Winter Light

December 24, 2024

(Heads up: a lengthy post, so get comfortable and settle in.)

The day begins with Rachael giving me a crash course in how to operate our new portable CD player. Once I get the simple instructions down I reach into our music box and pull up an old favorite I haven’t heard for a long time. It tickles me to read its title and realize how fitting it is.

We listen to the whole album while I work my way through first breakfast with drugs; and while I’m chewing away I’m reminiscing on our own history with the Oregon group, long one of our favorites. We saw them live together as a quartet at least three times if not four; and we saw Glen Moore and Ralph Towner in solo and smaller group performances at least twice more.

And that’s just since Rachael and I got together 36 years ago. I first saw Oregon perform over a decade earlier, back in 1974 when my first wife Carol Jo and I saw them performing out in an open plaza in the Seattle Center at the Bumbershoot Festival. This was the original quartet that included Collin Wolcott, who tragically died ten years later in a bus accident while the quartet was on tour in East Germany. When we briefly saw them they had just formed as a quartet and begun performing only a year or two earlier, and Winter Light came out that year as one of their first albums.

Christmas Eve, 1991

Some encouraging words and holiday greetings from the Land of the Long White Cloud came in last night. It made me think of how much warmer it might be down in New Zealand now, where they’re just past their summer solstice. And that led to me thinking back on how Rachael and I spent Christmas Eve biking up the west coast of the South Island a third of a century ago. We have strong memories of that whole ride all the way up the coast, starting with a very long day crossing from Wanaka and across to the coast over Haast Pass; but my memory of how we spent Xmas itself escaped me so I cracked open our 33 year old journal from our first overseas bike tour and found this entry. Suddenly most of that day came back clearly, and separate events that I did remember all fell into place and I was surprised to be reminded that they all came on the same epic day. You could read the old journal of course, but I think I’ll just bring in a few highlights and reminisce a bit.

The day began in Greymouth, a town we never intended to stay at but ended up camping out at in the trees with our tent and sleeping bag, the first time they were put to use for the whole tour so far because cheap camper cabins were so widely available.

We hadn’t meant to stay in Greymouth at all though. The plan was that we would stop at the pharmacy for some reason, raid a grocery store, check out the information center, bust a gut at Bonzai Pizzeria, and then bike another 20k north and camp out on the beach somewhere near Paparoa National Park.

So why didn’t that happen? Because somewhere in all that wandering through town I lost my glasses! Some things never change, really. We tracked back our itinerary hoping to find them, but by the time we got back to the information center it was closed for the day. It was our last hope, so we camped in the woods just north of town so we could make a last check for them the next morning.

So on the morning of Christmas Eve we’re still in Greymouth, still holding onto a faint hope for the glasses but without feeling much optimism:

We began the day as planned, hunting for ointment and my lost glasses. Success on both counts! My glasses were not at the information center after all, which was very disheartening - I all but gave up and started resigning myself to a vacation of reduced vision, but decided to check the supermarket, where we found them waiting to be claimed. Euphoria!

An hour or so later we’re finally done with breakfast and biking north along an exceptionally beautiful and lumpy stretch of coastline. It’s country I’ve always longed to see again, though it’s no doubt vastly changed in the last third of a century.

Rereading that entry now, it exhausts me just a bit to think of how hard-driven Team Anderson was in those early years, striving to make the most of the limited time we had available for travel. Starting at about ten, we biked fifty miles up the rugged coastline to Charleston, a fishing port just south of Westport, and ended the day scoring our Christmas Eve dinner at the town pub:

With only a few hours of daylight left, we headed north on the 35k ride to the motor camp in Charleston, stopping briefly along the way for a half hour walk down the Truman Track to a lovely beach rimmed by wierdly sculpted sandstone cliffs. In spite of a few hills we got in to the camp about 9, in time to take in a light snack and beer at the Charleston Pub. Returning afterwards to our cabin, we heard a group of carollers singing in the street.

