A somewhat late 2021 wrap-up

Happy New Year and welcome to 2022! 

My brain (and body) have been somewhat occupied for the last several months, so I know I've missed out on posts that may have normally been written, but because I feel a need to brain dump 2021 for my own sanity, I thought writing a summary might be helpful for me to let it all go. Is this what I should be doing right this moment? Absolutely not, but sometimes sanity has to come before other matters.

January got off to a beautiful start in Colorado. This photo above was on one of our daily dog walks only a few days into 2021, and I was feeling so very grateful to live in a beautiful place. I was also continuing my near-daily rides that I'd taken on as a coping mechanism during the pandemic. We rode on the weekends, too, and were shocked at how little snow we were getting.

This photo was taken the last day of January on an unseasonably dry winter ride we had taken into Thornton, Broomfield, Superior, and other southern-to-us areas.

In February, I was able to get my first-round Covid vaccination shot because I was employed with the school district as a substitute teacher and they desperately wanted to get us all back in the classroom. I had agreed to come back as soon as I was fully through that process, so was excited to be able to get vaccinated relatively early, though I felt bad in some sense because I wished I could've given it to Sam who was going into the office daily. 

We were still able to ride quite a bit too because, though cold, we really hadn't received a ton of snow.

By mid-March I'd received my second round vaccination and had been through my post-shot two-week period, so I was ready to go back to subbing in classrooms. My first day back was so exciting that I actually took a selfie to commemorate the day. Being able to do something "normal" that wasn't exercise, riding a bike or walking a dog was very exciting!

We also took a tandem ride one weekend that resulted in a weird tire bulge in our usually-tough Schwalbe tires.

Afterward, several others noted that they had experienced or had seen similar photos of others who don Schwalbe touring tires that had similar issues. We crossed our fingers that this was a one-time weird moment and put a new tire on the tandem.

Right after this ride, we also received a pretty decent helping of snow. Certainly, not uncommon in Colorado to get a large snow storm, but when our brains were ready for spring to start, having this much snow come in at a moment when spring was days away was not what we wanted to see out the window in the morning.

The good about March was that I was starting to find something resembling normal again. I was working on art again, back to substituting in the classroom, and everything else we'd been doing during the pandemic seemed to still be happening as well, so I was a happy lady.

By April, things took a bit of a turn. The first downer was that we knew our Labrador was getting to a point that we were going to have to make some decisions. I really, really didn't want to accept this as I'd watch her napping and had hope that she would continue to be the fighter we knew she was. But, her liver was failing, she was completely blind, and she just didn't have the life she once did.

While we put those thoughts to the back of our minds, we continued to ride as much as we could, experiencing some really dry (though often windy) spring days. One of our favorites was to visit this bikeway, above, that runs parallel to Highway 36 into/out of Boulder/Superior/Louisville/Westminster.

In late April, we discovered that we had a broken, clay sewer line at the house and that we'd need to have it replaced. It was (in my mind) an insane cost for something that we have to have (and that is just a pipe), but I know that there were a lot of people involved and that everyone needs a paycheck, so we took it on the chin and moved forward.

The next day, Sam found out that he was being offered a job in Bend, Oregon, and a lot of discussion happened in a very short amount of time. Within a week, as we started into May, our house was up for sale and Sam was making plans to go to Oregon to start his new job while the dogs and I stayed behind to get packed and take care of business in Colorado.

Strangely, I was very focused (an unusual trait for me). I knew what needed to be done and was doing my best to stay on task. Still lingering through was the thought of our Lab-girl. There were many, many discussions about how we would transition her to a new place, particularly as she was completely blind, but also taking into account her other ailments and age. We had a plan in place, but as we continued to observe her daily actions, we knew what she was telling us and as gut-wrenching and heart-breaking as it was, we knew we were going to have to say goodbye to our companion of just shy of 15 years. 

A photo taken from my Studio window of B-dog as she sat on the back flagstone.

