2014 Warm-up; Sucker Fishing

I’ve opened each of the last four or five open-water seasons here in West Michigan with a session of sucker fishing on a quiet section of a local river.  This started as a simple way of possibly putting the kids on some fish; but I have to admit, I’ve grown to like it!  I’m becoming attached to both the incipient tradition, but also to the simplicity of the act; and I enjoy the satisfaction of the first “real” fish of the year sliding up on the bank.  Plus, you never know what might happen!

Once again it is Spring Break.  The girls are off at college or traveling to visit relatives; I’ll be flying to Boston later in the week to hook up with all of them at a regional collegiate championship tournament and to make the long drive home.  (This, too, is becoming a tradition!)  Most of West Michigan has been vacated for points south, and my primary work is pretty quiet, since the local exodus includes many of my customers.  We’ve now enjoyed several consecutive days of seasonally nice weather for the first time in about 5 months, and I’m admittedly distracted.

There’s still ice on Lake Michigan and many of the local lakes, and the new sonar is not yet installed; so boating right now isn’t feasible.  I was smart enough to conclude my most recent shift at C’s with the purchase of a few dozen garden worms and some split shot.  The light spinning rods are already rigged and ready, and the rest of my sucker gear collection (a portable cooler with some small hooks, extending forked sticks, and a pair of needle-nose pliers) has stayed intact; and so it was very easy to hit my spot today after work.

The first things I purchased when C’s opened were these forked sticks; that must say something about my affection for this.

My favorite spot is basically an eddy below an extended riffle.  I can fish with a light shot here in the slower current and still find bottom.  The sweet spot in the eddy seems to shift, both between visits and during a session.  I haven’t quite figured out “Why?”, but usually in a few casts I can figure out where I’ll get bit.  As I approached, I could tell somebody else had already tried the spot; they had left behind their forked stick and some litter.  The litter (packaging) indicated to me that their sinkers and hooks were way too big (in my experience or for my taste); I can only hope that they weren’t wildly successful, because I don’t really need to clean up after them again.

Perhaps the calendar says “Spring Break”, but local conditions are a couple of weeks (or so) behind schedule.  There’s still some snow on the ground, the lakes are still covered in ice, and we had a frost a couple of nights ago.  I didn’t really know if the suckers would have arrived yet.  They’ve been there for me each spring, but in different sizes, quantities and species each year.  I questioned whether I was too early to hope for any success.

This concern was partially alleviated by the observation of a garter snake and some stoneflies hatching.  I was also pleased to see that the water was not too high, and reasonably clear.  My timing concern was quickly dismissed when the first worm I offered was inhaled and 2014’s First Fish (again, discounting ice fishing and my trip to Florida) was landed.

2014's First Fish!

Each beauty was released.

I landed a generous Baker's Dozen or so in the next hour and a half. The action started off hot and then dwindled; I don’t think there were too many fish in the hole.   All were the same species (redhorse, I believe), and all were about the same size.  I’d guess that these were male scouts, the first to arrive for this year’s spawn.  Fishing here should only get better as spring progresses.

The pursuit of suckers is not the most exciting sport; but these fish were big enough and strong enough to bend my rods and pull some drag.  The session gave me the opportunity to try out my new 2014 Michigan Fishing License, to get a little slimy and muddy, and to appreciate the quality of my custom sucker rod (6.5 feet, slow action and medium-light action) and new Nanofil line.  These paid off handsomely with a double-digit bonus carp.  This hole seems to be good for one a year, and this one seriously tested my gear.  It was a simple, fun, successful outing.  I suspect I’ll be back in 2015.

Double digit, bonus carp.

I suspect I need fishing experiences beyond suckers; but I need this experience, too. ***

A Spring Favorite of mine.  

*** I'm not alone; check out this blog from In-Fisherman that I found today (but after I'd decided I was going to go); http://www.in-fisherman.com/2014/03/05/sweet-sucker-fishing-thing/

Balls, Strikes and Eigenfunctions

I’ll explain this well; or I won’t.  There’s a decent probability of either outcome.  You might understand this; you might not.  The outcome might matter.  But it might not.  Regardless; Enjoy!  (Or not.)

