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The blog life is certainly not the blaaaahg life…time goes by so quickly I’m mildly shocked when I look and see that close to two weeks have passed since my last post. Perhaps I should be making excuses, but really there are only two – I haven’t sat down and written – Just Do It! goes the post-new-year dieter’s mantra – and I’ve been preparing for the birth of a second blog which I got up and running today. May seem a bit traitorsome to some, a little narcistic to others (I mean, how much more could I have to say), but the second blog, at http://bosqueternosa.wordpress.com is the culmination of a writing project I’ve been working on for a few months for the Bosqueterno S.A. organization here in Monteverde.

Rather than explain that too much (since I have spoken about Bosqueterno and my writing job numerous times on this blog) , I’ll ask you to go there and check out the sweet newness of it, the innocence, the hope lingering in its postlessness. And, as the first little communique pleads, make a comment, ask a question, request something – anything! It’ll be so exciting for those of us behind the wordpress dashboard to get an early response.

I’ve been getting all my little cloud forest ducks in a row waiting to put together the blog – write the script, get approval from the Bosqueterno board, find the pictures, focus, sign up for blog (with its many design decisions to be made) – the next step is to keep filling it in with all that approved written fodder, and then to prepare a powerpoint presentation. This is meant to accompany the blog, teaching local guides, teachers and Monteverde Reserve employees about the unique history of the Bosqueterno S.A. land that has been left in the wet dust of the Bosqueterno de los Niños, a more well-known local reserve owned by the Monteverde Conservation League, and the big Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve that leases the Bosqueterno land. Now that I’ve got lots of photos digitalized, the rest is just writing, posting and editing, and eventually speaking, which is the easiest part for me.

In the meantime….

Went and saw Costa Rican rocker Pato Barraza – at our new fav bar Mata ‘e Caña – was a good night of latin rock, a bitta reggae, seeing some friends…will head out again tonight, after I finish this, to do some salsa dancing with Roberto and the local band, Los Maletines – who play a very sweet Cuban salsa and more. Roberto is still here, tho we keep talking about him leaving, but now that the weather on the mountain has got calmer, hotter, and sunnier, he’s loath to go…but the day will arrive soon. In the meantime, bailamos!

I spent a wonderful evening at my friend Turid Forsyth’s with two German friends of hers, Sepp and Reto. They are keen hikers and so I shared some of my hiking knowledge of the area, made some recommendations on how to get over to the volcano Arenal by foot – if you have a few days and the equipment, you can walk the Tapir Trail that Wolf created (which appears in the last chapter of Walking with Wolf); or you can go over to the Monteverde Conservation League’s San Gerardo Research Station, spend the night keeping an eye out for a good nocturnal lava-lit eruption from the volcano, and then keep walking down to Lake Arenal, but permission from the League is necessary – you pay for your room and board at the station which is inexpensive. The problem arises when the League insists that you have two guides to accompany you on your hike through their land to the lake. When Sepp and Reto went to set this up, there weren’t two guides available and the League wouldn’t allow them through without.

So option three is to go to the Mirador, on the far side of Santa Elena, and hike on the horse trails there. Which is what they did in the end, making the trip down to the lakeside in five hours. If the weather is good like we’ve had these days, you are blessed with a spectacular scene, the lake and volcano right in front of you all the way.  

Over the years, the volcanos here in Costa Rica have done some damage, and there have been some nasty earthquakes as well, but while this sweet world spins around us with a minimum of pain these days, elsewhere people are really suffering. That incredibly destructive earthquake hit Haiti this last week – not just one assault, but a few – and so for a few short moments, the world’s sympathy, money and thoughts are with the Haitians. One must ask how one half of a small island could sustain such injury while the other half, the Dominican Republic, could  escape basically unscathed. One must ask how much more pain and destruction one colony of people can survive – even a people as strong as the Haitians – descendants of slaves who stood their ground against the huge powers of the time (France, Spain, Britain, the US) to become the first independant black nation in the western world.  And one must ask if there is any justice, truly, in this world.

