December 2009

Guess where we are!

Some months the subjects I write about don’t lend themselves to too many pictures. This is not one of them. Below, you will find a plethora of pics as this is a big ‘show and tell’ month.

"The Rock". Alcatraz in San Francisco Bay.

Lombard Street: The crookedest street in the world

California native wildlife

When I left off last, we had just arrived in Felton (south of San Francisco) having arrived from the spectacular Big Sur coastline (home to Timothy Leary’s Esalen Institute where you can go to explore your “unrealized human capacities that lie beyond the imagination”. Hey, this is California!)

Back in Europe?
No, this is San Francisco's
Palace of Fine Arts

California Redwood trees

Burned out interior of Redwood tree.
Some are big enough that we have driven our car right through

We walked through the giant Redwoods in Big Basin, spent a day in Carmel with a lunch stop at Clint Eastwood’s restaurant “The Hogs Breath Inn”. Spending a couple of days in San Francisco revisiting old haunts on the Presidio where I spent 3 years as an MP (Military Police), we headed south and drove by our old theater in Buelton (the theater was built specifically for the stage show I performed there for a couple of years in the mid 90’s)

Patrolling the Presidio in 1976

Clint Eastwood's 'Hog's Breath Inn"

For our second week, we stayed in Newport Beach in a lovely cottage where I am writing this sitting at the desk in our bedroom on the second floor facing the crashing waves of the sea. We were joined for the week by our daughter Kami who does ‘set dressing’ for the movie industry, while she was on a break from a TV show she has been working on for the past couple of months.

California surfers

She is particularly difficult to get to visit as she is often working 12-14 hours a day on set and we plan our arrival and departure to Los Angeles as much as 11 months ahead while her schedule is determined as little as a week in advance.

Kami with us in Newport Beach

We also drove out to Hemet where my mother lives and brought her back to ‘our place’ for a few days. Kami had been planning Thanksgiving dinner for some time and cooked up a storm for days in preparation. We were also joined by a couple of her friends for dinner.

"Our" home in Newport Beach.
Janice and Kami on upper
bedroom deck

Newport Beach is a real upscale beachfront community with multimillion dollar homes facing the Pacific Ocean on one side and a large bay where they can dock their yachts at their private docks on the other. Having had our fill of life in the fast lane, we turned our rented car in and flew to Paris.

Bonjour mes amis

French dinner parties, where the wine
and laughter flow in equal amounts.
Well, almost equal amounts.

Having had an uneventful flight over, we rented a car and drove the 6 hours across France to our house. As always, we spent the first week on sleeping pills getting our bodies back into the zone, as in the ‘time zone’. Still, in the first 10 days we re-stocked the house, put our Christmas tree up, had 2 dinner parties and were invited to two others. There is a real sense of having to ‘catch up’ on the social scene when we arrive.

Chateau on Island in
background at nearby beach.

Just to get the season off right, I cut a hole in the tile floor by our front door and recessed a commercial entry carpet to stop us all from walking in with wet shoes. It is often wet here during the winter and since our front door does not have a threshold it always caught on the floor mat.

First cut a hole in the floor...


Next, dig it out,
lay some cement,
frame it in stainless steel
add commercial floor mat
and TA-DA!

Within minutes of our second dinner guest’s departure, we began one of the principal projects planned during our stay here by smashing a 4 'X 10' (1.3M X 3.20M) hole in our dining room wall. It's a recessed area actually, where I will install some twisted, gnarly and warped beams to enhance the old world look of our dining room area. I know, I know... you just have to be here to appreciate this kind of stuff. Just reserve judgment until you see the finished product, OK?

Cobbler making wooden shoes

Speaking of old world, we dropped in on a cobbler who was making wooden shoes. I know I have mentioned that we are in the back hinterlands of beyond in France, with some homes in our village still having dirt floors. This is old world France, the real deal. It is quite a juxtaposition that we can have high speed trains, DSL internet and... neighbors with dirt floors. I was not BULL...eh...'fooling' you.

Finally, just so I don’t get bored, I started hand forging a set of fireplace doors to take back to the Island. I will make sure it falls just below 50 pounds (23 K) so that I can fly it back with us in May. I am here to tell you that this is one miserable place to be if you’re lazy! We have several more projects to do in the next few months and need to get cracking as we have friends visiting from Canada later during our stay and we will be traveling around the continent for a month in the Spring ourselves.

Au revoir.

November 2009

The 2009 Fall road show

This fall’s transition was a little more involved than in the past. We flew from the Island to Los Angeles and spent the night as we always do at our friends Ed and Marilyn. Twice a year like clockwork, they graciously open their home to us as we breeze in and out of town.

The following day we flew to Seattle Washington and caught up with daughter Amy and husband Vance to visit the grand kids. Then, a few days later we drove to Sandpoint Idaho to stay with son Wesley.

