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Monday, September 25, 2017
Personal Pledge from Larry Elder
I really like Larry Elder, a talk show host introduced to us via Dennis Prager. Larry is a bootstraps kind of conservative whose father was a veteran and a minority business owner in the 60's and 70's.
Here is Larry's list of 32 things he personally pledges to assure his success and happiness in life.
Enjoy and tune in to hear The Larry Elder Show on Houston am 1070 "The Answer" every weekday at 5pm.
http://www.larryelder.com/highlight/larry-reads-personal-pledge-32/
Here are some pics from the web, file under humorous and human interest:
-katykarter ¶ 9:57 AM 0 comments
I really like Larry Elder, a talk show host introduced to us via Dennis Prager. Larry is a bootstraps kind of conservative whose father was a veteran and a minority business owner in the 60's and 70's.
Here is Larry's list of 32 things he personally pledges to assure his success and happiness in life.
Enjoy and tune in to hear The Larry Elder Show on Houston am 1070 "The Answer" every weekday at 5pm.
http://www.larryelder.com/highlight/larry-reads-personal-pledge-32/
Here are some pics from the web, file under humorous and human interest:
Bureau of Land Management, a Federal agency, is guilty of not managing public lands as depicted in this photo. On the right, private property whose owner has cleared the underbrush away. On the left, unmaintained public land rife for catastrophic fire. 2017
Before and after photo from Oregon side of Columbia river in Washington state. Many wildfires burned across the western United States this year, causing damage in the billions. That's with a "B".
A dreamy, fantasy moon over the disappearing track. Somewhere on that track is a locomotive...
A photo uploaded to a Facebook by a friend. The Solar/lunar eclipse blocked out up to 100% of the light for a brief moment.
-katykarter ¶ 9:57 AM 0 comments
Thursday, September 07, 2017
Delivering Mom's Final Wish
We woke early for this special leg of our journey. We had just dropped into bed a mere three hours before, as our travel yesterday stretched well into the evening. Coffee was made and Barbara and Linda were up already. They had left me a half of a bagel als
o, and we made our way out into the darkness. Soon we were headed north in the predawn beside looming hillsides and the hulking silhouettes of nearby mountains.
There were two motorcycles just ahead of us, and at one point, it looked like one of them had hung back to give the other room, and prevented us from passing. On the singe lane highway it seemed curious, but we followed them all the way into Glacier National Park. There were cars behind us too, as it was just past 6 am when we began the climb on Going to the Sun Road. It is a narrow winding mountain road with areas to view the scenery every so often. Early on, the scenery was of a sleepy rain forest with the first rays of sun peeking through. I saw mythical forest primeval, a forest floor that was as old as the mountains which it had grown along with. As we climbed higher, and the road switched back and forth, the view became awe inspiring. We climbed higher and higher on the steep side of a beautiful forested valley which lay between ourselves and a massive snow-capped range.
About midway up, at the information and historical turn out, we learned about the making of this formidable engineering feat, this road. A genuine heroic achievement for the day. We were told about our national parks system and how leaders of the day were determined not to let commercial development scar our most beautiful public lands like this pristine wilderness at the edge of our ability to tame.
We traveled further upward, toward heaven, it seemed, nearby "Heaven's Peak" pointed the way. Upward and we stopped again at a turnout where the short stone wall at the edge of the road seemed to fall thousands of feet away. What an awe inspiring place this was.
Somehow, Barbara and I left our only longsleeve outerwear behind, but Linda saved the day with two extra windbreakers. It was very chilly in the shadow of the mountain.
Laura was with us in spirit, and I reminded myself of this often when my hand found the wooden cross in my pocket. We were here, after all, because our mom wanted the three of us to come to this place and scatter her ashes. For all the stratospheric highs we felt, we were tempered that Laura wasn't with us to see and experience it all. But it seemed a horrible waste to not experience this marvelous natural wonder and the beautiful state we all knew and loved because of our mother.
Some discussion had taken place about the actual scattering of the ashes. As we planned the trip, months before, we felt some unease at the unknown enviro nment we would be in; would there be opportunities to pull off and have a private moment? Would there be other people, would the authorities object? We found out that many people travel here for the same reason and some guidelines were available. A permit was required, but the location would be left up to us. We just hoped that we would know when the time was right as we travelled up. The road would eventually reach the top of the mountain at Logan's Pass, at which point we would turn around and come back down the same way. We just hoped that as we went up we would see a place, a setting that would be.
We stopped at several spots on the way up, the view was too limited from within the car we were in. Once you stepped outside the car, the border on the fantastic image you could see was gone, now it was horizon to horizon spectacular!
There were several waterfalls that crossed under the road, where the engineers had bridged the runoff stream. The second one was the one we chose for Mom's ashes, but we decided to finish going to the top and stop on the way down when we were on the other side of the road, there was a tiny turnoff space.
