Erin's Journals

I need to vent about nature and one animal in particular: the common domestic cat.
 
Now, before anyone gets their fur up, Rob and I have had the good fortune to share our home through the years with many cats: Toonces (named for the Driving Cat on Saturday Night Live), Billy, Kitty and George among them. When I was growing up, our sweet grey cat’s name was Pookie. Of these pets – every one of them a rescue – only one was an outdoor cat.
 
George was a gorgeous, fluffy grey male whom we found during a visit to the Humane Society in the early 1990s. What we didn’t know when we brought George home was that he was a cat who loved the great outdoors. He insisted on being a part of it, sundown to sunrise, daily. He would meow loudly and persistently at the back door of our little Ajax house until we relented and let him out, always worried for his safety until he returned for breakfast.
 
Now, nearly 30 years later, I’m finding myself seething over a neighbour’s outdoor cat. He or she is a lovely, fluffy strawberry blond(e), and we’re told by other neighbours that he just kind of showed up and was adopted by the family at the end of the road. He looks so much like Molly that once I stopped the car in the street thinking she’d gotten out of the house after we left! 
 
Unfortunately, we’re seeing way too much of him lately. You see, we have a large tree- and bush-filled backyard. I’ve shared with you my delight at seeing deer (including this beauty and his new antlers)…
 

 
…as well as bunnies, the odd raccoon and oodles of hummingbirds that light every so briefly in the trees. The lovely Steller’s jay is the closest we get out here to the blue jays we used to see in Southern Ontario and once in a while one of these comes to visit.
 

 
But the creatures that I’m most worried for these days are these guys.
 

 
Yes, that’s a quail and lately we’ve been happy to see and hear a male, female and seven of their little chicks just pecking and chip-chip-chipping away as they explore the garden together. You can imagine how I felt yesterday morning when I saw the neighbours’ big fluffy cat sitting in the corner of the yard, watching the little family like a hungry man eyeing a bucket of KFC. 
 
My view was obstructed from where I stood on the deck, but soon the cat disappeared and all I heard was a great cacophany of distressed bird sounds – quail sounds – as the family tried its best to defend itself. I tried clapping and shouting to scare off the predator; it didn’t work. I went inside the house and tried not to think of what was happening in my own backyard. A bloodbath, I imagined. And I tried to keep in mind the mantra that nature is not cruel, but it is indifferent.
 
Later in the day, I was relieved to count the same number of chicks and two more adults. Maybe they were combining families; I’ve no idea. Quails are not known to be extremely smart, but nature has to have built in some kind of survival skills!
 
Just when I was ready to let go of the trauma I’d imagined, I went to get the mail across the street. There on the ground lay a severed wing – bone and all – in mottled greys and browns. It looked pretty clearly to me to be that of an adult quail; possibly one that had died defending its little family.
 
I’m trying not to anthropomorphize too much here, but it’s hard. Babies and parents – whether birds or deer or that terribly sad story of the orca and her three weeks of swimming with her dead calf – touch something primal and nurturing in us all. I realize that some people are unable (as we were in the case of George) or just unwilling to keep their cats inside the house. But would putting a bell on its collar be so much to ask, so that their furry friend could give a bird a fighting – or flighting – chance?
 

I’ll be honest with you: despite the great adventures and some lovely sights, this coastal drive was not what we had expected. Our trip down the coast from San Francisco through Santa Barbara and almost to San Diego six years ago provided more scenic views; this one up through California, into Oregon and eventually Washington State was more shrouded in fog that we would have liked.
 

 
So there’s my travel tip for you: if you plan to do this, fly in to San Francisco and make your way south from there. 
 
I’m not complaining – please don’t think that – just pointing out that our expectations were perhaps unrealistic. There were surprises: we were thrilled to see orcas in California and then even more wildlife roadside. I mean, how often do you see signs warning or advising of animals and you never, ever see them? Not this time!
 

 
Not 500 metres past this billboard, we actually had to stop along the highway for about five minutes while a herd crossed. (Rob shot this after we’d shut off the engine and sat waiting.) 
 

 
The last one was definitely worth the wait – what a handsome young fellow!
 

 
Oregon surprised us, in that there were amazing views of sand dunes. Who knew that some of the best beaches we’ve seen (or almost seen, thanks to fog!) would be in Oregon? That’s a state to which we would definitely return.
 
Despite the fog and mist, we were just grateful not to be affected – as so many thousands are both in the US and Canada – by the virulent wildfires burning again this year. One town in California was just one new house build after another; it was then that I Googled last year’s devastating fires and, sure enough, we were driving through one of the aftermaths. And now to hear that a man set the latest in Holy Jim Canyon; it’s beyond imagination how someone could be that twisted.
 
Our only hardship was one that millions of GTA commuters endure daily: a 90-minute traffic jam in Portland, Oregon. As we watched our GPS tick down to how long we had to get to our ferry in Port Angeles, Washington that night, our stomachs got tighter and tighter.
 
