Category Archives: Adventures

Soldiers in the dark: My first day on post

It is pre-dawn. The coffee maker is gurgling and I am preparing to drive John to his first day of work. Nerves aflutter, we step out our door and get ready to greet this new world.

At the gate, I nervously hand my I.D. to the MP who smiles, salutes John and wishes us a good morning. “Well that wasn’t so bad,” I think, as we drive past a large welcome sign.

The roads, named for various battles and brigades, are busy with cars in the pre-dawn light. Everyone is trying to get to their unit buildings, the same as us, because PT is about to start. In this, the most deployed of all the divisions, you live and breathe PT. Physical fitness is key.

I say goodbye to John and watch him as he walks across the road to his building. “Now what?” I think. Maybe I’ll sit for a bit and just absorb this new world. I look out onto the parade area beyond John’s building and see a mass of black dots moving in the dark. It’s soldiers coming from the barracks, getting ready to join their units.

Now what was it John told me? Oh yes, at 6:28, I salute the flag when I hear the reveille. Then I need to get off the post because PT will start and most of the roads will be blocked off for soldiers.

“I still have plenty of time before that”, I think, as I head in search of the on-post Starbucks. A little coffee, watch the sunrise, what could be better?

After a pleasant chat with the baristas, I hop in the car and enjoy the beauty of the sun rising over the fields, forests, and HMMWVs. I look at the car clock. Uh-oh, it’s getting close to 6:30. Better get out of here while the roads are still open.

But how do I get out of here? Let’s see, Google Maps, yes….okay that looks like a good exit. Start navigation.

Navigation: “Turn right ahead.”

Giant Road Sign: “Road blocked. For PT only.”

Navigation: “Why aren’t you turning right?”

Me: “Because the road is blocked. Find me another way.”

Navigation: “There is no other way. You’re on your own. Goodbye and good luck.”

I pull into a parking lot in front of some road guards to regroup. There has got to be a way out of here! How do I find it? Okay, let’s follow those cars. They look like they know what they’re doing.

Well, now I’m in a dead-end neighborhood.

Let’s follow that bus! It probably leads….to the school and another dead-end.

Let’s follow that line of cars. They definitely know where they’re going. Well, yes they do. They are going to their units at the end of a dead-end street.

I park my car in the middle of a parking lot where groups of soldiers are stretching, chatting, and getting in their last smokes before PT. It’s time to suck up my pride and just ask someone how to get off this post.

I put on my most enduring smile and walk up to a man who looks like he might be in charge. He’s got a mustache anyway, and I know you’ve got to be high-ranking to have one of those. The mustache man gives me an exasperated look as I start to ask for help. Maybe he thinks I’m looking for an autograph or something. Then, as I explain that it’s my first time on-post and I have no idea how to get off it—with a few more enduring smiles thrown in for good measure—he sighs and says, “Okay. Here’s what you’re going to do. You know the four-way stop where you came in? Okay, you’re going to go back there and turn left. Then you’re going to go right, then left, then pass over a railway bridge, then round a bend to a river, then pass a golf course, then…”

My mind starts to wander. This is way too much to take it. Left, right, railroad, golf course. Okay, Kalene, just listen for key words. I’m being taken in by the mustache. I can’t stop staring at it. He looks like General Custer. Wait, the mustache has stopped moving. He’s staring at me.

“You got that, ma’am?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” I say and get back into my car.

Okay, first step is to turn left past the road guards—the same road guards I have already passed about 15 times in my attempts to get out of here. They nod at me. One chuckles and hands the other one a fiver.

But there it is again! The giant road sign: Road Closed for PT Only. Wait…road closed…for PT only. That’s not two sentences, it’s one. The road is closed for people doing PT, meaning it’s cars only!

I drive past the road sign, past soldiers stretching, doing push-ups and crunches on gravel, past the golf course and to freedom.

It was a fun adventure, but I think John will be driving himself to work from now on.

