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August, 2018






I am ashamed, embarrassed, and humiliated.
OK, how's that for an opening?

I started writing this little newsy thing when I retired in 2004. For as long as you have been reading it, the news has been-with few exceptions- great. That is because that is what has actually happened to us in the preceding month. 

But if I am to keep it real, I have to share the good, the bad and the ugly. So here goes. I crashed my plane, again.

Two years ago, my floats delaminated and I went for a swim. This morning, I took my maiden flight after getting the new floats on and landed in the bay by my sister's cottage after she had just moved here. Landing was fine but since she was not home I turned around to take off. 

As I was just about to leave the water past the point of an adjacent island a breese pushed my tail and put me on one float. The wing tip made contact with the water and flipped the plane over in about 7 feet of water. Whose fault? Mine, mine, mine. Did i mention it was ALL my fault?

As I write this the savage is still 24 hours away so no damage assessment has been made to date although in the water, little damage is apparent.

OK, so I will now crawl into a hole and never come out, right after I get Janice a few phone numbers for good divorce lawyers. Oh, yea..I am fine. Whatever.


(When I am not screwing up)
Our daily life at ...



Our niece Christine and Jason visiting



Friends  Wally and Pat having brunch with us at the Opinicon resort

Mr. and Mrs with the 4 newest members of the family frolicking in front of our dock


From the flight deck



This is what my disassembled engine looked like while being overhauled last month


Then, it was off to the races...

This is how I did it before screwing up
 (click on the arrows twice)





The professor

After I got my pilots license, I wanted to upgrade it to have my passenger rating so I could take folks that asked, up with me. But my real goal all along was to be able to fly either in Canada or the US, pretty much at will, as our island is literally on the US / Canadian border. The fly in the ointment, so to speak, is that in order to be able to legally fly my plane in the US, I needed to bump my license up to an instructor rating. Why? Don’t ask, it’s the law. I have no interest in teaching anyone anything but getting the rating was my next step.

By chance, an unexpected opportunity came up to take the training and the course in our last month here a few summers ago. The course had not been offered in the previous 3 years and I thought that a smart boy would strike while the iron was hot. 

The course itself was quite time consuming in addition to the additional flight training. Then there was what turned out to be the grueling physical with the flight medical examiner. Completing the expected pulling, poking and prodding, I was sent off for a full audiology exam and a visual acuity exam. This entailed a dye test of the retina, checking the cornea and more poop-la-doo than you would ever be interested in hearing about. 

This year, 3 summers later, it was finally time for the exam. I mean, how hard could it be? I found out when I passed after a number of attempts. It was a bugger.
I am now a certified flight instructor, but after todays performance, I doubt I would take lessons from myself. 









July 2018




I give up

I have come to realise that as long as I am married to this woman, she will NEVER run out of 'great ideas' for things for me to do. It's endless. The more I do, the more she thinks I can do and the vicious circle starts all over again.

Think I am kidding? Here is her latest idea as to what she thinks the island needs.




Play time!

OK, all work and no play makes us grumpy. One of the things that makes moving around from one place to another so interesting are the different local events that occur in one place but not the other. Here, for instance, we have the yearly poker runs on the river...





... followed by pirate days...




...not to be undone by the yearly duck race. This event is a fundraiser for local charities where you 'buy' a duck. Nearly 2000 of them are released just outside of the town dam and the first one to reach the finish line gets a prize.





Finally, after a long day of play on the river, we recover at our local pub where on 'wing' night the beer flows freely,  and the (chicken) wings and onion rings are fabulous. The village of Rockport jokes that it is a "Sleepy little drinking village, with a fishing problem"






We also managed to squeeze in  a show by the 'Circle de Soleil' We have been wanting to see one of their performances for 20 years and somehow were always too far away. It absolutely lived up to its reputation as a stunning cross between impossible and breathtaking feats of gymnastics and artistry.

Ahhhh, but I saved the best for last. Janice and I had planned to go on an adventure on Mr.Toad's wild river rafting ride. Unfortunately, 2 days before the appointed date, Janice stubbed a toe and went to the hospital for X-rays, so she was obviously out. Fortunately, my friend Geoff agreed to step in for her when I promised the experience would make a man out of him.

I mean really! Who, in their right mind, would pass on a chance to get beat up on a 4 1/2 hour excursion on a class III/ IV river for the ride of your life?



Why, there were even times when our heads were above water! Unfortunately, Geoff was momentarily unavailable while this picture was taken. 


Geoff, with his head above water, relaxing with us afterwards because he did not cry, not even once.

