Japanese Culture

When I was a child, people of Japanese ethnicity made up about a third of the population. That percentage has steadily dropped, mostly because of mixed marriages. Nevertheless, the culture in Hawaiʻi strongly reflects that history. So, being familiar with much that is Japanese, we found many cultural similarities when we visited Japan, like shoes off indoors. At the same time, however, we also found real differences between Japan Japanese and American Japanese.

My first meal was tempura. Allison and Filippo landed about six hours ahead of us and had already discovered this little gem not far from the hotel where she had booked our rooms. While the gentlemen took naps after the long flights, Allison brought me there for a light dinner. Best tempura I’ve ever had!

Here’s Nina about to chow down on ikura sushi, made with salmon roe. She also polished off the pieces on the other tray, made with tuna.

Allison found this shrimp ball at a seafood market. It was simple, perfectly simple!

We discovered dishes we had never had before, like “mushed tofu salad with persimmon.” Again, simple but superb. Autumn is persimmon time in Japan, and convenience stores like 7-11 were selling them.

Autumn is also time for chestnuts, as it is in Italy, according to Allison and Filippo. These beauties, grabbed from the ground beneath a roadside tree on the art island of Teshima, were bigger and better than the Italian ones, they said. All four of us picked up chestnuts, and, in the evenings back at our house after a day of art, we feasted on them.

Although the ramen was delicious (top photo), the highlight of the meal was using a ticket machine to order and pay for our bowls. Says Michael, “We are taught that America is the height of modern technological development. I was embarrassed to learn that this is simply not the case. Japan is clearly far ahead of the United States in uptake of modern technology.”

“Luxurious” is perhaps the best way to describe the taste and texture of Wagyu beef. We had never had this famous Japanese beef before traveling to Japan. Supposedly, Wagyu cattle is massaged. Not so. Japanese farmers, however, are careful to create a healthy and stress-free environment for their cattle. That’s time consuming and expensive. But if you want the best, that’s what you do.

Our amazing Wagyu lunch in Tokyo was hosted by Yoshi Koshikawa. We first met Professor Koshikawa in Hawaiʻi, in 2022, when he came for a sabbatical at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. Seeing him again in Japan was special.

Also special were encounters with Japanese people while we were traveling. We are in front of the Tokiwa Ryokan, with the 6th-generation proprietress (top photo). In the town of Bizen on our way to Naoshima, Allison had booked a night in this traditional Japanese inn. We dined at the inn, enjoying country-style kaiseki cuisine – a traditional, multi-course meal – made with seafood from the Seto Inland Sea.

Allison and Filippo wanted to stop in Bizen because the area produces pottery and Filippo throws pots. Japan has one of the oldest ceramic traditions in the world, and Bizen is one of Japan’s “Six Ancient Kilns.” These are production areas that have carried on Japan’s ancient techniques from medieval times to today and are protected by the government.

Bizen ware is not glazed, and the lack of luster gives a simple, rustic appearance. Surface patterns are produced by wood ash in the kiln. It was favored by Sen no Rikyu (1522–1591), a legendary tea master and the first to emphasize certain aspects of the tea ceremony, such as “rustic simplicity, a straightforward approach, and honesty of self.”

At the Kibido pottery studio, Yosuke Kimura invited us in back to see the work area and graciously took time to explain their art. We learned, for example, that they dig their clay from 6 feet below rice paddies and that they fire their pieces with wood for almost two weeks, gradually raising the temperature to well over 2,000ºF (top photo). We met Mizuho Kimura, his wife, back in the showroom. The couple is the 10th generation of Kimura family potters in Bizen. Mizuho’s father, Bifu Kimura, is the current master.

You can read more about this family of ceramic artists by CLICKING HERE.

A few days later, on the island of Naoshima, we were lucky to discover Noraya, a sake bar overlooking the port. Its sign read: “Sake can be enjoyed at various temperatures and with Japanese ceramics.” (Earlier in this post, you saw a lovely ceramic piece cupping a tofu salad made with persimmon. We ordered that salad in Noraya, and it’s one meal I’m now making at home.)