The Staring Culture

I’m not sure what it is about the midwest. Perhaps it’s a lack of entertainment value. Perhaps people just generally take a greater interest in each other’s lives. But people stare at you out here like you are the greatest new exhibit at the zoo.

No greater was this phenomenon manifest than in our recent trip through South Dakota. We were stared at in the parking lot. Stared at when backing out our car. Stared at in the grocery store. It’s not like there’s a shortage of white people out here. What’s so weird about us, people?!

Maybe I’m jaded by my Pacific Northwest upbringing. In the NW, we don’t stare at each other. In fact, we barely make eye contact when we pass each other on the street. I think this is due to the fact that we’re constantly slogging through the rain. If we lift our heads to greet one another, we’re bound to get drenched.

We also tend to keep to ourselves in the PNW. Our business is our business. This is also true of big cities like New York. There are stories of people being mugged or worse in big cities, and the people passing can’t be bothered to notice.

This is not the case in the midwest. Whatever is going on with you is everyone’s front page news. The situation was so intensely uncomfortable for me, someone who hates to be stared at, that I made John push through the whole state of South Dakota just to get us out of there!

Thankfully, we found refuge in the bigger cities of Omaha, Kansas City and Saint Louis.

Now, here in the south, people don’t really stare as much as they take a kindly interest in you. They greet you with friendly smiles. Instead of a curt wave or head-nod on the trail, I get “good morning!”-s and “how many miles did you do today, miss?”-es. I get “have a great day”-ed constantly. It’s really sweet.

It does bring me a bit of comfort to know that I ever were to run into trouble, all I need do is yell for help, and the twenty five people already staring at me will run to my aid. That’s the good thing about staring culture: everyone’s got your six…and your twelve…and your nine…and your three.

“To The East, Good Fellows!”

To the tune of “Yon Yonson”.

Our name is the Barrys.
We don’t hail from the prairies.
We don’t eat only white bread;

But the Army has called us.
The boot march’s before us.
So we go,
East we go,
Then to the south…


We left bold evergreens
And mountains pristine
For the cradle of the Civil War
;

Traded high-flying eagles
for high-flying Eagles.
They both scream.
One screams louder.
And we’re proud


Of the ‘ole 1-0-1,
with their tanks and their guns;
America’s true fighting force
.

Get ready for Rakk life.
Get ready for ruck life.
So we march,
make good time,
God to soldiers and soldiers to God
.

The weather is warmer.
The people are warmer.
The BBQ makes our hearts sing.


It’s time to settle,
Buy a house and kettle
Three more years,
So they say
We shall see…


Again from the top!

How Sweet It Is

Milton and Paul Morell
Milton and Paul

It is another cloudy April day in Whatcom County and Milton and I are ready to tackle the eastern part of our map—making the trek across the county towards Lynden. We start at Natures Path and park our car. I’m thinking, “Hey, we’ll get in a couple miles today; maybe even finish our map.”  It was not to be, but more to come on that later.

Milton and I enjoy the pastoral scenery going down Sweet road, and, after a quarter mile, spot a familiar drive way: the home of my Aunt and Uncle Morell. My thoughts turn to the 1995 British film Cold Comfort Farm and the strange magnetism family dwellings can have. I detour into the driveway, chuckling to myself as I do about having seen “something nasty in the woodshed”.

After traversing up the long winding driveway to the front of the house I stop, and hear noises coming from the shop. Milton finds him first. My Uncle Tom is working away, as usual, and informs me that later he will be delivering furniture to my Grandmother at Spring Creek where she lives. We laugh to ourselves at the thought of having to visit my slightly senile, rather inappropriate Grandmother, whose temper tantrums we’ve all endured over the last several months. She calls him Paul, although his name is Tom, and happens to think that he makes for poor company—a feeling she expresses to him quite regularly.

