POPPED FROM THE LABYRNTH

I ADMIT THAT MY HEAD IS STILL SPINNING at the speed at which this house is becoming mine! On Tuesday, we closed on the new home base for Roberto and Robert. If you want to Google Map it, check out '74 Sterling Street, Corning NY 14830'.

In a previous post, I told of making an offer of a fair market price for the house that was accepted by the four sellers (heirs to the couple who previously lived in the house) and was not matched by a previous offer. Before leaving for Chatham, my agent and I had arranged for an building inspection that revealed several structural problems, the major ones being problems with the electrical circuits and some black mold in the attic space (due to inadequate ventilation). Last week the sellers accepted the quotes that we had obtained for this work and agreed that this should come off the selling price. So the last business on Friday for me was to draw the check ('cheque' for Aussies and Brits), making the way clear for closing on the sale for tomorrow (Tuesday).

While this is a bad time for the US dollar (vs. the Aussie dollar) it has been good for me since the money has come from my Australian accounts at just a little more than 5% better; the icing as it were on the cake.

I hope you have had your ball of string working all the way with me on this labyrinthine journey as I went all the way back to Australia (thinking I would settle there), being surprised by that this was neither possible (economic reasons) or desirable (cultural considerations). Then I was full of intention to build a home for myself whereas now I have purchased one. Often there are several ways that might lead to one's desired destination and it becomes a matter of finding the one that works best. My desired destination is to have an energy efficient home in a community where I feel at home, close to services that I will need more as I age, that minimizes the need for a car, and where I can contribute to the life of the community, keeps me active through cycling and skiing, and has me in the garden most weeks of the year. I appear to be arriving at this destination.

This final approach came via a consideration of several economies. The first was the cost of living in the US vs. that in Australia. Now that I live on a more or less fixed income, this is an important factor. In US dollars, I consider the COL in Oz to be about 30% higher. This especially applies to the cost of land and housing. Most likely due to the resource boom Australia is in a housing bubble and anyone from outside that bubble faces formidable barriers either to entering or re-entering the game. I had to live there for several months to figure this out. Next, there are the costs associated with building vs. buying a home. Including purchase of a lot, at best these would come to around $110 per square foot of floor space. On the other had, it is possible to purchase an established house in reasonable condition for around $50 per square foot here in Corning. Mind you, there will be significant additional costs to bring such a house up to energy efficient standards and to make it one's own. Then, Corning area meets most or perhaps all of my other criteria, given that I re-discovered my preference for living in a small community (vs. a large city) and I have been able to purchase in an area that is convenient in that I can walk or ride to all the facilities I use.

Despite that the house is in good order, there is a lot of work ahead inside and in the surrounds. There is very little garden (apart from lots of lawn) so a lot of planning has to be done in respect to landscaping.

So, my good friends who read this Blog, I think you may gather in the string and emerge with me from this winding path, turning this way and that. My Corning home will be featured in a separate Blog. Meanwhile, here, you will have to endure other journeys with me. As ever, I invite you to:

WATCH THIS SPACE

BACK TO CORNING

I CANNOT RESIST DINERS. The one at the left is in Duanesberg (NY) and has be open since 1930. Wishing to avoid toll roads and ready for adventure, I allowed Richard (aka: GPS) to direct my homeward way from Chatham. Probably, the Diner is the most remarkable thing about Duanesberg. However, it is a town with a history going back to 1823, which history is celebrates every year.

In the event you are curious, I had the day's special: Boneless pork chops with sauerkraut and potatoes. I am still not too sure where Duanesberg is, after miles of back roads and beautiful scenery. That is the problem with GPS, it keeps one on track but, in the larger view of life, one looses track. Somewhat like not seeing the forest for the trees.

I had a fine week with the other Richard (Green) and family, meeting and making new friends and helping keep the local brew pub in business. I also removed quite a bit of unwanted ornamentation from off their new (built c. 1890) home-to-be beside assisting the sheet rock team. During this week the weather finally gave up Winter and presented itself as Spring, celebrated by an impressive night of lightning and thunder. Lots of fun experiences like getting water from the local spring, attending the weekly practice of Richard's group (considerably enabled by the liberal serving of cocktails, a hobby of one of the band members), getting to know the local community gardening group, shopping for items for the new bathroom (plumbing, as it were, the deep mysteries of crappers). I hope you know that the modern flushing toilet was invented by a Londoner named Crapper.

