A Change in Altitude ~ part two
Having just started to feel better, and with a renewed ability to breath, I realized I hadn’t posted some other tidbits about our non-hiking trip to the Eastern Sierras.
We stayed in the historic Heidelberg Inn which boasts an impressive open-sided fireplace in the lobby…imagine this in the winter with a roaring fire and cup of cocoa…yumm.
Many films in the 1930’s to 40’s were filmed here including Road to Utopia with Bob Hope. They say the bear on top of the lobby fireplace, has been there just as long. I must say, he was a little creepy coming up the stairs at night.
The Inn also has a great sense of humor…
I also didn’t share other photos of our hiking adventures – our first day out and then our forced march hike around the lake. Now that my head has cleared, I realize from looking at these photos that it was a lovely area, hot with no oxygen, but a very nice place to be. Evidence below:
Maybe Husband is right, next time take two weeks…
Over and out…
A change in altitude …
Husband and I just returned from a week up in the Eastern Sierras, namely, a place called June Lake.
Pretty right?
What you don’t see is the 8,500 foot altitude. We live at sea level, a few blocks from the ocean, so we expect to spend our first day acclimating.
From experience we’ve learned to take it easy that first day, wander around the area, taking short walks, gulping both water and oxygen.
Day 2 – we decide on a 4 1/2 mile round trip hike up (yes up!) to a hidden lake. The trail is described as moderate with a only a few steep grades. We agree it’s a perfect first hike. As we hiked we both realize something is wrong, we have sore throats, pounding headaches, and we are coughing loud enough to scare away wildlife sightings. I unearth our first aid kit from the pack and we gulp down aspirin and carry on.
A pretty hike, complete with visiting ducks for lunch —
but we are feeling poorly and stumble gratefully back down to our car. We have an early dinner and crawl into bed. We are unable to sleep, probably because we are unable to breath.
We finally admit, uh oh — we both caught colds.
I root through our seldom used travel medicine bag (we never get sick) and find two desiccated cough drops and some Sudaphed that expired in 2014. We throw caution to wind and gamely use both. (Note to self, perhaps it’s time to update said medicine bag.)
Day 3 – We slowly make our way through breakfast, heavy on the orange juice. We are staying here and thankfully have a little kitchen.
But, even our home base is in a plot against us – with an impressive amount of gasp-inducing stairs and no elevator.
We drive into the closest big town which boasts a Rite Aid with ski resort prices. We buy outrageously expensive (but unexpired) cold medicine and head back.
Day 4 – We do nothing, oxygen deprivation is serious, consider calling for emergency helicopter evacuation, but solider on drinking liquids, blowing our noses, napping and watching mindless daytime television.
We have a lovely view of the lake from our little apartment — but realize gazing at the view actually makes us feel worse.
Day 5 – Cabin fever has proven more serious than our colds, so we drive around and visit some little lakes that we can walk in and out of — never far from the car, water and Kleenex. Because we are able to breath a bit better today, we gamely decide to take a short hike tomorrow.
Day 6 – Husband gets up early and wanders down to the lake, upon returning, he declares that a hike around the lake would be perfect. A flat, nice, easy afternoon stroll. Did I mention we’re still at 8,500 ft? Well, I’m mentioning it.
So we set out. And it’s nice, we are actually able to talk, breathe and walk all at the same time. We watch a bald eagle careening in the blue sky and start to feel human again.
Dun Dun Doh…we come upon a huge rock face that is blocking our lovely little stroll around the lake. No problem says Husband, we’ll just go around.
So we clamber straight up this rock face until we find a service road and follow it until we can get back down to the lake.
Did I mention it’s 95 degrees and there’s no shade? Well, I’m mentioning it…
The lake continues to beckon, but we just can’t get back down to it for a least another mile on the service road. Back down at the lake, we make our way around until — drat — again rocks. Climbing back up now to the main road into town…another mile of hot tarmac until we can find our way back down to the lake again.
Did I mention, one half of our intrepid hiking party is an Eagle Scout and the other half is not amused? Well, I’m mentioning it.
We stagger into the lake’s marina, where Husband has a beer, and while I’d hoped for an icy cold Margarita, I settle for an ice tea. (I’ve discovered in these fishing towns the adult beverage of choice is beer, beer or beer. Trust me on this one, never order the house white wine.)
Thus restored, we climb the endless steps to our apartment.
Day 7 – Wake up feeling great, sun is shining, sky is blue and it’s time to pack and head home. On the drive back, Husband suggests “maybe next time we come for two weeks – that way we’ll have more time to get acclimated!”