Grandson Alex

I couldn't see him either

Moving on, we drove to Rainier Oregon to visit daughter Cassie and celebrate granddaughter Kayla’s first birthday with Janice finally succumbing to a bad case of the flu. Fearing the H1N1 hysteria, a doctor diagnosed her as having Bronchitis and sequestered her to a local motel for a week to prevent infecting the kids.

Cassie with Kayla heading out for Halloween

Returning our rental car in Seattle, we flew back to Los Angeles, rented yet another car and drove up the coast to our home in Arroyo Grande where we spent a week visiting Janice’s mom and husband Vern, catching up with friends and doing maintenance on our house. I finally finished sealing our driveway. With 600 feet (200 meters) of it to do, plus over 3200 sq ft (300 sq meters) of parking area I did a third of it last November, a third last May and finished the rest this week. Whew!

Having been on our big adventure for the past 5 years, I have been going through serious California withdrawals and was in need of a little face time in our home state. So, we drove the Coast highway (highway 1) from our home to Santa Cruz. It is considerably slower than the freeway (highway 101) but is arguably one of the most picturesque roads in America.

Starting in San Luis Obispo, we waived to the boys in blue as we drove past the prison where I once worked. Driving north through Morro Bay and Cambria (gorgeous little town on the coast that is very similar to Monterey) we meandered up to Ragged point stopping here and there to see the sea lions sunbathing on the beaches. The drive along the rugged coastline on incredibly winding roads perched high above the sea reminded us of a cross between San Francisco’s Lombard Street (renowned as the most crooked street in the world) and the Amalfi coast in Italy.

Sea Lions along the coast

Arriving in Felton which is in the heart of the redwood forest just outside ‘the city’ (how San Francisco is referred to locally) we made our way to the 4 bedroom hilltop home where we had arranged our week long home exchange. A real score, the place was perfect to have our friends Ed and Marilyn join us from Los Angeles. Having just arrived, we have managed to sit in the outdoor Jacuzzi under the stars in the evening and had a picnic in the redwoods during the day. Following this, we will spend another week in Southern California before flying back to Europe.

While it seems that anything to do with the island is way behind us for many months to come its not quite. For the past two summers we have made the island available for rent for a maximum of two weeks while we go traipsing off somewhere on the East coast. In spite of a substantial price increase, we booked one of those weeks for next year the day before we left. If either of two other prospects commit, there will be a 2 year waiting list for any further availability.

Taking a stroll down ...


The retirement:

We celebrated our 5th retirement anniversary a few days ago. Wow, time flies when you are having fun and we are having a ball.

We had known for some time the precise date of the event and we knew exactly what we wanted to do. Under the circumstances, most reasonable people take some time – anywhere from a few weeks to several months- to settle in slowly, get used to the changes and then run off on some trip or whatever.

When I retired, we knew that we wanted to store all our worldly possessions, rent the house out for awhile and spend the winter at our home in France. Then upon our return, we would be spending our first whole summer at the Island in Canada so we decided to drive our car across the country to have it available when we got back. It was also a great excuse to drive up the west coast and visit the kids and grand kids before the big road trip.

About a year before D-day, we began to ponder just when we would leave. We were really excited and couldn’t figure out a reason to wait any longer than we had to. So, in the last 3 months we began to wrap furniture up room by room, paint, shampoo carpets and store things in my workshop in preparation for renting it during our extended departure.

By the final week, the house was empty and we were sleeping on a mattress on the living room floor without a stick of furniture in the entire house. It reminded me of being in college. We were eating out as all our dishes, pots and pans –everything was stored away.

On November 8th 2004, Janice drove to the prison with me and waited in the parking lot as I went in for the last time to officially “sign out”. Our bags were packed in the car and we drove off on our big adventure never having looked back. Talk about being anxious!

We whooped and hollered for a hundred miles “YAHOOOOOOOO!!!! We are done!!!!! We never have to work again. Yippee! Ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!” We kept asking each other “What do you want to do?” and answering “anything we want!” Five years down the road you would think we would have grown up a little, settled down and gotten a grip. You would be wrong.

We still do it on a whim.

The archives

I started writing our little newsletter to our friends and family a month after I retired. Much like sending postcards it was simply a way to keep in touch. That went on monthly for a while until one day I decided to add a picture and all hell broke loose. I got playful and started getting fancy with a pseudo ‘magazine look’, adding pictures, graphics and the like.

Soon my efforts were clogging peoples email boxes and taking them forever to open the darn thing. I tried doing PDF’s with little more success until in January 2007, when I finally figured out how to do this blog. It has solved a lot of problems, especially for folks who are technologically challenged. One click on the link and you’re in.

Recently though, I had a new reader who not only perused our most recent post but read clear back to what he thought was the beginning in the archives. (The archives are on the top of this page on the right side and are listed by year and month. Simply click to open). It occurred to me that this is turning out to be the memoirs of the last days of our lives, and will provide the only record available when Alzheimer’s kicks in.

I decided I should add the first two years (2005-2006) of letters of our travels and experiences to the archives. With no plane to build, this month I did. I am hardly suggesting that anyone would be interested in going back to them but for the record, they are now there.