From the flight deck

It has been suggested that this should be my next paint scheme for my airplane

Anytime I tell someone that I fly my own plane, the first thing they do is to tell me about a crash - some ghoulish tale filled with lip smacking gore. Their implication is that flying is about as safe as taking two sticks of dynamite with a glass of water to cure a hangover.

The attraction is inexplicable but all consuming. I remember taking a long hard mental pause when I had a few friends who had serious accidents. Like the rest of the pilots I knew, I was saddened to hear of their mishaps but deep in my gut I knew that it would never stop me. I explain (what you would call rationalize) that everything we do carries risks. Motorcycle riders know (or should know) that statically, they are 26 times more likely to die in an accident that someone who drives a car. Still, they ride.


On the other hand, I know that the greatest risk I take is the drive TO the airport. Aside from the incident you know about where I got my plane wet, I have had a few other experiences that I will never share here because... well, Janice reads this too, you know. Flying is one of the very few areas of my life where I allow myself to be detached from any argument to the contrary. Who knows, others may be right and I may be wrong. I don’t care, I am still going to fly.

I am careful and serious but I don’t confuse confidence with hubris. Flying is so much fun, I can’t get enough of it. The air up there feels so thick I could cut it with a knife and spread it on bread.


Sometimes the only way to believe in forever, is to see it firsthand.



My run up to a takeoff


UP...

...UP


...and AWAY to go dancing with the angels!!!









June 2018



The staircase

Of all the things I can think of that would have less interest for anyone to read about is my staircase. I have only built two in my lifetime, a spiral staircase in our home in California and one here in France just before we left. Ok, so the spiral one was a heck of a challenge for a an inexperienced guy like me, a real head scratcher but in the end I managed. Here in France though, was a different story.

Staircases are reasonably straightforward with tons of designs and plans readily available online or on You Tube. You really have no excuse to struggle with the project. Spiral gets trickier but in the end it is doable. What I faced here was a freeking nightmare. Not to bore you anymore that I already have with the details, I had an issue that apparently had no solution. 

The long and the short of it was that I had a space where for the previous 60 years a ladder served as a staircase between what is now our garden level living room and the lower bedroom. Clearly this would not do, but no solution presented itself. So, I sought the advice of professionals who calculated the available space and assured me that none was possible.


I asked if a custom staircase could be built knowing full well that the price would now go to the moon. "You are so cheap you did it yourself, right?" I can hear my kids scream as they read this. Ok, so they might have a point but no, the pro's said, I was on my own. I spent two full days cutting cardboard templates to try to calculate what could and could not be done. The issue was that in each plan, someone going either up or down the stairs would slam his / her head in the concrete ceiling beam at the bottom of the stairs.



On day 3, I thought I had a potential solution. But not being a math wiz, in the end I wasn't sure it would work in the real world. It called for what is known in Europe (I have never seen one in North America) as a 'space saver' staircase, also known as a Japanese staircase.  Essentially, you offset each stair tread so that it occupies half the space of a conventional one allowing you to drop in elevation in little more than half the space of a conventional staircase. There are commercial ones available, but none that would fit in my available space.


OK, so it's not as complicated as building an airplane and learning to fly it, but must everything be compared to all but the impossible? The picture helps explain it better than I can here. So, I built this custom Mahogany staircase, then went out and cut a tree on our property, stripped it of its bark and installed it as a handrail. I was so excited, I treated myself to an ice cream.






Free cash for everyone?

A couple of months ago I had a neighbor's head explode when I shared some of our beloved state of California's approach to some hot button issues in The Epistle.

Having learned nothing and being completely unrepentant, I thought I would update you. The 27 year old mayor of Stockton (city in California that declared bankruptcy in 2012) is planning on his being the first city in the nation to give $500. per month for at least 3 years to low income residents. This is so that they can have a 'universal basic income' that they can spend in any way they wish with no strings attached, no conditions or restrictions.

One recipient said that he would take his kids to Disneyland. Since a daily ticket for a family of four runs just under $600, he will have to kick in a few bucks of his own, even if they can get there for free (!) and no one eats or drinks anything. But I am getting sidetracked since obviously they can bring their free lunch from the food bank. 

Not to be outdone, the province of Ontario Canada already has some communities that have already implemented the basic income program in the hopes that some people would use the money to go back to school, raise their self esteem or pursue a passion.

We are taxpayers in both Ontario and California, and I can unequivocally state that $500 a month from either (or both) would be a help in my aviation fuel purchase budget to allow me to pursue my passion and raise my self esteem. If you find yourself a little short on cash, perhaps you could consider becoming a resident of Stockton.

I report, you decide.



Fun? What do we do to have fun?