Did I mention the other half is not amused?
The book before the film…
The Light Between Oceans
by M. L. Stedman
I recently saw a trailer for this film (opening this weekend) and I vaguely remembered I had a copy somewhere and unearthed it in my toppling stacks collection of TBRs.
Curious, but also a firm believer in reading the book before seeing the film, I gave it go.
The Light Between Oceans just plain riveting, it’s got me hooked. I’m on the last third of the book, so a review will follow.
So, before venturing to the theater this weekend, may I suggest you venture instead to your local independent bookstore or your local library and read the The Light Between Oceans first. I’ll be telling you why shortly.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
In the meantime, Husband and I are headed to the Sierras for a week-long hiking trip.
Before you imagine us lugging big packs and sleeping bags, it’s going to be a week of day hikes. Each hike to be followed by a soak in a hot tub, a refreshing shower and a nice meal before falling into a real, bonafide bed. (The vision of the hot tub is all that keeps me going for the last 2-3 miles, the mantra in my head “hot tub, hot tub… repeat”.)
There’s also this ~~
I rest my case…
A Great Reckoning by Louise Penny
A Great Reckoning by Louise Penny
It’s finally here! Today, the new Louise Penny is released. Now, if you took my previous post heed, you called in sick to work, cancelled all appointments, and this morning, you were at your local independent bookstore as it opened. Now you’re installed in a coffee shop or back home about to settle in with this latest installment in Ms. Penny’s stellar Inspector Gamache series.
So how to tell you about A Great Reckoning without giving too much away? Very carefully, I promise, no spoilers here.
I can start by admitting I fell hard for this book and didn’t come up for air for a couple of days (Husband calls this “she who is with book” and gamely forges for his own dinner and watches TV on low volume.)
A Great Reckoning opens in Three Pines where Gamache and Reine-Marie are still living their idyllic life in the village (how they both don’t weigh 300 pounds is beyond comprehension);
The next morning Reine-Marie invited her husband to breakfast at the bistro. Henri came along and lay quietly under their table as they sipped bowls of café au lait and waited for their maple-cured bacon with scrambled eggs and Brie. The fireplaces on either end of the long beamed room were lit and cheerful, conversation mingled with the scent of wood smoke, and there was the familiar thudding of patrons knocking snow from their boots as they entered.
I can also tell you, that the mystery begins with an old map found boarded up in the walls of the bistro. At first, the map seems to be no more than a curiosity. But the map uncovers village secrets from WW I, and leads Gamache to an old friend, and even older adversary and to places he wishes not to re-visit.
Gamache, the retired Chief of Homicide for the Sûreté du Québec has been taken out of retirement and assigned to takeover the Süreté ‘s cadet training academy. Gamache seems invigorated and firing on all cylinders as he confronts corruption, greed and possible abuse at the cadet academy.
Ms. Penny always has a theme running through her novels and A Great Reckoning is about misfits and the myriad ways they are flawed and judged. Misfits who have been wounded but survive and learn to thrive – and even shine. (Ruth and her foul mouthed duck are, of course, a prime example of such shining misfits.) From the cadets at the academy, to Gamache’s old friend, to the commanding officers at the academy – we recognize these misfits at every turn. Yet they are depicted with compassion and intelligence. Once again, Ms. Penny brings humanity to even her most damaged and suspect characters.
A Great Reckoning, like all the others in this series, is chocked full of fascinating historical and cultural perspectives. This time we learn about maps, early map makers and their vital role in uncharted territory explorations. In terms of current culture, there’s always some new insights for non-Canadians. We get a glimpse into maple sugaring and a typical “sugar shack” as well as, the oddities of Quebéc communications;
They were in the odd position, as sometimes happened in Quebéc, where the Francophone was speaking English and the Anglo was speaking French.
But some of the observations are applicable to any country and its politics:
“A man driven by an infected ego. But he was also a powerful man, I’ll give him that. A charismatic personality. Stupidity and power. A dangerous combination, as we’ve found out many times, eh Armand?”
Long time fans of Ms. Penny will be pleased with the delightful humor and witty rapport between the quirky, but lovable, Three Pines villagers;
Myrna sat down heavily on her side of the sofa, almost catapulting Ruth into the air. “I always suspected Ruth would end up a stain on the wall,” Gabri said to Clara. “But, I never thought the ceiling.” He turned to Myrna. “I’ll give you five dollars to do that again.”