As much as we knew that it was the right decision, I will likely always carry guilt about this choice made for her. Our Golden-girl wasn't really sure how to behave after the fact and she seemed a little forlorn (or maybe it was my projection on to her), but it was sad to watch her try to adapt to a new life without her housemate.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunate for my mental state), I didn't have much time to linger on these thoughts as we had a lot to get done. I decided to have one last open-studio/sale outdoors in late May with a friend who makes jewelry, and tried to sell off as much of what I had as possible to make packing up the studio a little less painful.  

Sam was also ready to head out for his time alone in Oregon, and he packed up our old camper-trailer and headed out west to begin a bit of new life and a new job. Meanwhile, B-dog and I went to work with more packing, giving things away, and donating as much as we could so that we'd be prepared for the move after the house sale closed. 

By June, we were nearly ready for the move and were waiting for Sam's return to put all of our belongings into shipping pods that would be stored until we found a new place to live. I was oddly calm, despite having a lot to do and knowing that we were leaving the state we'd called home for nearly two decades. My presumption was that this was a good sign and that it was time to find a new place.

Having always been a bit of a wanderer, it was starting to feel as though maybe we'd over-stayed our welcome, though there was a part of me that knew I was going to miss Colorado.

As mid-June came, we were ready for all of us to make the move to Oregon, so our house items and all but a few belongings were sent off to be stored until we were ready as we headed to our new area.

We lived in our camper trailer, moving from campsite to campsite every week or so because there, as we soon discovered, weren't any places for us to set up long-term. Our camper doesn't have a bathroom and really was meant more for bike-race type camping trips, so the space isn't vast by any means, but we were figuring out how to deal with the small space and limited "stuff" until we could secure a new home.

That would also be more of a challenge than we anticipated, despite our immediate start upon arrival. Even finding an apartment to rent was impossible, as we hadn't anticipated the number of people who arrive to this central Oregon city in the summer months (and already had plans for housing - unlike us). Our agent was great though and showed us absolutely everything we wanted to see, no matter where it took us.

Throughout June and July B-dog and I did a LOT of walking. We walk every day in normal circumstances, but this was next-level walking during which we explored anything and everything we could find. Although I didn't record most days, we were walking a good 12-14 miles every week day. 

The good thing for miss B is that the river is just about everywhere we'd go, so she'd always get to go for a swim and cool off at some point (often several times). 

Initially, we looked for homes daily and made an offer on a place that was a complete wreck. Honestly, it was close to uninhabitable. It had been rented for several decades prior and not well-cared-for, and we were pretty convinced our agent thought we were insane to be purchasing the property. I think we questioned our sanity a bit as well, especially because the house had been listed as a development property, with the seller believing the house was destined for demolition. But, near the end of August, after a sketchy escrow period and a near-loss of the house right at the end, we ended up getting precisely what we'd hoped to avoid: a giant project. 

But, this is who we are - people who seem to (at least somewhat) enjoy taking on something no one else wants and making it into something that is hopefully better than it started when we found it. 

*Photo credit to Sam       

A visit to the local Lava Lands hiking area

The summer months (especially July and August) brought a lot of smoke, as it did to most of the western US. The skies often looked as they would on a cloudy day, except that it was smoke. If we hadn't been wearing masks because of the pandemic, we likely would've been anyway because of the difficulty breathing.

The smoke cleared earlier here than it has been the last couple of summers in Colorado though, and by late August/early September, most days were smoke-light or smoke-free, which was a welcomed change. 

By late August, we had closed on the house and were into our renovations. We started from day one and haven't stopped since that time, other than for very brief moments. Sam goes to work, while I work on the house and then Sam returns home and does the things that require his touch/assistance.

A couple of rooms as they went through their changes. They both still had work to be done at the point of these photos, but we were grateful to start being able to get to somewhat live in the house at this point in late September.

It's hard to describe all that has gone into these rooms (especially the unseen) without a lot of detail, but things were much worse than were visible on the surface. We are so grateful to have the opportunity to save something destined for demolition though!

We also attempted to get back to riding somewhat regularly, which was more of a struggle than we anticipated. I think it's easy to get upset with ourselves when we can't manage to get all of the things completed that we hope, but sometimes have to remind ourselves that there are only so many hours in a day/week and something has to give sometimes when there are too many things to get done. 