*****

I’m no physicist, and I certainly have mathematical limitations.  But I love reading gift books, and I was recently fortunate to receive “In Pursuit of the Unknown: 17 Equations That Changed the World” by Ian Stewart (2012).  It’s exactly my kind of book; imagine a proper and challenging read for a liberal arts course in a given subject for a non-major.  Demanding enough to require and retain my attention, and yet not so far over my head that I drown; not so much about the subject as about the connections of the subject to others.  Reading such a book will remind me of much I know; confirm much that I don’t know; open my eyes to some wonder; and generally humble me.  Mostly, I’ll be left in amazement of what is (thought to be) known; and the simple fact that we figured (an approximation of) it out.

I’d pretty much enjoyed my journey through a dozen or so equations when I came to Chapter 14: Quantum Weirdness.  At this point in the book, I was definitely out of my comfort zone (mathematically), but because it’s not really a math book, I was able to stay with it.  I’m familiar enough with the particle/wave dual nature of light (and matter?) and rudimentary quantum mechanical concepts to still have been reasonably receptive to what the author was saying…when he really started talking to me.  A parameter of interest (something worth knowing or observing) has some relationship in space and time.  Accounting for either space or time; you can interpret the effect of the other on that parameter.  (You might say that I am uncertain about this and that I only understand this marginally; but I’m probably explaining it even less effectively.)  Each of these space-time relationships for a parameter is called an eigenfunction; and reality (or at least a quantum approximation of reality) is the superpositioning (supposition?) of multiple eigenfunctions (as many as you need, recognize, or can handle.) 

Which brings me to baseball.  It’s my favorite team sport, in my estimation the most beautiful of team sports, and has been a constant thread through my life.  One thing I like about baseball, is that it is not uncommon for a game to offer something you’ve never seen before, or a situation you’ve not yet encountered, which is pretty outrageous given the amount of baseball that’s been played, or that I’ve watched. 

But at the core of the game, consider a single pitch or play.  Ball or strike? Out or safe?  I’ve long been perplexed by the numenon of the issue.  Is the truth of the distinction between ball and strike (out and safe) based on physics and location; or by the umpire’s perception and call?  I don’t know.  I know umping is more difficult than playing; and that I was a better player than umpire.  But what is the truth for a given pitch, or a given play?  Slow-mo HD can (sometimes) provide an interpretable approximation of what happened; but The Call has (until recently, at least, with the advent of certain allowed reviews at the MLB level) always defined the outcome; and so I guess The Call is The Truth.  After all, that’s what gets recorded in the scorebook.

And yet, I know that during a certain game in the summer of 1982, with my team on a serious run for the playoffs, we opened the top of the first with a single, a stolen base, and another single.***  So I stood at first, having driven in the game’s first run, and received the steal sign.  I took off with the pitch and slid head-first into second base.  Just after my hand touched the base (and take this from me, I was closest to the play), the second baseman swiped my calf; and I was surprisingly pronounced “Out!”  Per physics (and what I would consider to be reality), I was clearly “safe”; but with the umpire’s pronouncement, I trotted off the field after a brief, polite discussion.  I was, definitively, “Out.”

The exact scenario (amazingly enough) repeated itself a couple of innings later: single; stolen base attempt; beat the throw; trot off the field, having been called “Out!”  So with the score tied in my last at-bat of the game, I simply broke it open with a bases-clearing double.  At least I’d avoided the possibility of getting thrown out at second again; I know Coach K would have sent me.

Similarly, as an umpire, I’ll simply apologize for ending a team’s season with a called strike; on a full count; with the bases loaded and the tying run on third; after a pitch in nearly exactly the same spot as the previous pitch, which I had declared to be “Ball 3!”  Certainly the last pitch was too close to take, but it could have been a smidge low or outside.  Regardless, I was seemingly powerless as my right arm raised itself and I declared “Strike 3!”  It was a strike because I proclaimed it so; but other than that proclamation, was it any different than the pitch identified as “Ball 3?”  In my defense, I had no interest in these outcomes; I wasn’t knowingly biased; and each of these calls almost surprised me, as if they’d made themselves.  Like I said, umpiring was way more difficult than playing.  But again, what represented the core truth of these plays?  The physical events, the perception, or the utterance?

Back to Chapter 14; each eigenfunction explains only a portion of a system; and in examining any single component, you disturb your ability to analyze other components contemporaneously.  Here we have a logical mathematical construct of some utility, and yet if it describes something scientifically demonstrated to be non-observable (or measurable), does it really have any valid scientific meaning?  Does it really matter what actually happened in a baseball play if it is perceived as (or declared to be) “Ball!  Strike!  Fair!  Foul!  Safe! or Out?” 