I’ve been following on the internet (since we live without television – only Costa Rican papers, which tend to be rather lightweight, and radio, which Roberto feeds on) – and I have to say I’ve learned a new appreciation of Facebook – which can be seen as an addiction, a kind of social drunken cyber-cocktail party without the juice, as a never-ending game of mind-wasting solitaire, as many things –  but what it has shown me lately is that it is an agent for sharing information – especially the kind that the mainstream media doesn’t indulge in. Marshall McLuhan, famous Canadian media theorist from the days when the reality of what television would really mean one day was just  mist on the horizon, said that the medium would be the message… and that what we were fed and how we were fed it would influence our collective thinking. That has definitely come to pass, and now the Facehood, amongst other cyber-social-networking schemes, has brought us the ability to share information that the powers don’t want to necessarily give us, which the media isn’t telling because they are owned by corporations with agendas. Alternative media may not be the absolute truth all the time either, but it gives us the sensation of a little thorn in our sides, poking, making us question – just what the hell is going on? And giving us the opportunity to dig deeper, just like the old Mother Jones, New Internationalist, and Utne Reader mags of yesteryore.

Some of us are drawn there naturally, some of us have to be provoked. As long as we continue to question authority, at least we might arrive somewhere where truth prevails. Not necessarily, because truth can be ethereal at times, but we each have the ability, and the source, in our hearts to search for it.  And from there, if we are paying attention, and have the luxury of choice in our lives, we can choose to follow the road that feels right – or turns left. Hold on to the light, Haiti, hopefully the help that is coming your way will be without strings or strong ropes attached and will help you not just rebuild, but be stronger than ever before.

I was just speaking with Wolf’s son Ricky. He told me that Wolf is still in the Hospital Mexico in San Jose, Lucky is with him, and that he had some heart monitor and perhaps a procedure to clear a blockage. He won’t know more till later and so I won’t know more till I come back into town, but things are looking good. We head up to Monteverde in about 4 days so I trust that I’ll see him then, not have to stop and visit him in the Hospital on the way!

My heart goes out to my cousin Mary Jane who just lost her mother, Ruth VanLuven, at 90 years of age. Also to my friend Cheryl, whose daughter died a few days ago – somethings in life are just too difficult to deal with. Life should be lived out to the ripe old age of 90, but it isn’t always like that. Rest in Peace Kristen.

If one must travel, one should at least try to make it worthwhile.  Now sometimes, for some people, for their sanity – which is something that affects all those around them and therefore the world – a trip to the Caribbean for a week of sun, endorphins, rest and relax is worth the footprints.  If you must spend them then you should try and trade them off by good ecologically-sound behavior at other times.  I think that the fact that I gave up my car four years ago, don’t have an air conditioner, very seldom use my dryer, turn off my lights, control my general consumption – well, that will have to balance out the fact that in the next while I’m going to be doing a lot of traveling.

Tomorrow I head to northeastern Ontario (in a small rental car).  This is where Temagami is, which is a small community and large lake I mention a few times in Walking with Wolf.  It is also the area where I lived from 1982 until I left my husband in 1990, on my way to Costa Rica and a changed life. Might I add that I lived without electricity or running water for seven years – kaching! in the carbon bank for me.

I worked at Camps Wanapitei and Keewaydin through the 1990s, two canoe camps on beautiful Lake Temagami.  At Wanapitei, where I worked for six years,  I would stay at the camp the better part of four months of the year, two of those while camp was in session and two when there was only a handful of us enjoying our isolation in the bush at the northeast end of this huge body of water. I then worked at Keewaydin, an all boys camp at the time, for one summer at the end of my canoe camp career, cooking for a dining room full of grateful boys who would come to my window and sing for extra pieces of dessert – how cute was that.  Life at both of these camps allowed me to spend the summer in the north, on water, with groovy people.  It all involved a lot of work and chaos, but I loved it.

