Americas

Third times a charm.

Posted on November 2, 2014 by holidaymistake

It was my first attempt to get to White Cliff Island that sits alone and exposed out in Queen Charlotte Straight. Because of this exposure, the water conditions can be turbulent, and that was the case on this day. The wind and waves were starting to kick-up; the sea was getting angry, so I was looking for an alternative campsite I had read of; a safe port in the storm.
I came upon a small bay with a cobblestone beach, matching the description of the camp I was looking for and so I landed. I poked around the tiny cove, but there was no area to set up a tent; this wasn’t the right beach.

I bushwhacked down an overgrown ‘path’ that led from the beach up through the dense woods. After a hard-fought hundred yards, I arrived at another beach filled with huge driftwood logs and a deep narrow bay. Behind the logs, a small area was scratched out for one tent. This was the camp I was looking for.

Camp – Plan B -Port in the storm

I was feeling lazy, so even though the sea conditions were worsening, I decided to kayak the short distance instead of making multiple trips through the woods carrying all my equipment. (Plus I don’t like having my kayak out-of-sight so far from camp.) I launched and paddled out of the bay and around a point and into the wind. The wind and waves were manageable at first, but that quickly changed. The waves increased with no rhyme or rhythm; the water was foaming and the wind was gusting in my face, I couldn’t turn around even if I wanted to in this mayhem. Great; now because I was too lazy to hump all my gear, I’m going to get bashed on the rocky shore. I can see the headline now “lazy kayaker pays the price”.
I took a deep breath. It was chaotic but not catastrophic; I powered through to the calm cove. It was a tiny beach littered with massive driftwood, I dragged my kayak onto the logs to keep it out of the approaching high tide and set up camp.

Kayak on the driftwood.

The next day as I made a second attempt to get to White Cliff, it was a little choppy as I headed out. The landing on White Cliff is said to be tricky, you have to land on a rock ledge, like a granite ramp. I would only attempt this in good conditions but again the weather worsened. So I aborted the second attempt and headed for my plan C campsite.

So I landed at Owl Island; it was nice, but now I was obsessed about getting to White Cliff. I wandered the island and caught a view out into the straight, the water was calm and the wind had died. I ran back to the kayak and launched for attempt number 3.
It was only a few miles to the island and in the calm conditions it didn’t take me long; third time’s a charm. Now I just had to figure out how to land. The shore was rocky with white vertical walls. I searched for the elusive landing site and found a sloping, off-angle ramp with a wall on one side. I paddled hard, slid up the ramp, put my hand on the wall and jumped out of the kayak; easy.

landing ramp

I have heard that this was a amazing place to camp and it did not disappoint. The campsite was on the top of a hill and had a 360 degree view of Queen Charlotte Straight; beautiful. I slowly unpacked the kayak and set up camp. Before long, a humpback whale passed along the shore and then another, over the course of the afternoon, ten whales in total passed by.

Camp on White Cliff

It took a few days, some bad weather and three attempts, but it was worth it; A beautiful day, a great campsite on a small island in the middle of a whale highway.

Sunset over White Cliff Island.

Categories: Broughton Archipelago, BC - September 2014 | Tags: Kayaking Broughton Archipelago BC Canada, Sea kayaking | Leave a comment

Orca!

Posted on November 1, 2014 by holidaymistake

Boughton Archipelago is where the orcas spend their summer. One of the world’s largest salmon runs, the Fraser River Salmon travels through the area, and so large numbers of orca go to gorge themselves. I was taking a six day solo kayak trip through the area, camping on small remote islands, and I was hoping to see some of them. I have seen Orca from my kayak before, but from a distance or only a quick glimpse, so I wanted to get a closer look. But not too close; they are called Killer Whales after all.

Telegraph Cove

I launched from Telegraph Cove and after I fought through the turbulent water west of Hanson Island I got into mellow Blackfish Sound, where the Orca frequent. It was a beautiful day: no wind, mostly sunny, calm seas. After a short rest, I started to paddle across the Sound and I kept hearing a loud, deep, hollow booming sound, reverberating across the water like a distant canon firing. What is that noise? I stopped paddling and drifted, looking for the source. Far in the distance, I saw a humpback whale breach and land with a enormous splash, followed by a loud boom that echoed throughout the Sound. For the next few minutes whales were launching themselves into the air; something you don’t see everyday.