October 2009

Fall at the Bee

OK, I can take a hint. I had to scrape off a layer of ice on the windshield of our boat this morning, so it is clearly time to go. We are within days of wrapping things up and calling it a season. We have taken our last boat rides and seen the leaves change from their summer green to their glorious fall oranges, reds and yellows. We have picked our apples, said our goodbyes to friends and are ready for the bi-yearly transition. We have celebrated the Canadian Thanksgiving with my sister’s family who joined us for the long week end.

I managed a serious project before our departure by grinding our 2,500 gallon septic ‘holding’ tank. It was showing its age and considering the contents, we hardly wanted it to spring a leak. So after prepping it, I covered it with an industrial marine epoxy. With any luck, we will be good for decades. The alternative was an expensive replacement and a battle with the local authorities over its current placement.

The airplane has been wrapped up and stored for the winter and we are about to pull one of our boats out of the water, winterizing and store it also. Every year we get a little better at closing the cabin for the next 7 months, making the process easier, faster and less dramatic.

Our nieces anxious for their first flight

As I mentioned last month, I did not finish my summer project. In fact, it looks like it may well take a chunk of next summer to get it done. I am committed to finishing and truly hope I am up in the wild blue yonder prior to my 3 X 20 birthday in August. (I am sorry but I just can’t bring myself to saying the “S” word) I will spend considerable time this winter studying all the assembly components I clearly need to learn a lot more about.

Still, I did manage to make another dent in the workload. Another 116 hours worth this month, actually. I have the wings, flaperons and tail section ready for paint (I primed them), built the doors and have spent considerable time getting my instruments together to be able to design the instrument panel. Like designing your kitchen, you have to choose all your appliances before you can decide where they will all go. To finish, I have to install the engine and wire up the electrical. It sounds straightforward but it’s still a lot of work. One of the last things I will do is cover the exterior fabric on the fuselage itself and paint.

The airplane should be lighter because I have some parts left over!

It is infinitely easier to install all the components that go inside if you can just reach in and work on them without the exterior skin. Meanwhile though, it looks more like a go cart than an airplane. In yet another “I know someone who crashed” story, I got the following from my friend Bob in California…

“My ex-wife started taking flying lessons about the time our divorce started and she got her license shortly before it was final, later that same year.

She narrowly escaped injury in the aircraft she was piloting when she was forced to make an emergency landing in Southern Tennessee because of bad weather. Thank God my daughter was with me at the Beach that weekend. The absence of a post-crash fire was likely due to insufficient fuel on board. No one on the ground was injured but the photograph below was taken at the scene and shows the extent of damage to her aircraft. She was very lucky.”



On a more serious note, the American Border Patrol has announced that they have begun to use this particular type of aircraft (mine, not hers!) for aerial surveillance and are now equipping it with sensors, head-mounted high definition video cameras including a thermal camera that can spot an individual at five miles. This will allow the pilot to do what it took two people in a Cessna, and to do it quietly.

They were particularly pleased to be able to make long power-off glides, making the aircraft stealthy, especially at night. That’s right, they turn the engine off on purpose, to be able to keep an eye on an area quietly, knowing this type of airplane has such a great glide ratio. Few general aviation pilots would ever dream of attempting such a stunt. I just hope the drug smugglers don’t mistake me as one of them (border patrol) and try to shoot me down!

Taking a stroll down memory lane:
The Defection

This is a story I have shared with very few people, but enough time has gone by for it not to matter much anymore.

I was 21 and in college, applying to immigrate to the US. An international incident was unfolding in the province of Quebec at the time, with a local group of “terrorists” called the FLQ (Liberation Front of Quebec) who were demanding the separation of Quebec from the rest of Canada. These yahoo’s went around robbing banks to fund their activities and put bombs in the public mailboxes. Then, one day, they reached down into their man bag and kidnapped a British diplomat.

It was on!

The Canadian government overreacted and enacted the “War Measures Act”, a WWII measure designed to provide it with vast powers during a national emergency. With a stroke of the pen, they suspended civil liberties from coast to coast for 22 million Canadians (at the time), allowing them to arrest anyone without cause and jail them without a hearing, indefinitely.

Here though, they were only dealing with a half dozen bank robbers who got too big for their britches and decided to take it to the next level. The army surrounded the TV and radio towers and began patrolling the city in jeeps mounted with 50 caliber machine guns, ready for any attempted ‘coup d’état’.

I immediately seized on this opportunity as manna dropped from heaven, jumping on my motorcycle, and driving straight to the US border. There, I told the incredulous border guard that I wanted to defect. Being a smarty pants, I figured I could shrewdly circumvent all the immigration requirements.

Taking Grandma for a ride shortly before defecting

Defect, he stammered? After all, I didn’t look like I was from Uzbekistan. “Sure”, I explained. “Canada has just suspended all civil liberties and has turned into a banana republic. The army is running amok” I added for dramatic effect. A long discussion ensued with the shift supervisor but in the end, I did not prevail and was sent back to the city surrounded with concertina wire. You will understand the irony of all of this when you read about my...