Uncle Tom invites me inside after my request to use the bathroom, and I find Paul, my cousin, sitting in the living room. He is restraining his two friendly (to humans and other well meaning animals) min-pins. Milton and the min-pins have a luke-warm relationship. I keep him under close watch and Paul and I talk. Paul plans to travel to southern China in late summer. I wish him well and discuss the possibility of combining our efforts through Jesus’ Economy. He walks me to the end of the driveway, min-pins in tow.

By this time I’m ravenously hungry, although I haven’t said anything to him. We bid our farewells and I continue down the road. And then it hits me….like a slap to my empty stomach. The air is heavy with a sweet, syrupy smell. I realize immediately what the smell is: Natures Path Chocolate Bars are in production. How can people live on such a road. They must be craving chocolate all the time.

All I know is that thoughts of swirly, drippy, gooey, chocolate syrup were making the last half mile to the car seem annoyingly long.

Until next time, Happy Travels!

Kalene

Blaine’s Best and Least Known Parks

What did I expect to find when turning off Blaine’s derelict portion of Peace Portal Drive onto Hughes Ave? Well certainly not a quaint and classy beach community with expensive views and million dollar houses. And most definitely not the intricate park/trail system that links the Montfort Conservation Land Trust to the surrounding neighborhoods.

I was shocked by the spectacular Drayton Harbor and Semiahmoo Spit views of Montfort and Bayview Park. The beach access was extraordinary—beautiful, calm and serine. Milt and I were practically unbothered by human contact. We became lost in our own musings (yes, Milton has lots of musings) sitting on the thoughtfully provided and secluded benches. Then, when it was time to return to civilization, we made our exit through garden paths and chatted with park-bordering neighbors. Some even had treats reserved for the dogs on the trail. Milt was delighted.

I thought we had hit the single jackpot on secluded parks, but we found the very same thing down at the Drayton Harbor Kayak Launch: friendly neighbors, secluded and serine beach access, beautiful views.

If you haven’t tried these parks out yet…don’t. Leave the peace and serenity for me—because believe me, I’ll be back.

The view from Bayview Park

Back in Blaine, Baby!

To all those who have been itching for another Blog Walk post, your wait is finally over! Yes, that’s right, Milton and I made the 21 mile trek up to Blaine in continuation of our efforts to walk/bike/hike every road in Whatcom County. Today’s mission was to conquer our Blaine Quadrant 2 East map, which stretches from I-5 to Harvey road W-E and from Boblett to Sweet Road N-S.

I had high hopes as we left Bellingham. The day was clear and sunny. I imagined myself soaking in the rays while the soundtrack of Blaine’s country livestock lowed around me. About Birch Bay-Lynden Road, reality hit me. Actually, a cloud bank thick as soup hit me.

“Well, Milton,” I said, “we’ll just have to press on…and maybe reward ourselves with a mocha afterward.” There’s a little coffee shop downtown that I really love. It’s called the Blackberry House. I would walk through miles of soggy dirt to know that a mocha from the Blackberry was waiting at the other end.

So we started out. And little drops of dew starting clinging to my clothes, but that didn’t daunt our enthusiasm. Neither did the nagging sensation of having to pee or the gnawing hunger growing in my stomach after mile three rolled around. No matter. Milton was chipper as ever—that is until a cow appeared out of the mist right in front of him while a whole flock of previously unseen Canadian geese decided to bark orders above our heads.

His consolation came in finding a piece of old chicken on the side of the road, which he promptly gobbled up before I could yank him away.
2013-01-21 14.01.17

About mile 4.5, I cursed the sun’s pathetic efforts to poke through the clouds and turned towards the car. But not before we completed the whole Quadrant 2 E map! That’s right people. We are on to a new Quadrant. More exciting adventures to come.

Reflections and the Red, Red Robin

Alice Through the Looking Glass

 

What was the human image before mirrors? How did we define ourselves– give meaning to our beauty and gratification to our instincts?