When the show was over, I continued across the sound, and before long I saw plumes of water and the unmistable sound of whales taking a deep breath as they surface. I realized it was large pod of Orca slowly moving towards me. If they stayed on course, it looked as if they were going to pass in front of me, so I stopped paddling. There were at least twelve whales traveling close together, swimming slowly and surfacing often.

Three male Orcas came within one hundred yards from the kayak, their dorsal fins slowly rising from the water. The male dorsel fin is uncurved and can be six foot tall, an odd but imposing sight from my kayak. I was only slightly uncomfortable because the pod passed safely in front of my bow.

When the pod was in the distance, I was just about to start paddling again when a loud noise behind me. I twisted around in the kayak cockpit to see a humpback surfacing fifty yards directly astern. I spun the kayak 180 and watched a few more humpbacks with distinctive tiny dorsal fin and humped backs.

I finally left the Sound and glided to my campsite through a maze of small islands and bays. I noticed a small splash in front me, moments later another closer; it looked like a small Harbor Porpoise. He surfaced again fifty feet directly in front of me, heading right for me, collision course. I fumbled for my camera, as he surfaced six feet to port; I could have hit him with my paddle. I took a picture a little late, missed the shot.

Thats why I came, to see some Orca. I got my wish and then some; I could not believe my luck, a pod of orca in front, followed immediately by humpbacks behind and finished up with a suicidal porpoice- The trifecta and it’s only day one!

Categories: Broughton Archipelago, BC - September 2014 | Tags: Humpback whales, Kayaking Broughton Archipelago BC Canada, orca, Sea kayaking | Leave a comment

Getting there is half the battle

Posted on October 17, 2014 by holidaymistake

I was embarking on my week-long solo kayak trip to the remote and wild Broughton Archipelago, off the far north-east coast of Vancouver Island, BC, Canada. This involved some meticulous planning and packing. I had to organize transport, menus, camping and kayaking equipment. Unfortunately, meticulous is one thing I am not, and my organizational skills are non-existent.

The week before the trip I begin piling up equipment and food in the staging area, a.k.a.the front room. All of the camping and kayaking equipment is supposed to be in neatly labeled bins in the garage. This year, as usual, things have mysteriously left the bins and scattered themselves all over the garage. This results in me digging around, last-minute, looking for crucial items in a garage piled high with crates, boxes, bins, bags and these could fall at any time causing major bodily harm.

I had to have everything set to pack the car and tie the kayak to the car roof, to leave by 7.30 am. The drive involves crossing the border, catching a ferry for the two-hour crossing and then a four-hour drive north to Telegraph Cove where I will camp for the night to launch early the following day. And all before dark, hopefully.

So the night before I come home from work to finish packing and the list of last-minute things to do is still alarmingly long. When I go to bed at midnight, I still have a few things to do in the morning including loading the kayak on the roof of the car. But my busy mind does not let me sleep well and so I am up before five; I load up the car, muscle the kayak on the roof, and tie up the loose ends. I’m on the road by 8:00am, not too bad, I should be fine to catch my ferry.

I get to the terminal and the sign says ‘Possible Wait’; translation= the ferry is almost full and I might not make it on; if I miss this ferry, it’s two hours until the next one and that would mean arriving at the campsite well after dark. The car in front of me paying was asking lots of questions, taking way too long. Finally I get to pay, get in line and then have to wait a long half hour until the ferry arrives, with fingers crossed, hoping to make it. The ferry arrives, cars start to load and I slowly move towards the massive boat. We stop and I am twenty cars away: No!

A few moments later, I am moving again slowly; I’m going to have a coronary. I am now only a few cars away when a man in orange, with a radio to his ear, walks up the line of cars. As he passes, I hear over the radio “… Two after the kayak”; the second car behind me is stopped, I made it! A huge relief hit me. After running around for 24 hours, packing, driving, lack of sleep, All of that was instantly forgotten, I made the ferry and will make camp by dark; the last hurdle.

The ferry always means I’m heading out on a trip; so from this moment on, I am officially on vacation.

Categories: Broughton Archipelago, BC - September 2014 | Tags: kayak, Kayaking Broughton Archipelago BC Canada | Leave a comment

Hydro Virgins at the Water Follies

Posted on September 19, 2014 by holidaymistake

We were in, when our friend Erin invited us to the 49th annual Water Follies (better known as ‘BOATS!’) to watch the hydro races in Richland, WA. Actually, we might have even invited ourselves. We have wanted to go for years but hadn’t had the opportunity.