Waking up Canadian

I know, I know. I have made a number of tongue–in-cheek wise cracks about our friends to the North. Our family and friends there have taken the good-natured ribbing well but this time they hit back below the belt.

I woke up from a terrible nightmare a few weeks ago only to realize I wasn't sleeping. Daughter Mandy had just informed me of a new law that could impact my Canadian citizenship.

Excuse me? My Canadian citizenship? What Canadian citizenship? I gave up my Canadian citizenship 36 years ago when I moved to California and enlisted in the US Army. Heck, I had even tried to defect! What more did they want? It was Canadian law at the time that if you became a US citizen, you automatically lost your Canadian citizenship, so I didn’t even need to renounce my old status.

Mandy though, discovered that on April 17 2009, Canada amended its citizenship act. It seems that shortly prior and shortly after my move, Canadians could retain dual citizenship. It was determined that this was inconsistent, and the change was made to 'harmonize' the policy.

The long and the short of it was that without my consent, access to legal representation, due process or being granted so much as a hearing, their government has reinstated my Canadian citizenship. It was like an old girlfriend who would not take no for an answer and kept stalking you.The utter nerve!

Now don’t get you panty hose caught in a bunch; this has no effect whatsoever on my US citizenship. It only means that as far as Canada is concerned, I have “dual” citizenship. It is irrelevant to the US what any other government grants. If you are a US citizen, you are a US citizen. Period.

The change also affects my biological children, granting them Canadian Citizenship automatically even though they were not born there and do not live there.

Never one to miss an opportunity to make lemonade out of lemons, I began to wonder if I would be eligible for some kind of repatriation fund for the decades of potentially missed opportunities? How about some kind of social security? Will I be reimbursed for the extortionist fees for non-citizens I was charged for sending our younger daughter to school in Canada for two years? Gee, I wonder when the next election is, so I can vote? Might I be able to help get rid of Democrats in two countries?

This link is to a one minute long really funny YouTube video showing what the Canadian government fantasized would be my reaction.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDeDQpIQFD0

September, 2009

©Ian Coristine/1000IslandsPhotoArt.com

Some of our islands have many cottages.
some have few. Some have one.

“All the news that is fit to print”

For the past 2 years, we have been using a service called ‘Earth Class Mail’. This company receives all of our snail mail regardless of the source and serves as our permanent address for correspondence purposes. Whether a letter comes to us from France, Canada or the US, it all gets directed to our mail drop in Oregon. There, it gets scanned and sent to us as an attachment in an email the moment they received it. We can print it, delete it or have the actual physical letter sent to us wherever we are at the time.

It has been a foolproof system that has been a godsend to us as mail forwarding services we had used previously were notoriously unreliable and tardy. We have had some mail travel around the globe for weeks going to places we had just left and being forwarded to places we would not be returning to for months.

The point of all this blather is that I got a call from a reporter from the New York Times. She wanted to ask if I would endorse the company and talk to her about our experience with the service as she was writing an article about how they were expanding in Europe. For reasons I simply cannot fathom, she chose not include my witty, insightful, forward thinking opinions on current political matters. Anyways, here is the link to the article.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/13/technology/internet/13mail.html?_r=1&scp=7&sq=earth%20class%20mail&st=cse

Small towns

Much like in France, it is hard to beat the small town lifestyle we enjoy here. Only in a small town can you walk into your bank and have the new teller say “Hello, I don’t recognize you. My name is Linda. Have you been banking with us long?” as she reaches out to shake your hand. Then, having walked down the street to the post office, the postmistress says “I know you, you are the magician. I read the article about you in our local magazine”. I love large communities but it is hard to beat the small town everyday relationships that we built in them.

You are under arrest!

View of the US from our Island

We had some excitement here about a week ago. We woke up one morning to find that US and Canadian Customs officers had arrested 3 guys (including an Australian and an Ukrainian) for trying to cross the border within a few feet of our island. It seemed that the bad guys were ferried across from the Canadian side to the US by a man who picked them up in a boat.

Having been tipped off, agents equipped with night vision goggles had staked the area out during the night. They might have been Canadian terrorists trying to sneak in or just folks trying to get away from the Canadian health care system…

Da Plane, Da plane!

It has become a sad fact of life that I have to come to grips with. I won’t get it in the air this summer. I aimed high and expected more of myself. While I fell short, I can’t very well ask my kids to do what I am not prepared to myself. Meanwhile, I am surrounded with a bunch of “I knew it!” and “I told you so’s”, but it’s OK. At the end of the day, I still have an airplane so I am not what Texans call city cowboys: “All hat, no cattle”. Clearly, I have nothing to complain about.



I have not exactly sat on my laurels. I worked over 182 hours on it in the past month alone, working 6-9 hours a day on most days. I should note that for every 3 hours I spend building, another hour is devoted to reading assembly manuals, watching instruction video's, writing emails for advice and ordering parts. I always make sure I have at least a weeks worth of work ahead of me where I have an idea of what I should be doing, including allowing for "I am sorry but that part is on back order".



