Sunny Juxtaposition

 Somewhere east of Soggy Saddle and a tad west of the source of the formerly clean Whatcom County drinking waters, there lives a spot named Devastation Divide. Otherwise called Annihilation Alley. But probably best known as Obliteration Overlook. It's here you can look out at a mountain made of dolomite. And within the same view you can see 6 clear cuts and a five-stepped terrace carved into the side of the mountain. A mining operation. To obliterate whatever's still left East of East Soggy Saddle.

It's here that a modern Indian came out of the woods. Chainsaw in one hand, a warm can of Rainier in the other. "Did you see that wild, black, scary creature darting through the trees?" he asked me.

 "Yes, that was the Lu," was my only response.  

 He smiled knowingly and headed in the opposite direction. 

Kirstenia and I continued on. Up and down. The road was decommissioned, gulleys of earth yanked out of the hillside. We didn't know where we were going, but we were going there for sure. Going through mindless space etched into a useless landscape.

We walked past a scene from Deliverance. A man with a bandoleer wrapped around his chest was laying face-first in the muck and firing his machine gun at what once was a stump. All around us a civil war on the proportions of Central America in the mid-80s. Machine gun reports rattling off the rocks. A grenade launcher was hucking projectiles into a  dishwasher. A 2003 Panasonic 30" wide screen riddled with bullet holes. Too small...the TV that is. Thrown off a pick-up truck during the last heat wave. 

But we had to search for the source. What's been eluding us all these years. That glowing cave in the woods that emits a light--warm, brilliant, the perfect temperature that evokes a knowing bliss. The Source of Everything. All of the world's mysteries unraveled. But it remained hidden beyond our imagination. Beyond anything we could ever hope for.

So we kept on keeping on. And keep on keeping on. 

Time for a Council with the ravens. We stopped in a large circle, full of light. Made all the lighter by all the trees felled around us. Small trees raised on herbicides and shotgun shells surrounded us. And we sat for a picnic of leftover half-baked salmon with a light mayonnaise spread on gluten full bread. The dogs surrounded us.  

We sat and thought of the man who wasn't with us. Sitting on Desolation Row. A knife in the back. The Council of the Trees told us he'd be there again. On some high cold mountain range. He'd be there. Always there. And our thoughts were with him. Sitting in that Council of lost trees. 

You just can't exaggerate that stuff.

Almost complete destruction.

What good tea looks like...

Rich, complex, earthy. 

Deep, calm energy. 

These are words that come to mind when drinking quality aged Chinese tea.

Flavors brew in a small yi xing clay teapot, which gives control for proper steeping.  

Pu'erh tea is from the Yunnan province. Tea leaves are dried and rolled. Then they undergo microbial fermentation and oxidation. 

They age well. The pu'erh I've tasted from the early 20th century left a coating of goodness on my taste buds that I can still feel today. The energy carries on through my bloodstream.

The tea leaves might come from wild trees a thousand years old. Big, bushy, when you drink them, you might feel the power of a thousand years of history--of a being resilient to a millennium of sun, rain, wind. These tea leaves give strength. 

One of my favorite pu'erhs is the one I know simply as Purple Moon and Stars, the image on its paper wrapper. Its dark, silky, earthy flavor goes well with drizzly dark days in the Pacific Northwest. The Menghai tea factory also produces some astounding teas. Some I've had from the mid-1980s gave me the calm energy.

Other tea comes in little bamboo baskets, like pillows, a Liuan.

One of the joys of finishing a tea. The beauties of the spent tea leaves. Here is a spent oolong. Pu'erh also can make beautiful leaves, too.

I get my tea from Daniel Lui who runs the Chinese Tea Shop on Pender Street in Vancouver. He shares with us wonderful aged teas and guides us in our tea journey.

A New Year's Walk

Inspiration, move me brightly

light the song with sense and color...

 It's the same story the crow told me 

It's the only one he know 

like the morning sun you come

and like the wind you go

Ain't no time to hate

barely time to wait

 Up on the Blue Ridge Mountains, there I'll take my stand

Rifle on my shoulder, six shooter in my hand

Oh Lord; I been all around this world...

 Laugh in the sunshine

sing

cry in the dark

fly

through the night

 I'll get a new start

live the life I should

 I sure don't know

What I'm goin' for

But I'm gonna go for it, 

That's for sure. 

Maybe goin' on a feelin'

Maybe goin' on a dream...

