Buck Mountain, Deer Harbor, and Beyond...

It was not pouring with rain when we woke, as I had feared from the weather forecast. But it is certainly overcast and very much cooler than our first few days. No matter, we were up and about in decent time, catching up with Larry, our contractor, about the possible changes to that irksome pass-through window. We’re hoping, now, to wait for our architect to return from vacation (?) and get his first-hand input at the end of this week.

Late morning, we headed out for an adventure in the Prius. Those who follow the comments on “Travels with George” will remember one from a reader, Ron, who owns property here on the island, and who invited us to visit it. Following his directions, we found ourselves ascending a steep and narrow road on the slopes of Buck Mountain, through a landscape of dense forest and occasional lakes and tarns, to what must be one of the highest points on the island. Here's the cairn that marks the approach...


From the street, we walked up to Ron’s property—as yet undeveloped—and climbed the rocky promontory...



... to enjoy the spectacular view of the sound and the many islands of which he had justly boasted. Ron, here’s the view you treasure...


Thanks for inviting us! (I'm afraid you lost a tree...)


From Buck Mountain, we doubled back through East Sound and drove on through farmlands and meadows...


(...with a stop to pick blackberries for tomorrow's breakfast...)



to Deer Harbor...


... where we spent a few days several years ago. Still a gorgeous spot. We ate fish and chips at the end of the pier, surrounded by grizzled old geezers with grey beards and weathered faces. Surprised by the sparseness of tourists, we found out that this is indeed a slow summer: it seems that there are far fewer tourist boats coming in this year to moor—a change attributed, by at least one man we spoke to, to the cost of gas. After lunch, we took George for a walk along the moorings...



... before heading back to East Sound for the second of my healing sessions with Stacy at Ama Tara. In a generous mood at the end, and wishing to share the relaxation, I treated Ellie to a session after mine before we retraced our steps to the bungalow.

I promised myself a holiday from politics this month, but I have to admit that I have been watching developments out of the corner of an eye. I have also been reading the Obama book, “The Audacity of Hope,” and wish that every voter would do the same. The Republican attempt to paint their Democratic rival as a lightweight, inexperienced neophyte with an abundance of rhetorical skills but no substance would become transparently absurd to anyone who had read just a few pages of this extraordinary book. It is rich with historical knowledge and a breadth of vision that is frankly astounding in a man so young. It also helps one understand the strength of flexibility—too often interpreted as weakness—along with the value of respecting the views of others and the meaning of compromise. It is precisely those qualities that are mindlessly attacked by his opponents that are the source of his vision and his strength.

Too bad that we Americans have such skewed ideas about what it means to be strong. Witness the posturing of John McCain. I hear he’s floating Joe Lieberman’s name as a vice-presidential choice. I hope he chooses him. I believe it will increase his chances of losing in November. The two inflexibles. If the current occupant of the White House has not taught us anything about the illusion of strength, I fear that we will never learn.

So much for politics from the Pacific Northwest. We went to sleep again to the sound of rain, and woke again to a cool morning with low clouds and sodden ground. No matter the weather, it’s a joy to be here.