We moved about 20 kilometres in that time and not knowing the cause or when it would end was the most frustrating part of all. I searched online – nothing – and traffic reports are rarely helpful when you’re in a city you don’t know: they tell you when things get better (or where) and you don’t know if that’s 40 minutes or 40 kilometres away!
 
As we sat barely moving, with four hours until we could get to our reserved ferry spot at 8:30, my island pal Nancy texted me that I should call the Coho ferry and ask if they’d hold, even if we got there later than the recommended one hour before sailing. I did so and they couldn’t have been more helpful. We felt as if we’d bought a half hour’s breathing space.
 
As our deadline approached, the drive up through Washington State was one of the loveliest legs of our trip. Top down next to the ocean, we enjoyed sights like these.
 

 
With an immense amount of relief, we made the ferry dock by 8:40, grabbed some takeout from a nearby restaurant and less than an hour later, enjoyed our Korean food on the 90-minute ride back to Victoria. 
 
Home in bed by midnight, it was so good to surprise Molly (already asleep on a bed recently made up by our friends and house sitters Susan and Steve) and we’ve been making up for missed cuddles ever since.
 
So there you go – our California/Oregon/Washington road trip adventures are done. The MINI logged over 3,000 kilometres and didn’t give us a moment’s worry. Still, $1.43 a litre gas and all, it’s good to be home. Suitcases are unpacked, laundry’s done, American money is put away and we’ll just sit tight…until next time! Talk to you here tomorrow.
 

I hope you had a restful weekend. Ours was spent relaxing Saturday and then out cooking and selling hot dogs and burgers on behalf of the Rotary Club of Sidney at a local summer fair. Big fun with great people. I’m so glad to be involved with Rotary in our new home!
 
Back on the road we go in today’s journal and I want to take a second to say if you were away last week and missed our travels, please feel free to go back and enjoy the pictures and stories. It’s a pleasure and joy to share them with you and we’re honoured you want to come along.
 
This was one of our favourite stops: a resort in a tiny spot called Little River in California. We had dinner as we watched at least one orca spouting and splashing nearby; earlier we enjoyed late day scenery of the dramatic seascape.
 

 
We were glad to have shot some pictures in the late day sunlight; the next day we were enshrouded in fog for most of the drive – a theme we’d become very familiar with. More on that tomorrow.
 

 
The majesty of California’s redwoods was brought up close and personal in Leggett, home to some of the world’s tallest and largest trees, where we just had to follow the signs to their “drive-through tree.” I’ll be honest: we wanted to use their restrooms more than to pass through a living tree, but for $10 we got to do both. I mean, when it’s rated #1 (albeit of 2 things to do in Leggett LOL), how could we just drive past, right?
 
Here, an SUV ahead of us had to back out because of its size.
 

 
Did our car make it? (Hint: it’s a MINI.) But we have actual video of us going through. It’s just 25 seconds long if you want to give it a quick look.
 

 
Ooooooh! A real cliff-hanger, right? Thanks, Leggett! 
 
The next and final day of our drive was the most harrowing and I’ll explain why tomorrow. Once again, though, it’s good to be home. 
 
In the meantime, thank you again for sharing some time here. I know that, especially on social media, there are a lot of sites and folks pulling you in different directions and hoping for a few minutes of your time. We don’t take for granted, Rob and I, the fact that you want to be here with us a little bit each day. Thanks again!
 

Hi there! Happy Friday and, before I get to our travels, I wanted to remind you that you don’t even have to leave your own balcony or backyard to see one of the biggest shows of the year.
 
Tomorrow through Monday, the annual Perseid meteor shower takes place with tomorrow and Sunday night promising more than 100 shooting stars per hour. Of course, you’ll want to find a dark spot and, thanks to the new moon tomorrow night, there will be no competition among the heavens. I wish you clear skies and you can learn more from Gary Boyle, The Backyard Astronomer, through this link.
 

 
We were looking to the skies, too, during our recent trip, as our drive from San Francisco to the Napa Valley was just under 90 minutes of late day glory. If, like us, you’ve never been to this part of California but had heard of it forever, I can tell you that it’s quite similar in some ways to the interior of BC and its gorgeous Okanagan Valley, while also reminding a traveller of the Niagara Region’s copious vineyards and endless views of regimented greenery. 
 
After a busy day traipsing through San Francisco, we were delighted to be warmly welcomed as we checked into an inn in the Stag’s Leap District for two nights. The sun was disappearing behind the mountains…
 

 
…but we still got glimpses of the beauty that would greet us in the morning.
 

 
After a wonderful sleep (that finally didn’t require ear plugs) and a full breakfast, we started out to do a little exploring. Seems everyone we met was shocked when we said we weren’t going to visit any wineries; it’s by far the number one activity for people in the valley.
 

 
The folks staying with us at the inn were horse people from Kentucky; they’d flown in for the weekend and rented a limo van to take them from one tasting and Michelin-quality meal to another. That is so not our style: we wanted to wander some streets and maybe eat at a bistro. Besides, the inn stay was quite spur-of-the-moment and I packed for a ball game, a concert and a tour, not some once-in-a-lifetime dining experience!
 
