the mother! At the end of it all my throat hurt and my nerves were shot. Just sayin’.

He wasn’t giving up. Last time he almost had him and he just knew he could do it this time. The pain in his shoulder and body was apparent to everyone watching. It was a hell of a fight… I could see that Max was also exhausted and winded. They both wanted it. At previous tournaments Max had beaten Devin without much ado. But something had definitely changed. At supper, later that day, going over the day’s excitement at EOSSA Wrestling (Eastern Ontario Secondary School championships)in Kingston last week we realized what it was.

Max has never understood or obeyed (to his coaches’ extreme displeasure) when he was told not to quickly pin his opponent during an invitational tournament. “Practice your technique,” his coach would say. But it wasn’t until after Max went to the Amateur Wrestling Provincials in St. Catherine’s (where he won a silver medal), a tournament with a real title that he understood about practice tourneys.  So, at the next invitational, he decided to practice his technique. But during a match with Devin he realized at the beginning of the 3^rd and final round, he was down 8 nothing and was going to lose.  Practice time was over. Devin came into the ring with the biggest, widest smile ever; he was finally going to beat Max. Max pinned him and the match was over.

Which brings me back to EOSSA…the next time Max and Devin went toe to toe. In Devin’s mind he almost had Max the last time. He wrestled with a determination and confidence that drove him to new heights.  Max was so impressed and said that it will make them both better wrestlers. Later that day at a different match, a grade twelve who dominated Max, lost his confidence when Max got some awesome moves and points in.  My boy won the match and won gold. Guts, grit and confidence! Making a difference for better or worse!

So now Max is off to OFSAA (the Ontario High School Championship) in Guelf next week and Saskatoon the first week in April for the Amateur Wrestling Nationals. I am having a couple of fundraisers, one in Ottawa for the team and one in Perth for Max. They are trivia nights which you don’t need to be good at trivia to have a ton of fun, nobody is put on the spot, nobody is embarrassed. Come on your own (you can be put with others to make a table) or with friends, family or coworkers. The more the better!  $10.00 a head, chips and squares provided. (That would do it for me).  The Perth event is at the Civitan Club, Sunday March 24^th at 2:00 pm.  The Ottawa event is at Fisher Heights Community Place, 31 Sutton. March 30^th, 7:00 pm. If you can’t make it but would like to participate in the form of sponsoring Max a few bucks all help will be greatly and gratefully appreciated.

Max Doyle

211 Keays Road

Balderson, Ontario

K0G 1A0

In the checkout line at the grocery store yesterday, a frail and ancient looking woman was standing behind me. She slowly loaded her little container of yogurt, a package of dark rye crackers, a one-litre carton of milk and two apples onto the belt. I thought about the enormous amounts of fruits and vegetables, the vats of milk, the stacks of yogurt tubs and all the other food stuffs that I regularly buy and cook to nourish my family.

Something about the little old lady’s very small purchases made me feel sad. It seemed so lonely and declining.  I have always enjoyed feeding my family and it struck home how that need is drastically shrinking as fewer of us live here.  Appropriately adjusting what I buy and cook is a challenge. The fact that in 3 ½ years Max will be gone and I will be eligible for the seniors discount at Shoppers is just plain crazy talk. Looking at the woman behind me, I felt like I was looking at what was ahead of me.

And then I adjusted my lens. I have always wanted to live to be a grand centurion. I think that would be exciting. And I want to be tooling around buying my own groceries (but not with a drivers licence), living in my own place, feeding and caring for myself, presumably like the woman standing in line behind me.  Having reasonable health and mobility means you are one of the fortunate, and adventure is available if you chose it.

Don’t get me wrong, getting old sucks – everybody says so.  Reading glasses are already my best friend, recklessness is a thing of the past because when I get hurt it is MONTHS before it stops hurting.  And God help me if I need to sneeze without warning. But sure as the leaves are turning, time stops for no-one and adapting to life’s changing seasons is fundamental. So when the leaves fall and you can’t glory in their beauty any more – rake a pile and play in them.  Alone doesn’t mean lonely and decline doesn’t have to be a downward spiral. There are many journeys ahead. And I do love the journey.  And as far as buying groceries for one –well, come what may.

When Mom died I buried myself emptying out closets, tearing up musty carpets decades old and sanding down the original pine floors in my house (many rooms at the same time I might add). When Dad died, a century of wallpaper was ferociously stripped and I re-papered (again, many rooms at the same time). Apparently, my therapy for loss is to throw myself, arms flailing, into something way beyond rational process and I appear to be in this place again.  I have renters now so tearing apart my house isn’t an option and I don’t feel like it anyway. (Actually, I have gotten darn near obsessively tidy).

I want to make quilts – detailed patchwork quilts. Which is bizarre as ‘detail’ generally has no place in my vocabulary. My quilts in the past have been big, fast blocks and like my cooking, I don’t measure…at all.