Ruth is her usual cranky self when confronting a breakfast meal being served for dinner;
“How long have I been asleep?” asked Ruth looking down at her plate. “Victoria is no longer on the throne, if that’s what you’re wondering,” said Myrna. “The good news is, we do have another queen,” said Oliver glancing at Gabri.
The final chapter – again I’m being careful not to give anything away — showcases some of Ms. Penny’s best writing with guns as metaphors and surrender of same — as redemption. I read it twice, as it was that subtly crafted.
But what brought actual tears to my eyes was after the novel ended — in the afterword. Here, Ms. Penny lovingly acknowledges Michael’s (her husband) dementia and writes of her gratitude to his doting caregivers, as well as her readers for giving her the support and encouragement to keep on writing despite this heartbreaking situation. (She’s already well into writing the next novel.)
So in summary, A Great Reckoning gets not only my glowing review, but a standing ovation.
If you’re new to Louise Penny’s intelligent, and often brilliant series, you should start at the beginning with her first, Still Life. You can see why she’s one of my most admired authors HERE, HERE and HERE.
Now I’m off to make something special for poor Husband’s dinner, — maybe a breakfast for dinner?
A digital review copy was provided by St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley
Abridged classics
A Book Barmy reader (yes, I have a growing number of loyal readers ~ who knew?) noticed my efforts to plow through some of the classics ~~ and send me these.
Thanks, there’s nine titles I can cross of my list.
P.S. I just finished Louise Penny’s newest – due out August 30th. My advice — plan to call in sick to work, and run, do not walk, to your nearest independent book store.
My sort of Olympics
After the rest of you have retired to bed having enjoyed the 4×100 men’s relay or -Husband’s favorite- women’s beach volleyball, I have been staying up late and watching The Great British Baking Show. You may remember my first foray into this British baking competition HERE. My opinion hasn’t changed. It is still pure delight for me.
In case you haven’t been paying attention, the show highlights passionate amateur bakers whose goal is to be named the U.K.’s best. Each week, the bakers tackle a different skill, the difficulty of which increases as the competition unfolds. Unlike our U.S. cooking competitions, these bakers are never called contestants, but always “bakers” ~ given the respect they deserve. And, the show is just that — respectful, with everyone getting along, admiring each others creations, and receiving handshakes and hugs when they succeed. I dislike the U.S. cooking competition shows, filled with dirty tricks and looks that could kill among the contestants.
Like the fan girl I am, I have done some homework and discovered that the judges have the most improbable names, you can’t make this stuff up…
Mary Berry Paul Hollywood
This third season (the U.S. is one year behind the U.K.) is on many PBS stations and also can be seen on-line HERE. I record it, so as not to miss an episode. If you’re a baker you can get all the recipes there as well.
Once again the bakers span all ages, races and backgrounds — but all are interesting and talented.
It was great fun, for example, to watch Nadiya throughout the episodes as her hijab would get smeared with flour and hand swipes of frosting. 
The creativity of these bakers is the most amazing. Each episode they are given three challenges, such as a 3-D bread sculpture, made of three types of dough, and one of them filled – all to be accomplished in 5 hours from scratch with proofing involved. Now, I am, at best, a reluctant baker, but the very few times I have made a bread, it was harrowing – would it rise? has it risen enough?
I never came close to tackling something like this 
There was also a Chocolate Souffle challenge and to make sure each baker has a chance, the timing is staggered so the souffles come straight out of the oven to the judges table. In another contest they must construct nun towers that have to stand for 2 hours, and if you’re like me you’ll groan as some topple with only minutes to go.
Mary and Paul visit each baker as they are preparing their offerings and they take great interest in their creations — sometimes with caution “bubblegum and peppermint flavorings, really quite interesting, not sure about that…” (imagine the British accent here).
I watched the final episode last night, and I won’t spoil the outcome, but I will tell you how each season does end. No disgruntled losers stalking off , no tears or temper tantrums — with this show there’s always a finale picnic on the Highclere grounds (Downton Abbey location) with all the contestants, judges, hosts and their families having a great time, getting along, and sharing hugs.
Now that’s a classy way to end a competition, don’t you agree?
Lisa Scottoline
If you’re a follower of Book Barmy, you may have surmised I’m not always a high-brow reader. Yes, I read important books and am working through several classics (Trollope you’re killing me, buddy), but some evenings I just want to zone out, with some plain light-hearted fun.
You may know Lisa Scottoline as the Edgar-Award winning author of twenty plus NY Times bestselling crime novels. I’ve never read any of those, instead I know her for her series of humor books. I’ve Got Sand In All the Wrong Places marks the seventh in this very funny series.