I am going to be an hour north of there in New Liskeard on Friday night, presenting Walking with Wolf at the Chat Noir Bookstore.  Because I lived in the area, I should know alot of people there – it is the third presentation (after Monteverde and Hamilton) where I feel I’m bringing the book home.  My friend Dave Patterson, of the Wabi Delta Band,  is playing a set before and after my little book talk.  It’ll be great.

Then on Sunday, I go a bit south to Mattawa.  Friends own a colorful new cafe there and I’m presenting the book in the afternoon – at the Moon Cafe at 2 p.m. Once again, I know enough folk in the area so will be happy to see friendly faces.

On Tuesday September 16 in the evening, I do one more presentation at HIbou Boutique in North Bay.  I have never been there but friends tell me it is a good space and community with sound eco-practices so I look forward to that.

After the Pearl adventure, the rest gets easier, and really, that was an easy night.  Traveling and talking is what I do best.  I’m not shy and I’m proud of the book and privileged to tell Wolf and Monteverde’s story, so this is fun for me.

I have October booked up but I’m running out of time and will write when I’m through this northern tour.  But coming up:  Barnesville, Ohio; London, England; Barcelona, Spain; Kingston and Guelph, Ontario. Did I say carbon footprint? – maybe a coalmine worth of bootprint is more like it.  Sorry about that.

There is nothing like having cancer at 31 years of age, and seriously facing your mortality, to put a different spin on birthdays.  I don’t mind the idea of getting older, I’m just happy to be alive. I feel that it has all been a gift, the last twenty years, and each year that passes is another deposit in my giftbag. So turning fifty hasn’t bothered me at all.  The giftbag grows. As it happened, my 50th birthday party was the best way possible for entering the next part of my life. It was a party held out on Yasgar’s, I mean Cole’s, farm, I mean property, half an hour out of Hamilton.  And will be now and forever known as Kstock.

Carolyn & Ziggy

Friends are the best.  I come from a very small family – one sister, neither of us with children – our parents having died over ten years ago. In the background is a large Ukrainian clan but they mostly live far away. Vi and Andy taught us to nourish and honor our friendships and both my sister Maggie and I have benefited from their counsel. And now that I am fifty, with no children, and Maggie and her husband Tom living far away in Washington State, it is even more important that I have great friends.  And they really came out of the woods for my birthday, and many of them really cranked it out to make it a great one.

Chuck, Mike, Freda, MaggieMike and Freda Cole, who have held some rocking parties over the years, know how to do it.  Freda, east coast gal, can’t make enough food (and others contribute) and it is always beyond delicious.  We will never starve at one of her gatherings. Mike takes care of the outdoor details – together they make everything flow.  They are both real gracious hosts when the strangers start arriving and welcome all into their home.  They moved to this big old farmhouse over a year ago and it is definitely made for holding an event like Kstock.  There must have been close to one hundred folks there, but we were spread out around the property, there was lots of room for camping, lots of room for dancing – people could wander off for private tete-a-tetes, or whatever you might wanna do in the bushes.

Sol, Amelia & Jaaziah in the bushes

 

Maggie & MIke on the bacon

My seeester Maggie came from Washington State and spent a couple days with Freda and Mike getting ready, helping Freda with food, and making the huge signs that could be seen a kilometer away on the road – “Kstock 2008” – for those who didn’t know where they were going.  The Kstock thing started with my friends Treeza and Rick north of Toronto (and Terry, Steve and Gloria), who not only started saying “we’re going to Kstock” but on my birthday card Rick provided a copy of his original ticket from the real Woodstock – kinda brought it all together.  

 

       Treeza & get-down Gloria

 

Chuck, Stu, Dawson & Coral 

 

 

 

 

Then the gang from Westport came to truly turn it into a musical happening.  Chuck, Carolyn, Marty, Sandy, Stu, Dave, Helen, John, Susan, Dawson and Coral filled their vehicles (a bad day for footprints in carbon) with instruments, speakers and camping gear and brought their various musical talents up the highway. 