Being cave dwellers from way back, we have visited several in the US, Switzerland, Belgium and France, including some we have even traveled through in a boat.  Last month, we visited a new one near where we live. They are all so different and interesting.





From the flight deck.


Yup. Its that time of the year. News you can’t use, are unlikely to care much about but about the only subject I want to talk about. Flying.

The good news was that we got back from Europe just fine, all was in good shape at the island (house, car, boats and airplane). The great news is that I am back to dancing with the angels. After an 8-month absence, I was required to do 5 takeoffs and landings to ‘get current’ so I knock that out in the first hour before I went out to play. Then, it was game on.

No sooner was I back in the air (OK, after putting in 20 hours in no time flat) I was due for my first 300-hour engine overhaul. Grounded while the engine is in the shop and I am reinstalling my floats I took advantage of the opportunity to do other piddly maintenance on the plane and start a little project around the house to keep in the boss’s good graces.

Threading the needle


While I often fly just for the shear pleasure of droning along in the sky, taking in the spectacular view from a relatively low altitude, once in a while the weather allows me to thread the needle. That is when the clouds are such that there are numerous puffballs in various shapes and sizes. I then become a cross between Peter Pan and Superman, arm lunged forward aiming for a hole between the clouds or a separation I can thread myself through or between. 

Being alone, I can be more aggressive in my climb, pitch, dive or roll than I would be with a screaming passenger. For the legalistic purist, I – ahem­- ...always... follow the legal separations required to avoid a midair collision with other unseen aircraft. It is kind of like riding a motorcycle if you could suddenly drive over a fence, drive above the trees, across a river, through someone's farm to see what was 'over there'. Just because you feel like it. Peter Pan can do it...and so can I.


You wanna bet?

Last fall, we were getting ready to leave the island for the season when my buddy Bud and I were discussing the flooding that had occured over the summer and inundated a number of island cottages and submerged many docks including his and ours.

He casually said that it would re-occur again this summer. I said something to the effect that that was a bunch of poop-ladoo. He assured me that as a park warden for his entire career he understood why this would happen. Me, I was a know nothing Californian with a different opinion. The matter was resolved the way two guys who disagree on something always do. We were a little old to bluster on with the "My father is stronger than your father" stuff. So the bet was on for a real nice bottle of French wine.

Over the winter we would email back and forth teasing each other about what we thought would be the outcome, and I would get water level reports from him -and others- just to keep him honest. As our return approached, I even emailed to tell him that relieving himself in the river to try to raise the levels would not count. I teased that I thought a bottle of 1969 'Chateauneuf du Pape' would be wonderful, even though it was not something I ever drank or could afford.




Finally, the day of reckoning arrived and I was the unquestioned winner. And he was the most gracious over the top....eh....non winner.














May, 2018




One of 5 Texas sized Canadian Maple leafs
at our favorite winery

"La bise" (aka) Air kisses

Few people would have missed news footage of President Trump and French President Macron's meetings during the recent visit. [Relax, this is not about politics] Many Americans were aghast at the sight of the two men exchanging cheek to cheek 'air kisses". We are familiar with the behavior when pseudo sophisticated Hollywood types exchange air kisses, but not like, well, real people.  

"Is this how I am supposed to do it?"
Just don't leave a hickey, ok?


I don't know if this is common all over Europe, but I can attest to the behavior in France. I first saw it when we were in Brittany and thought the men must have a bromance thing going. The first time a guy approached me in that way I thought he surely had me confused with someone else and I instinctively wanted to blurt out "DON'T TOUCH MY JUNK" 

Fortunately, I had come to realize that here, it is a sign of really close friendships (no, not that kind!) and would be a real slight to rebuff it. It's a cultural thing. Not one that we as Americans are comfortable with but when in Rome...

No one is swapping spit so you are safe. Macron is a savvy enough guy to know the cultural eye raising it would cause and surely put Trump on the defensive. The one-up-man-ship was on. So when we go to our favorite restaurant here... we exchange air kisses with the owners. With close buddies...air kisses. If we must.  Its a cultural thing. If you are an American and you try to air kiss me, you will draw back a bloody lip. Its a cultural thing....:(


OMG, say it isn't so!!!

I got a call from my sister recently announcing that she and her husband were looking to buy a home in the Thousand Islands area. Having heard lots of plans from lots of people about what they were 'going to do', I saw little reason to get too excited about the idea.

For the past 35 years, most often we are thousands of miles away from my family, giving us blissful respite from the inevitable family drama that plays itself out occasionally, while we are unaware half a world away. We must have set a good example, since all 5 of our kids moved at least 1000 miles away from home themselves. Admittedly, 'home' is becoming harder to pinpoint, but I digress. I panicked when my sister announced that they had actually put their house on the market in Toronto and were visiting some properties.