In the group photo, the woman in blue next to me is Sakura Morinaga. She and a friend (behind) stopped into Noraya just as we were leaving, and we recognized each other from the Chichu Art Museum, where the two women had been working for the season. Their term had ended and the pair had come in for a celebration. We had a friendly chat and exchanged contact info. Sakura was heading to Australia. Maybe she’ll come to Hawaiʻi.

I include this photo of the two hula girls because it shows how much the Japanese love Hawaiʻi and all things Hawaiian. At the community center on Naoshima, we were amazed to see children rushing into the building wearing hula skirts. I went inside for a closer look, and when I told them I was visiting from Hawaiʻi, they squealed with delight and gave me big smiles. Everywhere we went in Japan, sharing that elicited the same reaction.

These last photos say much about Japanese culture. On the trains, which were unfailingly punctual and clean, this sign was posted:

Don’t run for your train. It’s dangerous and embarrassing if you get caught between the doors.

The key word is “embarrassing.” After we returned home, Michael would sometimes describe our trip to Japan as an embarrassing experience. He was embarrassed by how clean things were in Japan. (The public restrooms were so spotless that you could eat in them.) He was embarrassed to learn about sophisticated use of technology. (Courtney’s family scored a reservation in Tokyo at the Dawn Avatar Robot Café, where robots waiting on customers are operated remotely via the internet by persons who are housebound, either because of physical disabilities, lack of childcare or for other reasons. You can read more about it by CLICKING HERE.)

Now look carefully at this photo, taken at 21_21 DESIGN SIGHT, a design museum in Tokyo. Notice that the art objects are displayed on the floor, and museum goers are free to approach them. No one touched anything, probably so as not to disturb the exact placement of each piece. These are part of an exhibition – titled “Materials, or” – that explored the human relationship with raw materials. Why do you suppose nothing gets damaged or stolen? Again, there’s that word “embarrassing.” It’s the Japanese culture.

Certain materials in the exhibit were touchable – and accompanied by signs inviting you to touch them, like this bear hide. But I saw how reverently the touching was done. A rambunctious American child would be rolling around on it!

We understand now why so many folks who have been to Japan go back again and again.

Art Islands Japan

The art islands in the Seto Inland Sea of Japan are a sharp contrast to bustling Tokyo, with 40 million residents. We spent time on the main islands of Naoshima, population 3,000, and Teshima, 900.

In Japan’s push to industrialize, a copper smelting industry had left Naoshima barren, while Teshima was buried under illegally dumped toxic waste. Then Japanese billionaire Soichiro Fukutake had a vision and acted on it, using architecture, art and landscape to transform these islands into galleries for contemporary art.

Allison had taken an excursion to Naoshima on a business trip to Japan in 2019 and was eager to return. And now we know why.

Have a look yourself. You’ll see mostly photos of individual artwork. But also included are a few that show the interiors of buildings, spaces designed as sculptural artwork themselves. The scale was often massive.

Red Pumpkin, Yayoi Kusama

Toilet, Tadanori Yokoo (This was art, clearly marked with a sign. In an identical room right next to it was a toilet for use.)

Stone Garden With Pond, Tadanori Yokoo

Seen / Unseen Known / Unknown, Walter de Maria

The Secret of the Sky, Kan Yasuda

Narcissus Garden, Yayoi Kusama

Porte vers I’infini, Lee Ufan

Inside the Chichu Art Museum, designed by architect Tadao Ando

Go’o Shrine with glass blocks for steps, Hiroshi Sugimoto

Below: manhole cover, neon graphic, backyard, door sign. Even in everyday things, we saw a strong aesthetic sense wherever we wandered.

In the photo of the door sign, notice the blackened wood. This is known as yakisugi, which means “burned cedar.”

Filippo pointed out walls made of wood charred with fire and explained that yakisugi is a traditional method to protect wooden surfaces, mostly on exteriors. The look is quite dramatic.

Restored rice paddies above the Teshima Art Museum

Exterior of Teshima Art Museum, collaboratively designed as part of a single work of art, Matrix. Artist Rei Naito, architect Ryue Nishizawa. CLICK HERE for details.