While on the topic of weather, while I was over in Chatham, Corning actually had a tornado alert on April 27. Absolutely unheard of! Not only did we have a warning but an tornado really happened in a nearby town, mowing an impressive swath for several miles but not actually damaging much property.

Back in town, the purchase of the Sterling Street house proceeds, with inspections and quotes. If all goes well, closing will be just prior to my birthday (29th May). I expect there may be a bit of haggling related to necessary repairs along the way. I am very excited about planning the garden. Lacking my own house, I have spent a couple of days Spring gardening for a close friend. I have also rejoined the Master Gardener program (an extension of Cornell University), and the local Gardening Club. On the subject of membership, I renewed place at the local Brew Pub (my own mug, #75, and discounted beer). I must be settling in.

On Sunday last, I attended the United Methodist Church in Richmond, just over into Massachusetts and took this photo. It is not too bad, as my photography goes, and the unpaved road descending and then running off into the distance I find quite inspiring. It makes a great background for my laptop screen.

THE END OF THE LABYRNTH?

VOILA, ROBERTO'S HOME TO BE!
This quite astonishing. I have been here in the Corning area just a week and I have successfully offered to buy this house!

Built in 1973, the house is a split-level ranch. The upper level is 750 square feet and is the main living area. The lower area remains finished in the 70's manner and has a second full bath as well as the laundry and plant room. It also has two bedrooms and a living room. It is 650 square feet. The upper area will be quite sufficient for my needs so there is plenty of room for occasional guests or even to sub-let. It has an unobstructed southerly aspect so will be perfect for incorporating passive solar heating technology. It is situated within easy walking distance of all the facilities I would routinely need.

The lot is bare, apart from plenty of grass, and will immediately need a small tool shed and later a workshop and car port. There is complete freedom to design the garden and, already, my head is abrim with ideas. I am beside myself with anticipated delight and can almost feel the sweat on by brow. Of course, there is the process of inspection and all the rest and, as the bard once remarked, there is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip.

After enough looking at houses to figure out where I would prefer to live, and the kind of houses I would prefer not to live in, quite by chance I strayed into Sterling Street and saw the realty sign, and then the house. In sort order, I phoned the listing agent and had a quick look around and then arranged for a more thorough walk through with my agent. He liked it and we sorted out what would be a fair offer. The house had been occupied by a couple almost as old as I (unlike me, both now deceased) and the four heir/owners quickly agreed to the offer. Stunning! The months of an exceptionally bad Winter and recent deluges have made it perfect to see houses in their worst presentations.

I am settling back in with remarkable ease and have felt at home since the first day of my return. Of course, the weather has been characteristically terrible. I have begun attending the local Episcopal Church. They do not seem to mind my 'respectful agnostic, sometime atheist' orientation and I am already on the track, courtesy of guidance from similarly minded folk, of the writings of the New Zealand Presbyterian 'heretic', Lloyd Geering. Maybe I am sorting out my spirituality at last and realizing that I can fulfill my commitment of long ago to be a disciple of Jesus and not to be caught up too much in the ecclesiastical accretions that have gathered since he walked this earth. Like him, I am learning to respect the spiritual contributions of other religious thinkers.

I have also re-met old friends and some of their friends so I seem to be set for a grand experience of networking. I plan to assist my friend Richard in his move to their new home and then will have shared accommodation for a month before moving into my new place. What bliss! Much hard work is ahead. What joy!

WHAT'S IN A NAME #2

HERE I AM...camped in a motel in Horseheads (NY)
Horseheads? 'How did a town get a name like that?' you might well ask. It all goes back to the American Revolutionary War and 1779. After performing incredible service for their military masters, the worn out pack-horses of Major-General John Sullivan were put to rest in this place. The town is a memorial to their service.

Well then, How about 'Painted Post'? There was (and perhaps still is) a painted post. It was a sort of totem pole on which the local indigenous tribe set out their victories over their enemies. When Europeans came to the area, it became a trading post and later a village.

Painted Post and Horseheads form an entrance to the beautiful region of western New York known as the Finger Lakes, a half-dozen or so long, narrow, and deep lakes left over from the heavy glaciation of the last Ice Age, like so many fingers of a giant hand. Beyond is the larger town of Corning and I am at a loss just now to tell you how that name came about.

My home land, Australia, has some odd town names. How about 'Gumly Gumly', or 'Wogga Wogga',or 'Woolloomooloo'? I lived for two and a half years in a coastal town called 'Warrnambool', an Australian Aboriginal name meaning 'meeting of three rivers'. A few years back, I lived in a place where three rivers meet (the Yakima, Columbia, and Snake rivers), but this mighty triple confluence was completely overlooked and the towns instead are merely named 'The Tri-Cities' (Pasco, Kennewick, and Richland).

