San Juan Island, an awayschooling family travel log

Monday—travel to San Jaun

Up well before the sun and out the door with its rise. Our flight left at 10:30, but we like to be plenty early. The flight to Seattle was easy and we landed with plenty of time to spare. Plenty enough time for a wine and smoothly stop at an airport bar and some good reading (Moby Dick—I'm finally going to do it!), and we were off to the island on a 10-seater plane. We made it. Aunt Cookie and Unlce Michael picked us up with snacks in teh car. They live ten miles from town, and a beautiful ten miles it is. n our drive home alone we saw black-tailed deer, rabbits, and a fox who waits for people to stop and feed him, so he's this close to you, always. Back at "home" we fed the black-tailed deer, practically by hand. Also an Anna's hummingbird and local sparrows. Their inlet is beautiful—serene and lovely. Our first fun (or second, or even third, if you count the wildlife) was to go right out on the boat to retrieve the crab pots put down earlier in the day. No keeper crabs, but several to put back, which Calvin helped with in great delight. And after that work was done, we took a spin around a rocky island to see the Harbor Seals and sea birds (gulls and Oyster Catchers and a Great Blue Heron). Back on land, a delightful dinner of salmon far surpassing any store bought fish, and after dinner a trip down to the dock with flashlights to view the night aquarium: the sea anemone, shrimp, ghost shrimp, and a fascinating array of zooplankton that call the area around and under their dock home, viewed to best advantage after dark with flashlights. We are exhausted but content.

Tuesday

Up earlier than expected (or later than expected if you consider that it was already eight back at home), and nothing is boring here. The sun rises to reveal wildlife galore on the serene inlet: Blue Herons, gulls, grebes, the hummingbird is back, and the deer want their breakfast. Before anything else this morning, Uncle Michael and Calvin disappeared into the Radio Room (where all his radios are kept) and made contact with the outside world. They did this for a first time last night, and I'm not sure I've seen Calvin so thrilled about something in a while. After that and breakfast, our first order of business today was a hike up Mt. Young—a moderate hike with beautiful views at the top. Then lunch at the northwest end of the island, at the marina in Roche Harbor, a stop to get Calvin a fishing license, and a stroll among the marina boats—not unlike the Lake Michigan boat collections, although skewed to the larger side as a whole. After lunch? A stroll in the woods to a hilarious mausoleum (I'm sorry, I can't hep it: the people were buried in chairs around a table). The stroll and the woods were beautiful. On our way back to the southeast tip of the island we stopped at English Camp National Park, the English encampment from the pig war (which we will learn more about from the American Camp side in a couple of days), where we sighted an Osprey and some enormous Maple trees of a special breed, and then at Lime Kiln State Park, where we found Harbor Porpoises, Harbor Seals, Ravens, and beautiful water views. The day was so beautiful, and our hosts so accommodating, that when we got home we headed right back out on the boat in search of sea lions. And wouldn't you know? We found them exactly where we'd hoped they'd be! Yet the seals from yesterday were not on the island where we'd left them; it's as if the wildlife is on parade expressly for our pleasure. Crab and steak for dinner before collapsing into exhausted sleeps.

Wednesday

This morning started almost as early as yesterday, but I have hope that we may adjust to the time, probably just before heading home. This morning all three guys went out for a fishing adventure (Calvin caught 5 king salmon, but all just too small to keep), while I sat and watched the inlet wake up before Aunt Cookie and I went for a walk to the beach where the driftwood is the size of a mast head (reading Moby Dick, remember?) and covers the entire shore, then up a grassland hill and through a forest of still more sizeable trees. After a companionable lunch together, our family of three went into town to the whale museum there. It was a thrilling stop, especially since we are reading Moby Dick, and I believe the artifacts from Melville era American whaling vessels may have delighted Calvin as much if not more than the bleached bones suspended from the ceiling. On our way back we spotted a bald eagle in a pine near the road where we stop every day to visit the fox we now refer to as Tommy. And after a relaxed happy hour at home it was back to town for Thai dinner (yum!), and before bed another go at the ham radio. Those two, Uncle Michael and Calvin, are now referring to themselves, and each other, as hamsters.

Thursday

Our final full day on the island. It started out like yesterday with the guys out on the boat, only this time their efforts yielded not even a thing to throw back, only the hope of later crabbing success in the pots they put down. And again Aunt Cookie and I hiked, this time to the top of the hill that is big enough to have its own name: Mt. Finlayson. Lunch was a calm affair at home, and then we shoved off to see the last of the island parks: American Camp, South Beach, and Cattle Point. At American Camp (vast, coastal grassland with more rugged, debris strewn seashore) Calvin proudly earned his Junior Ranger Badge by learning about the Pig War and exploring the park in great detail. At South Beach (more coastal grassland but made largely barren due to an overabundance of rabbits) we observed Surf Scoters diving en masse for their food while Calvin combed for rocks and constructed with the smaller pieces of wood. And at Cattle Point Glacier Learning Center we observed glacial striation on the exposed rocky outcrop, which we also enjoyed climbing upon. Back at home a boat ride out to the crab pots yielded the promise of a fresh dungeness crab dinner! So Calvin was able to participate in the entire process from dropping the pots through collecting them, killing, cleaning, and cooking the crab, and finally to cracking and eating it. For our final night we took another trip to the night aquarium (back to the dock with flashlights), another hour on the ham radio, and music and dancing late into the night. 

