The KIKI 53 LA RIVER RIDE!

Sunday we celebrated our friend Kiki's 53rd Birthday with a 53 Mile Bike Ride!

Kiki arrives at our meeting spot in Vernon

We had talked about doing a ride along the bike path from L.A. to Long Beach for over a year.  It was a conversation that popped up numerous times, and finally we planned to make it a reality!

Our group of five, (Kiki, Sylvia, Dave, Gerry and me) met in front of Maywood Elementary School, south of Los Angeles, just east of Vernon at 9:00 am on a cool and overcast Sunday morning.

Dave, Sylvia, Gerry, Mary, Kiki

We were excited!  It is less than a 1/2 mile from here to the bike path.

We were on the bike path for about 11 miles when we were joined by our friends Chuck and Eileen.  They live in Long Beach and had left their house at 9:00 am to ride up and meet us.  Our crew of 7 then pedaled to Long Beach.

Along the bike path near downtown Long Beach at about mile 20

We put our faith in Chuck to lead us on a scenic tour of Long Beach, in order to add the necessary 11 miles we figured we needed to tally up to our 53 mile target.  Chuck did not lead us astray, as he navigated us on a route which included the enclave of Naples. 

Chuck consults with us as we reach the turnaround of our extension

We picked up the pace as we headed in the direction of The Attic, a popular restaurant in downtown Long Beach which features outdoor patio dining - a very good idea when you want to keep your eyes on your bikes while you dine.

We pull up to the restaurant

where our friend Tamara has secured a table for our party of 8

We had worked up an appetite, and the Attic did not disappoint!  All of us enjoyed the delicious brunch and conversation as well as the long rest break after 32 miles in the saddle.  Most of us ordered egg dishes.  The Attic has an extensive and elaborate brunch menu.  My selection was "the Berkeley."  Gerry went with the Monte Christo.
 

Tamara and Kiki at the table as we patiently await our food

Post lunch, as we get ready to continue our journey.  

22 miles to go!  Chuck gave us directions back to the bike path.  No problem.  We were full of energy as we pedaled back north to L.A.  The tail wind was an extra bonus!

One final rest stop as we near our destination

We made it!  Official mileage according to my Cyclemeter App came in at 55.06 - so we got some bonus mileage, too.  Here is The 53 Mile Ride for the record.  It was very a blast!  I enjoyed the ride and the camaraderie.

Today, Monday, I wore my "race shirt" in celebration.

Tamara made these shirts for all the participants.

THANKSGIVING 2016

We spent the Thanksgiving Holiday with Gerry's family this year.  We avoided most of the holiday traffic by traveling on the less hectic days.  We flew from LAX to St. Louis on Tuesday and then returned to LAX on Friday evening.

It was wonderful to stay with Gerry's mother, Ann Hans, who is a very kind and gracious woman.  She will be 90 years old in April and is still quite sharp.  In fact, her memory seems to be every bit as good as ours.  She is also doing OK, physically, though she does use her cane when she goes out.

This bike path is 1/4 mile from Mom Hans house.

Temperatures were in the 40s for our brief three day stay, which was a bit chilly for us southern California folks.  I never took my sunglasses out of their case the entire visit.  Gerry and I did take a 4.2 mile walk on Thanksgiving morning.

Keeping warm, with long sleeve shirt, down vest and rain jacket.

A fine mushroom specimen.  They get more rain here than we do in L.A.

Gerry's sister Ginny hosted Thanksgiving at her new home in Alton, Il.  She custom built a gorgeous house and moved into it this spring.  It is spacious with plenty of room to host our clan of 34 (25 adults and 9 children.)

The front of Ginny's house.  (picture does not do it justice.)

It's part of the family tradition to have the Thanksgiving meal early in the day.  Most of the family arrived by noon.  Ginny offered everyone a drink and then gave us a tour of the beautiful house.

Cranberry punch?  Or a glass of wine?

Living room with a view.  Comfortable furniture and a large fireplace.

Lovely china cabinet.

Plenty of conversations and mingling before we sat down to eat.  I tried to talk with everyone for at least a few minutes, which is quite the challenge with a group this size.

Gerry with his younger sister Jane.

Gerry with his younger brother Allan.

Our niece Alison, nephew Jeff, Jane, and nephew Brendan.

Here's Danielle with our youngest niece, 4 month old Norah.

Gerry's mother talks with Diane and Dave.

Ginny provided the turkey and stuffing.  Everyone else contributed side dishes, salads, appetizers, drinks and desserts.  Gerry made a double batch of his famous cranberry-orange relish.   The turkey was cooked to perfection and ready to eat at 1:00 pm. 