On the outside, the Ando Museum looks like a traditional Japanese residence. But inside, Tadao Ando’s signature use of concrete is on full display, with each of the three inner levels appearing like sculpted artwork. Ando is quoted in the magazine Architectural Record, December 2013, “Before, I wanted to make spaces suited for art. But this museum makes a statement just through its architecture.”

Together in Tokyo

Not long after their 2021-2022 holiday visit, Allison suggested that we meet next time in Asia, roughly halfway between Italy and Hawaiʻi. So when Courtney announced that the Moscardi Rowe family in Connecticut was planning a trip to Tokyo in October, that seemed like a great place for us all to be together.

Lloyd N., part of the breakfast gang that gathers at Kahala Mall, had talked about St. Marc for their popular chocolate croissant, known as “chococro.” On our way to hook up with Courtney’s family at Ueno Park, there was the café. We tried an assortment of pastries, all good!

Sen is now taller than all the Rowe women in our family, and Nina’s close behind. They take after their dad. Filippo’s gotten down to eye level with Dylan, but she’s going to sprout up, too!

Matt and Courtney bought bomber jackets. Matt chose Godzilla battling the Great Wave (an iconic Japanese woodblock print created in 1831).

Courtney suggested meeting in Kitchen Town, where Filippo discovered a second-hand cookware shop. Around the corner, Allison bought a pan for making perfectly rectangular Japanese milk bread.

We were attracted to this shop because it was full of wooden bowls and boxes. Although mass produced, they were lovely and reminded us of the woodworking that Michael’s brother does. Every one of Bob’s pieces, however, is unique!

Lloyd had described Japan as full of speciality shops, many owned by the same family for generations. Michael and Filippo were lured into a fishing store displaying traditional bamboo rods. Michael wanted to buy something small as a memory, but in talking to Filippo he used the word “tenkara,” a type of Japanese fishing rod that both he and Filippo use (made of modern carbon fiber). The store owner did not understand and refused to sell him a toy bamboo rod, which was clearly not a tenkara. All the real tenkara poles in the store were priced between $200-300! 

Allison discovered this tatami shop on our return to Tokyo before departing Japan. By then, we had spent many nights sleeping on tatami mats, using futons as beds. The combination is surprisingly comfortable.

Lunch with Yoshi (left) in Tokyo: wagyu yakiniku. Here’s the back story: Allison met Professor Yoshiaki Koshikawa in January 2022 at the Sony Open in Hawaiʻi. She had a ticket to the golf tournament compliments of Lloyd, who serves as a volunteer. Yoshi was there because he’s a golfer – but really because he was a golfer on sabbatical at the University of Hawaiʻi from Meiji University in Tokyo. We were happy to see him again.

And here’s the breakfast gang in Hawaiʻi with Yoshi, April 2022: from left, Lloyd, Lori S. Dane S., Michael and Beverly L. Yoshi talks about the group as “my Hawaiian treasures.”

Kimono dress-up day for the Moscardi Rowes

A view of the city from the Tokyo Skytree. Squint to see in the distance the peak of Fujisan (as the Japanese call Mount Fuji).

Shibuya Crossing is a top tourist attraction. When the traffic lights turn red, all vehicles in every direction stop, allowing pedestrians to cross the intersection in any direction. On average, over 2.4 million people cross Shibuya every day, roughly 2,500 pedestrians on every crossing. Joining the scramble are, on the right, Allison pushing Michael and, on the left, Matt carrying Dylan piggyback. Sen, Courtney and Nina are in front of them.

The family had one last dinner together, at the Food Show in Shibuya. Mona, Michael, Allison and Filippo left for the art islands in the Seto Inland Sea. Courtney took Sen and Nina to Kyoto and Nara. Matt and Dylan returned home to Connecticut. We were together in Tokyo close to a week.

Foraging and Feasting

Wild yeast is the driver for the starter I used to make this sourdough English muffin. Michael and I were staying at the condo my sister Lani and husband Charles have in Mammoth Lakes, CA, and that muffin was breakfast one morning.

Here’s the back story: We got our first sourdough starter from our good friend Betty R. in Reading, MA, and used it successfully for many years. But in 2015, during our three-month road trip to Alaska, something dramatic happened: the starter blew off the lid of its jar, making a mess in the camper’s refrigerator. And it kept blowing off the lid until I repacked it in a bigger container with a tighter lid. We think we picked up a more potent strain in Alaska. Late summer is berry season, and you can readily find a coating of wild yeast on berries. I’ve read that early humans, without even knowing what yeasts were, used rotten fruits to make alcohol.