When she told me that they were looking at island properties 3 minutes away from ours, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I absolutely freaked. Now, we will probably have to move to Tanzania or northern Alaska.

I did everything I could think of to dissuade her. I started by warning her that while crossing the river, her boat could sink and she could drown. She said that they would be sure to wear life jackets. "What about the sharks?" I asked, hoping to have her conjured up the images in the movie 'jaws', but knowing full well that the only sharks around here were at the aquarium. " But the people here are really mean" I lied, not wanting to compete for the great friends we have made. "You might be marooned" I cried, hoping to spur some basic primal fear. No dice. Growing more desperate, I shouted " You might be flooded if a tsunami comes!!!" " Island people are weird" I said in a final attempt to reason with her, thinking that she might be able to relate by looking at her own brother.

If that wasn't enough, my sister started to talk to my mother about moving closer also. OMG! The very 'chain migration' a certain president [who will remain unnamed but whose name begins with a 'T' and ends with a 'RUMP'] has warned us about. Then, it happened. She called to tell us that their house had sold and that they bought a property on a larger nearby island. Well, there goes the neighborhood.

The point of all this is that if you see a woman on the river with a shark harpoon, go easy on her. She may have gotten bad advice. Besides, she may not be looking for sharks. She may be looking for me.

BTW, just kidding, sis. Welcome to the islands.




Show and tell

OK, it's time. We have not written once about our projects here this season because they were not finished. They are now. If you are fond of pictures, this month we have a boatload of them. The plan this season was to complete the renovation of our front entry and do what needed to be done to our lower level area dining room, living room and bedroom #4 out of the eventual 5.

We live on a cul-de-sac. On one side of the street are 8 'fisherman's cottages' whose residents spend but a few weeks a year here on holiday. They range in size from 500 to 700 sq ft (50-70 sq m). One of them is for sale, if you are interested- a steal at $390,000 (US) or $502,000 (Canadian)- but buyer beware as they are in need of serious renovating. There is also a neighbor with an attached house that took two of the cottages and combined them, doubling the size of their home. On our side of the street  is a small chapel, a Michelin rated restaurant and our villa.

Janice, applying colored grout.

You may recall my explaining that the villa we bought has essentially two levels. The street level has two bedrooms, a kitchen, dining and living room, 1 1/2 baths and a large terrace.

The lower garden level, accessed by an interior staircase, has 3 theoretical bedrooms, a second kitchen, dining, 2 bathrooms and living room with its terrace also. I say theoretical because at the time we bought the villa, the lower level was little more than a WWII concrete bunker with no power, water or working drains. If you are fond of raw concrete walls, ceilings and floors, you would have been right at home.

It would not be fair to call it  a remodel as other than the cement shell, there was nothing to work with in the first place. Last year we jack hammered the floor to the dirt in the first lower level bedroom, ran new water and power lines, poured a new concrete floor, tiled it with Travertine stone, textured the walls and ceiling, added light fixtures, doors, bathroom fixtures and a travertine shower in what is now the master bedroom and en-suite.

Remember this?
Our bedroom when we tore out the floor. When we bough the place, the home inspection report listed 60 pages of itemized reason why we should NOT buy. Home inspection reports are for unimaginative wimps.


After we were done

Surprisingly, this years project went much faster and easier than I had expected, something that is quite unusual for me. While well intentioned, I am usually ridiculously optimistic about how long things will take me to finish, to the point that anyone who knows me usually ignores any predictions I make as to completion dates. I may come within budget, but rarely on time. The before and after pictures are quite startling, even to us. We quickly forget how it used to be after the changes are made. OK, here is a peek at how it turned out.


This was our front entry at the time of purchase. The lack of curb appeal was obvious.

Our property is on a double lot and is shaped somewhat like a wedge. The entry is at the pointy end near the street and gives not a hint of the villa's 3000 sq ft (276 sq m) size. From the street you can't see the sea even though you know you are close.

Invariably, when people enter for the first time, they step into the short hallway to the living room where they gasp at a wall to wall view of the sea below at the widest part of the property through the 7 floor to ceiling glass panes of the 2 double wide French doors that open to the upper terrace. Their reaction is like our pulling the curtain back in the movie the 'Wizard of Oz'.

View of the raw framing under the roof of our entry


As little as there may have been to our entry, we needed to get real and kick up the curb appeal a notch. So, we tore out the stones that were uneven and picked up all manners of dirt, leaves and trash that the wind blew in. After laying a new cement slab, I tiled the floor. Next, was having a glass wall with double entry doors installed. Rewiring to put in some recessed lights, I helped Janice drywall the ceiling with a hand troweled texture and finally added a few furnishing touches to do the trick.