By the time we leave next month I should have made another huge stride. I recently heard that the average build time is spread out over 5-8 years. Yikes! Every morning, the thought of working on my airplane lights my pants on fire and gets me jumping out of bed, do my snoopy dance, go into my Wilbur Wright mode and run off to assemble another component of the Thousand Island Air Force.

Each day after breakfast my bride packs me a lunch for the stars, I head for the mainland like a laborer and don't return until 7 PM. Working on this project is the most time I have been away from my bride since I retired nearly 5 years ago. Because she does not share my unfettered devotion and zeal to this undertaking, Janice stays on the island.



My days go from doing one thing after another that I have never done before and haven’t a clue where to start. This past week I built doors. The week before I finished the wings and got them ready for paint. I still don’t quite know when I will be done, but I think I see a faint glow at the end of the tunnel and I don’t think it’s a train. Still, it's the kind of thing where you can do it well or do it fast. If it sounds like I am rationalizing here, I most certainly am. But it is my story and I am sticking to it.

It is frustrating that the Federal Aviation Administration refers to my efforts as an “Amateur built, experimental, light sport aircraft”. I like to refer to it as “Custom built, conscientiously hand crafted with meticulous attention to detail”. It may be aeronautics, but sometimes it feels more like rocketry where the learning curve is straight up.

An interesting aside was a concern I had about being able to bring my airplane to our island. I am not allowed to fly into Canada until I have a somewhat more advanced license than is required in the US. The temporary solution was in the details. “Flying in or into” was the issue, but a taxiing airplane is technically a boat. [ More than technically actually as I will be required to have life jackets for the pilot and passenger, 50 feet of floating safety line, a paddle, a whistle and a fire extinguisher] I am permitted to taxi from my dock to US waters (10 meters) and take off. Upon my return I can land in US waters and taxi to my dock. Perfectly legal and completely doable because of our location. At least until I upgrade my license.

Taking a stroll down memory lane

A few months ago, we celebrated our 25th anniversary but we were reminiscing of our 10th anniversary also. That one was pretty cool.

A full year ahead, I had decided to take my trophy bride on her first trip to Europe by planning a trip to England. (It was a big deal then). I spent the entire year getting myself organized as I wanted it to be a surprise. I secretly made arrangements with her boss to schedule her to be on vacation, got my favorite in laws to agree to watch the little monsters while we would be away and got Janice’s sister to con her into getting a passport based on a bogus story about them tripling in price.

First time across the pond

Several months out, I began surreptitiously photographing her as she would leave for work so I would have a reference when it came time to assemble the proper combinations when I packed her clothes. I never told any of the kids, so holding a globe to the camera, I made a video that my in laws could play in daily segments describing where we were and what we were doing that day. I was hoping that the kids would feel that we were not so far away and they could ‘participate’ in our travels.

I drove to Los Angeles Airport a week ahead to meet with the shift supervisor to explain the situation and persuaded him to allow me to check in luggage early and permit us to board without Janice having to come to the ticket counter. Bear in mind that this was pre 9-11… and could never be replicated today. My cover story to Janice was that we were picking friends up at the airport. She would have actually boarded the aircraft and be seated before she knew what was happening.

One of the fun things I planned was our attending the “Ceremony of the keys”. I had requested and obtained tickets a year ahead, as was required. With only one exception, this nightly ceremony has been held at precisely 9:53 PM at the tower of London for the past 700 years. During WW II, a bombing raid knocked the guards to the ground and they were a few minutes late. The guard was required to write a letter of apology to the King.



This ceremony is where the tower gates are locked for the night and the keys are taken to the Queens quarters for safekeeping, indicating that "All is well". Only about 30 people are permitted in the courtyard to witness this very formal event. Most visitors have never even heard of it and by the time they do they are a year late in trying to get tickets.

In spite of my best laid plans, some serious last minute drama with teenage kids raised issues that could potentially have canceled the trip. That required me to spill the beans to Janice just 48 hours before our departure for her input as to the go / no-go of the adventure. It was a go.

August 2009

©Ian Coristine/1000IslandsPhotoArt.com
A friends Island

Incoming...

Mandy helping dad prepare a wing

This month we had a few more visitors. After dropping daughter Mandy off at the airport, we returned home to meet aunts and uncles from Ottawa and Arizona. They dropped in for a quick overnight visit and we had a great time with mini boat cruises and the obligatory view of the Starfire skunkworks (the airplane build).

Enough aunts and uncles to beat the band!

Shortly thereafter, my sister Loraine’s family came with my mother, while my brother Marc came from Montreal to spend the night. There were seven of us and as small as the cabin is we actually have beds for 10 people. Which begs the question…where were you? The object of this mini invasion was to facilitate getting my mother from my sister’s place in Toronto where she was visiting, to my brother’s place in Montreal. We just happen to be located at the midway point in between, so we were chosen as the meeting place for an overnight stop.