So while we were not foraging for wild yeast back in Alaska, we got it. And every summer that we’re in the Pacific Northwest, where blackberries grow in abundance, we refresh the starter that lives most of the time in Hawaiʻi.

These crab cakes, made of freshly trapped Dungeness crabs, were on the menu every week in the two months we were on San Juan Island. Kim W., Lani’s older daughter, first brought us crab cakes from famous Faidley’s in Baltimore. While working on her Ph.D. at Stony Brook University on Long Island, Kim spent summers teaching at a special program in Maryland. Those crab cakes were made of Chesapeake blue crabs. While blues are good, it’s nice to sink your teeth into a meaty Dungeness. I found a recipe for crab cakes à la Faidley’s, and it was a winner.

We take our boat to go clamming in Westcott Bay, which is ringed with private homes. There, we get native littlenecks as well as the more colorful and patterned Manilla clams. We’ve always dug them up side by side.

In Westcott, I noticed nice-sized mussels nestled with a few giant oysters off to the side. Back in New York, we routinely grabbed mussels to make a special omelette known as Hangtown Fry. As the story goes, during the gold rush days in California, condemned men – they were mostly men – were granted a last meal of their choice. Eggs, bacon and oysters were the most expensive foods back then, taking time to procure, and so a request of Hangtown Fry would delay the hanging.

Hangtown was a gold mining camp first known as Dry Diggins, for the way dry dirt was carted to a scarce water supply. That name quickly gave way to Hangtown as the place became notorious for vigilante justice. A few years later, the friendlier name of Placerville was approved by the townsfolk. Our version of this omelet is made with mussels, which have a similar taste and are much easier to find than oysters.

This year, for the first time, we did figure out how to get smallish oysters. Michael is sitting on an outcropping on Shaw Island, which is a 15-minutes boat trip across from San Juan Island. (Look closely for whitish clumps on the rocks and in the brown bucket at Michael’s feet.) We had spent the night in a protected cove nearby and noticed oysters clinging to rocks. The beach where we were anchored, however, is part of a research area, no access allowed. So we pulled up anchor and went looking for a “public” spot along the same shore. The count was 17 when we were done prying oysters off the rocks, and we had enough for several meals, including Hangtown Fry. State regulations allow shellfish harvesting year round, but locals prefer cooler weather.

This little guy popped up all the time at the marina where we keep our boat in Friday Harbor. Looking for a handout, said Michael. He also noted that if folks clean their crabs at the dock when they pull into their slips – we do not – the local harbor seals would be trained to come calling when boats came in.

This dish of paella is brightened by shrimp. When we get mollusks like clams and mussels, we hang them in a net bag at the dock to clean. Little shrimp, not more than a few inches long head to tail, can make their way into the bag and are trapped when we pull it up. To make the paella, I also used a bay leaf from cousin Rhona H. On our roadtrip south, we stopped for  breakfast with Rhona and her husband Schuyler, in Vancouver, WA. Rhona clipped fresh herbs from her garden to use as we traveled, and I shared some with Lani in Los Angeles.

Michael is picking blackberries the traditional way in the Pacific Northwest: Lean a tall ladder on a giant bush, climb up, pick all you can reach. Move the ladder. Repeat. These bushes are Himalayan blackberry, one of the most invasive species in the region. We eat as much as we can.

These are native trailing blackberries, prized by Michael’s mother for making pies. The vines grow along the ground, and the berries are smaller, less seedy and tastier. They were abundant this year, and I made wild blackberry crisp several times. When we established a base on San Juan Island in 2016 for road tripping, Allison and Filippo gave us the book Pacific Northwest Foraging, which lists “120 wild and flavorful edibles.” Great reference.

We got a haul on our last day of crabbing. Eight Dungeness came up. The smallest crab slipped out as Michael brought the trap onboard, leaving seven in the trap you see. He threw back the next smallest male and the three females. That left three males to add to the one in our holding trap at the dock. Crab cakes for our final days on San Juan Island!