Well, apparently “The Copenhagen Interpretation” of quantum measurement is something along the lines of this; while there’s a probability of a parameter having one value or the other, instantaneous observation of the parameter defines (“collapses”) the state of that parameter.  So while we can all accept that a cloud of probable states surrounds (defines?) “some being”, that pattern of statistical probability is not a real thing, but rather a likely explanation of that being.   The Copenhagen Interpretation of an observed parameter defines the being’s state.  The Observation simply Is.  It was “Strike 3” because that’s how I saw it, and that’s how I called it. So it was, simply, Strike 3.

This Interpretation could be accepted as either Convenient or True.  You might not be able to tell me which.  Because one of the folks most disturbed by its collapsing consequences was a Giant in the Field.  To convey his concerns, Physicist Schrodinger developed the Thought Experiment that became known as The Cat in the Box.  Accepting that radioactive decay is a quantum event; and that an atom is either “decayed” or “not decayed”; that an individual atom’s decay is a probabilistic event, but recognizing that the individual decay could, in fact, happen immediately or belatedly; and further accepting that a cat is either “alive” or dead”; imagine a mortal cat in an isolated box, co-existing with a radioactive source and a flask of poison.

Simple enough; upon decay, the flask will release the poison; the cat will die.  We’ll disregard resistant flasks, poorly-concocted potions, hearty cats, other causes of feline death, or inaccurate observations.

Knowing the physics of our radio-active source, we know the probability at any given time (following the final packaging of the system) of decay; and so we know the probability of the cat being instantaneously alive (or dead) when the box is opened and the cat’s state observed.  The cat will have a defined state; it will be either wholly alive or dead; it won’t be partially dead or probably alive.  And the observation of the cat defines the cat’s state at the time of the observation.  Repeat the experiment, and sometimes the cat is alive; but sometimes the same cat is dead.

Apparently this all works out mathematically (and so is super-attractive to the quantum folks), except for (possibly) the collapse.  Schrodinger used his cat to propose the mathematical fallacy of the collapse; and yet everything works out so conveniently that the concept of the simultaneously alive-and-dead cat became an acceptable model at macroscopic scales.  The absolute truth of the cat’s state depends on the observation.  The result of a dead cat observation is equally as valid as observing a live cat.  Neither observation is more correct.  The cat’s state simply is, as observed.  Ironically, Schrodinger’s thought experiment has been held up in support of quantum eigenfunctional representations of our world.

From the web!

Bottom line; since an observation has a probability (p) of landing in a given state, then there is another probability (1-p) of landing in the alternative state.  That state’s existence is equally valid, and so a legitimate consequence of all this is that in an alternative universe, that alternative state was observed.

It really was Strike 3!  But more interestingly, I was safe at second; just not in this universe.  But things have still worked out pretty well here, so I’ll let this play go.  Similarly, I can see that, once again, results don’t matter so much as our participation in the process.  So even if I don’t have the math or the physics quite right; I probably do elsewhere!  Here and now (which is really all I have access to), I can recognize the value of simply receiving the gift, reading the book, pondering stuff and writing this. 

*** Sorry about the borish details, but this probably was my greatest game, at my highest level of competition, ever.  And on both sides of the field; I threw two runners out at home, too!  Now, to be completely honest, my heroics were all the more meaningful because I had committed an error at second base that allowed the tying run to score late in the game, in the half-inning before my last at-bat.

Ice Fishing 2013 - 2014 Summary

This pike from several years ago re-invigorated my interest in local ice fishing, and provided some fodder for continued faith in Reeds Lake.

*****

I’m usually pretty careful about capturing and recording the specifics of each trip in my fishing log, but this Ice Season past, I pretty much did the same thing, each time out.  Ice fishing has become, for me in these last few years, all about setting tip-ups for the available, local in-season predators; and that pretty much means “pike” around here.  So, lacking the motivation to specifically chronicle each trip, but still wanting to acknowledge that I had a pretty pleasant and somewhat productive season, here’s a general summary of my ice fishing experiences over the last few months.

Winter 2013-2014 was likely one to be remembered for a generation or more.  Recent winters have been sporadically intense, but lacking stamina.  We typically experienced (enjoyed?) breaks in the harshness every few weeks.  This wreaked havoc on ice conditions, and generally limited access to safe ice for any extended/predictable period.  This year, The Cold set in around the end of November and still has barely relented.  The Cold has been accompanied locally by near-record amounts of snow.    I’ve literally gone months without seeing my grass or driveway surface; and even our road has been ice-covered for weeks at a time. 