Sister Loraine, brother Marc and Mom

As chance would have it, it happened to be Mom’s birthday so we whooped it up and BBQ’d up a storm. Following their departure, my sister and her family stayed for the remainder of the long week end.

Adirondacks or bust!

Our digs in the Adirondacks

We have had over twenty requests to rent the island this summer including one person wanting to rent it for two months. (Yea right, as if!) Our first of this summer’s two renters came early this month while we took a week off to visit the Adirondacks. The home we stayed in for this exchange was featured in an architectural book of the regions homes as well as “Adirondack Life” magazine. I still have to pinch myself to think that due to our doing a home exchange while renting out the island we are being paid…generously- to visit places like this at no cost. Is this a great country, or what!

To see the video of the cottage, click on the arrow

We certainly took advantage of the time to visit more of the area including Saranac Lake, Crown Point and Lake Placid, home to America’s Winter Olympic skiing training center. It was exciting to see future hopefuls giving it their all. Since this is summer, they brilliantly use a pool for their landings.

To see the video, just click on the arrow

Still, I didn’t forget that I am trying to build an airplane this summer so I took some smaller components with me to work on while we were away. OK, so my bride was not impressed. Something about not knowing anyone whose husband takes a rudder and horizontal stabilizers to work on while on vacation...

Fly little hatcheling, fly.

Vacation? What vacation? We have been on vacation for the past 5 years. Every day is a vacation, isn’t it?

The 'Dancer'

Our second week of renting the Island coincided with a long planned trip up the Rideau Canal (A World heritage site since 2007) on our friends Wayne and Barbara’s yacht. What a kick it was traversing the locks as well as seeing a couple of hundred miles (300 kilometers) of this stretch of the river. Parts of it are fairyland in nature and history abounds. It was our first time living aboard a boat for a week and I got promoted to first mate! Now I am qualified to not only swab the deck but clean the latrine. It will be some time before I stop saying "Arrrr" and "Ahoy" a lot but I had to knock off the "down to the galley, you scurvy bilge rat" when Janice refused to make lunch. What fun we have.

Let’s Party!

In June I mentioned that I had performed some magic for a groundbreaking of sorts for the Thousand Island Maritime Museum. No sooner had I finished, that I was asked to do it again for a charity fund raiser for a local Heritage Museum.

Polaris Island

This was a rather upscale do, where 100 of us were taken aboard a 63 foot (21 meter) yacht, to a stunning home on a private island for a an evening party that was catered by several of the local restaurants. At a $125 a head, we were well catered to. There was a band, hors d’oeuvres to die for, enough champagne and wine to sink a ship and wonderful desert trays. I had been asked to perform walk around magic as an ‘ice breaker’, a means for people to be introduced to each other and get the event off to an elegant start.

The invitations called for a white dress code, an unusual requirement for islanders whose idea of dressing up usually consists of wearing pants with a functioning zipper. It was also the first time we have been to an event that seemed to consist primarily of fellow island owners, albeit the majority of which were considerably above my pay grade. These folks own some serious toys… All in all it was a great evening, giving us a glimpse of a lifestyle we would love to become accustomed to.

“I know a guy”

Whenever the conversation turns to my summer project, the first question I am always asked is “When are you going to be finished?” It’s the darnest thing to not really have a clue. I could easily estimate how long it would take me to re-do any part I have completed (about a third of the time it took me to do it the first time) but I am clueless as to how long the remainder will take as I am a first time builder.

I have finally come to understand why it takes some guys a few hundred hours and others over a thousand. The devil is in the details. Like many other things in life, you have a choice regarding what 'good enough' will be. Don't get me wrong, none of these details involve safety. There is zero tolerance for compromise here. Rather it involves comfort, convenience and aesthetics.

Since I am an owner builder, I can decide if the 'finish" on the airplane will be rougher looking or take the time to make it look smoother and professional. It will fly just the same but you get to decide how much pride you want to take in your work. Do I take the time to round out the rough cut brackets on the doors? (Yes) ...or call it good enough (No) Minor details and modifications that increase the WOW factor take time. A lot of time. In some ways, it is like working on a project at home. If I take the time to finish it well, you will never notice. If I don't, it will stand out like a sore thumb.

I am not making excuses here. I am sure that there are many builders that are faster, smarter and more efficient than I. But I will take all the time I need to do this right. On the other hand, I am not trying to build a piece of art here either. I want to fly this thing in THIS lifetime and I am aware that the summer is quickly slipping away.

I do know that when we are 'company-less' I don’t fool around and I spend long days in my hangar. In fact, I am so focused that recently I came home after a long day and while changing out of my work clothes I noticed that I had worn two different shoes. Janice on the other hand, is growing weary of my being as frugal as an Amish farmer. "Enough", she says, as I calculate if we should buy the big box of cereal that is a deal or if it will tie up too much capital.