So that makes for a pretty full, memorable day, even if you didn’t add in the six hours we spent hiking around Paparoa National Park, starting with a hike to the coast to view its famously scenic pancake rocks and blowholes:

So that filled in the day pretty well. But there’s still more to be crammed in. How could we pass by the Pororari River without hiking its famous three hour river track? So we did. And it ended up as probably the single most memorable hike of the whole tour, in a land famous for stunning hikes.

So how did that go? About like this:

Next, we set off on a 3 hour trek which took us upstream along the bank of the Pororari River, overland to the Punakaiki Basin and back down the bank of that river. It was totally entertaining. The walk along the Pororari took us on a narrow, winding track through a dense palm and tree fern jungle. The visual texture of the forest was wonderful and full of mystery. The overland stretch was often soggy, with semisecure footing provided by a trail of short lengths of tree fern trunk. At one point Rachael stepped into a hidden gap in the path and immersed her whole foot (and biking shoe) into the mud.

When we reached the Punakaiki River, Rachael sensibly enough decided to rinse off her shoe in the river. Neither of us was aware yet that we would soon need to ford the entire, knee deep river, and that the opposite bank was also mud-endowed; so that shortly both of our shoes would be soaked and filthy again. Neither of us was at all sure we were on the right road - we ended up in a cow infested pasture - but there seemed no alternative. Later, after checking out the trail guide, we saw that this was in fact the right route.

Pointlessly washing out the mud, Punakaiki River; we'd be caked in it again soon enough.

Oh, and one last little stinger in the day. It began with me finding my glasses in the Greymouth supermarket where I’d left them in the night before - and it ended up with me nearly losing them again, this time in the Charleston supermarket.

Yowzer! Well done, younger Team Anderson! If we attempted something like this now we’d want to allow a full week for it.

Christmas Eve, 2024

So enough with the foreplay already. How did this Christmas Eve go for the much older but not much wiser team? It went pretty damn well, I’m happy to report. Not as dramatic as that epic day 33 years ago, but really the best we could hope for under the circumstances.

The day begins in the usual way, given that it’s due to rain for most of it. I head down to Caffe Umbria as usual, and Rachael walks over to 24 Hour Fitness for her morning workout. The schedule for the rest of the day is set around two events. One is lunch - nothing will be open tomorrow, so we’re celebrating Christmas early with a fish meal down at Jake’s. The other is Rachael’s optometrist appointment. She was flabbergasted this morning to discover that she could schedule an eye exam for later this afternoon, after thinking she’d have to wait weeks for her new prescription. There must have been a cancellation, and she’s very happy about it.

We have an early reservation for lunch so that we’ll be out in plenty of time for Rachael to catch the Max over to Interstate in time for her 3:40 appointment. We enjoy a fine lunch - both our mains are as hoped for, and my Heineken zero lets me at least imagine I’m having a beer. Dealing with my new condition requires some letting go, including of alcohol for the foreseeable future at least, because prednisone and alcohol don’t play well together. Wine and beer have always been a bit of a mind game and a habit with me anyway since I can’t taste or smell anything.

Cedar planked salmon with lemon butter sauce, roasted potatoes and carrots for her. Parmesan crusted petrale sole with capers and beurre blanc for her date.

OK enough for now, but I think I can do better. I think there are some pretty decent craft NA beers out there to be discovered. A new quest!

While we wait for our meals to arrive I savor my tasty brew as we discuss the state of our lives, which has taken a surprisingly rosy turn over the last three or four days. The main thing driving this is the state of my recovery, with my vision continuing to improve every day now. This morning is the best it’s been yet, and although I have trouble with close up focus such as reading menus overall my left eye is really feeling pretty close to normal. I’ve got another ophthalmology appointment Friday, but after that I think it must be about time to make my own appointment with an optometrist to see what the right set of glasses can contribute.