Ice conditions were looking good to me around Christmas.  While others were sporadically fishing before Thanksgiving on select waters, and under certain circumstances; the waters I prefer are deeper and slower to form safe ice.  I’m also pretty conservative about considering ice “safe”, and so I probably missed out on a couple of very early ice opportunities.  Just as ice fishing became personally feasible, we had a quick thaw.  I thought we were in again for another on/off season when Winter really settled in, seemingly permanently.  So we ended up on the ice before New Year’s Day, and folks are still out there on the same ice today!

Our early sessions were characterized by tons of flags, but fewer hook-ups and even fewer legal fish.   It’s fun to get a dozen or more flags in a session, but it’s also fun to catch some worthwhile fish!  I worked pretty hard at covering water, finding hot holes and so forth, but on any given day, any particular hole, whether in 6 feet of water or 30, could be the producer.    Our pike topped out at only 28 inches or so, and most were 20 to 23 inches.  These were released with care, hopefully to continue to grow into the next few years’ target. 

Kelly with our first "keeper" of the ice season.

I rig my tip-ups pretty minimally, and I prefer bigger baits.  Maybe lots of our flags were due to sub-20 inch fish.

I couldn’t help but notice that Kelly, with his single hook straight to mono, got more flags with his traps than I typically got with mine.  I typically rig for pike with fine wire and a double-hook quick-strike rig.  I know I have a better hooking percentage and lower break-off percentage than my primary ice partner, but I also recognize you need to get bit!  So maybe next year, I’ll work some more fluoro rigs into the mix.  They used to work when we were fishing for Muskegon Lake walleyes!

One day we had perfect conditions for hoofing it across the lake to a prime structure.  Given the lack of quality fish and fishing pressure at our early ice location, we chose to try this more remote spot one Sunday morning.  Kelly was a few minutes ahead of me that morning, and I could see him across the lake, setting traps as I collected my gear for the 15-minute walk across the ice.  As I walked across the access point, I was joined by a couple of other fellows.  I hustled it across to Kelly and we discussed what he was seeing with his graph, as I thought about complementing his three traps with mine.  Just as I finished drilling my first hole (which turned out to be The Spot for the day, in 12 feet of water right along a prime break from a feeding shelf into the main lake basin and  30 or more feet of water), my fellow companions caught up to me and started setting up shop.  Uncomfortably close, too, in my opinion.  As it turned out, they were pan-fishing and we didn’t really compete for fish on this day; but I’m still baffled in their comfort in setting up so close to us.

Our reward for the day was lots of action and a few legal pike, but none of the local lunkers to which I’m accustomed to catching here in the open water aboard Numenon.   But we captured The Spot on Kelly’s new sonar/gps unit, and we’ll be back.

I was alone for my next trip (MLK Jr. Day is an odd holiday to have in the working world), and I chose to hoof it even farther across the lake to an even lunkier spot.  My reward that day?  No fish action whatsoever, but I did get to spend a nice day outside, and I did watch our local bald eagle for a while.   The eagle disappeared from our area soon thereafter, pushed farther south,  and I’d like to think that my lack of action was because a giant pike was sulking in the vicinity.  I liked being alone, and this spot has enough history with me to keep me enthusiastically engaged for a few more sessions.  I’ll undoubtedly risk some more slow fishing here in the future for the possible reward of a nice, big pike through the ice.

Fish like this gator are known to live nearby.

A couple of weekends later I spent a day and a half with Kelly and his family at his in-laws’ home on the banks of a chain of lakes in Newaygo County.  A near-blizzard on Friday made the weekend uncertain, but by noon on Saturday we were both up there, with several dozen baits and our limit of tip-ups set.  With well over a foot of snow on the ice, extremely low temps and strong winds, conditions were pretty brutal; but made tolerable through the use of the house’s boat house as a shelter, a fire pit, a portable propane heater, fine outdoor clothing and a good attitude.  Home-made chili, a couple of beers and a picture window through which to watch for flags during meals sure helped, too.  Both dinner and breakfast were interrupted by a flurry of flags; that was simply fun.   Again, the yield for a couple of dozen flags was only a few legal pike.  All were returned safely to the water.

At this point in the season, my attention turned to Florida.  Kelly took a 31-incher through the ice while I was in Florida, and that will have to be the Ice Fish of the Year; but honestly, it’s tough to get overly excited about ice fishing (except for the pleasant company and experiences I hope I’ve outline here) when something like my recent Florida experience is in play.

Not a bad alternative to ice fishing...