Although the crab season was over for us, we took the boat out for one last picnic. Before lunch, at anchor in a pretty spot, we put down a folding trap baited with fish Michael had caught and frozen for later. After lunch, he pulled up a red rock crab. That’s life for us here, always interesting and fun.

Zigzagging Adds to the Adventure

From the ferry terminal at Anacortes, WA, south to Los Angeles, CA, we drove 1,419 miles, mostly hugging the coast. Returning north, through the Sierra Nevada and the Cascade Range, we logged twice as many miles, 3,211. That’s a lot of zigzagging! But traveling that way adds to the adventure.

DIY minivan: Early one morning, after a solitary night alongside a stream, we came to a lookout above Mono Lake. Another van was already parked, and out popped an Asian couple. The man opened the back of the van, fluffed up the bed, and put out chairs next to a small table. The woman set down steaming cups of coffee. Sociable Michael wandered over to chat. They had moved to the U.S. about 15 years ago from South Korea to join their children in California, and he had fitted out their van himself, doing all the cabinetry and electronics. His “power station” looked like the cockpit of an airplane. Impressive!

Ghost Army: Mona’s niece Tai W. did her residency in psychology at VA hospitals in Reno, so we made a stop. It’s a great city. At the Nevada Museum of Art, we were lucky to catch an exhibit on the Ghost Army of WWII. It was the first mobile, multimedia, tactical deception unit in US Army history.

The largest and most successful Ghost Army deception was Operation Viersen, March 18-24, 1945. For that, 600 inflatables were set up to portray two divisions preparing to cross the Rhine River. The deception included over 600 inflatable tanks, artillery and planes; sounds of vehicles moving into position and pontoon bridges being built; fake radio traffic; and phony divisional and battalion headquarters.

It worked. The Germans dropped shells on the fake positions and even flew reconnaissance flights over them. Further north, the American troops crossed the Rhine on March 24, facing almost no opposition.

Animal Ark: Look closely at this photo. Linda (wearing a “Volunteer” name tag) has her hand through the fence and is petting the bear’s paw. Gracie, a black bear, was born in captivity in 2006 and confiscated by the Nevada Department of Wildlife, which placed the cub at Animal Ark, a wildlife sanctuary just outside Reno. Linda and Gracie are old friends.

The animals at this park were behind fences in small enclosures, but all had been rescued from undesirable situations and could never be returned to the wild. So we were happy to pay admission, make a donation and even get a snack.

Herman the Sturgeon: Who would have guessed that we would see sturgeon at a fish hatchery. It turns out that this dinosaur of a fish is native to the Columbia River. The Bonneville Fish Hatchery boasts not only Herman – 10 feet long, 500 pounds and over 80 years old – but a number of younger ones, too. The hatchery is Oregon’s largest and spawns/rears various species of salmon, from chinook to coho to steelhead.

Seconds on the tacos, por favor: Passing through a dusty town, we heard music and spotted a park with dancing on a stage, folks seated around tables and food stalls. The affair was a gathering of Latino families, and everyone was speaking Spanish. At the taco stand, we got two to sample. They were so good that we went back for dinner.

Minutes later, the dancing gave way to a raffle. The first ticket pulled belonged to a lucky gentleman who claimed the grand prize, a giant flat-screen TV. More tickets were pulled, and folks came up to collect assorted sets of Tupperware. Everyone was happy.

Apple chips: We drove several hundred miles out of our way to reach Orondo, on the eastern side of the Cascades. Our destination was a farm stand along the road where we had picked up Rainier cherries and a bag of apple chips in 2019. The place was still in business, and this time we got to chatting with the owners. They vacation on Maui every year and, because of our Hawaiʻi connection, remembered when we stopped by before. We shared with them the last of our local Hawaiian snacks, and they gave us a bag of Robada apricots to enjoy as we drove on down the road.

Finally, fishing: As we made our way north, Michael pored over detailed maps and street cams he found online to search for likely fishing streams. In reality, what mattered the most was accessibility. We needed a place to park and a path down, which couldn’t be discerned using maps. Most likely-looking spots were fenced off.