Nearby is a lovely town called 'Walla Walla' but I have not yet run to earth what that means. Some say an ancient Native American appellation.

Anyway, here I am on the verge of the next adventure. Sanity has, to some degree (admittedly unusual for me), overtaken me. By now you will be accustomed to my slight penchant for starting down a road only to discover that it is not quite what I had anticipated and then seeking a better path. I had thought this would be the area in which I would build the 'perfect ecological cabin'. Consultations with an architect, coupled with a new appreciation of the difficulties of the project, not to mention the cost, all led me to consider the alternate: purchase of an existing house and working to make it energy efficient. For now at least, the second approach is much the more cost effective. So I am house hunting, and seeking temporary shared accommodation. Not quite three balls in the air but it does feel like that at times.

The 'eye of the needle' experience has transformed into a labyrinth. The Navajo/Hopi have an emblem that looks rather like a squarish helical maze, in plan view. It represents a young man's journey. I am in there, I think, but towards the end with some way yet to go.

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

I AM AT THE END OF MY JOURNEY. Starting out in Basalt Colorado and ending here at Horse Heads New York. Three days of driving and two motel nights. Some 1,900 miles later, here I am on the verge of what may be quite an adventure.

SALINA, Kansas. This is where I commenced the story. A town of about 45,000 Kansans and others, some like me, just passing through. The beginning day had me drifing down the Roaring Fork valley, the rising sun’s slanting rays striking the snow encrusted trees and making it all ‘drop dead’ beautiful. Overnight snow and the cold from the clear sky had encrusted the car with a mixture of ice and snow. A bit of scraping off was in order. Having filled up with gas at my favorite ‘el cheapo’ gas station in Glenwood Springs, I reset the trip meter to ‘000’ and set off. The view got even more beautiful driving up the canyon towards Denver. On the way from San Francisco, on the train, I had breakfasted with a nice lady whose deceased husband had designed the road that threads the canyon. It is an engineering work of art, to be sure. Nature’s art…on the one hand the canyon, carved by the busy, rushing Colorado River and, on the other, the graceful curves and tunnels fashioned by man.

On the way up the canyon, one passed by the town of No Name. For a long time the towns folk had not gotten around to naming their village; the story goes that the township could not have a Post Office until it had a name. After many abortive and noisy meetings, it settled on ‘No Name’. The ascent of the two high passes on the way to Denver awaited. Once past Denver, I settled to I70. Now the prairie begins, dead flat and almost treeless. The day is clear and warming. In the midst of this expanse of nothingness except for the occasional cluster of silos, small towns here and there, and lonely farmhouses, I pass by a sign saying, ‘A Point of Interest’. Is this some kind of East Colorado plains joke? I ask myself. The sign is the only point of interest I have so far spied!

Nearing Kansas, trees become abundant but all appear dead, still affected by the cold of Winter and awaiting the wetness and warmth of Spring. Over the KS border, a sign invites me to visit the Rest Stop and Tourist Information Center. I cannot resist the blandishment of free coffee and discover it is well worth the visit. Later on, I pass by the town of Bovina. What can these Kansan town names mean? Bovina…something to do with cows, perhaps? How about Salina…is health the focus here or was it the saltness of the creek it bestrides? On the basis that something is better than nothing, better than ‘No Name’? Wait a moment, who says something is better than nothing? How about, ‘No news is good news’?

Kansas is greener and has rolling hills. Colorado has to content itself with just the Rockies (what am I saying, ‘just the Rockies’!) They are towering, massive, frightening in their savagery. ‘Snow Chains Required’, ‘Chain Up Area’, ‘Road Ahead Icy’, and ‘Watch Out For Wild Life Crossing’ say the signs. Kansas seems richer too. Oil pumps dot the fields alongside the road and every so often a cluster of storage tanks. And ‘Wow’, the road surface is so smooooth! Kansans must be more accident conscious than the folk of Colorado, Montana, Wyoming, Nebraska and other Great Plains states…the maximum speed is 70 mph and not 75. Most drivers keep to the limit. The state troopers lurk around curves, scanning for speedsters and manage to catch a few deserving of fines or warnings; occasionally, at the roadside, the trooper’s car lights flash a warning to the rest of us.

The road climbs to higher hills (‘High Rolling Hills’) and suddenly I see myriads of wind turbines off to the North. Some are quite close to the road and declare to me how really tall and big they are. I must be in Wind Alley!