I find it impressive that Ms. Scottoline can write both page-turning legal thrillers (she practiced as a lawyer before becoming a writer) as well as this series of hilarious and witty books. The material for these laugh-out-loud books derives from a Sunday column that Ms. Scottoline and her daughter, Francesca write for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Each short chapter is a column from the paper written separately by either mother or daughter and each year a new book is derived from the year’s columns. (Obviously Ms. Scottoline is not only a best-selling writer, she is also a canny business person.)
Ms’s. Scottoline and Serritella are strong, funny women who take on the subjects of daily life: love, dating, sex, no sex, pets, food, clothes, writing, traveling, health, hair, and more. No subject is off limits.
Ms. Scottoline’s love of family is apparent on every page and cause for humor as she describes her relationships with her mother, brother, and daughter. Mother Mary (her dearly departed mother) was often the funniest subject matter.
Mother Mary is out of the hospital, and recovery lies ahead.
For the hospital.
Her honest love of her menagerie of dogs was especially funny in her book Why My Third Husband with be a Dog ~ on her Golden Retrievers:
Here is what the Goldens are like: fun, easy, friendly, happy, and loving, on a continuous loop. You could have three Goldens in the room and not know it. They love to sleep. They love everything. Honestly, I kept adding Goldens because I forgot they were there. You could be sitting in a roomful of Goldens and think to yourself, “You know, we need a dog”.
However, I find the best thing about Ms. Scottoline’s humor is her normal-ness and self depreciation. Graduating from a top law school with honors, she decided to become a crime novelist and succeeded. Got give that some respect.
Anyway, my head was full of these thoughts the other afternoon, as I was hurrying in a downpour through the streets of New York City, there to take my author photo. I know that sounds glamorous and it would be if I were ten pounds lighter and ten years younger, but take it from me, the best fiction in my books is the author photo.
This latest volume again is both humorous and poignant as it deals with daughter Francesca’s life in New York city which includes a brutal assault. But like the other books I found it funny, warm, down to earth, and, at times unpredictable
There’s an essay on the holiday season and how in the past, Ms. Scottoline found it all too stressful, and resorted to holiday shopping on-line. The news of a bookstore closing, has her vowing to shop in actual stores — especially bookstores (hail comrade!) – and that maybe it’s supposed to be stressful.
It may be obvious as an abstract matter, but I realized that many other types of stores could go belly-up, if I keep shopping on my butt. So I taught myself a lesson: Vote with my feet. If I want to live in a community that has bookstores and all other kinds of stores, as well as local people happily employed in those stores, I have to out and buy stuff. I’m putting on my coat and going shopping . I look forward to the cranky shoppers, the waiting in lines, and the fighting over the parking space. And I’m wishing you and yours a happily stressful holiday.
The terrifying CNN storm predictions for New York City has Ms. Scottoline texting and calling her daughter in a panic:
I became Hurricane Mom. First thing in the morning, I called her, vaguely hysterical:
“Honey, did you see the TV? There’s going to be a big storm!”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Francesca answered, too calmly for my taste. “What are you doing? Did you go food shopping?” “I’m working. I don’t need to go food shopping. I have food in the fridge.”
“But do you have canned goods?”
“Canned goods?” Francesca asked, chuckling softly. “What are you talking about?” “Canned goods, canned goods!”
Francesca replied, “I think I have a can of beans…
“You need more beans, right away!”
“Why, what are you talking about? Please, you need to calm down.”
“I can’t! You need canned goods in case of a power outage! It’s going to be a giant, epic, historic, emergency, monster blizzard storm!”
“They always say that.”
“But they’re right! This is CNN talking! Wolf Blitzer!”
“I’m OK.” “No,you’re not! You’re going to DIE!”
So you know where this is going. Drama ensued. Voices were raised. Things were said. Tears were shed. Mistakes were made.
Bottom line, there was a lot of passive voice happening, which is never a good thing, whether it’s a federal government or a mother-daughter relationship.
But it had a happy ending. There was no epic winter monster blizzard storm. I apologized to Francesca for terrorizing her. Francesca apologized, happy that I loved her enough to terrorize her.Meteorologists apologized for their predictions.
As for Wolf Blitzer, we’re not speaking to him.
I highly recommend having this volume or any of the wonderfully-titled humor books by your bedside to dip into just before going to sleep.
Take it from Book Barmy, go to sleep with a loved one’s kiss and, after a few life observations from Lisa and Francesca — with a smile.
A digital review copy was provided by St. Martin’s Press via NetGalley.
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