As you can see, Michael discovered plenty of scenic spots to try, from Hot Creek in Mammoth Lakes, CA, to Sauk River, WA. But it was close to his boyhood home in upstate Washington that he had the most fun.

On the south fork of the Nooksack River, Michael found large numbers of baby salmon, eager to take anything that looked like food. They were only around 4 inches long – smolts, the next size up from fry. But they were fun to hook. One very large fish was occasionally breaking the surface, which kept him hoping . . . and fishing! But, alas, the big one wasn’t interested in his lures.

When Michael was young, he and his fishing buddies thought baby salmon were rainbow trout because of their coloration. We learned on our visit to the Bonneville hatchery that the colorful ovals on the sides of the fish are distinctive in the early stages of salmon growth.

You never know what’s around the corner when you’re zigzagging!

Contrasting Tales of Two Lakes

These strange formations are made of tufa, a type of limestone formed when carbonate minerals precipitate out of water in unheated lakes or rivers. They take narrow shapes because the inflow is from small fissures.

Mona’s sister Lani told us about the tufa towers at Mono Lake, a saline lake just north of Mammoth Lakes, CA, where Lani and Charles have a lovely condo. Intrigued, we made a stop.

Mono Lake is ancient – over 1 million years old and one of the oldest lakes in North America. It has no outlet.

In 1941, Los Angeles began diverting water from streams that feed the lake. In 1994, California set a target lake level at 6,392 feet, 25 feet below the lake’s 1941 level. That decision decreased water diversions by LA from four Mono Lake tributaries and set the state on a course to “maximize the reasonable and beneficial use of California’s limited water resources.”

Salts and minerals wash into the lake from Eastern Sierra streams. Freshwater evaporating from the lake each year has left the salts and minerals behind so that the lake is now about two-and-a-half times as salty as the ocean and very alkaline.

Mono Lake flies are adapted to this environment. The adult feeds and lays eggs underwater. Once an egg hatches, the larva grazes on algae, extracts oxygen from the lake water and stores alkaline waste salt in a gland. The final underwater stage is when the larva becomes a pupa. When the pupa grows into an adult, it breaks open its case and pops to the surface – beginning again the feeding and breeding cycle.

The water is so alkaline that no  predators can live in it, so the pupae are available to outside predators, like people. The Kuzedika, a part of the Paiute nation, are known to have been living in the Mono Basin since about 1300 AD. They depended on the pupae – “kutsavi” in their language – as a food source and trade item. As the sign says, kutsavi taste like bacon bits. Yum!

No alkaline flies here. Freshwater Crater Lake sits in a caldera. A massive volcanic eruption 7,700 years ago left a deep basin in the place where the peak of Mount Mazama once stood. Centuries of rain and snow have filled the basin, forming a deep blue lake, the deepest in the U.S. It has no inlets or outlets.

Our interest in Crater Lake was piqued back in 2019, when we watched our downstairs neighbor Josh working with a beautiful blue epoxy resin, aptly named Crater Lake. He was filling in holes and cracks in a handsome slab of wood he was finishing into a table as a present to Raina for their upcoming June wedding.

Josh had some leftover epoxy, which we used to fill a crack in a wooden bowl that Michael’s brother Bob had turned for Mona’s mom Rose Sen. (She became “mom” to Bob when he lived with Rose and Joe Sen after returning to Hawaiʻi from college.)

We arrived at Crater Lake on a cloudy day, when the water was a dull blue gray. Hoping for a break in the clouds, we parked at a viewpoint for a few hours in the late afternoon. No luck; it even started to drizzle. But the time passed quickly as we watched a succession of families parking next to us – the first making tacos on a portable grill, the second eating sushi with chop sticks, and the third scooping up food with their hands from a communal spread. The U.S.A. is truly a melting pot!

In sunlight the next day, the view was marvelous!

Here’s why: Water clarity is measured by determining the lowest depth at which a standardized 8-inch black and white disk can still be seen by the human eye. Crater Lake has a clarity of 143 feet, a world record.

And the lovely blue color? Longer wavelengths of sunlight (red, yellow and green) are absorbed by the water. Blue light is not well absorbed by water. It strikes the water and is scattered and redirected back from the lake depths to our eyes.