Further up the road to heaven we reached the top. There was a visitor center with restrooms Linda informed us had been updated since last time she was there which was refreshing. We stood at the top and watched as the sun broke over the nearby mountain to flood us in morning sunlight. It was extremely bright with the nearby snowpacks. We were hoping to see wildlife, but there weren't any in sight. The morning was extraordinary, and the sun burst over the mountain we had been traversing to reach the pass. In the immaculate sky the sun began an arc overhead and we started our descent.
We were anxious to complete the core meaning of our trip: to deliver mom to this place where she wished to be. This was a glorious scene, as the sun, the sky, the surrounding mountains all hushed and waited as we drove the short distance down again and parked next to the Haystack Creek sign. I had prepared the case mom's ashes were in, and I now removed the inner bag and carried it back to the creek. It was the perfect vessel: the creek was essentially the snowpack melting and being carried throughout the valley to the waiting lake below.
There was a private bank to the rushing stream on the mountain side of the road. I hopped the wall down to it and my sister shouted a warning. She couldn't see where I had jumped and to her it looked as if I'd dropped into the steep valley. I had actually only dropped about three feet then walked down a short rocky bank to the water just as it passed under the road and then dropped hundreds of feet to tumble further down into the valley. I opened the bag and, with a ord of thanks to God for bringing me here, I upended the contents directly into the rushing w
ater. She began traveling down the valley immediately after. The water was freezing cold and rushing fast, over the copper colored river rocks rinsed in this mountain runoff for millennia. I stood up and turned and Linda and Barbara had come down closer to the stream and we stood silently and hugged. Mom was here, we had brought her her last wish.
We stood and pondered this spot for some time. We all took our pictures from all our different angles and sufficiently burned the spot into our memories. I think we all said a private prayer of thanks and a wish to come back to this place some time in the future. It was a beautiful splendid spot in nature which we had just made personally sacred. Yes. We would come back.
We didn't seem to be out of energy and we drove on down the mountain again, back down the way we had come. There was some smoke in the valley which showed up in some of the pictures: there were forest fires in the area, and we didn't know it then but it would turn into a catastrophic summer for Montana wildfires.
We decided to stop at the Lake McDonald Lodge on the way down. All the way we pass a steady procession of traffic going up. We are very thankful that we started so early, it's only 9am!
Lake McDonald, in the valley of the surrounding Whitefish mountain range makes for a spectacular setting, and the Lodge itself, built in the 1920's is elegant, rustic and bustling. We have a white table-cloth breakfast buffet of pancakes, eggs, sausages, biscuits and gravy, juice, coffee, did I miss anything? The lodge's world class restaurant did not miss anything. Now with the early start, and the full bellies, we drove back into Kalispell and back to the comfortable AirBnB accommodations and crashed out for an afternoon nap.
When I woke up it was late in the evening, but it was still light out. I was confused, and took a picture of the western sky. 10 p.m. and there was still light in the sky. That night Barbara stayed up and talked til late late late. I love my sister and we have fun and talk about everything when we are together which is not often enough nowadays.
Tomorrow we would leave Kalispell and travel to Missoula and spend a day there. Sightseeing, seeking Mom's spirit and her tracks. We know she was once there, and we wanted to walk in her tracks a little bit, if only in personal esteem.
¶ 7:37 PM 1 comments
Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park.
We woke early for this special leg of our journey. We had just dropped into bed a mere three hours before, as our travel yesterday stretched well into the evening. Coffee was made and Barbara and Linda were up already. They had left me a half of a bagel als
o, and we made our way out into the darkness. Soon we were headed north in the predawn beside looming hillsides and the hulking silhouettes of nearby mountains.There were two motorcycles just ahead of us, and at one point, it looked like one of them had hung back to give the other room, and prevented us from passing. On the singe lane highway it seemed curious, but we followed them all the way into Glacier National Park. There were cars behind us too, as it was just past 6 am when we began the climb on Going to the Sun Road. It is a narrow winding mountain road with areas to view the scenery every so often. Early on, the scenery was of a sleepy rain forest with the first rays of sun peeking through. I saw mythical forest primeval, a forest floor that was as old as the mountains which it had grown along with. As we climbed higher, and the road switched back and forth, the view became awe inspiring. We climbed higher and higher on the steep side of a beautiful forested valley which lay between ourselves and a massive snow-capped range.
About midway up, at the information and historical turn out, we learned about the making of this formidable engineering feat, this road. A genuine heroic achievement for the day. We were told about our national parks system and how leaders of the day were determined not to let commercial development scar our most beautiful public lands like this pristine wilderness at the edge of our ability to tame.We traveled further upward, toward heaven, it seemed, nearby "Heaven's Peak" pointed the way. Upward and we stopped again at a turnout where the short stone wall at the edge of the road seemed to fall thousands of feet away. What an awe inspiring place this was.