Then, the weather turned earlier than we expected and that limited our riding time as well. Plus, we were getting pressure from friends/family who want to come and visit, so we were trying our very best to get as much work done as we could as quickly as possible. Ultimately, we had to tell everyone to just give us a bit of a break as there are only two of us doing the work and we can only accomplish so much. 

By October, leaves were changing and fall skies were a regular occurrence. We had close to renovated four of the rooms in the house as well. However, at this point, our riding was even more limited. Sam was riding to work, but my time was pretty much limited to our once per weekend ride on the tandem. 

When November rolled around, I started to truly realize that we actually live in another state and all of the things I had emotionally pushed down, not wanting to deal with (or lacking the time to deal with), started to come up. I missed my dog that I felt I had killed because we were moving (even though that really was not at all the case), I missed my Colorado friends and home -- not the house so much, but just knowing that the things I was so used to being near were no longer there, and I wanted desperately to have a ride in my old stomping grounds. I started to understand just how much I had taken for granted all that was at my fingertips, and just how much it all really meant to me. 

Fortunately, I had planned a trip back to Colorado for a couple of days in December to help out a friend and to hopefully clear out some of the emotion I just couldn't quite let go. Getting to walk my old home area was so wonderful and getting to see some friendly faces was the absolute best. I only wish I could've seen more people while there and had the opportunity to take my bicycle with me to ride. I realized that even when I don't get to see friends regularly, it's nice to know they are around and it really stinks to be in a new place with no familiar faces. 

When I returned home, I received notification from the state of Colorado that I had been exposed to someone who tested positive for Covid through the state notification app that I still had active on my phone. I was not pleased as I have done my best to stay away from people for the last two years unless outdoors, and, of course, the one time I went somewhere since this started, I had potentially exposed not only myself but Sam and those he works with (as the notification came a few days after my return) to testing positive. I had been masked while there, but it just frustrated me that this is still something that requires so much caution. Because of the date of exposure, I knew that it had to be either at the airport or on the airplane, but there wasn't anything I could do except to quarantine and get a test to see if I had been infected.

Thankfully, I tested negative (as did Sam), but it was a good reminder that we are not through any of this mess. The nice thing, I suppose, is that when home I have very little exposure to other humans.

December snow days in central Oregon.

I know that in the coming weeks/months, I have to start doing some things outside of fixing the house because I will never meet new people when my days revolve around dog walks, big-box home improvement stores, and working in the house, but there is still the part of me that has a hard time believing that Oregon is home. It's a lovely place (as I know I've stated), but it just doesn't feel like home - at least yet. Maybe it will in time, but that remains to be seen. 

Mileage-wise, riding has taken a severe plummet in 2021. I ended 2020 with 9,000 miles of riding, but 2021 dropped significantly to just over 4,600 (and most of that took place before summer hit). Miles on foot didn't take the same drop, but that was likely due to the reality that B-dog and I were attached at the hip for several months, which allowed us to get a lot of steps in throughout summer, most of which weren't recorded so I'll never truly know how many miles we covered.

This year ahead still holds quite a few question marks. I don't currently have a work space (nor have I been able to find a place locally that sells the supplies I need), I haven't gone back to substitute teaching here in Oregon, and there are still a lot of things to accomplish in regard to our project house. There are also some questions about where things will go with Sam's job. Truthfully, I don't mind questions though - who wants to have all the answers - but I'm curious to see where 2022 takes us. 

I hope that 2021 was kind to you, or as good as a pandemic year can be, and that you were able to fulfill goals and experience new things. Please feel free to share your thoughts/experiences from 2021 as well. Happy New Year to all!!

Bend!

We are unofficially living in Bend, Oregon. I still cannot believe the whirlwind that has taken place over the last several weeks. It feels as though life has completely changed (because it has), but I don't think my brain and body have quite caught up with everything. 

Our stuff... getting ready for storage until we find home again.

For a quick catch up, Sam accepted a job offer in Bend and we put our house in Colorado up for sale. The house was under contract in two days and closed in early June. The new owners were kind enough to allow us a little extra time to pack our stuff into shipping containers after closing and even after getting rid of what seemed like half of our belongings, we still didn't have enough storage so we ended up having to give up a lot of furniture the day we were leaving. It was upsetting in the moment, but I know that nothing was of any real value, so I have recovered and am looking forward to finding different stuff as we move forward. 