More fun facts: At its deepest, Crater Lake measures 1,943 feet, versus Mono Lake at 157 feet.

Lava, Lava!

Michael and I live in a state known for volcanoes, and both of us have witnessed eruptions and lava flows up close. But, as Allison says, anything volcanoes makes for interesting scenery.

On this 2023 road trip down the West Coast, we returned north via the corridor of volcano national parks and monuments on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada and into the Cascade Mountains.

Lassen

Because of historic amounts of rain and snow in California over the winter, the south entrance for Lassen Volcanic National Park was open just past the visitor center. This hydrothermal feature was on our approach to the park.

The Kohm Yah-mah-nee Visitor Center had informative displays about volcanoes. (We applaud naming places in the languages of the first people to come. Kohm Yah-mah-nee is the local Native American name for Lassen Peak and means “snow mountain.”)

Lassen contains all four types of volcanoes found in the entire world:

• Plug dome: silica-rich lava pushes out through the volcanic bent. Because of the thickness of this lava, it does not flow away but bulges directly over the vent to form a dome.
• Composite: This type of volcano is built of alternating layers of lava flow, volcanic cinder and ash.
• Shield: A shield cone is built almost entirely of basaltic lava that flows outward, far from the volcano’s vent. Because of its low silica content and fluid nature, lava flows form gently sloping, shield-like mountains. Hawaiʻiʻs main volcanoes are shield volcanoes, but the state also has smaller cinder cones on the edges. Famous Diamond Head (Leʻahi) is a cinder cone. A shield volcano, Maunaloa covers half of the Big Island of Hawaiʻi. Rising from the ocean floor, it is the most massive mountain on earth.
• Cinder cone: This forms when blogs of gas-charged lava explode from the volcano’s vent, then fall back to earth as cooled fragments of volcanic rock. Only one type of lava, called tephra, erupts from cinder cones. The smallest cinder pieces blow far away but larger, chunkier lava bombs pile up around the vent and make a steep-sided cone.

The road was blocked a mile past the visitor center. (We arrived at Lassen on June 19 and the road through to the north would not open until July 1.) From there, it was a short walk to a burping mudpot and a much longer walk miles up the closed road. Mona went along for awhile, remembering when, as a child, she had her first sight of snow. It was in the month of June, in a national park, alongside the road on a cross-country road trip with her family.

Lava Beds

The view around Lava Beds National Monument is rather innocuous – scrub bush and low-lying piles of lava rocks everywhere. Walk up to any cluster of rocks, however, and you might find a hole in the ground. These are caved-in lava tubes.

J.D. Howard did just that. Exploring the area from 1916 to 1933, he found and named 120 caves. Howard, of course, was not the first to explore the area. Paleo-Indians migrated here about 11,500 years ago.

When rivers of lava cool and harden on the outside, the molten rock inside remains hot and continues to flow. Often, this interior lava completely drains away, leaving a tunnel-like cavity within the hardened flow – a lava tube.

At Lava Beds, the National Park Service has set up one cave with a strip of LED lights on the ground along the path – a cool effect because you can explore without flashlights. On Michael’s jeans, see the faint blue lines from those lights behind him.

In one corner of Lava Beds is Petroglyph Point. Rock art found there is believed to be around 4,500 years old.

This hill was part of an island within ancient Lake Modoc. Paleo-Indians of that time paddled canoes to the island and, from their boats, carved symbols onto the soft rock. The Modocs, successors to those first immigrants, tell the story of Kamookumpts, creator of the world, who sleeps here.

One day Kamookumpts was resting on the east shore of Tule Lake. Looking around, he realized that there was nothing anywhere except the lake. He decided to make land. He dug some mud from the lake bottom and made a hill. He used the mud from the hill to create land and mountains. He also created rivers, streams, plants, and animals. Creating everything was tiring work, so Kamookumpts dug a hole in which to sleep under Tule Lake. He left the hill he had made to mark the spot. As the mud dried the hill became rock and is still visible today.

What do these petroglyphs mean? That’s a hard question to answer. Most researchers agree, however, that they do not represent a written language. Geometric patterns predominate. Animal-like images are few, unlike Great Basin rock art in nearby Nevada. 