Ginny's putting the final touches on the meal.  (Gerry's relish in white bowl.)

We gathered around four tables, all of which were decorated with autumn centerpieces and set with real silverware and festive napkins.  The kids had their own special table.

A colorful centerpiece

A plate piled high with scrumptious food. 

While we were finishing our meal, Gerry walked to the head of the room and read the poem that his Grandfather Brazier (his mother's dad) recited by memory every Thanksgiving that he can remember in his childhood.  It is "When Father Carved the Turk", by Charles Noel Douglas.  It is a classic!

He addresses the kids table and reads the poem. 

 In the afternoon, some of us took a snooze while others went for a stroll in the neighborhood.

Gerry's brother Phil "catches some ZZZs."

Getting some fresh air and exercise feels good! 

I am thankful for the time with family on this Thanksgiving Holiday.  I love the concept of Thanksgiving.  Everyone, no matter their political or religious beliefs, can come together and celebrate in the spirit of gratitude. 

ELECTION DAY & BEYOND

It is therapeutic for me to write, and unload the thoughts that are spinning in my mind.  It helps me to release the pent up feelings of frustration when I write my words.   

On Tuesday morning, Election Day, I awoke excited, in a fantastic and optimistic mood.  I felt confident and eager to be part of this historic election, when we would vote for the first female President of our great country. We have come a long way baby, since women were given the right to vote when the 19th amendment was ratified on August 18, 1920.

For the first time, I wished I owned a pant suit to wear in support of Hillary, but I didn't, so I made do with a white t-shirt upon which I took a black magic marker to the front, "I am a a nasty woman."  On the back, in bigger, bolder letters I penned only two words, "Nasty Woman."

In my living room, about to head down the staircase to vote. I point to the "Glass Ceiling."

There was a spring in my step as I walked around the corner and up the block to my polling place, a five minute walk from home.  Perhaps 20 people were in line in front of me when I arrived at the polling place at 7:15 am.

The line when I arrived.

It was especially poignant to see a few parents who had their kids in tow to "help" mommy or daddy vote.  How wonderful that the kids could witness the democratic process at a young age before they headed off to school!

One young mother in a white pant suit held the hands of her two adorable daughters.  The younger girl looked to be 6 years old, and her older sister maybe two years her senior.  They were adorable, dressed in their white blouses and white leggings.  I waited in line behind them while they deposited mom's completed ballot into the ballot box.  They grinned from ear to ear as they each took one edge of the ballot and placed it into the slot.  "I Vote" stickers were handed out to all three.

The line only grew in length while I did my civic duty.  I glanced around and saw half-a-dozen neighbors I knew and several other familiar faces.  Everyone seemed happy and in a good mood.

Proud Nasty Woman back just voted!

Later in the morning I took a lovely 16 mile bike ride on the hilly streets of my neighborhood and on the paved interior roads of Griffith Park.  "Isn't life grand!",  I thought to myself as I pedaled along.

After lunch I was scheduled to work my final two hour shift as a Move On Call Operator.  I've done this for the past 20 days, (missing only one day, October 22nd, when I was occupied with Friends of Griffith Park work and P-22 Day.)  One does not need a college degree to be a Move On Operator, believe me.  It is mindless work.  I hook up my cell-phone with my computer screen and "hit a button" every few seconds when a name and phone number flashes across my screen to place the call.  At 4:00 pm my 2-hour shift was officially over, but I had received an earlier message from the lead operator which invited me to stay on longer if I could.  There was a final push to "get out the vote."  So I stayed hooked up until 4:45 pm when I finally called it quits.

I hurried to join Gerry upstairs to watch the election results.  One advantage of living in CA is that the results start pouring in relatively early for us.  Unlike the east coast, I don't have to stay up past midnight to learn the winners and losers.  I was giddy with anticipation, and dare I say greedy?, hoping for a landslide, and that the Democrats would take over the Senate and maybe (fingers double-crossed) the House...

Needless to say, my jolly mood evaporated rather quickly. I practiced my deep breathing exercises, and tried not to panic.  I lost track of the time; it seemed the states were being called for Trump in rapid order.  I could barely grasp that GA and NC were going red, when they announced FL. I had spent hours on the phone "in Pennsylvania" as an Operator and felt proud I had worked for it to go blue, but it didn't happen.  OH and IN went for Trump, and when the talking heads announced he had taken WI, it was all over.   

I had enough of TV viewing, and couldn't bear to watch it any longer.  It was too heart-breaking.  I turned off the boob tube, washed my tear-stained face  and crawled into bed.

