Among California’s coastal redwoods, a small stream crossed under a bridge on the trail, and then disappeared. Looking closer, I discovered it hadn’t gone underground--it re-emerged not far below. Instead, the moderate climate and abundance of rainfall in the Santa Cruz mountains led to the stream side bushes to grow over and completely cover the stream, for maybe 25 feet. Trust me, a stream IS below the brush! Not a huge issue, unless…
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image from Danziger
Kissing Concrete
Snick. With the push of a button, the garage door descended. Snick. With another button, my new acquisition, a 2005 Honda ST1300, purred into life. This was my first long, break-in ride before I rode it to Glacier National Park. By day’s end, we rode 340 miles through the mountains and valleys and beaches, the ranches and farms and cities of Ventura and Kern Counties. I renewed a friendship from decades earlier, met a new riding partner, and reconnected with one from our summer touring group. But now all of us lay face down, kissing concrete, with multiple pistols pointed at our heads, with tense faces behind them…
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Lean on Us
About a month ago, I had the honor of being on the faculty at the 50th Anniversary of the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, near Santa Cruz, CA. I taught two workshops, preached at the Palm Sunday worship, met with conferees and fellow faculty and editors. Yeah, hectic and rushed and crushed. But MH lies in the coastal redwoods with a canyon carved by Bean Creek and with ample trails. Strolling among the redwoods with a friend works well to restore a drained soul, and I took full advantage of it. On a trail on a steep hillside…
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Wild
Before every bike trip, I pop on Steppenwolf’s “Born to be Wild.” Loud. Quite loud. The first lines prep my spirit, “Get your motor runnin’, head out on the highway, looking for adventure…” My soul needs adventure, to test myself, to move beyond fears. Riding comes with risks, but few choices match the selfishness of adventure seeking. As we grow closer to Jesus, we face that tension—how can we feed our souls and touch other’s lives for the kingdom?
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image taken by Murray Pura
Designed--Magnificently!
On August 30, 2017, intense lightning sparked the Kenow Fire near Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta, Canada, and soon moved into the park. Orders to evacuate the Waterton townsite arrived September 8, but control didn’t come until September 21, and the threat continued until the shorter days of October brought snow and colder temps.
By then, 38% of Waterton NP had burned, and when including fires in nearby Glacier NP, 65,000 acres were blackened, impacting 80% of the trails. This last April a good friend and delightful author, Murray Pura, who lives close to Waterton, posted this pic of a tree scorched in the fire. An interesting juxtaposition of death and life-giving snow with the Canadian Rockies in the background. Likely, the tree won’t recover, but …
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Bad People Exist--Know That
Our church fellowship had a huge gathering each summer at Newport Dunes, a lot of activities and an evening service with music and a message. I rode there on my Honda 350 from my home in Long Beach, and Ken asked for a ride back. Then at a light in Seal Beach, the bike stalled, short on gas, just as the light turned green. I quickly turned the valve for the gas reserve, started right away, maybe taking five seconds. But that exhausted the patience of the car driver behind me. Honking, then…
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Look Closer
At Mount Hermon, walks through the redwoods not only reveal God’s love of beauty, but they enhance the spiritual tone of the conference. So, like always, I carved out some time to take a trail down to Bean Creek. And loving the art of trout fishing, my first thought at seeing the pool shown above was, “Dang, wish I’d brought my fly rod!” The hole held at least six likely homes for hungry trout.But I quickly calmed down, knowing…
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image by trevorthorpetravels
Latched Up
Thursday of this week, I’ll head up the CA coast on Hwy 1, the classic route through Big Sur, to teach at the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, and hang with some witty writers. A couple of years ago I did the same route, and must have seen two dozen Mustang convertibles. Rentals, I guess. And no better way to enjoy that stretch than a convertible—unless rain descends. But seeing several Stangs on that clear blue-skied day shocked me—their tops were up and latched, like the one in the pic. Rather than basking in the openness of God’s creation, they chose…
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