The real trouble has been that there is nothing to rent in the Bend area. Apparently (as we've been told), rentals in Oregon in general are an issue and there is an extreme shortage. We have been living in our 1960 camper (sans bathroom or sink, which is interesting, to say the least), searching for a home and in the interim trying to find anything to rent. Finding a place to put the camper is its own challenge as well because summer seems to be a time when every campsite within a 50-mile radius is full. Which means that we have to move every couple of weeks -- but we're figuring it out as we go. 

Because I cannot leave B-dog in the camper alone (both due to campsite rules and because it's been brutally hot and I wouldn't do that to her), I haven't been able to ride since arriving here a little over a week ago (and hadn't ridden much before we left either due to packing), but B-dog and I have been busy exploring different areas on foot. I pondered picking up a rather cool-looking dog trailer so that we could adventure together on the one bike I have with me, but after reading reviews, I became concerned that it wouldn't be suitable for her, and not having normal tools at our disposal, I think we'll have to continue on foot for the time being.

In 1989, my family came to this area to visit, thinking that we'd move here as my parents pondered future retirement; and in 1995, a friend and I drove to Bend to visit his grandparents who lived here and to allow us to get in some whitewater rafting, so I was somewhat aware of the area, but wasn't sure if my memory would match reality. After wandering for a bit, I'd say the answer is "somewhat." I remembered a lot of trees... and there are definitely a lot of trees, but I couldn't remember much else, other than the river. 

The Deschutes River from Drake Park

The things that surprised me? The clouds seem really close to earth. It was the first thing I noticed driving in to Oregon, actually. They seem as though I could get out a ladder and touch them -- that close. I had also forgotten how much desert-like landscape is around. As green as Bend itself is, desert foliage (if I can call it that) is also plentiful and the landscape seems to change very quickly from one spot to the next. Lava rock abounds (I keep thinking I should send some to a jeweler friend who looks for different sorts of materials to make items) and I've tripped no less than half a dozen times on it because I wasn't paying attention on trails. It seems like it has its own special mix of California and Colorado in the greenery, honestly, which probably makes sense given the weather fluctuations and elevation.

The people here also seem incredibly friendly. As I was passing by an intersection I was witness to an incident between a cyclist and a driver and it was entirely cordial (which kind of freaked me out, I will admit, as this is not my typical experience with drivers at all when I'm on a bike); but even beyond that interaction, people are generally friendly, wish a good day to passers-by, and on the whole, it has been pleasant thus far to not feel as though we've landed in a place with people who are rude or unfriendly. Those do exist here, but they seem to be more the minority.

Pilot Butte view from the top, looking west

Yesterday, B-dog and I decided to climb a "mound" that we kept seeing in town. It's called Pilot Butte and is actually a lava dome formed by an extinct volcano. I had seen people running and walking up and down it but when I went to find an entrance, it had a locked gate and said it was closed. Still, I kept seeing people so I knew there had to be a way up, which we eventually found. The views on the way up are quite spectacular, and honestly, none of the photos I took do any of it justice. The Cascades to the west and even the view to the east, north and south are a sight to behold. 

We've explored the Deschutes River thoroughly from various spots as well and have learned (particularly on these very hot days experienced recently) that everyone seems to spend the day in the water on a raft, tube, paddle board, or canoe, so my dreams of paddle boarding with the pup may come true. Yay! I keep reminding myself that we need somewhere to keep such things though, so for now, we just watch others and B-dog swims a bit to keep cool.

Food. There seems to be a lot of good food in this area. I am definitely no foodie by any stretch of the imagination, but I have had some of the best food of my life recently. Normally, we wouldn't eat out so much, but because of the housing situation, it's been more than I imagined. It's nice to know there are places to go though - whether for ourselves or when visitors stop in. 

We have walked more in the last 10 days than I have in a very long time. This morning, my hips were hurting so much that we had to dial it back a bit. I miss riding a bicycle, but I know that this is temporary and that hopefully, life can return to some sort of normal in the near future. Not having access to our stuff is a little frustrating, but I've learned how little we really need to survive. Which isn't to say that I don't miss some of the stuff (especially my art supplies and bicycles), but rather that I'm a bit more adaptable than I thought. I hope that home is coming and that we won't have to wait too long for it, but in the meantime, it gives time to check things out and get a sense of where things are in this new-to-us place. 