Little bolt of inspiration, right beside me now
Sparkin' my imagination, lightening now

Small wheel turn by the fire and rod

Big wheel turn by the grace of God

Every time that wheel turn round

bound to cover just a little more ground

The wheel is turning 

and you can't slow down

You can't let go 

and you can't hold on

You can't go back 

and you can't stand still

If the thunder don't get you 

then the lightning will

Won't you try just a little bit harder

Couldn't you try just a little bit more?

All words and music: Garcia/Hunter and Weir/Perry Barlow

A Brief History of American-made Outerwear: Ode to Buffalo Plaid

A brand is a promise. 

Buffalo plaid isn't a brand per se but, like a brand, is a promise. The deceptively simple red and black checkered pattern suggests rugged American wilderness and conjures images of everything from cowboys and lumberjacks to punks and hipsters. Like all classics, it has been derided as cliche, which is a measure of its success because its staying power is tremendous. Without question, the buffalo plaid is the definition of classic Americana, even though it's not.  

Buffalo plaid is really the Rob Roy tartan from the Scottish clan MacGregor but altered to fit the needs of subsequent places.  

Woolrich Woolen Mills, out of Pennsylvania made the pattern known to Americans sometime around 1850 and the buffalo plaid shirt since then has been a part of its catalog. According to Woolrich's history, the pattern designer owned a herd of buffalo, which is possibly the reason it has become known as buffalo plaid. 

Rob McCluskey brought the tartan to the West by outfitting Army outposts during the time of the Native American holocaust following Custer's last stand. Both soldiers and Sioux and the Cheyenne warriors were in awe of the the deep red of the plaid. That red was like the blood of their defeated foes and they traded for buffalo plaid blankets.

McCluskey was a friend of both white and Indian, a middle man in between two worlds torn apart. Neither the Indians nor the soldiers could pronounce the Gaelic word for blanket pladger, so the people at the trading posts called it plaid. And the buffalo plaid took off.

Though Woolrich made famous the buffalo plaid or the red and black checkered squares that have become synonymous with the West, when I think of buffalo plaid, I think of Pendleton, the wool company out of the Eastern Oregon town of the same name. A wild, woolly town, where the cowboys do whiskey shots for breakfast and one can see the greatest rodeo this side of the Rockies, I also love the wide variety of Pendleton blankets.

Regardless, what you get when you look at a buffalo plaid, despite its Scottish roots, is a promise of America. A rugged individualism. Powerful and warm, it's not surprise that other ruggedly American companies have embraced the red and black checker squares in other forms. 

My wife has become obsessed with Tradlands, a relatively new small San Francisco company that makes quality menswear-inspired button-up shirts that, in her words, fit women. Currently, all of their shirts are made in America with quality materials, careful craftmanship, and design that allows the wearer to feel like herself. 

Below is her Arapahoe shirt, with the red and black checkers, but depending on the day, you could find her in a Tradlands shirt for any occasion. 

While my wife leans Tradlands, I've been picking up quality goods from Filson, a Seattle company that since 1897 has been outfitting people who "refuse to stay indoors." Filson's flagship product is the cruiser, designed for timber cruisers, miners and explorers, with roots in the Yukon gold rush. This is my new work cape jacket designed by Nigel Cabourn for Filson. Inspired by a vintage 1930s Filson Cruiser that Nigel found while digging around in Japan, the work cape jacket features a corduroy collar for added comfort, snap clip buttons which are easier to maneuver with gloved hands, and the classic plaid-patterned wool from the mills of Pendelton. 

Here Marcos is wearing a Filson dog coat with the classic shelter cloth on the outside and mackinaw wool underneath. This was the first Filson product I purchased."Might as well have the best," which is especially true for a dog like Marcos, a retired therapy dog and hero of my book Pick-Up Dogs: How Two Rescue Dogs Save the West from Being Won. 

#‎TBT‬: Alaska Sunrise-

This picture, taken back in 1996, was at the beginning of an extraordinary day of fishing in the Katmai Region. I see this picture and I can still remember how I felt as I watched the sun rise over the float plane in Southern Alaska: Exhilarated, blessed, in awe, grateful to be alive, overwhelmed with excitement.We were right by Gilbraltar Lake, near Lake Iliamna. 

Winter Wonderland. Forest Walk in the Olympics

Winter brings us an intricate web of geometric shapes. Like an MC Escher painting, each little ice crystal and snowflake is connected to another. The flowers, the trees, the water that forms the ice, everything flows together, essentially part of life regenerating and preparing to grow again in Spring.