Inevitably, at some point in the conversation, I am told about ‘the guy’. ‘The guy’, as in “I knew a guy who was killed in one of those airplanes…” Sometimes it was something they saw or heard about in the news, sometimes it is a story they heard from someone else. But somehow the conversation almost always concludes with them recounting a story of a tragic end to a private pilot.

I don’t want to make light of things but I am curious as to why if someone mentions that they bought a new car, the conversation does not automatically become about knowing some ‘guy’ who burned to death when his car went over a cliff. Yet, it happens, right? I guess private aviation is still largely unfamiliar to most and there is a fear of the unknown. For the record, I know of dozens of pilots who fly often and on a whim with none the worse for wear.

The art of the
1 word question

While in Europe, I sometimes write about some of the cultural contrasts I see compared to what we are accustomed to here in America. One struck me the other day as I was shopping.

Here, we have a tendency to really get to the point of the business at hand. In Europe, or France anyway, there is a “let’s warm up to the idea” concept that I still feel is foreign to me. Let me explain.

When I am looking for something in a store for instance, I can ask my question in one word. “Milk?” with an inquisitive look will get me a gesture or short answer like “aisle 4”. We are not getting married here so there is no need for idle chatter. The same goes for asking directions. If I am ‘location challenged’ and I am driving by someone on the street, I can slow down and shout “10th street?” with the same ‘where the heck is it?’ look.

Most often the response will go something like “two blocks then left” with appropriate gestures. You will note that I said slow down as there is no need to actually stop. Quick and to the point. You know, efficiently American. In France however, this would never work. Many times in France I have forgotten this ‘vive la difference’ and felt like a real dolt. There, it’s all about relationship building. You always begin the conversation with a greeting. In most cases, where possible, a handshake.

The kicker is when you are asking for directions from your car to a passing pedestrian.

“Hello” you begin after coming to a complete stop, blocking all traffic.

“Hello, can I help you?” he might respond.

“Yes please. I am looking for a street that I am not familiar with” you say.

“That’s OK, I know the area well” “What street are you trying to find?” he asks (In America the driver behind you would be wondering what the problem was and why don’t you get going!)

“Well, I have an appointment on 10th street and I have been driving around but I can’t find it” you answer. (Here in America, the driver behind you would be honking his horn and making “gimme a break!” gestures while shaking his fist!)

“Oh, 10th street is easy to find. Just keep going straight for two blocks, then turn left at the bakery. Be careful not to miss the turn or you will have to drive two more blocks before you can make a U turn” he explains.

“Thank you, you have been quite helpful” you say as you glance in your rear view mirror noticing that the driver behind you here would be reaching for a baseball bat or loading his 45 for a clear cut case of justifiable road rage.

Life on these two continents is just not the same.

July, 2009

©Ian Coristine/1000IslandsPhotoArt.com

Our Islands come in all shapes and sizes

Greetings from the Thousand Islands

This was a busy month for receiving visitors. First to arrive was our 15 year old grandson Alex who flew in for a week from Washington State. We didn’t do that much, really. Except for a boat tour of the islands, of course. Well, we also did have Wayne volunteer to drag us around in his boat while I taught Alex how to water ski. This was my second attempt as my efforts two summers ago ended in a dismal failure. This time, at untold cost to my pride and dignity, after demonstrating all the ways that would result in a catastrophic failure, I finally got up and skied successfully.

To see video, click on arrow above on bottom left of the screen

With such a thorough demonstration, he was up in no time.

Then again, we did manage to take in our local yearly motorcycle rally and even spent some time working on my airplane. Of course we were not about to miss the air show at Ft. Drum, home to the 10th Mountain Division. These soldiers have been deployed from Afghanistan to Iraq for years so the area is very much a military town. We always make a point to thank them for their service to our country anytime we see them in public and I am pleased to see how much they seem used to being approached in this manner. It appears that it is something they are quite used to experiencing.

Alex in Alexandria Bay

We couldn’t very well let the kid die of boredom so we visited Ft. Henry also, Canada’s version of West Point. You know- lots of history, guns, explosions and all manner of things a boy loves.

Finally we spent a day in Ottawa (Canada’s capital) where we visited the Rideau Canal, the Parliament buildings and testosterone heaven, the National War Museum. Like all museums, many displays are narrated by people who lived what they are describing and this one was no exception. Incredibly, in one display, were photos and a recorded interview of my grandfather describing his war service in France during WWI. In the National War Museum!

WOW!

Like I said… we didn’t do much all week.

The magic carpet: CH2-2858

The significant amount of time I spent NOT building my airplane this month was a choice and I make no apologies for it. What a problem to have, so many things I want to do and so little time to do them all in. It’s my idea of having a life. Between inviting company and participating in social events, I still managed to sneak away tor a total of 54 hours to work on it. It was a little intimidating at first and often felt that like flying itself, aircraft assembly involves learning a whole new language.