Pondering Location and Home

I am currently on a last minute trip to provide assistance to relatives in California. The trip has mostly been about manual labor (something my body rebels against, yet I seem to always find myself involved in somehow), but there have been a few moments to slip away to find some reflection and recovery time. I've made trips to this location many times over the last several years and grew up not far from the area, but I've noticed on this particular visit that there are more cyclists on the roads than I've taken note of in the past.

The weather is cool here in this area (cooler than I remember for the time of year, if I'm honest), but still far warmer than it is presently at home in Colorado, so I can't help but wonder if this is a usual occurrence and I've just not noticed it in the past, or perhaps it's more to do with not being in the area often enough during this time of year.

I never seemed to have a camera handy when the cyclists went by, but I managed to catch this fellow riding a couple of days ago.

As I've found time to slip away, I've taken note of the large number of people on bicycles. At first, I was simply noticing commuters on the roads, likely using the bicycle as transportation. Then, I noticed what appeared to be individuals out on more of sport, group rides, and most recently I came in contact with several, separately traveling, touring cyclists with bicycles loaded up. Each were dressed a bit differently, but this is one of the few parts of the country where I don't find it odd seeing a cyclist in shorts and sleeveless shirt in December. It's making me dread my return home to below freezing temperatures and snow!

It's amazing to me how cycling infrastructure has changed in this small community as well. Each time I return, I notice more bicycle lanes or find new paved trails. As is the case in many areas, I did note that several of these paths or trails tend to end abruptly and without warning, causing me to wonder why the municipality didn't continue to pave the path for cyclists. Perhaps it is in the works and if I were to come back in a year's time, things would look different yet again.

This trail was fantastic, but ends just around the bend at a signal and forces riders out onto the busy road with motorized traffic.

Unfortunately, I don't think I'll have that opportunity. My family that is living in this area is preparing for a move out of state in the spring, so I likely won't have reason to visit this small community again.

Between this trip and a recent e-mail conversation with a reader, I've been pondering the things that make a community "right" for an individual. I've always loved this area because of the mild climate, and seeing more cycling infrastructure come alive causes me to appreciate this community all the more. When I was growing up, it was a very small farm community and few people actually lived here, but it has grown and changed, and I appreciate the changes that have taken place. It makes me want to live here.

Of course, there is bad to consider here as well. For instance, this area has been particularly hard hit by the California drought and has seen little in the way of rain, even though both southern and northern California have had a bit of relief with some periodic rain. Additionally, it's an expensive place to live, particularly for a community that has little in the way of providing income. The people who survive seem to be 1) farmers, 2) entrepreneurs, 3) independently wealthy, or 4) retirees who moved to the area before it got outrageously costly. I can't help but wonder what people do to make a living when they don't fit into the above categories (and they do exist). I suppose living anywhere is possible, and there is always give and take.

If I were to pick out my ideal community to live in, I think about the qualities I would want it to possess. Things like cycling infrastructure/bicycle friendly businesses and access are high on the list, as is the ability to earn a living, cost of housing and cost of living in general, temperate climate, friendly and open residents, dog friendliness (I take my pooches just about everywhere with me), and the list could go on.

As each year passes, I also realize that I likely have limited time to share with older family members, and a part of me always wants to be closer so that visiting isn't so infrequent. So, I begin to ponder the idea of following those that leave and wonder if there is a happy point that meets somewhere between my idealized mental list and absolutely none of the items I would want in a city or community.

So, I find myself posing the questions to you, reader. How do you feel and what do you think about your chosen home location. Where do you live, and what do you like about your community? Is it small or large... or somewhere in between? Did you grow up in the area or move to your current home town in adulthood? What keeps you in your community? Have you visited other communities that you prefer over your own? What prevents you from moving? I would love to hear about other places around the country (and even outside of the country) and how you and/or your family arrived or chose your place of residence. Meanwhile, I'd better get back to work!