Somehow, Barbara and I left our only longsleeve outerwear behind, but Linda saved the day with two extra windbreakers. It was very chilly in the shadow of the mountain.
Laura was with us in spirit, and I reminded myself of this often when my hand found the wooden cross in my pocket. We were here, after all, because our mom wanted the three of us to come to this place and scatter her ashes. For all the stratospheric highs we felt, we were tempered that Laura wasn't with us to see and experience it all. But it seemed a horrible waste to not experience this marvelous natural wonder and the beautiful state we all knew and loved because of our mother.
Some discussion had taken place about the actual scattering of the ashes. As we planned the trip, months before, we felt some unease at the unknown enviro nment we would be in; would there be opportunities to pull off and have a private moment? Would there be other people, would the authorities object? We found out that many people travel here for the same reason and some guidelines were available. A permit was required, but the location would be left up to us. We just hoped that we would know when the time was right as we travelled up. The road would eventually reach the top of the mountain at Logan's Pass, at which point we would turn around and come back down the same way. We just hoped that as we went up we would see a place, a setting that would be.
We stopped at several spots on the way up, the view was too limited from within the car we were in. Once you stepped outside the car, the border on the fantastic image you could see was gone, now it was horizon to horizon spectacular!
There were several waterfalls that crossed under the road, where the engineers had bridged the runoff stream. The second one was the one we chose for Mom's ashes, but we decided to finish going to the top and stop on the way down when we were on the other side of the road, there was a tiny turnoff space.
Further up the road to heaven we reached the top. There was a visitor center with restrooms Linda informed us had been updated since last time she was there which was refreshing. We stood at the top and watched as the sun broke over the nearby mountain to flood us in morning sunlight. It was extremely bright with the nearby snowpacks. We were hoping to see wildlife, but there weren't any in sight. The morning was extraordinary, and the sun burst over the mountain we had been traversing to reach the pass. In the immaculate sky the sun began an arc overhead and we started our descent.
We were anxious to complete the core meaning of our trip: to deliver mom to this place where she wished to be. This was a glorious scene, as the sun, the sky, the surrounding mountains all hushed and waited as we drove the short distance down again and parked next to the Haystack Creek sign. I had prepared the case mom's ashes were in, and I now removed the inner bag and carried it back to the creek. It was the perfect vessel: the creek was essentially the snowpack melting and being carried throughout the valley to the waiting lake below.
There was a private bank to the rushing stream on the mountain side of the road. I hopped the wall down to it and my sister shouted a warning. She couldn't see where I had jumped and to her it looked as if I'd dropped into the steep valley. I had actually only dropped about three feet then walked down a short rocky bank to the water just as it passed under the road and then dropped hundreds of feet to tumble further down into the valley. I opened the bag and, with a ord of thanks to God for bringing me here, I upended the contents directly into the rushing w
ater. She began traveling down the valley immediately after. The water was freezing cold and rushing fast, over the copper colored river rocks rinsed in this mountain runoff for millennia. I stood up and turned and Linda and Barbara had come down closer to the stream and we stood silently and hugged. Mom was here, we had brought her her last wish.We stood and pondered this spot for some time. We all took our pictures from all our different angles and sufficiently burned the spot into our memories. I think we all said a private prayer of thanks and a wish to come back to this place some time in the future. It was a beautiful splendid spot in nature which we had just made personally sacred. Yes. We would come back.
We didn't seem to be out of energy and we drove on down the mountain again, back down the way we had come. There was some smoke in the valley which showed up in some of the pictures: there were forest fires in the area, and we didn't know it then but it would turn into a catastrophic summer for Montana wildfires.
We decided to stop at the Lake McDonald Lodge on the way down. All the way we pass a steady procession of traffic going up. We are very thankful that we started so early, it's only 9am!
Lake McDonald, in the valley of the surrounding Whitefish mountain range makes for a spectacular setting, and the Lodge itself, built in the 1920's is elegant, rustic and bustling. We have a white table-cloth breakfast buffet of pancakes, eggs, sausages, biscuits and gravy, juice, coffee, did I miss anything? The lodge's world class restaurant did not miss anything. Now with the early start, and the full bellies, we drove back into Kalispell and back to the comfortable AirBnB accommodations and crashed out for an afternoon nap.When I woke up it was late in the evening, but it was still light out. I was confused, and took a picture of the western sky. 10 p.m. and there was still light in the sky. That night Barbara stayed up and talked til late late late. I love my sister and we have fun and talk about everything when we are together which is not often enough nowadays.
Tomorrow we would leave Kalispell and travel to Missoula and spend a day there. Sightseeing, seeking Mom's spirit and her tracks. We know she was once there, and we wanted to walk in her tracks a little bit, if only in personal esteem.
Heavenly views from Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park, Montana, USA
Next: We travel from Kalispell to Missoula stopping to visit friends' cherry orchard right on Lake Flathead, then on to visit Mom's childhood home.
¶ 7:37 PM 1 comments