Tomorrow we leave the island for peninsula. I have no doubt that our adventure will be as exciting there, but it is hard to leave our time here with family and all the enriching experiences they so lovingly provided. I have always referred to these trips as our fall awayschooling adventures, but when we left for this one I had no idea how great the learning part of the adventure would be. For Calvin especially the time on the sea alone has been wholly new and enriching, a time submerged in a new vernacular and a new way of living, plus the radio time, the American history time, and all the physical activity. I call it science, history, ecology, and even art. Plus the reading—this really was a great time to tackle Moby Dick together. 

To be continued in our travel log on the Olympic Peninsula...

Pools, gardens, ducks, and lions (a circuitous journey to Stratford)

We are just back from our final summer trip, and the last of our traditional it-isn't-summer-without-it trips: Stratford. Only this year it was a little different. Jon was headed in that direction to present his company's summer lecture series in a few different towns, and rather than have him go and come and go again, we tagged along with him for his week of work preceding our weekend theater tickets. This was a new thing for us, and one which required a lot of planning and a little getting used to. Let's just say that to make a tagalong trip successful, one really only need add pools.

Yes, throughout the week, while Jon was busy presenting to adoring masses of piano teachers (autographs are a common request, I kid you not), Calvin and I were busy becoming hotel pool connoisseurs. This was where the planning came in, because we had to make sure that the hotels Jon booked had pools to begin with, then we had to organize our time so that Calvin and I could take advantage of said pools while Jon worked, keeping in mind check-out times. It ended up with Calvin and I showering, throwing things in suitcases, and dashing out of hotel rooms just before the noon bell chimed, only to spend the next hour lounging in the lobby on our suitcases, eating lunches packed from the family cooler. It was a nifty system, once we got the hang of it, which was, oh, about Jon's last day of presentations.

So pool connoisseurs we have become, but we also made good use of travel time between cities, for though Jon was working, we ended up spending his family time in the afternoons, sight-seeing on the road, and reserving the evenings and nights (and mornings, of course) for work. Like I said, we really got our stuff together by about the last day, but we had a good time doing it, and we saw a lot of things—cities, and pools, and gardens, and shacks, and pools, and rain showers, and sunshine, and did I mention pools? All on our way to one of our favorite summer destinations: Stratford.

There were a lot of stops, and there are a lot of pictures (many from the phone this time, too, because so often I found myself in a place where I never expected to want pictures, then was glad to have the phone—which is good, because that's why we got it).

Day one is always the worst: the most driving combined with the most eagerness and the most impatience. That, and we got a little lost in Windsor when the money exchange was closed (how on earth do they expect people to spend money in their nightclub dives without a money exchange???), but we got it together eventually, then rewarded ourselves with root beer floats at a rest area (note to U.S. road commission: get A&Ws in the rest areas stat).

Day two saw a lot more action. Pool notes first: pool number one was warm and was a great size, but it was in the hotel basement and felt a little secluded. 

After swimming all morning we did our first shower-and-pack dash, then ate lunch and read in the lobby. It was actually kind of relaxing. Toronto was less so, but since we've become regular visitors to Chicago, we didn't find the city as taxing as some might. We found the CN Tower almost as underwhelming as the beer at the Steam Whistle Brewing, but enjoyed the trains at the Toronto Railway Museum.

Day three. The pool was actually pretty great, except that two hours of the morning it was being used for swim aerobics and water workouts for the (elderly? geriatric? local old folks?). We were still welcome to partake of the pool's wateryness, but there wasn't any room for us to swim, so instead we hung out in the deep end, getting a kick out of the collected grumpiness that filled the rest of the pool.

The afternoon was more successful. After our lunch/reading time in the hotel lobby, we all stopped at the Royal Botanical Gardens where we found bees, chipmunks, and a long dead and burried horse, but not as many flowers as one might expect. We stopped at three of their garden sites and their quaint tea house before heading to our final pre-Stratford stop, London (where our hotel looked delightfully like a castle).

Day four. The best pool yet, in part because it was really three pools in a fun atrium setting, but also because we stayed two nights there, so we had two full mornings to swim. Plus the hotel, in addition to being awesome because it looked like a castle, had a fascinating interior, including putt putt golf.

An added benefit of our castle hotel was its downtown London location, which allowed us to go for afternoon and evening walks between rainshowers. 