 

 

Nineth Line – a jump ‘n jive band kept us hopping;

 

 

 

King of the Swingers – a kinda roadside swing ‘n dixie-style band brought the music off the stage and made us laugh (and keep dancing);

 

 

 

 

 

Then the “other band” played by the campfire with mandolin, accordian, stand up bass and guitar, beautiful renditions of bluegrass, country and folk tunes (most notably, for this little Steve Earle worshipper, Copperhead Road).  The music never stopped from early in the evening till I don’t know when in the early morning hours.  Nineth Line had learned a couple new songs for the occasion – I’ve been bugging them to learn a Latin rhythm or two and they got it done.  They were hot that night, and just kept getting hotter as the night went on.

Since I love to dance more than just about anything (well, dancing on a big rock in the middle of a lush forest beside a lake with a beautiful man who dances is ideal) this party played out just as I would hope to celebrate…we danced from start to finish, and I saw most of the folks up on their feet at some point. Of course, in Canada I’ve always found the dance floors filled more with females than males and this night was no exception – I’ll always remember a wild night in Montezuma, on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, when there were about thirty men dancing and only four women.  Now that! was a dream…but I digress.

Then there were the people who had come from far and wide for the occasion:  my sister probably came the furthest, from the mountains of Washington State.  But the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee were represented by our friend Kathy Lowery, who left Hamilton and married an old sweetheart (and he is), Stan, a few years ago.  Freda, our friend Dean, and I have ventured down a few times to Tennessee to visit them on their beautiful porch that looks out on those perty mountains.      In that time we’ve become friends with some of theirs, particularly William and Missy Murphy and William’s parents Gerry and Shorty.  We’ve spent a lot of hours on Kathy’s porch with the gang playing bluegrass and singing.  William’s dad, Gerry, has been struggling with cancer for a couple of years and without him able to join in, William and Missy stopped playing music.  At Kstock, they got up on the stage and sang a few sweet songs again, despite the lengthy absence from strumming and singing, and it was wonderful to hear them.  They’ve got a couple of the biggest warmest smiles in the state, and that they would jump on their motorcycle and drive north from Tennessee for Kstock was another gift in my giftbag.

A couple days before the party, I got a phone call from my friend Jean Trickey, from Little Rock, Arkansas, who said she had booked her ticket and was on her way! We’ve managed to spend some great weekends together in the last couple of years, her daughter’s wedding in Little Rock, and the 50th Anniversary of the Little Rock Nine, of which Jean is one of those brave teenagers who back in 1957 walked through the hateful crowd to be one of the first black kids to attend Central High School.  I had gone last year to Little Rock for the 50th, (a phenomenal occasion it was), seen John Lewis the freedom fighter, met Ruby Bridges the little girl in the Norman Rockwell painting, shook Bill Clinton’s hand, got snagged on his secret service guy…again, I digress…but Jean had been so busy on these occasions that we really only got to talk a bit late at night when she finally could sit down.  So to have her come for the weekend for my birthday, stay for a few days and have some down time to just talk (alot about Barack and Hillary of course), to dance as we love to do, and to see her get up on the stage and belt out “Women be wise, keep your mouth shut, don’t advertise your man” (a wise old song) was another big deposit in the gift bag. 

 

 

 

 

 

Jean being here brought out her sons Isaiah (we had real Toronto paparazzi there) and Sol from Toronto and their kids, Amelia and Jaaziah, who added extra joy and energy to the occasion. (Many of these photos were from either Isaiah, Peter or Marty – thanks guys)

 

 K, Sol, Isaiah, & Miss Kathy from Tennessee

 

 

The Trickey clan is always interesting, fun, dynamic, and loud (in this gang, I don’t feel like the loudest in the room) – great to have three generations represented at Kstock. (Notice the photographic image of me on the cake – what will we eat next?)

