A real fish and river walk

Monday to Wednesday, September 6-8, 2021

 "Now that's a real fish." My brother sends a pic of the fish he and his friend (pictured) caught last weekend off Canada's West Coast. 

Now you know why I have no appetite for small lake fish. Grandpa used to take us fishing every weekend.  We ate a lot of baked and smoked sturgeon, salmon, and other fish that size. Grandpa even put future finned food in a kiddy pool to keep them alive if the smoker was full. 

After a few years, I grew out of my enjoyment of crossing the Fraser River in a little aluminum boat with 2 motors to push us through the wild currents. I grew out of like for hot days on the gravel bars with Grandpa asking us to hush so as not to chase the fish away. I got over drizzly days where we warmed up by a driftwood fire with a tarp pulled overhead. But one of my younger brothers kept going along, and he caught his love of fishing from Grandpa.

There's one last hurrah for the roses remaining from last week's anniversary arrangements. The palm fronds have dried up so they're discarded. I snip some dill and a white-leafed vine to round out the little bouquet.

Thursday

We go on "Mariska's walk," the last trek for Gypsy's first owner before she returned to the Netherlands. Mariska was an ardent and faithful hiker. Parts of the walk are steep, like this hill. (Looking up after we get to the bottom.)

We descend at another part of the trail to homemade bridges across a series of waterfalls.

It's pretty spiffy, actually. They've put handrails on one side! We used to cross a log to the center rocks. Then we'd pull off shoes and socks to cool our feet in the upper pond. Today the dogs wade in the ponds. We keep an eye on them so they're not too near the waterfalls where they can be swept away.

Once you're in the mid-stream, you can see where you've come from.

To get to the other side during rainy season when the water was high and fast, we used to hold hands not to get swept downstream, wading the slippery algae-covered rocks.

Now there's an iffy log with a handrail before the last bridge. It's sure easier than before. Instead of a muddy trail up the other side of the canyon, we now have more uneven steps. Here's Sweety, the golden retriever, about to balance on the log before crossing the last bamboo bridge. The dogs develop amazing balance, as do we.

There's a sign on the other side in the forest: Be careful. Live Firing Area. Written in Indonesian, it's quite clear: the army uses this area as a practice range. Why would you put tourist trails through the middle of that? we ask someone later.

"No problem. When they are shooting, the army will close the trail so you can't pass through." The sign stays up, regardless.

It's quite dry on the walk today. Some stream beds are empty of water but full of leaves. We look over the edge and think, Wouldn't this be a perfect time to pull heaps of dry bamboo and branches out of the channel?

That doesn't matter to locals. They know that eventually the hard rains return and everything gets washed downhill. They'll unblock the stream then, if they have to.

The contrast of dry ground and stuff falling on the trail is eye-catching.

These trumpet flowers first caught my attention years ago at a Seattle nursery.  The shop priced a 5' tree at over $100. Here they grow wild beside the hiking trails, 20' tall in the middle of nowhere.

The red coleus that someone planted has reseeded, growing wild and free up the hillside.

A little further, we encounter these puzzling steps - watch your feet. I think there was a narrow, uneven course before they were "improved" with a second set of steps to the side.

Every tread width, depth, and surface is unique. Another challenge is that some steps are 4" high and others are almost 24". Your feet zig zag back and forth: there's no good route straight down, and there is no way you're running this staircase! At least there's now a railing to mark the edge so you don't fall into the fields beside.

Great swaths of kale fields lie between us and the next ridge. Some workers send us back to the main trail. "You can't get through this way," they insist (though we have done so before.) "There's no path to where you're going." They're scared of the dogs.

We go back to the main trail and loop back to see the waterfalls we would have passed. If the workers are away next time, then we'll take the trail that "doesn't exist." See the white stream of water falling into the dark canyon?

Our lunch stop is set in traditional houses among vegetable and rice fields.

The entry is wonderful; high unpainted beams under traditional thatching.

I especially like the way they've combined dry palm leaves with growing water grasses in an enormous planter. For perspective, the arrangement is taller than we are.

From our table, we look over the small paddy field.

We ask for extra cushions so we can sit more comfortably cross-legged or with feet to the side.

Every hut has a carved statue suspended from a rope. you take the stick and hit the open-backed figure when you need to order. The tok tok of the stick on hollowed wood is quite loud and calls someone over immediately.

In one corner is a traditional thatched house.

We order a package of traditional foods - rice with chicken sate, mushrooms, rujak (sort of salad with peanut sauce), coconut chicken, tempeh and roasted fish.

A slow-moving stream flows by as we eat.

I'm interested in buildings and local architecture and design. This bathroom is beautiful.

Even the simple lock on the bathroom stall is clever - a stick tied to the door with a string. You slide it between wooden holes on either side - and the doors stay shut.

Friday

Isn't this a lovely vine? one or two flowers are white: they mature into clusters of red blossoms. I stop to take a picture on our morning walk.

Once I get to the office, it's meeting after meeting. I don't have a chance to take Mom's call.

The day is warm and God is good. In the afternoon, we meet as a book group, discussing Jojo Moyes' The Giver of Stars. What an adventure - worth reading.

But first, Alice delivers the mooncakes we ordered last month. Mooncakes are an annual traditional Chinese pastry, filled with beans or seeds or other things. My favorite? lotus paste, which I first discovered in Singapore 20 years ago.

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*God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.

Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts. The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Psalm 46:1-7

*Take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord; work, for I am with you. Haggai 2:4

*We are co-workers in God’s service. 1 Corinthians 3:9

Moravian Prayer: Faithful are you, Lord. We thank you for never leaving nor forsaking us. Your constant presence reassures us. Continue to equip us for the work of ministry. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.