I slept poorly, which was no surprise, given my election surprise.  I got out of bed at 6:00 am and the first thing I did was turn on my I-Pad to see the latest news.  Maybe there had been some sort or technical glitch?  Maybe some precincts hadn't been counted?  Perhaps there was an accounting error with the Electoral College math?  Alas, no such luck.

Woe is me, I thought most of the day.  I felt disconnected with my country, disappointed with my fellow citizens.  It is disturbing that 43% of eligible voters did not even exercise their right to vote.  But how could roughly half of those that did vote, choose Trump?

He is a narcissist and a serial liar and has insulted virtually everyone.  The list seems endless.  It has been the most vile and vicious campaign, and how anyone can be proud to have Trump as our President is beyond me.

Repeatedly Trump has voiced that Clinton should "go to jail" and that she is "unstable."  His followers chant "lock her up!"

And how about the fact that Trump was the highest-profile member of the "birther" movement against Obama 8 years ago?

Trump has demeaned every minority group.  "Mexicans are rapists and drug dealers."  According to Trump, Gonzalo Curiel, an American-born federal judge of Mexican descent could not rule fairly on the case against him re Trump University, because of his heritage.

Trump has proposed not only "Building a Wall", but also a ban on all Muslims entering the U.S.

He has shamed former Miss Universe Alicia Machado for her weight gain.  He has insulted his former primary rival, Carly Fiorina with his comment "Look at that face.  Would Anyone vote for that."  And his choice words after the interview with Megyn Kelly, "You could see there was blood coming out of her eyes, blood coming out of her wherever."

The icing on the cake is the 2005 Access Hollywood Tape, and the bragging of being able to grope women.   Trump is not presidential material, and he most certainly is not a gentleman.

I think of my dad, who was the polar-opposite of Trump.  My dad was the most honorable man I ever knew.   (He passed away July 7, 2014.)  I wonder what he would think of all this? 

My dad  in the early 1960s.

Dad and I at the 2000 Olympic Marathon Trials in Columbia SC

I can't talk with him, but somehow I hear his advice.

"Mary, Trump can not take away who you are.  He cannot strip you of your dignity.  You must always treat others with decency and respect.  It is up to YOU to make a difference, to make the best choice possible and then accept and live with the repercussions that follow.  You can do your part to brighten someone's day, to put a smile on their face.  You can set a good example to others, by your words and your actions.  And, when you do something, give it your all, and be comforted that you  did your best.  Most importantly, never ever give up!"

Thanks, Dad.  I'll try to keep it all in mind as we move forward. 






   

MY CAMINO: The PORTUGUESE WAY (Part One: Porto to Baiona)

This September Gerry and I did the Portuguese Coastal Camino.  We walked from Porto, Portugal to Santiago, Spain and then on to Finisterre (the end of the world!)  It was a 252 mile trek over 16 consecutive days of walking, which is an average of 15 3/4 miles per day.  We not only survived, we thrived!

We arrived in Porto late in the evening September 3rd and spent the night in the center of town at the Da Bolsa Hotel.

The view of Porto, early evening from our plane.

The nighttime view from our hotel room on the sixth floor.

We didn't get much sleep but were raring to go and begin our Camino on Sunday September 4th.  We took the metro to the outskirts of Porto near the coast for the official start of our Camino.

I take my first steps of the Camino, across this bridge.

We faced dense fog and cool temperatures the first five miles of the Camino, which was along wooden walkways for the most part.

Stormy seas and cloudy skies, with limited visibility.

Gerry approaches the lighthouse in the fog.

Several miles are along boardwalks like this.  Finally, the sun breaks through for a few hours. 

We come across a "fisherman's village" with colorful cottages.

We left the coast and walked inland for a few miles in the afternoon under bright sunny skies with temperatures in the seventies.

A lovely church, one of the first of a hundred we will see over the next 16 days.

 

The River Axe, in the late afternoon, as we approach our destination.

We entered Povoa de Varzim, after walking 17.40 miles, and stumbled upon a local religious parade.  It was 4:45 pm, and my guess was they were carrying the statues to the church for the 5:00 pm mass.

 We join the town's people and watch the procession.

Minutes later we arrived at our hotel, the historic Grande Hotel Povoa, built in the 1930s and which overlooks the ocean.  We checked in and then walked across the street to the beach.  The water was too turbulent and much too cold for swimming, but we did give our feet and lower legs our post-hike ice bath in the surf. 

The hotel is listed as a national monument.  We have a room on the third floor.

The view of the Atlantic Ocean from our hotel room. 