The gradual realization that I’ll still be able to see well enough to lead a nearly normal life changes everything. We can start brainstorming about what we might do next, and we do so until the fish arrive to interrupt that train of thought.

__________

We finish our meals in the usual way - meaning I’ve cleaned my plate other than for the last few crumbs Rachael always sweeps up; and she pockets away the bit of leftover salmon she plans to save for tomorrow’s dinner back at the apartment.

Then, there’s a bit of a logistics problem to sort out. She has to make her way down to 6th Avenue to catch the Max, and we have to decide what to do with the leftover salmon. I browse the recommendations on unrefrigerated cooked salmon and learn that two hours is the max unless you want to risk food poisoning. So it’s not an option for her to take to her eye appointment because she’ll be gone too long. I offer to just eat it myself and end the issue here and now, but she immediately rejects the offer.

So the plan is that she’ll make her own way down to the Max line and I’ll walk her silly bit of fish back to our apartment before moving on to my own plans for the afternoon. Before we part though Rachael pulls up the Max schedule to see when the next arrival is due and learns that it’s due in 15 minutes - just enough time to get there. However it won’t be there when it’s due because there’s some sort of disruption in the line and theres a forty minute delay. Good thing she checked, because that might not work.

Instead, we both walk back to the apartment and she hails a ride on Uber which she already had set up on her phone. I’ve never paid any attention to Uber and I’m impressed both that she knows what she’s doing here and that it’s so efficient and easy to use. Three minutes later her ride pulls up, she leaves for her appointment, and I head upstairs to the salmon depository.

__________

My plan for the afternoon is to make the most of what looks like a brief clearing in the weather. I head toward the river again, planning this time to walk south along the riverfront for a couple of miles and then catch the streetcar home. I’m hoping that the cackling geese will be wandering around in a pack like they usually are in the winter here.

I walk pretty quickly at first - partly because I’m so pleased that I can walk fast and see clearly enough to feel safe doing it; and partly because I’m hoping to outrace the next belt of rain due to arrive soon. I don’t walk fast enough though, and I’m still a few hundred yards away from the Steel Bridge and the nearest place to shelter when the air suddenly freshens and the first showers arrive.

The sky is filling in pretty quickly to the north, and it’s coming my way.

Yes, I know they’re only another pair of house sparrows. The exciting thing though is that the smaller birds are gradually coming back into focus. A bit better every day.

Here’s another of those shots that look like it’s a black and white but isn’t. The Steel Bridge makes the natural place to shelter while I wait out the rain.

I hang out beneath the covers of the Steel Bridge for abiut a half an hour, watching the weather come and go and staring around to see what the big zoomer can bring in. It brings in quite a lot, including the fact that there’s a small pack of cackling geese pecking up the grass and coming my way. The other thing though is the gulls - there are probably twenty or more of them flocking around not far way, lured in by a guy who’s scattering food on the sidewalk for them and the geese. I’m pleased about this too, because I was hoping to find a few of the other gull species you can hope to see down at this end of the river. Really, I just turn back for home from here I’ll have had a successful outing.

While I’m waiting and looking around the rains eventually pass, the sky slowly clears, and looking back to the north a large patch of blue is working its way my direction. For about the next ten minutes I enjoy watching the walkway across the bridge gradually brighten, the shadows from the railings and girders start forming a pattern and the glass towers of the convention center begin clearing up and coming into sharper focus.

Well, this looks promising. Good things come to those who wait, as John Gorka reminded us in one of his songs.

And then, as what feels like the best omen I could hope for, I’m amazed to see a rainbow arch across the sky ahead, crowning the convention center towers and coming to ground to the south like it’s struck a pot of gold. It feels like the Christmas miracle I’ve been hoping would come. And it’s a double one - there’s the serendipity of the rainbow itself,and there’s the fact that I can see it so clearly.

This really does seem like a pretty good omen.