Hydros are a Northwest tradition, with most races on the west coast; most people in the other parts of the country have no idea what a hydro race even is. Hydroplane races involve turbine-powered high-speed boats that race on a large circular course marked with buoys, skimming on the surface of the water at speeds in excess of 200 mph. It’s like Nascar on the water; what could be better?

Boats!

Eight of us and two dogs traveled from Seattle to Richland, and we all stayed with Erin’s parents, Micky and Luana. Every year their house is invaded By Erin and her brother’s friends who fill up the spare rooms and couches; we set up our tent in the backyard. Micky and Luana are part-saints, part-gluttons-for-punishment. Micky went out early every morning to the coffee shop to fill up a huge thermos with coffee for all of us. He would drive us to and fro from the local drinking establishments, whilst Luana kept us well fed with home-made dinner and bar-b-que.

Race time

On Race day, we arrived early and set up camp along the shore of the Columbia River. We set up the canopy, got out the lawn chairs and lathered up with sunscreen. Here the river is over a mile wide and has a slow current; perfect for Hydro racing.

The Water Follies grandstands

There were races all day and the first one was about to start. The course was directly in front of us, less than one hundred yards out. We waded out into the river, up to our knees, as the starting pistol went off; Can’t think of many other sporting events you watch standing in a river. The boats quickly rounded the far corner and were at full speed when they passed us. They skittered across the surface of the water, kicking up a huge rooster tail of water behind them. They are quieter than you would think; the engine had a high-pitch whine like a muffled jet engine, but they sure did haul ass.

Rooster Tail

We waded out to watch all the races, unless, of course, we were in the beer garden. We had to stay hydrated after all. The beer garden was a mixture of crappy music, sunburned skin and bad tattoos, but the beers were cold and the people-watching was epic.

Rules of the beer garden.

Meanwhile back on the racecourse, there were crashes, sinking boats, controversies. After one crash, a boat had a huge hole on its pontoon, the pit crew repaired it with duct tape, and yet the boat still managed to come back to win the whole thing. After more drama than most years, the races ended and we packed up our camp and headed home. The hydro virgins had survived their first Follies (relatively) unscathed.

Categories: Tri-Cities, WA - July 2014 | Tags: boats, hydro, redneck, richland, Washington | Leave a comment

Selfies

Posted on September 13, 2014 by holidaymistake

Selfies are all the rage, everyone is doing it, and why not? – they’re fun.

We hopped on the Selfie bandwagon and took a ton of them on our one thousand mile road trip through the deserts of the Southwest.

So here you go; our road trip selfies:

Las Vegas Venetian selfie

Sunrise Grand Canyon selfie

Rain in Grand Canyon selfie

There’s a new sheriff in town selfie

On a mule selfie

H climbing ladder to the mesa verde ruins, selfie

Climbing a ladder to a MesaVerde cliff dwelling selfie

H crawling through entrance to ruins, selfie

Crawling through entrance to ancient Mesa Verde cliff dwelling selfie.

Monument Valley driving selfie

Right Mitten Monument Valley shadow selfie

Cheto selfie with the sisters mesa, monument valley

Monument Valley Three Sisters Mesa Cheeto Selfie

Categories: Arizona - July 2014 | Tags: Cheetos, Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, Selfies | 3 Comments

Sunrise

Posted on September 12, 2014 by holidaymistake

Helen is not a morning person (to say the least), so I was surprised that she wanted to get up for sunrise at all, let alone more than once during our road trip around the Southwest. Helen really loves her sleep and hates to be woken up; I’ve discovered that the quicker you can get coffee in her, the better. But on this trip she was motivated and ready for the early alarm call.

Grand Canyon – South Rim Sunrise

First stop on the trip was the Grand Canyon South Rim. The thing to do at the Grand Canyon is to watch the sun slowly rise above the canyon; The early morning sun is supposed to bring out the rich colors of the canyon and is not to be missed. We arose when it was still dark outside, quickly got dressed, made coffee and ran outside. The eastern horizon was just starting to brighten and in the low light the canyon looked like a black and white picture. But as the sun rose, it turned every shade of red. However, the colors were definitely at their best an hour after sunrise, when the rays of the sun lit up the canyon walls.

Damn, we could have stayed in bed longer.

Canyon de Chelly – Spider Rock

The Canyon de Chelly is in the Navajo Nation and off the beaten path; it lacks amenities and is seldom visited. There is only one trail down to the bottom of the Canyon where a Navajo guide is not required; the White House Ruins Trail. We did not have a lot of time there, so if we wanted to do the hike, it would have to be early, really early.