Day Two was our walk from Povoa de Varzim to Esposende, a 15.1 mile day for us instead of the 13 miles we expected.  We missed one of the yellow arrows that mark "the way" at a critical junction when we were so engaged in taking photos of a historic church, that we accidentally left the Camino route for several miles and walked along a noisy industrial road instead.  Ugh.   We did pass through some lovely farmland once we were back on the Camino.

This church is to blame for our navigational goof.   

Blackberry heaven, once we return to the right path. 

Fields upon fields  of greens. 

We share a platter of mussels, and a plate of grilled shrimp for lunch.

We arrived in Esposende, another coastal town, and once again our accommodations were at a seafront hotel,the Suave Mar.  It was very blustery and chilly near the shore, so we spent the late afternoon in the large interior courtyard of the Suave Mar, poolside.  We took a refreshing swim in the pool.

Day Three of our Camino was the 16.2 mile walk from Esposende to Viana do Castelo, with beautiful scenery in 90-plus degree heat, part on trail and part on the cobblestone narrow village roads.  The terrain was reminiscent of last year's Camino.  Highlights of the day included the forested trails which we had to ourselves, and the old stone bridge, Ponte Sebastio, which was in an idyllic setting and offered gorgeous river gorge views.

We start along the coast, near sand dunes.

Within a few miles it is bye-bye coast and hello inland.

I break out my hiking poles for the first time!

Not sure what this monument is about, but it seems photo-worthy.

I walk across the Ponte Sebastio bridge at about mile six. 

 

The view looking back, after I cross the bridge.

We approach this church after a steep climb under bright sunny skies. 

It was close to noon as we approached the church above, and the temperature had soared to near 90 degrees.  We stopped to rest and say a prayer for cooler afternoon temperatures!  It wasn't answered but at least we were given beautiful vistas to enjoy as we sweltered.

Open fields, with small clusters of houses. 

We arrive in Viana do Castelo, our destination. 

At the historic city center. 

An unusual art sculpture near the river. 

We took a pre-dinner stroll before we checked into our hotel, the Pension O Laranjeira, which was the final highlight of the day.  It is a three generation, family-run, quaint 9-room hotel.  The dinner in the hotel's dining room was gourmet, worthy of a 5-star restaurant, in my opinion.  We prefer the small mom and pop hotels with the personal service! 

A lovely city garden in Viana do Castelo.

The elegant dining room at O Larenjeira.

My entree of grilled fish, with vegetables.  Delicious!

Day Four of the Camino (Wednesday) was our shortest day thus far, only 12.65 miles as we walked from Viano do Castelo to the coastal town of Vila Prai de Ancora.  However, we got in an additional 6 miles as we explored town and walked to and from the beach in the afternoon.  Temperatures were in the 70s and 80s so it was warm, but not oppressive like Tuesday.

We walked a stretch upon cobblestone streets and then found ourselves on hiking trails through eucalyptus forests.  We passed many small villages, often upon narrow pathways which were lined on either side by 8-foot high stone walls, so we had to use our imaginations to picture the houses and gardens within.  Those houses we could view were gorgeous, as were the vistas and overlooks toward the coast.

Along the stone path, I walk beneath an ancient water trough.

Gerry makes his way, always with his eyes on the alert for blackberries.

The miles go by all too quickly when it is this beautiful.

A garden in the foreground, with a view that extends to the sea. 

The first operable water fountain we have seen on the trail. 

I love this ancient stone cottage overlooking the creek. 

We are nearing our destination of Ancora.

We arrived early afternoon and checked into our accommodations for the evening, the Hotel Meira, which was located on the main street of Ancora.  Then it was time to head for the beach!   Within fifteen minutes we were in "rest and relaxation" mode, parked in the sand.  We chickened out with full immersion in the ocean, but we did go into the water as deep as our knees.  We took a brief snooze and hung out at the beach until the clouds started to roll in, around 5:00 pm.

I'm giving Praia de Ancora a "two thumbs up." 

Gerry is in relaxation mode, too. 

Dinner that evening in the Hotel Meira featured "fresh off the boat" delicious seafood.  Gerry ordered a monk fish kabob, which was served with grilled shrimp.  I selected the grilled octopus.  I have eaten octopus maybe 6 or 7 times in my life.  Tonight's was as tender as could be, the best, ever!

Gerry offers a toast to our gourmet meal. 

Gerry's kabob on the left and my grilled octopus is on the right.  Bon Apetit!

How did we follow-up with a gourmet dinner at the Hotel Meira?  Why, with an extravagant breakfast buffet, of course.  Which was fine with me on our last morning in Portugal.