There’s enough light in the day left and the conditions are so fine that I change my plans and take a more ambitious walk - across the bridge to the east bank, and then south along Esplanade to the Burnside Bridge. From there I cross the bridge and walk back home through Old Town, taking heart also by how greatly improved the homeless situation is over last winter. It’s a little sketchy walking under the Burnside Bridge and it’s probably just as well that I made it through Old Town and the North Park Blocks before sunset, but really it was surprisingly fine the whole way.

Setting off under the Burnside Bridge for the sunset cruise.

Front to back: a raft of assorted gulls, the Steel Bridge, the Broadway Bridge, the Fremont Bridge.

Thinking back on the ways Rachael and I have spent our 36 Christmases together, I imagine that that epic day in New Zealand will stand as the best of the best. But this one feels like a pretty strong second, a day to remember.

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Eva WaltersYay!!! So glad your eyesight is improving!! We look forward to reading more. Happy holidays to you and Rachael!
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21 hours ago

Tricia GrahamI have so much enjoyed reading you trip through New Zealand. Yes much has changed in the last 30 years but not on the Westcoast of the South Island. We usually do a road trip there every couple of years as in particular we love Southern Westland and the sensitive way tourism has been dealt with. Climate change is showing itself with the shrinking of the glaciers and the little town of Westport in the north becoming almost uninhabitable by frequent floods. The best walk we have done there is the Heathy Track. It starts on the Nelson sides and is a three day walk The first day up hill through forest to a hut. The next day across above the bush line much of it on board walks as it goes over fragile wet lands to get to a hut that looks out to the coast. They a descent through magnificent podicarp forests - when we did it many years ago the bird life was fantastic. The last part is along the coast with groves of Nikau Palms you end up in the tiny town of Karamia where a shuttle takes you to the relative civilisation of Westport.
It amazes me to think I could walk that well but they are wonderful 📝 to look back on
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21 hours ago

Scott AndersonTo Tricia GrahamThanks for the response and your thoughts, Tricia. We’ve talked many times about whether we’d ever come down again, but keep coming up negative because it sounds like in general it’s a less bike friendly world now if you stick to the pavement as we generally do.

We ‘re not traveling the same way any more though. We’re doing more base centered longer stays, with Rachael going off on hikes while I snoop around for birds, often on unpaved tracks that she’s uncomfortable with. It never occurred to me that we could take the same approach in New Zealand, taking a slow, localized tour of this region - fly into Christchurch or Wellington, base ourselves in places like Nelson or Picton or Greymouth for a week or so each.

It could be a change of pace from just going back to wonderful Tucson year after year. Who knows? We might see you there next summer.
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20 hours ago

Graham FinchThis is very positive. Hopefully your sight keeps improving... certainly a Happy Christmas.

Your plight jogged my memory - when I lived in Sheffield ( UK) in the 90s, I used to ride on Sundays with the local CTC guys and a few times volunteered to take a blind woman out on the back of a tandem. She didn't do a lot of pedalling and the hills in that part of the world are pretty tiring. She was no Twiggy.

Enjoy your new CD purchase. I've just finished editing another of my music-related interview and posted a video on YouTube. Not quite your bag, but here it is anyway...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdKBw1WLl2o&t=1118s
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16 hours ago

Scott AndersonTo Graham FinchAt its darkest, we were talking through whether we’d need to convert to a tandem, speculating on whether we’d put me on the back on a traditional architecture or a split level where she’s in back back but elevated above for visibility. We’d go there of course but it would be a disaster. We’ve only been on a tandem once, a rented one we rode across the Golden Gate Bridge and back. Never again, unless.

And you’re wrong about our musical tastes - it’s very much to our tastes - Appalachian blues and Motown mostly, which is at least in the same neighborhood. We’ve just not looked to that as a source for the videos for no good reason. Thanks for that link. It’s great to hear your voice and it made a nice interlude while we watched it together, holed up in a small apartment on a nonstop rainy day.
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16 hours ago

Bob DistelbergTo Scott AndersonWell, they are called divorce bikes…
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1 hour ago