      Kay, Sol, Amelia & Jaaziah talk cake business

 

 

 

 

 

And then there was my soul sister Cocky who lives in a nature sanctuary outside of Freeport, Maine and her partner Peter MacMillen.  They had been up in Temagami, on Peter’s beautiful island, and came down from the north for the event.  Cocky has been here in the Hammer often, but Peter went well out of his way for this one.  

 

And along with my close friends Linda and Bill Murray from Charlton (along with Jean and Cocky, we all lived up in the Temiskaming area of northeastern Ontario for years – the Murrays still do), Patti and Leo Lessard and Terry and Ted from Mattawa, they brought the fresh clean northern air down to the Hammer. Cocky,  Jean and I are a feisty trio when we get together, which doesn’t happen very often, but I love these women and to have a few days together was beautiful.  

 

 

 

Beyond these folks there was Bill and Cheryl from Virginia, Lynda and Carole representing Guelph, friends from Toronto, Freda’s family, fine Hammerfolk and good neighbours, a number of old high school friends I hadn’t seen in years, the now-getting-old kids of friends, and a couple of my favorite dogs, Alpha and Ziggy. It all added up to the best party ever. 

After this wild summer of rain and thunderstorms, the sky was completely clear, the temperature perfect all night long for being outside dancing (I guess some people were sitting) or around the campfire, people camped in comfort and peace, and we all woke up to more sunshine.  Freda and Mike and gang made us a big breakfast, only after making a deal with the Swingers to play just a few more tunes in the morning.  That Stu can drum on anything! We swam in the pool and I opened my gifts (the ones not already in the giftbag).  

 

 Stu, John & Marty, most of the Swingers

 

 

 

I ceremoniously burned the box full of paper copies of Walking with Wolf (Steve Earle was doing his Sirius radio show in the background as this happened – it was all so poignant).  I have been printing out copies of the manuscript for how many years? and no longer need them, so I put the box on the coals and slowly watched it catch fire and disintegrate.  It was a cleansing and a celebration.  If I do nothing else of value in my life, I managed to get this book written and published while Wolf and I are still alive, and miraculously before I turned 50!

It was at the moment that the last of the overnight guests had got in their cars and honked their way down the road, leaving only Freda, Mike, Maggie, Cocky, Jean and I with Isaiah and Jaaziah, that the storm hit. Everything had been cleaned up, put inside, as we could see the storm approaching over the fields.  There was some heavy rain that we watched from the porch, amazed that this whole outdoor event went on without a hitch, not a drop of rain to spoil anything, no chance for a mud-dance like at the real Woodstock.  Just as the storm seemed to have subsided there was one HUGE thunderclap with one HUGE bolt of lightning – Jean was just putting her hand on the outhouse door and was shook to her bones.  Jaaziah was in the car, but Isaiah was still outside and could hear the sizzle of electricity in the air.  I think Jean’s hair went a little curlier and we all jumped and were rocked all over. Just one CLAP that carried the power of the whole dark sky. How lucky were we that none of us were hurt by this extremely close electrical jolt – it would have been a horrible way to end perfection – and life has been so good for me lately that a bolt of lightning almost feels inevitable – and that the storm waited until our friends were safely on their way home.  One last grand hurrah, the big finish, to Kstock 2008! The gratitude I feel to all my friends who came out and worked, then played, so hard is impossible to express. Peace, love and grooviness will have to do!

I am back in Hamilton, Ontario, my home. Even though I just spent ten weeks in the tropical rain forest during the rainy season, there has definitely been more rain here this summer than I experienced there.  And I thought I was getting wet! The jungle that is my backyard is evidence of a great growing season. Luckily, in the week I’ve been home, the sun has been shining in a bright blue sky more often than not.  It poured earlier today but the planets aligned, the solid bowl of clouds broke up into popcorn, and the few stars you can occasionally see above the city glow were out. On this beautiful night, I went and spent two hours at the base of my musical hero, Steve Earle.