Finally into Salina, a hot bath and into bed.

INDIANAPOLIS, Indiana: Was that only just last night?! The motel is situated in Speedway where all the roads are being remade at once, it seems. Richard get me there. And who is Richard? Some posts back, Glenn asked me had I named my TomTom. To be sure I hear everything TomTom says to me, I had selected the clear, crisp English voice called Richard. Now I actually have an English friend whose name is Richard, so I hope, Richard, when you read this, you will not take offense. So I have come to call my TomTom GPS 'Richard'. He is an unfailing friend who has never betrayed my trust.

Richard has me aware of the speed limit by flashing red at me when I exceed the posted limit. He does not save me from the State Trooper, in the predawn hours, pulling me over because he could not real my rear license plate! Now I have a yellow warning to remove the dealer's bricabrac from around the plate.

What to say of the country from the western edge of Kansas and the East unfolds? It just gets more and more beautiful. First the blush of the redbud trees, then the green and white of the first buds of the other threes. Finally, into Missouri where there are flowers peeking out at the beginning Spring. Over the Missouri and then the Mississippi and I am into Illinois. Cunning Richard has found a way to avoid the Toll Road out of Kansas City and I am once more enjoying the rural roads, travelling a few extra miles before rejoining I70. I will have been on I70 from Denver to Columbus (Ohio) where I veer northwards on I71 toward Cleveland and then splitting off for Erie (Pennsylvania). The weather stays fine and warm and I can only recall seeing one cloud the whole journey so far. At the rest stop on I71, the daffodils have enjoyed their annual resurrection, but the dandelions are not far behind.

However, the cirrus clouds ahead signify and change in the weather is likely. Joining I90 and once more running eastwards, the clouds become more dense ahead. After Erie and about to enter Western New York, the clouds reach down to touch the rising hills and I am driving in fog.

Then in heavy rain. I must be nearing Corning where we have four months of Winter and then seven of bad weather! The rain clears, the road ahead is smooth and finally I am driving into Painted Post to a favorite restaurant for a beer and a juicy pepper steak.

What's in a name? How about Painted Post? Well, there have been several painted posts, the first used by the local tribes to paint a record of their victories over their foes. Then the post still standing and in use, it became the site of an early trading post. I suppose there is yet one about, perhaps in the local museum. I shall have to look for it. Could you find it, Richard?

How about 'Horse Heads"? I shall have to find out.

BACK TO COLORADO or Good Fortune at Malheur

IT HAS BEEN QUITE THE JOURNEY: I filled the tank at the cheap gas station in Glenwood Springs just 3,751 miles since doing so at the beginning, a snowy morning early March. The litany of places includes Billings MT, Kalispell (entry town for western National Glacier Park), familiar places like Spokane and Seattle, leading to a wonderful stay with friends in Fort Langley BC. Then back down to Seattle and then Portland. Setting out for Basalt CO, I passed through the Oregon towns of Bend and Ontario, then into Idaho, staying overnight at Twin Falls, and then down through Utah and finally back into Colorado, driving alongside the Colorado River from Grand Junction to Glenwood Springs before the last 30 miles up Roaring Forks Valley to Basalt.

Once into the NW Pacific coastal stretch, it rained almost continuously with only two or three fine days. Miraculously, these occurred in Portland and I was able to don the roller blades on two days and one day ventured up to the mountain for some cross country skiing, each time with my friend Jack. Hence a new photo where you see me all kitted out for roller blading.

Lots of spectacular country to see along the way...mountains, rivers, and high desert. The high desert can be somewhat boring at times but at other times one is rewarded by a sight like a family of elk crossing the highway. This was in Malheur country, named by early French trappers for 'misfortune', but good fortune for me in meeting the friendly folk of eastern Oregon at the next cafe stop. Crossing the bridge over the Snake River into Twin Falls affords an amazing view down into the canyon some 500 feet below, wide and deep. If ever you should do this, be prepared to be suddenly distracted from the business of driving!

I was so impressed that, once settled into my motel room, I walked back to take a photo or two. The bridge is 480 above the river and is the only place where anyone with a parachute is permitted to jump off without qualification.

Mostly silent for the return journey, my GPS was invaluable threading my way around Brigham City and Salt Lake City. Richard (the British accented voice I chose to be my companion) kept me on track and able to manage the dense traffic. Let's hear an 'Hurrah' for good old Richard from TomTom land! The GPS also gave clear visual information, especially when lane changes were required to weave to the next highway. A great travel aid.