The walk on Day Five (Thursday) was our shortest Camino day of the entire trip.  It was only 10.80 miles from Ancora, Portugal to A Guarda, Spain.  But sight-seeing beckoned in the late afternoon in A Guarda, so we added another 4-plus miles of walking.

We began the day with a walk along a path which hugged the coast for 3 miles.  Then we turned inward and passed through a few small villages before we reached our final town in Portugal, charming Caminha, at about mile six.  We caught a ferry ride from Caminha to the shores of Spain, a 1.5 mile, scenic 20 minute excursion.

We faced a short steep climb from the boat dock and soon were upon a trail that took us through an eucalyptus forest.  We arrived at A Guarda by noon.  We walked along the riverfront and explored the city before we checked into our hotel,  Vila Da Guarda, in the center of town.

Street art as we leave Ancora is on display as we exit the city.

Artisans are working the adjacent street.  They use colored sea salts.

A lovely view as we walk along the ocean.

Suddenly we are surrounded by a herd of goats.

They are the weed clearing crew, as they chomp away on coastal brush.

Our final coastal mile in Portugal.

Stone sculptured water fountains in a small village where we fill our bottles.

Near the town square in Caminha, our final town in Portugal. 

From the ferry:  Portugal on the left as we head toward Spain on the right.

We approach the dock in Spain.

Minutes later, Gerry discovers blackberries, keeping our 4 day streak alive.

The view from the trail as we head toward A Guarda. 

Along the waterfront south of A Guarda, as we explore the city.

I meet a woman in the center of town, an avid reader just like me!

Late afternoon we took a taxi to Monte Santa Trega, a prehistoric fortified Celtic hill settlement which dates back to 500 BC, but wasn't discovered until 1913.  It was high above town and offered amazing views.  Remnants of dozens of the original huts remain.  A few have been restored, with thatched roofs.  Seeing the ancient ruins was fascinating.  It reminded me of Machu Picchu.  We walked (instead of taxi) back to our hotel along a pedestrian route, which was scenic and all downhill.  Day Five was another fun and adventurous day.

High above the town. 

We can see for miles and miles.

The ancient remains of the 500 BC huts. 

A restored hut with a thatched roof.

Gerry peers inside this restored hut, which replicates the ancient one, which is long gone.

Day Six on the Camino was extra special because it was my birthday!  I celebrated my 57th birthday on Friday, September 9th, with a 20 mile walk as we traveled from A Guarda to Baiona.  I couldn't have asked for a better birthday!

What better way to celebrate than to walk through coastal Spain with the love of your life on a gorgeous day, stopping for a seafood lunch and finishing the hike with a mango and coconut gelato?  We also kept our blackberry eating streak alive.  We each probably consumed a pint.  (The multiple handfuls do add up.)

Berry breaks are always welcome.

There were plenty of gorgeous ocean vistas and some climbing on trails above the towns in solitude.  We saw only a few other pilgrims until we reached Baiona.

In the morning we walk for miles along the coast.

 We were fascinated by the granaries.  Gerry especially found it difficult to walk by them without taking a picture or two.

This granary is colorful with its red door, surrounded by flowers.

We like the combination of wood and stone on this one.

A granary with an ocean view!

We stopped for my birthday lunch at a cafe where we were the only customers.  We sat outside and enjoyed mussels and Padron peppers.

Nothing fancy about the Aguncheiro.

...but they do serve generous portions.  The bill came to $10.

It was a pleasure to be on these ancient trails and not see a soul.  I felt like I was taking steps back in time.  It was like I was in a different era, instead of our real modern world filled with technology. 

A fine looking horse.

We have views of the ocean most of the day.

...but not always.  This particular stretch seems ancient. 

When we arrived in Baiona our first stop was a well-deserved gelato cone!

Coconut and mango go together better (in my opinion) than peanut butter and chocolate.

We checked into our hotel, the Anunciada Baiona, and quickly changed into our bathing suits then crossed the street to the beach by the bay.  We waded into the calm bay waters up to our waists, then relaxed on the sandy beach, near the iconic fortress of Monte Real, which dates back to the 11th Century.   Later that evening we went out for my birthday dinner at O Refuxo d'Anton, for their famous grilled octopus, fried calamari and Padron peppers along with frosty mugs of Spanish beer.

Monte Real, the ancient stone fortress, is a block from our hotel.

We heard this place was great - and it did not disappoint.

I'm a happy and well-fed birthday girl.

And so ends the first six days of our Camino, from Porto to Baiona - a distance of 92 miles.