When you look in the mirror, what is it you see? Is it the ghost of yourself or an apparition of something long gone?

I cannot look into the mirror and see what you see when you look at me. I only see my projection, my image scintillate.

 This image is so subjective. It does not tell truth, only partial truths. Like who you are and how you’ve come. Like what you want and how you’ll get it. Like imperfection. Like grace. Like divine imprinting.

When what is inside shines through the glass, will it break?

A metaphysical journey

I was reminded today that words fall hard, weighed down by gravity; that if birds could speak, they would no longer fly. What does this mean to me on a rain streaked day? That unlike Chris, I have long deprived myself an outlet for thoughts themselves. What was so secretive, so discrete? I have no answer. Perhaps the words just didn’t come together until now.

So here I begin my own metaphysical journey–joining the millions of others whose thoughts float around in cyberspace like digital packing peanuts. Or perhaps there is some purpose for this after all, if not for my own gratification.  So, let it begin.

Take Two or Three in Blaine’s Lettered Streets

 

Mom at the Peace Arch

Welcome back to Blaine. It’s day two on my quest to physically travel on every road in Whatcom County. Today’s mode of transportation: foot^2.

My mother was brave enough to join me through endless paths of Halloween- bedecked streets. The craziness of the concept must have intrigued her; although she claims it was “good exercise”. She is–after all–an avid lover of adventure and her fresh perspective did my project good.

So after some grilling she summed up her experience this way, “Blaine is still the back water town where people can walk in the middle of the road; like where I grew up.” Did I mention she grew up in 1960’s Bellingham? Three or four blocks from the YMCA, she could walk there as an elementary schooler for her swimming practice. Also, she could play with her brothers in the street near her house and wasn’t afraid to visit the neighbors. In fact she knew her neighbors (a rather rare concept today).

That sense of community is what she found in Blaine. Consider for example, that the High School is situated right next to the Middle School which is next to the Senior/Community Center and the Boys and Girl’s Club. Right down the street, passing nearly five churches on the way is the food and clothing bank. The city just breathes connectedness.

Turn of the Century House on G St.

Like the kind of place where you can stop and look, and when you do, what you might see are turn-of-the-century houses surrounded by 80-year-old trees with brilliant fall colors. You might also see neighbors smiling as they pass each other on the street or dog walkers taking in the bay at Peace ArchPark. Where the man passing you on the street is not a potential rapist and children can walk to school. What more could you ask for in a city? Even the seagulls seem to find solace on the tops of every roof.

Granted, Blaine (as a border town) does have its share of gang and drug related violence, but I just simply didn’t see this in the lettered streets neighborhood.

I am proud to say that I will miss that area as I move on next week to the heart of Blaine’s historic downtown. So go ahead, take two or three moments in the lettered streets and join me next time.

 

 

Einen Rundgang durch Whatcom Lkr. Tageins: Blaine, WA

Meine Auffassung dieser ländlichen Grenze Stadt hat sich heute verändert, als ich ihre neulich verstädterte Straßen durchquert. Blaine ist in der Nähe meines Heimats–eine Nachbarschaft, die meine kindische Ansicht viele große Ideen über die Eigenschaft dieser wirtschaftlich depressiven Stadt gewähren haben. Sie schien immer auf dem Rand des Zusammenbruchs zu sein, und noch irgendwie gestützt durch ihre Nähe zu unseren kanadischen Vettern. Natürlich entwickelte ich meine eigene Ansicht von den Leuten der Stadt und ihrem versicherten Mangel der populären Tätigkeiten. Ich hatte ja keine Ahnung, dass 10 Jahre später Blaine mich überraschen würde.

Ich trat nicht in einem Ödland des Hinterwäldlers, aber in einer attraktiven und bewährten Gemeinschaft ein. Während ich die Sackgassen der Stadt wanderte, wurde ich von der offenbaren Bewahrung der Kultur und Gastfreundschaft angefahren.

more to come…please feel free to comment.