This was supposed to be the year I got serious about ice fishing again and equip myself with a new sonar/gps for the ice.  I haven’t been quite able to pull that trigger (my C-bucks have been going towards other gear), but we’ll see how the new Humminbird SI works out on Numenon.  I can always get one next year, or convert my displaced Lowrance unit into an ice machine. 

So, I think I’m ready to put this ice season behind; but I’m by no means ready for the season to come.  There are so many things to address.  New sonar installation!  Fresh line!  Worm supplies!  Mack’s Smiley Blades for coho and walleyes!  Muskie spreads!  While I’m addressing these open-water issues, I’ll ponder this assessment; ice fishing this season was a pleasant, healthy winter diversion.  I ice fish with friends, and we shared many laughs.  While the fish I encountered weren’t necessarily all that exciting, each flag represents the upper bound of potential for the lake I’m fishing.  That unrealized potential is my companion every time I set a trap, and I still feel a rush of greatness with every waving flag.  I really am an optimist!

This flag could mean anything's at the end of the line.  I choose to think it's a Monster Pike!

Florida 2014 - Elaboration!

OK, so the trip is complete and things are getting back to normal.  Am I ever thankful that we chose to do this trip.  All involved needed a break from our relentless schedules and from this relentless winter!  We all had our own versions of fun and relaxation, and once again, we were blessed with good fortune during our travels.  Other than occasionally low blood sugar (by which I mean my temporary crankiness), nothing bad happened!   And I came back to work tired, but "good" tired; I was restored and ready to get back at it.

Let me just state first that I feel like I earned this trip through my extra efforts at C's.  This was a tangible benefit from all those hours, and while it was largely a direct fishing benefit, I am super pleased to have shared it with family, because I know that those hours away at the store, are in part, hours away from them.  Hours when I could be helping them, or simply enjoying their company.  They earned this trip, too.  Things earned are inherently better.

 And while I previously posited this trip as my Graduate School of Fishing, I could back off that position and just accept it as continued experience; but I might not.  I do feel as if I have graduated; my knots all held, my boating skills were right there, my intuition and equipment preparations  were in support of success.  I was ready for this trip, and I'm ready for more.  Finally, it legitimizes my position and role at C's as a truly experienced, multi-species, any kind of water fisherman.  Empirically, I can say that I've been involved in the selection of a bunch of bait-runner reels since I came back!

Now Steve Jobs of Apple fame (and others, I'm sure) has explained previously, the more experiences you've had, the more ideas you have to draw from in life; and this catalyzes your creativity.  I brought my past experiences with me, and these, no doubt, contributed to the trip.  But what new techniques have I gained?  New ways of making bait, comfort and confidence in using wire, faster and faster speed trolling, recognizing conditions and adjusting on the fly, preparing for multiple species and tactics with a minimal selection of tackle on hand, subduing large and toothy creatures; even if these weren't completely new to me, I got to practice and expand this week, and I've no doubt that these experiences will improve my local experiences.  Maybe I'll be a little more creative in my approaches, especially on unknown waters or during tough conditions.  Anchored on sound technique, but cross-pollinated with different notions of what might work, I hope to retain Medici’s Elephant  as a companion in my boat, wherever I might be, or whatever I might be fishing for.

Here are some "accomplishments" from the trip:

Can I acknowledge that feeling of fulfillment when I had my Day 1 Blue-Water Realization; that even though the fishing was pretty slow (in fact, probably the slowest of the week; it was too clear, too calm, too still, too full-moony or something), I was super relieved and privileged to be out there, doing it!  There's something about that blue/purple water, the sargassum, the flying fish and the potential of any moment out there that puts me at ease.  But at ease in an excited, focused (content?) manner.  And while I didn't get out past the reef again during the trip, I had the same sense of peaceful bliss several times during the trip, whether I was simply making bait at sun-rise, watching birds and ballyhoo showers in shallow, trolling in the green water, or anchored on the Gulf side.  It's a nice feeling to capture, but even nicer to know I can capture it in multiple settings, and that the feeling can be generalized, as opposed to tied to a specific, idealized set of circumstances.

·    

·    I did catch my Biggest Sharks ever, including my single Biggest Fish ever.  That's always a nice bonus for a fishing trip.  And while I did leader/Palm Beach Release an approximate 8-foot Bull Shark, the single most challenging fish landed was a Reef Shark of about half the length.  While the big bull probably didn't realize it was hooked before it was within reach (at which time it showed me who was in charge), the Reef Shark fought with alternating speed and determination; and this hooked fish was the best match for my tackle for the entire trip.