All that is left now is the 1,800 mile trip back to New York State where the adventure of the house project begins. I will devote a separate Blog to that. Meanwhile, I am reading all I can about house construction, contracting, site design and the like.

Just now it is wonderful to be back with my Basalt family. My granddaughter has made the Honor Roll once more and I imagine a more deserving recipient. The ski season draws to an end although, after a warm day or two, it has been snowing all of this Sunday morning and into the afternoon.

Warm wishes from this mountain country where it seems possible to have four seasons in one day.

JAPAN AND THE NUCLEAR POWER DEBATE

JAPAN IS STRUGGLING to deal with the after effects of the earthquake, the disastrous subsequent tsunami, and the ongoing battle to regain control of the nuclear power generation plant damaged by the earthquake. I am in constant admiration of the resilience of the the Japanese people and feel the dread of what this triplet of disasters may mean for the long-term well being of that beleaguered nation, already battling with a weak economy.

An incidental worldwide outcome is the renewed debate on the role of nuclear power generation. On the one side is the rising clamor of the 'told you so' folk telling us this course is fraught with evil consequences for the human race. They point to the Three Mile Island Incident (TMI), Chernobyl (undoubtedly a huge disaster), and all the nuclear waste lying about that we seem not to know what to do with. On the other side are the folk who think that nuclear power generation may be the true hope of mankind in world that is being smothered in greenhouse gases from the burning of fossil fuels and who are increasingly dismayed at the turn this debate might take, given the difficulties presently experienced by the Japanese operators.

We humans are notably and curiously influenced by short lived disasters while continuing to be impervious to much worse prolonged conditions. We are shocked at the sudden death of hundreds in an airline crash (although we relatively rarely ride in aeroplanes) but happily drive around in motorcars despite the 42,000 or so (USA) motor fatalities per year. We are dismayed by reports of a dozen deaths from food poisoning but seen not to mind in the least eating 'fast foods' that form the basis of an epidemic of obesity and associated disease such as diabetes and which result in millions suffering premature death. We shudder at the risks being taken by those brave Japanese workers who are endeavoring to avert the release of radioactive materials into the atmosphere but easily forget deaths of hundreds of coal miners, the land degradation caused by mining coal, the thousands who suffer disease and die prematurely arising from emissions due to coal-powered generation of electricity. We like cheap power but seldom think about the attendant human costs.

All forms of generating electrical power have inherent risks. We learn from reviews of these disasters that cost cutting relating to safety in design and maintenance, in pursuit of maximizing profit or even just staying in business, can be more the cause of suffering and loss than inherent risk. Likewise, failure of the regulating authority also bears on this. Whistle blowers who draw attention to danger are most usually ignored and often ostracized.

I was an anti-nuclear power flag waver until I read what Dr. James Hansen has to say about the possible future role of nuclear power as the next generation of reactors become available. Sometimes called 'fast breeder' reactors, these are seen to be fail-safe in that they switch themselves off instead of allowing a runaway path to melt down. They are likely to be 99% efficient in using nuclear fuel (vs. 1% for present reactors) and to be able to 'burn' a wide range of fuels, including much of the current stockpile of nuclear wastes. These latter represent a power resource that may last 10,000 years. Anxiety in the US about nuclear power peaked after TMI, the film 'The China Syndrome' (a story about a disastrous meltdown at a nuclear power plan and a widely popular film) had been released only 12 days before. Long term reaction to these two events eventually influenced President Clinton to withdraw proposals to proceed with Generation Four reactor development.

So what to say about all this? We have coal reserves for perhaps 200 years, natural gas for maybe 20 years. Oil will become more difficult to mine, bio fuels tend to compete with food production (not an especially good thing in an increasingly hungry world) and the cost of energy, the fundamental basis of our economies, will likely rise very quickly over the next decade. Probably it is too late to avoid by any action the less severe effects of global warming due to energy production and it is difficult to estimate the onset of more serious effects. It seems to me that most climate scientists have given up on chances of effective action by humans to avert these consequences. I suppose that, driven by the rising cost of energy, increasing difficulty of meeting increasing demand, and enhanced awareness of the human costs associated with burning stuff to get energy, we may be forced to consider the nuclear alternative.

In the meantime, I doff my hat toward those brave few who seek to contain an impending disaster in Japan and hope that this will support a more reasoned approach to the problems of generating sufficient power and the role of nuclear power and along with geothermal approaches. And even if they fail.