So I buy a cutter, quilting ruler, board, quilting book, and some material. (That is a first and due to the cost, a last). The woman suggested classes and advised me to take home little samples and take some time to think about it. So funny. “No thanks, I need it all now,” I respond. (She looked a little scared). So here I am measuring and cutting and sewing with a vengeance. Many of the 2 inch squares and triangles have gotten way smaller and it doesn’t look at all like it does in the book. I did finally get my reading glasses out as I was tired of aiming the thread in the general direction of the needle and  repeatedly managing to stab my finger checking to see if the thread made it through. sigh.

I will keep at it – patching together the pieces.  And I will try to slow down just enough.

Part of the definition of adventure means you don’t know what’s around the next corner.  My blog says “Arlene’s adventure’s in life and around the world”. Some  adventures in life  are more like challenges in life.

Because I have been posting so regularly (and have fully enjoyed sharing this adventure with you), I feel that I must make public a private conclusion. Jim and I have decided to separate. We are supportive, concerned and compassionate of each other and the hard time we are each going through right now.  Our Belize adventure was planned together and we don’t have the heart or desire to continue it without the other. So we are coming home.

While I generally appreciate all the comments and feedback, I respectfully request that you don’t comment on this.  I am sure that all of your gracious thoughts, concerns, and prayers are with both of us and I thank you.

I will continue to post my adventures but maybe not for a little bit.

Greetings. Just to let you know that I will be off line for a bit. No need to worry. Nobody is unhealthy, maimed or mugged. Thanks for your patience.

Arlene

We haven’t tried the scuba diving yet but snorkeling right off of our dock is like Disney World for the aspiring reef junkie.  The water is warm and clear and marine life is plentiful. It is especially interesting to go with Jim who is a passionate and knowledgeable salt water enthusiast.

I had no idea there was such a bounty of colorful life right under the surface in shore water.  We have seen blue tangs, blenny’s, bassets, and barracudas, cuddle fish and corals. The list goes on. Sargent Major damsels, sea urchins, anemones and puffer fish flourish.  Fist-sized hermit crabs crawl along undulating sea grass. On supporting dock posts there is a whole microsystem of life; sea sponges in purple, brown, blue and yellow, schools of ultra-tiny fish, red and white striped banded coral shrimp, and sea fans.

We gently floated into an enormous school of sparkly small bluish green fish that encircled us as they darted about. Then some bigger ones swooped in chasing them and they swam for their life.  I was in King Triton’s kingdom with the possibility of seeing anything. Jim saw a big nurse shark and an eel right off the dock.  As we were wrapping up our swim, a three foot long sting ray swam right past us. None of these wonderful sea creatures are interested in us; we are the lucky observers in their world.   

Soon we will go on a scuba trip but snorkeling off the shore is great practice (and free). Even though the reef is only a few hundred meters away, we don’t swim out there as the area between us is a marine highway. The risk of getting smoked by a boat is real and many swimmers have not lived to tell the tale.  

Max got a haircut yesterday. Here in San Pedro almost every second house is a small store that sells bananas, cabbage, tortillas or something. It’s not unusual for a place to sell unrelated bits and pieces. For instance, the barber cut hair in a shop that sold new and used shoes and clothing and the entire store measured, in my generous estimation, approximately 8’ x12’.

The barber had a chair and a mirror but no scissors. He used clippers and an actual (new) razor blade that he carefully took out of a brown paper wrapper. He was quiet and did meticulous job.  While he worked, the enchanting young owner, a 21 year old from Dubai, eagerly chatted.

The youngest of a poor family with 5 brothers and 4 sisters, he moved to Belize City two years ago because of the bad economy in India. He bought some used clothing and peddled it door to door, and then he bought a bike. His name is Lucky (I wonder if it’s an anglicised version of his Indian name or whether he chose it when he moved here). Six months ago he opened his store here in San Pedro (Belize City was too dangerous) and slept and cooked in the large closet of his store until he met the barber.  Now the barber works there on commission, they share a house and with the barber’s wife and brother in law, divide the $800.00 ($400.00 U.S.) rent per month between them. Lucky said he is happy to have a kitchen because he cooks very good Indian food and would like to open a little restaurant when he can. He is trying to learn Spanish and cheerfully showed me a ragged little paperback where he was writing in the Spanish translation beside conversational sentences translating Hindi to English.

Dev Patel, (the actor that starred as the enthusiastic hotel host in The most Exotic Marigold Hotel and Lucky resemble each other in manner, attitude, and even looks. And if you’ve seen The most Exotic Marigold Hotel you may be smiling with delight. When the barber finished Max’s haircut, Lucky told him to stay in his chair and rushed to give him “an Indian head massage” which apparently is always given after a haircut in India. Max said it was “strangely relaxing”.

And I got bought a pair of flip flops from him that was exactly what I was looking for. Happy happy, Joy joy! The ones I got in San Ignacio (after breaking mine while climbing up the medicine trail on our river trip) gave me multiple blisters almost immediately so I have been traipsing around barefoot since then.