I’ve been listening to Steve – songsmith, multi-instrumentalist, political commentator, troubadour, activist – for more than twenty years. He has written the soundtrack to my life. I feast on each new CD that I hear and somehow this southern boy from Texas, ex-heroin addict, ex-con but also anti-war, anti-death penalty, anti-insanity activist has spoken in his music of my own experiences, moods, frustrations and loves.  When he was singing songs of restlessness, I was restless.  When he’s been angry at his government, I’ve also been livid.  Now he’s in love both with his new wife and with his new city, New York, where he moved to after years of living in Tennessee.  And although I’m not in the big love, I am in love with the Hammer, this rusty little city I live in. 

He has constantly expressed my politics in beautiful simple poetic lyrics and gone down a number of musical avenues from country to rock to tropical to folk to bluegrass and taken me with him on each ride. Tonight, after playing his guitars, mandolin, and banjo and dueting with his wife, he played with a DJ behind him providing electronic beats. He has so many songs, all great. And although there was a big representation in the Hammer-crowd of drunken wild folks demanding “Copperhead Road” (which you can see him cringe to with impatient disdain, for it would seem that, fifteen years later, it is the only song people know of despite a repertory of hundreds), the majority of the audience were singing along to his lyrics from several of his albums, demonstrating that they, like me, were in awe.  To have the chance to sit twenty feet from him, down below the high stage of the Festival of Friends, on the concrete ground (which, of course also doubled as a seat right on the dancefloor), be encouraged by him to sing out, and to be able to watch his face as he sang, and watch his subtle and not so subtle reactions to the antics of the crowd, well, in an odd way,  at moments it was like it was just him and me and we forgot the other ten thousand folk.  In fact, I’m quite sure he smiled at me at one point. Sigh.

His wife, Allison Moorer, played the first set and although the best thing about her for me is that she is Steve’s wife, I do enjoy them singing together and she is a good singer of songs.  I do know from reading her blog that they are both readers, and she writes about the books she reads.  So after my soul was totally swelled by the sounds of Steve, I lingered outside his black bus for a good half hour or more with the other diehard Steve fans – all guys wanting to get their albums and CD covers signed.

Fortunately he finally came out and although I wasn’t the first in line, he turned to me (probably because I was the only woman) and I quickly handed him Walking with Wolf. I could tell he was tired and wasn’t going to have patience for long. I told him how thrilled I was to give him these words of mine after all the years that his words have excited me, pushed me, caressed me, comforted me, filled me (actually, I mumbled something much shorter). I truly believe that he and Allison will enjoy Wolf’s story.  I was so moved to be able to give him the book.  He looked me in the face and said “cool, thanks” in his southern drawl and with a tone of surprise, maybe cuz I wasn’t asking for anything, just giving him something. He reached out his arm and I touched it. I’ve still got chills.

These chills were much better than the chills I had all last weekend when I had a reoccurrence of the swollen gland in my neck with a touch of fever that I had about a month ago in Costa Rica.  I finally went to the doctor and got the right drugs and started feeling better, after five days of laying around moaning.  My beautiful neighbour, Genevieve, who left a lovely welcome home spread of wine, cheese and crackers in my fridge, also fed me fresh corn and grilled vegetables through my illness – what a wonderful person to have nearby. 

Once I felt better, I went into Toronto and distributed the book to media outlets and Pages bookstore.  I also put signed copies in the hands of my grand gurus, Bruce and Ken, who were so much a part of the final production of the book and continue to support, encourage and amuse me.  I know I will re-employ their services in the Spanish translation (which Wolf’s son Carlos is now in the process of working on). Meeting these two talented blokes (along with Jane our editor and my old friend Laurie who did the layout) was one of the biggest gifts of the last year.

Now that I am slowly coming back to earth after my near-Steve encounter, I have to get out in that jungle and get it under control.  The next month is so busy with preparing for the book launches in September and for all the visitors who are coming to help me celebrate my 50th birthday at the end of August, that I gotta get those weeds outa my path so I can see the forest through the trees.  But I will be working to the sounds of Steve in my soul, renewed, rejuvenated, re-happy. Consider the following photo a “before” picture…”after” to follow.

July 2020
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