I remember looking at the inventory sheets and seeing parts called “Ronny brackets". I was looking at 17 boxes full of parts and pieces and thinking “what the devil are ‘Ronny brackets’, much less ‘where do I put them?’ Then there was the ‘control horn’. You’re kidding right? Airplanes don’t have horns! Then I thought ‘maybe it’s for when you are taxiing and you want to warn other ground based airplanes’.

Wrong! It’s a part that controls the elevators. Elevators? An elevator in an airplane? Get out-a here! Do I look like I have ‘stupid’ tattooed to my forehead? ...and back to the instruction manual I would go. A month later I am hardly a pro at this but I am edjamakated to the point where I can scratch and spit and talk trash about root tubes, longerons and jury struts with the best of them. I am like a kid who plants a seedling then wakes up in the morning to see if there is a tree to climb. I can hardly wait...

Island Reflections

Last March I mentioned that another magazine article was being written about Honey Bee Island and was scheduled for release in June. True to her word, Kim’s article appeared in a magazine called “Island Reflections” The name change from the original “Island Treasures” series reflected that it was now under the auspices of a new publisher. With a run of 40,000 to 50,000 the magazine was included as a special insert in local newspapers on both sides of the river in the USA and Canada and in local marinas, tourist information centers, restaurants and other public venues.

You can read the article by double clicking on any page

Finally, shortly after we arrived, we noticed that a new viewing area had been built on the roadside between the US and Canadian custom stations between the two bridge spans that cross the river. The thing is that the only thing that you can view from this spot is Honey Bee Island (between the flags). We are flattered that they would feel the view justified the effort and expense they clearly went to. Maybe we could set up one of those big commercial binoculars that charge .50c for a peek!

Mandy

Next on the visiting schedule was darling daughter Mandy. She had flown in from the Netherlands to Washington DC the previous week after successfully completing this years exams. There, she was joined by her sister Kami where the two of them had volunteered to participate in the “People to People” program. Mandy had tacked on a side trip to get a little face time with us as we were unable to see her this past winter due to school demands.

Mandy is now an old hand here, knows most of our friends and has seen many of the local sights. Yet, aside from wanting to be with her wonderful parents, when it comes to the islands, like her brother Wesley and sister Cassie who have also visited several times, she ‘gets it’ too. For those who do, it is not just a cool spot to visit, it is a place you are drawn to be at.





Of course, she wanted to spend some time working on dads airplane, but with an eye to the future, was also interested in learning all about the various aspects of being able to be here on her own (or rather with Mr. wonderful in the future). To that end she learned to operate and dock the boat and worked at getting more familiar with the area so she could find her way back to the island once she leaves to go anywhere.

We had a blast driving to the Finger Lake area of upper New York State to go raspberry and cherry picking as well as lounging out on the dock, swimming and dragging her in the doughnut behind the boat. Finally, we spent a day in Ottawa, visiting my aunt and uncle Dave and Monique (a Federal Judge) who had arranger to have Mandy tour the Supreme Court. Very cool

Taking it to the next level

I have blathered in these pages many times about our numerous home exchanges. In fact, we have several more in the works for fall and winter. It is ironic that the best one to date was the one we did not use.

Last fall, we suggested to our daughter Amy and son in law Vance that perhaps we could set up a home exchange for them to use and offer our home in France in return. This was pretty much a shot in the dark since they require a home large enough for the two of them, their 5 children, two nurses who need to accompany them to help provide round-the-clock care for Christopher and enough room for a hospital full of equipment, wheel chairs, etc.

"The cabin"

We set them loose on our home exchange web site and they found a place that was perfect for them. It was a stunning 8 bedroom, 4300 sq. ft. (400 sq meter) lakeside log cabin in the Idaho mountains that sleeps 15. The master bedroom has a deck overlooking the white sandy beach on the lake on one side and a 4 story atrium inside the house on the other.

Believing that it was unlikely that these folks would be interested in exchanging for our modest little digs we decided to ask anyway and were thrilled when they enthusiastically accepted.

So last week the kids drove up there and had a great week paddle boating, BBQ'ing and hanging out at the beach.

TA-DA!

Last May, when we left France, I said that I would post some pictures of our "Juliet Balcony" when I got it installed at the Bee. This was what I spent way too many hours hand forging in France this past winter and dragging half way around the world. This was no mean feat when we (read I) had to drag this disassembled 50 pound (23 kilos) box in and out of the subway in Paris [up and down staircases] in and out of airports all over kingdom come- along with the rest of our luggage - from Europe to the West Coast back to Canada. Well worth it, according to my bride.



Obviously, it had to fabricated and transported in pieces as it could not be checked in at the airport assembled. Then, once on the island, I had to reassemble it for final installation. Now that the drudgery and hassle is becoming a distant memory I am very pleased with the result, including the detail of the leaves. The 'Juliet Balcony' is little more than a safety barrier, preventing someone from falling out the open second story door.

Why have a door with no outside staircase you ask? Aside from giving us a large screened open 'window' to the warm nigh time breezes, it is to allow us to bring in or remove large pieces of furniture from our bedrooms as our interior circular staircase is too narrow.