As an aside, which is more important?  A large fish that is subdued and photographed?  Or a gigantic, once-a-half-century beast, that while officially "caught", was never defeated, and which left without a trace?  The polls are split, as are my feelings.  Maybe it's PTSD, or the simple Shock and Awe of the Bull; but "catching" this fish has left me with an empty feeling.  I'm proud to have been there, and it was an exhilarating experience, but I know I'd have not stood a chance with that fish in the shallows on an anchored boat, alone, with that tackle; except for the fact that it was feeding and cruising with such supreme confidence that it had no reason to react to my presence, or to my feeble pressure.  

The trip also featured a bunch of Firsts!  These are always fun to recognize.  So (in order of appearance), here's to my first ever Ballyhoo!  Cero Mackerel!  Atlantic Sharpnose Shark! Leatherjack!  Bermuda Chub!  Bonnet Head Shark!  Spanish Mackerel!  Pin-fish!  Caribbean Reef Shark!  Mangrove Snapper!  Bull Shark!  and a crazy, unidentifiable wrasse of some sort!

First encounter with ballyhoo.

First ever Cero Mackerel ate a live-lined ballyhoo.

First of many Spanish Mackerel.

·    For Best Fishing Experience, I'll nominate the first nice Spanish Mack that I caught near Marker 16 on a free-lined shrimp.  After catching a pile of baitfish, snappers and remoras here, with Spanish visibly in the slick and an occasional jig snipped off with ease; something clicked for me and I wound down on a fish at exactly the right moment.  I felt the hook set and hold in the mackerel's mouth, the fish's sudden awakening, and then found out my drag was set perfectly for the run of a Spanish of this size.  Just when I was starting to get a little concerned about stopping the fish, it voluntarily turned; and it was soon brought aboard.  The Spanish and I then entered a communal groove, because for a while they were biting, and I was hooking. 

Lip hooked, light line, fast fish!

·     My Most Heart-breaking Moments involved anchoring.  The only real problems I had all week involved the anchors.  One was lost, and I couldn't get the other to stick.  It was a sickening feeling to release a fish only to realize I was drifting in very shallow water.  It was equally frustrating to not get the replacement anchor to hold.  Nothing really bad happened either time, so I can't be too upset, but each incident cost me some fishing time and opportunity.  These are the sorts of things I try to minimize on the water; I'll do better next time.

·     My Most Heart-Warming Moment was, in a general sense, simply sharing the last day with A and M.  But when M announced it to be her "best fishing day ever", even though all had not gone exactly as I had planned or wished, I was super pleased.

Other highlights of the trip included my Developed Taste for Flexibility and Fishing with Mom.  Of course by "Mom", I mean both her and her guest, Father J.  Both of these factors emphasized to me, once again, that the benefit is in the process, not necessarily in the results.  I could go out there with a plan; but that plan was likely to prove worthless.  The planning involved in their development, however, proved itself indispensable.  Anyway, conditions and non-fishing guests with fishing aspirations pushed my envelope a bit; and so I experienced success in big seas with crank-baits, and all by myself, way out by Marker 16.

..   These were techniques and approaches that I hadn't really thought about until I confronted the real conditions I was facing.  These successful experiences necessarily replaced the scenarios that I had dreamed about.  So I didn't get to work on my blue water trolling, speed jigging, sail-fishing, or gaffing skills; that's OK, I was productively busy.  Maybe the conditions will be more amenable for these dreams next time.  Or maybe I should expect less from my dreams, but more from my actions.

So, what’s my current perspective?  Do I want more?  Is the work worthwhile?  I'm currently reminded that “It ain’t about the salary, it’s about reality!”  However many hours went into this trip; I've gotten back several times over, especially if I include all the enthusiasm and fun I've had, not only through Participation!, but also during the Anticipation! and Elaboration! phases of the trip.  I've no doubt that this (by which I mean the trip; but also working for it and sharing it) was all a good thing for me.  

*****

And then of course there is that patience-with-others- (whom-I-love-most) thing I mentioned in the last post.  I disappointed myself a couple of times with a short fuse in inconsequential situations.  I know I should know better, and they deserve better.  What can I do to work on that?  Well, acknowledgment first; I recognize this as an area for continued improvement.  With that awareness, I can choose to do better.  I plan to do so; and I commit myself to that plan.  Because other than these couple of isolated moments (and the relentless wind), it was a pretty darn perfect week.  How often do you get to say that?