Canyon de Chelly sunrise

As we descended into the canyon, the sun rose above the horizon. The trail switchbacked down the canyon wall, through small tunnels dug into the rock. The steep rock walls were rose-colored, smooth to the touch. Before long we were on the canyon floor, walking past small farms and hogans, the traditional Navajo houses, with small plots of vegetables, a few goats, no electricity or running water. A woman was selling her Navajo jewelry along the dry creek bed. We chatted and Helen bought a few beautiful necklaces. It’s great to see, but hard to believe, that people are living in this canyon the way they have been for thousands of years.

Navajo Hogan

At the end of the trail, the White House Ruins are at the base of a monstrous cliff; they were abandoned centuries ago. They get their name from one of the rooms plastered white, high up in the canyon wall. Except for the fact that pick-up truck has maybe replaced the horse, this canyon is from a different time; ancient ruins, hogans; this is a truly unique and beautiful place.

White House Ruins

Next up, Monument Valley Tribal Park. At 5:30 am the sun started to rise as we started The Wildcat Trail around the left Mitten, in Monument Valley, also in the Navajo Nation Reservation. We walked by monster mesas made famous by John Wayne and John Ford movies. The trail weaved through the desert, across dry river beds and around a mammoth sandstone butte. As the sun rose, the light first hit the buttes turning them bright red. We passed a couple of little Navajo family compounds with their packs of barky dogs that ran out at us to defend their territory.

Monument Valley, The Mittens – sunrise

With all of the beautiful scenery and the canine distractions, my eyes weren’t always on the trail, but luckily I looked down just in time to see a snake coiled up in the middle of the trail; Too small to be a rattler, but it definitely startled me.

I kept my eyes on the trail after that.

Snake on the trail!

On the last night of the trip, we were back at The Grand Canyon, but this time on the North Rim. We had to drive back to Vegas to fly out the following evening and so had to get on the road early, but we decided to get up one last time for sunrise; it is the Grand Canyon after all. So at dawn we stumbled out of our cabin and walked out to Bright Angel Point that juts out into the canyon. The sun rose above the canyon and bathed the canyon walls in orange sunlight… Amazing sunrise… blah blah blah…Grand Canyon, one of the seven natural wonders of the world….yeah yeah…. seen it all before. Whatever, … I need a coffee. We went and got a early breakfast (with A LOT of coffee) and were on the road by 8 am.

North Rim Grand Canyon sunrise

In the end, I was the one having a hard time getting up early, not Helen. By the time we boarded the plane in Vegas, I was exhausted from the lack of sleep. The early mornings have taken their toll, but it was worth it; We saw some of the most spectacular sunrises one of the most scenic areas of the country.

We can always sleep when we get home.

Categories: Arizona - July 2014 | Tags: Canyon de Chelly, cliff dwelling, Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, snake, sunrise | 2 Comments

Searching for the California Condor

Posted on July 31, 2014 by holidaymistake

The largest, most endangered and ugliest bird in North America is the California Condor, and I wanted to see one bad. The average weight of these condors is 26 pounds with a wingspan of 9.5 feet; one of largest birds on the continent. Condors have been released in and around the Grand Canyon for years but they still remain one of the rarest birds in the world. In 1987, only 22 California Condors existed in the wild; they were on the edge of extinction and something drastic had to be done. So they captured all of the existing condors, bred them in Californian zoos and then started to release them back into the wild in 1991.

While just over 200 now exist in the wild, it’s still one of the most miraculous come-backs from the brink; a rare conservation victory.

Glen Canyon.

Our recent road trip included both rims of the Grand Canyon and the surrounding countryside and so I was hoping to see one high in the desert sky. But it was now the second to last day and we had still not seen one. Helen is (fairly reluctantly) my birding co-pilot and she had read that a few sometimes hang out under the Navajo Bridge in Glen Canyon.

So we drove to where the bridge spans the canyon with its red vertical walls, high over the Colorado River. Right when we arrived, we looked under the bridge, in the criss-cross steel trusses, and immediately saw a large black bird!

First sighting.

So we walked out on the parallel pedestrian bridge for a closer look. It was a massive black bird with a hunched back; menacing looking; A juvenile Californian Condor with a dark head and a face only a mother could love.

Then I walked to the opposite side of the bridge and looked down into the gorge. Ten feet below me, perched under the bridge was an adult condor who cocked his featherless, colorful head to look back at me. Score two!