The city of Napa is quite a commercial little spot that’s been built up to accommodate the wine country visitors. Made up of shops and restaurants, it paled in comparison (in our opinion) to nearby Yountville for artistic charm and understated personality.
 
There were lovely little art installations everywhere, including this mushroom “garden” made from river rock…
 

 
…while grapes grow within reach of the town’s sidewalks. Hey – who’s this handsome guy?
 

 
We ended up dining on a rooftop bistro and just taking in a perfect, quiet summer day. And to put a cherry on top, a nice soak in the hot tub at the inn. (Yes, I had to go buy a bathing suit for the occasion – didn’t want to scare the vintners!) Ahhhhh.
 

 
I hope your weekend is ahhhhh-some too, that you get a view of the Perseid show and when we come back (and yes we’re home safe and sound), I’ll share with you tales of the California, Oregon and Washington leg of our trip. We were extremely fortunate not to be anywhere near the massive fires hitting California during our travels; the MINI’s top was sprinkled with ash one morning when Rob was en route to SF due to the Carr fires, but that was truly the extent of our experience. How lucky we were! 
 
We’ll be back here with you on Monday.
 

 
San Francisco is a city so steeped in character that it’s almost impossible to capture it here. But we’ll give it a shot! And yes, I went there without flowers in my hair but found a doorway that worked just fine!
 

 
Home to what’s known as the crookedest street in the world (what? not Pennsylvania Avenue in DC?) a one-way street in a private neighbourhood, Lombard Street has eight hairpin turns. It’s a great walk, a challenging drive and a must-see when you’re in the City by the Bay.
 

 
One of the most whimsical and interesting spots along the bay shoreline is Pier 39. An amusement park vibe fills the air: restaurants and outdoor snack bars abound, there are captivating street performers and, oh yes, this lovely carousel.
 

 
It’s a definite highlight, although the view of dozens of sea lions and seals just lounging in the warm August sun was a treat for many visitors. 
 

 
A vibrant coastline ferries tourists close enough to Alcatraz to get a good view (which is what we settled for last time when we couldn’t get tickets for an actual tour) and there are whale watching boats too. These folks wore plastic ponchos to minimize the ocean spray. Can’t blame ’em!
 

 
We encountered a little taste of home (in more ways than one) while in San Fran, too – a Toronto street car! 
 

 
I was a little disappointed to learn that it wasn’t one of the original TTC vehicles; the city has salvaged street cars and outfitted them to resemble the transit vehicles from various cities known to have them. Still, it was nice to see our own alongside the cars from other countries (like Italy) and several American cities. A lovely little reminder of our commonalities in these times of such vast differences.
 

 
And speaking of a taste of home – and things we have in common – I had a lovely surprise during our visit to Alcatraz. It’s funny: just that morning as we were packing up to leave Berkeley, I almost said to Rob, “I’m going to meet someone from Toronto today.” I didn’t. But that is exactly what happened.
 
As we toured the prison, I was off in my own world listening to the audio guide and a former prisoner describing the dining hall as the “gas chamber,” so nicknamed by inmates because of the cannisters of tear gas poised to drop from the ceiling in the event of an insurrection. I felt a gentle tapping on my left shoulder. And then I felt it again. I turned around to see a pretty face – a woman resembling Madonna just a bit – and she said, “Erin! It’s Gwen!”
 
Sure enough, a lady with whom I’ve been in correspondence over the past several months, a CHFI listener and journal visitor, was on The Rock with her husband and daughter that very day. We hugged, chatted, and took a few pictures. She joked about worrying that I’d think she was stalking me and I said – and I’ll keep saying it ’til I die – I am honoured and very happy when someone comes up to say “hello.”
 
Many a time people have written and said they saw me and were afraid to bother me. Are you kidding? I miss the connection we shared for all of those years. And I am waiting for the hugs and handshakes that accompany next year’s book tour and public appearances!
 

 
So ended our visit to San Francisco. Oh, but not before there was one last moment I’m happy to share: we were coming into the city on one of its many toll roads and – newbies that we are – we were in the Fast Pass lane. Of course, we didn’t have one, only cash, and because the top was down on our MINI, I was able to turn and look back over my right shoulder, make eye contact with the driver next to us and put on my “sad/desperate/pleading” face.
 
You’d be amazed at how that works: when other drivers actually see you as a human being, they’re not so fast just to ignore you and push by. Because that man in the SUV let us in, we paid our and his $4 toll at the booth ahead. They waved “thanks” and on we all went. I loved that moment. I was able to show my appreciation to someone in a real way for doing something nice. And who knows? Maybe they saw the Beautiful British Columbia license plate and thought, Huh. Canadians are OK!
 
Tomorrow: off to parts of California we’d never seen before and a heads up on something you’ll want to see at home this weekend – wherever you are!