Day five: probably our best day outside of Stratford. On day five we enjoyed the castle hotel pool one last time before shoving off for the Fanshawe Pioneer Village. This is a quaint collection of old buildings (and some replicas), assembled roughly in the order of a timeline, yet somehow also in the shape of a town. We started off at a mid-1800s log cabin and moved through several other buildings from that era before entering the late 1800s, then the early 1900s. Along the way we saw demonstrations of varying sorts—blacksmith, wood working, sheep, an osprey, even a groundhog (okay, those last three weren't exactly demonstrations). We also met a period actor who was delighted to know that we were enjoying ourselves, even as frequenter visitors of Greenfield Village, and we got to see real live Indian Runner Ducks. We had a great time. I have only one warning: don't bother with the food.

Day five was also Jon's first day of actual vacation, and the day that we finally arrived in Stratford. It's hard for me to explain or describe our love affair with this town. The natives there are short of friendly, everything is overpriced, and getting service anywhere is difficult. But over the years we've come to look forward to our time there, staying in the family-owned motel with the perfectly quaint breakfasts, going for walks along the man-made "Avon" and talking to all the entitled water fowl, eating hand-dipped soft serve like you've never had anywhere else at Jenn & Larry's, and, of course, taking in the expertly produced plays (this year? The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and As You Like It).

can you spot the two baby bunnies in the open grass?










wine sippy cups at intermission...

Grand Haven

When we were coming home from Italy a few years ago and were nervously going through our first return trip through customs (because if you live in Michigan, Canada doesn't count), the nice man who interviewed us gave us an outsiders view of our home state. "Where are you from?" he asked in his all business, no nonsense tone. "Michigan," Jon replied in his slightly shakey, I've never done this before tone, to which the officer replied "Michigan!" his tone immediately turning to one of astonishment, "Got some troubles over there. You still have a job?" I guess to some, our state economy is at best a mystery, at worst a complete horror. 

But there is so much more to our home than the outsiders view of a suffering economy. Michigan is a beautiful land of water and woodland. Our lake shores feel as vast as the ocean but without the salt and the sharks. I love to travel and experience new plances every chance I get, but I love coming home, and I'm also always happy to take a vacation right here: if not quite a staycation, then a statecation.

We were on the road again last weekend, this time for a family wedding on Jon's side that took us to the beautiful "west coast" of Michigan where the soft, fine sand stretches over small dunes and into the lake. There we soaked up time with family we hadn't seen in years. We buried our toes in the sand while watching the sun sink toward the horizon behind an unmarred span of lake. We attended a chilly but sweet wedding and danced into the evening. We broke bread and drank wine together. We came home refreshed and invigorated. 

Father's Day

It is important that we appreciate each other. So many little things go by unnoticed every day that are worthy of appreciation, and the truth is that if we mention each of them in the moment, we'd spend our whole lives saying thank you, or I'm sorry, or, in our greatest moments, you're amazing. To some extent, the many thanks that we owe each other are casualties of the greater good, because the many wonderful things we do for each other are expectations of our lives together. We are bonded by a mutual understanding and commitment, and with that comes the expectation of the benefit of the doubt. Forget love means never having to say you're sorry, life commitment means rarely having to say please or thank you.

Only that's not exactly right, is it? So we have these days throughout the year—birthdays, commemoratives, honoraries—that give us an opportunity to appreciate, openly and with all our hearts.

It's the little things. The trash taken out on Fridays, the mail picked up when we remember, all the electronics in the house synched and functioning. 

It's the daily things. The water jug in the refrigerator kept filled, the little boy's teeth brushed, the coffee made in the morning. 

It's the big things. Patience amidst chaos, gentleness amidst anger, calm amidst panic.

We do these things for each other now without offering, the same way that we accept them without thanking, and that's okay, as long from time to time we recognize the life we've built together and take the moment to stand in awe of all its beauty and all its flaws. 

The purple racer

His pants are too short, his sleeves are too short, his shoes are too small. Every spring I find myself hoping he can just get through the last few chilly weeks and avoid the extra shopping trip before the cool weather returns in the fall, so if you see him wandering around in flood pants it's likely April or May. And he can now reach the top shelf of the refrigerator himself, too, which means that this horrible habit he has of growing is only going to continue, if not increase. 

But the one big shopping trip that can't be skipped every spring is the new bike. When I was young, my grandparents were in charge of bike replacement. It was a tradition. I remember one particular spring well: our shopping trip, the ensuing frustration of assembly, and an evening ride on my new mauve ten-speed before a grilled family dinner. These are fond memories, strengthened by the annual repetition of the ritual, and they are precious. So when my parents offered to continue that tradition with Calvin, we gladly took them up on it, and today we set out to procure his new two-wheeled transportation.

I'll tell you first that we tried shopping at our little local bike shop before we entered any big box store. But, while they had a very nice bike that would have suited Calvin well, they didn't have the one feature he wanted most of all: the color purple. So when we walked into Toys-R-Us and there, on the bottom rack right in front, was a purple bike with teal accents, it was love at first sight. He rode it once around the store and declared it perfect. Of course he'd likely have given the same verdict even if a wheel had fallen off, but it received a grandparent seal of approval as well, so home came the new purple racer, and even a chilly, rainy afternoon couldn't keep the kid from giving a spin. Over and over again. Many spins, really. And the first of many more.