Every bird is captured, tagged with a number and small radio transmitter.

It got even better, just a few steps further down the bridge was a third condor, sitting with its wings out-stretched.

F1.

With only 200 birds left in the wild we were lucky to see just one, let alone three. And I was expecting to see them soaring far, far in the distance, not up close on the underside of a massive steel bridge. I’m not complaining.

The condor won’t win any beauty pageants but is a magnificently unique bird. Add it to The List:

California Condor
7-12-2014
Glen Canyon, Arizona, USA.

Categories: Arizona - July 2014 | Tags: Bird Watching, California Condor, Twitcher | 1 Comment

Getting our kicks on Route 66

Posted on July 28, 2014 by holidaymistake

What are you going to drive on historic US Route 66? A Prius? That would be sacreligious. It would have to be American and convertible; it’s Route 66 after all. So we rented a Mustang convertible.

Traveling Route 66 is like driving a road back through time; neglected and forgotten, but still an American classic.We stopped at numerous trading posts and roadside attractions that have been there since the glory days. From a distance, they look about the same, but when you get up close, you can see how they have aged. For starters, the twenty-year-old clerk is now actually sixty. There are pictures and artifacts lining the walls, all of the establishments are half-Museums. And they all have random Route 66 nostalgia to sell.

Helen and I were both excited for Bedrock City, Valle, AZ. It’s basically a scrubby grass/dirt lot with all your favorite Flintstones characters living right there in the Arizona desert; who knew? We went to the Caveman Beauty parlor, but The Rubbles house was a dump. Surreal isn’t even the word.

Betty’s head is bigger than ever. Am I having fun yet?

In Holbrook, Arizona, we stayed at the Wigwam Motel in one of a dozen small concrete teepees that are like small cabins, complete with a small shower and bathroom. All of the furniture inside was original, but it might be time for a refinish/replace. Originally built in the forties and fifties, these little teepee hotels littered the highways, now only three exist in the US. Probably not a big surprise to anyone. but we have now stayed at two out of three, and Helen is already planning our trip to the third in Kentucky.

Near the end of the road trip was Monument Valley on the Navajo Reservation. The best way to view the sandstone buttes was along a seventeen mile dirt and sand road. I probably should not have taken the Mustang on a 17 mile off-road excursion, but whatever, it’s a rental, right? We only bottomed out a few times but did almost get stuck in the deep sand. I got the hang of it after a few miles and was soon passing 4x4s. Giddy up, Mustang.

Off-roading in Monument Valley.

Categories: Arizona - July 2014 | Tags: Americana, Arizona, road trip, route 66 | 1 Comment

How to Celebrate the Fourth of July!

Posted on July 14, 2014 by holidaymistake

At the start of our anniversary road trip through the southwest, we flew into Vegas, where we got married, and so I envisioned champagne on The Strip and dinner at a fancy restaurant. But Helen had a different idea; go to a derelict old mining town in the desert, where they were holding the 24th annual fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk contest; mmm…sounds romantic. But it didn’t take long to convince me; less than 24 hours in Vegas and I’m already done and ready to go.

Driving through the desert along old Route 66, we turned onto the neglected road to Oatman, Arizona. Oatman was a booming gold mining town in the early 1900’s, but by World War 2, it was all over and the mines were shut. The town has not changed much since and now lures travelers with its authentic old west feel; clapboard buildings, abandoned mines, saloons. There are also free-range burros that roam the streets, offspring of the burros used during the mining days. When the mines closed, they let the burros free and decades later they are still around; not just a few, there are dozens of them all over town, blocking streets and trying to get in stores.

Burros have also been known to grab things out of your back pocket.

It was high noon and the egg frying contest was about to start. It is usually well over one hundred degrees in Oatman this time of year, but on this July 4, it was overcast and in the low 90’s, not the best conditions to fry an egg on the sidewalk. The competition was tough: mostly kids under age ten! but there were also a few people taking it very seriously with magnifying glasses and mirrors to enhance the rays of the sun. None of this worked; after ten minutes the eggs looked the same as when they came out of their shells; and at the end no one’s egg was remotely close to being cooked. However, in this contest, everyone’s a winner! Helen got a gold plastic metal for being the contestant from the furthest away, England. She did try to explain that we live in Seattle, but they could not understand her accent.

Winner!