Done deal.

Then there was the colorful wall art piece. Oh, boy... There are two things that Janice and I struggle to see eye to eye on. One is music. I lean towards the 'Grateful Dead'. She leans toward the seriously and completely dead. As in Mel Torme, Tchaikovsky and other relics from the past. I think music should not only be heard but felt. One of us plays music at a volume to wake up the dead, the other at what I am told is at a reasonable level. You figure out who is who.

The second is art. We are in different universes here. We are rarely simpatico on a piece so when we do find one, we jump on it as it is not likely to happen again anytime soon. Speaking of universes, that is what happened here. We chose a triptych that is like a photo of part of the universe you have seen taken from the Hubble space telescope. Very colorful, trippy, awesome and 'spacy' looking. It just struck a nerve with us and was sooooooo not French. Trying to integrate ourselves into the local culture can only go so far.

New entry sitting area and wall art

We ordered the piece last summer when we were at the island. As usual, we plan our projects 8 months ahead, so we picked it then, knowing what we had envisioned when we would return. It was much cheaper to order it while in Canada, even though it was printed on metal In India. When we got it, we flew it with us to California, then on to Seattle when we visited the kids in the fall, and finally our trip home to the South of France. That sucker traveled a total of over 17,000 miles (27,000 km).



So much for curb appeal, it was time to end the side distraction and get on with the main project of the season. This year saw us tackle the dining / living room and the garden level bedroom (#4). This will leave us to complete the 2nd kitchen, another bathroom and the last (#5) bedroom next year.


Before
View of the lower terrace at the living room / dining room entry level


After


I started the interior work by cutting the slits in the walls and ceilings to bury electrical wires for outlets, lights and switches.


Predictable, it caused a little dust, so I made sure to cover the sofa with a good layer of plastic until we could...


...give the room a good spring cleaning. Considering the area had been vacant for 25+ years, the cobwebs were thick and the dirt was ground in, so I power washed the ceilings, walls and floors. With all windows and doors opened 24 hours a day, the room dried in only 4 days. Once done, the walls and ceilings got a hand troweled textured finish, light fixtures installed and furniture brought in. Add a little Janice decorating magic and TA-DA!



Anything worth doing, is worth overdoing. The room had what at first was somewhat of an issue: an unconventional low ceiling. This not being our first rodeo, we did what we always do... turn an issue into a feature! Using a tried and true principle of magic, we hid it in plain sight by giving the room a bit of a cozy intimate wine cellar look by building the arches and laying refractory bricks. 886 of them to be exact, but other than me, who's counting?



The gizmo on the barrel at right is a wine bottle corker. Here, we have access to bulk premium wines from the local vineyards and we can bottle our wine ourselves. The doo-dah on the far barrel is a wine bottle opener so you can safely stay on the sofa and not lose your balance walking around.


The two built in wood niches used to be old style cast iron radiator inserts. 3 years ago when we bought the place and started to clean up the garden, I cut hundreds of these branches with an eye to using them in this way when the room would be done. When our neighbor watched me stack boxes and boxes of these at the time, she thought I was nuts.


Close up of wall art

We put this little art piece together when we found these Indian blocks. They would stamp the blocks on an ink pad then transfer the design onto fabric. What does this have to do with a French wine cellar? Nothing, but it is so organic looking we thought it looked great.

Next came the garden bedroom. This was the saddest part of the place as it had the look of an abandoned farm building as seen below. It, too, got the above treatment after it got new entry doors and a tiled terrace. The 'middle' terrace is right above this bedroom. All 3 terraces have a sea view right behind where I am standing to take this picture.


Before
What's not to love? A blank canvas ready for our touch.



After




Inside, before.

After

The 'desk' was a raw piece of wood destined for the fireplace when I recovered it from a friend before we moved from Brittany. Into the back of the moving truck it went. After a little refinishing, it turned out to be a beautiful slab of Oak wood and was perfect for the room. The wood wall feature is Olive wood that we acquired from a local sawyer who harvests unproductive trees from Italy and Spain.


With a new heat exchanger (heat and A/C) unit, lights, a Travertine stone floor, staircase, the 'desk' and this bad boy started to look pretty sweet for a 14' X 15' (18.5 sq m) bedroom.


Click on the arrow to see our day at the beach


Today is May 15th. We are slowly winding down our stay here and I hear the sweet sound of an airplane calling my name. Besides we have a little project awaiting us at the island...