After the contest, as per usual, Helen looked round the shops along Main Street and I went to find the local dive bar. I ended up it the old Oatman Hotel, where randomly Clark Gable and Carole Lombard had spent their wedding night in 1939. The hotel had a saloon wallpapered with signed dollar bills from patrons dating back decades. I chatted with a biker and his wife; he had on a Harley Davidson tee with the sleeves cut off and a tooth pick in the corner of his mouth. They gave me top tips on where to go along Route 66.

Feeling overly chatty on this day, I then struck up a conversation with an old-timer sitting next to me. He had on a Korean War Vet cap and a red, white and blue patriotic shirt. He introduced himself as Uncle Charlie and handed me his card.

He said that he had started life as a professional taxidermist but got bored and switched professions throughout his life and now his favorite thing was to be the local Reverend and do all the wedding ceremonies in Oatman. He also worked part-time at the saloon and lived in a small trailer out back. I realized he was the unofficial mayor of this town as all the locals that walked by shook his hand. Then Helen walked in and Uncle Charlie was not shy; I think he was a little smitten.

Uncle Charlie and Helen

We were celebrating a few things on this July Fourth; Independence Day, Helen recently becoming a US Citizen and our tenth wedding anniversary. I briefly wondered how many couples visit Oatman for their anniversary, (probably zero), but it made perfect sense to us; we like the unconventional. As we pulled out of town on the dirt road avoiding the burros, I thought to myself, that was random but pretty great; so glad we escaped Vegas.

Categories: Arizona - July 2014 | Tags: Burro, Ghost town, July 4, Oatman, road trip | 1 Comment

Auntie and Mom

Posted on May 10, 2014 by holidaymistake

I just returned home from Boston, visiting Auntie Donna who is fighting an aggressive form of cancer. It has brought back memories of her sister, my Mom, who died of cancer twenty-six years ago. Memories that have faded with time. These memories aren’t necessarily bad, I don’t want to forget, but now they hit me in the gut, an emotional jolt to the system. The doctors have exhausted all avenues, and all treatments on Auntie have stopped.

Like her sister, Auntie was determined to fulfil the trips she planned and dreamed of, and she was not going to be denied. Auntie and her husband Randy had planned to take a cruise to Alaska in August last year and her doctor was not happy with this. It took a lot convincing and then rearranging of her chemo but he finally relented. They stopped over for a day in Vancouver BC on the way home from Alaska. Helen and I drove from Seattle, picked them up and took a ferry over to Vancouver island. We spent the day touring around Victoria and it was great to spend time with them. Being on the opposite coast from my family, this was a rare treat for me.

Auntie, me and Randy in Victoria

Then over the winter Auntie was disappointed that her feet had swollen and she could not fit into her ski boots and would not be able to ski this season. (Seventy plus with aggressive cancer and she wanted to go skiing bad! That’s my Auntie!) However she did go on a quick trip to Saint Thomas over the winter to sail; Auntie and Randy had a sailboat for decades; she loves to sail.
So this last trip, I spent three wonderful days with Auntie in Boston. We took long walks and chatted about family stories and history which I have become obsessed with. It’s hard to express how much this meant to me to spend time with Auntie. It’s a strange contradiction; I’m sad because my auntie is so sick but it’s great to spend time with her and my family who I don’t see enough of.

My brother came up for the weekend too, and I haven’t seen him for over a year. We spent a few nights at our cousin Doug’s house and we reminisced late into the night about the stupid antics of our youth while going through photos from the past.

Whenever I spend time with Auntie, memories of my mom flood in. This time the memories were when Mom was sick and these memories are emotional, but of course I still like to think of my mother. Like my Mom, Auntie does not want people to fuss over her or to worry about her. And as family you don’t want to upset or stress Auntie, but deep inside you just want to let all emotions go. I remember Mom reassuring me and trying not to upset me when she was gravely ill.

Mom and her younger sister Donna Jean: Auntie

My mom loved to travel too and did so until the end. She wanted to do one last road trip and went against doctors orders. She was determined. Mom and Pop drove through Canada to Quebec, but they had to cut it short by a few days. She passed shortly after returning home. But Mom made her last trip; she loved road trips.

I have always felt lucky that I was able tell mom everything I wanted to, before she passed.

As I left Auntie’s this week, I fought back tears back as I hugged her goodbye. With my voice cracking, I told her what she meant to me, what she meant to my Mom and to thank her for the kind words she has always had for me. It was hard to say goodbye and as I walked back to the car I ran back and gave her another quick hug.
I love you Auntie
Chris

Categories: Americas | Tags: Auntie, Family, Mom | 4 Comments