Newberry

Our target at Newberry Volcano National Monument was the Big Obsidian Flow. Newberry is the largest volcano in the Cascade Range. Its ash, pumice, lava, cinder and mudflows add up to 120 cubic miles of volcanic material, way more than the 6 cubic miles at Mt. St. Helens.

In keeping with Newberry’s #1 status in the Cascades, the obsidian flow stretches over a square mile, with huge boulders of jet-black volcanic glass. Impressive! 

This map shows the density of volcanoes (triangles) in Oregon. Right in the center of them is the city of Bend (dot), population 102,059 in 2021. In the evening at a food truck lot, we talked to the owner of one of the trucks. Rich told us about the bulge measured by the US Geological Service at South Sister Volcano, 25 miles west of the city. Surface swelling started in the mid-1990s and had risen to about 12 inches by 2020. The swelling suggests a growing magma chamber about four miles below the surface.

Lucky we live in Hawaiʻi, we told Rich. When a volcano erupts back home, people rush in to witness the action. Certainly, lava flows in Hawaiʻi have destroyed homes and infrastructure. But Hawaiian eruptions tend to be gentle because the lava is highly fluid, flowing freely both beneath the surface and upon eruption.

In fact, on June 7, about three weeks after we flew to the Continent, Kilauea volcano on the Big Island started erupting, with flowing lava confined to the Halemaʻumaʻu caldera. Officials estimated that the first day and night of the eruption brought more than 10,000 people, three times the number of visitors on a day when Kilauea is quiet.

It’s All About People

You can travel to pretty places and enjoy the scenery – like these sea stacks off the coast of Oregon.

But it’s all about people. We were reminded by that as we drove down the Pacific coast, stopping to visit family and friends, sharing stories and memories along the way.

In Washington . . .

Long-time friends Jean and Ron in Seattle have a frisky, friendly new dog named Rooney. (Jean’s mom taught our two daughters how to play the piano; mostly, though, she gave them a love of music.)

A tall glass of Elderflower cordial. We are lucky to have it when we visit. Ron goes through gymnastics to pick enough flowers, so it’s a special treat!

We’ve known Stevie since our Pittsburgh years of graduate school, continuing on to Long Island in New York. Her husband Sam brought Michael to Brookhaven National Laboratory. After he passed, Stevie moved out west to Lacey, where she’s near her daughter Laura and family.

Laura is peeling shrimp trapped by her husband Paul in Puget Sound. For dinner, joined by Laura’s twin boys, we feasted on the shrimp and a nice piece of tuna Paul hooked in Alaska. He’s a serious fisherman! Years ago, Paul gave our daughter Allison a waitress job in San Francisco, when she moved there after college and before she found full-time work.

Mona’s cousin Rhona and her husband Schuyler have a great place in Vancouver. Rhona always comes through with Mona’s odd requests. Recently: wearing jeans for Denim Day and sending the mango bread recipe from the Sen family cookbook.

In California . . .

Mona’s niece Tai and her husband James (here, collaborating on making fried rice for dinner) recently finished building an ADU (accessory dwelling unit) on their property in Redwood City, just in time for the arrival of their new baby. He, of course, has attracted a steady flow of admiring family members and friends. When we dropped by, James’s mom and husband were staying in the ADU on an extended visit from Connecticut. The baby is the second grandson of Mona’s sister Lani and her husband Charles. He’s an absolute delight!

James is a master gardener. This is a blood orange from one of their many fruit trees, all carefully tended and bearing nicely.

Then it was on to Carmel, where Michael’s cousin Betty lives. She had turned 92 just days before we arrived. So we brought her a cupcake from SusieCakes, one of Tai’s favorite bakeries.

We were Betty’s guests at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. This is a Lion’s Mane Sea Slug (white), a marine mollusk called a nudibranch. It uses a net-like hood to trap plankton in kelp beds.

We parked for a week in Los Angeles with Lani and Charles. Their daughter Kim, husband Nate and two kids live in nearby Long Beach. So we dropped by for dinner. After Mona played a quick round of pickle ball with the younger child (she’s got a mean back hand!), it was time for a seafood feast from a Cambodian eatery, A&J Seafood Shack, recommended by Lani. Nate told us that Long Beach has a huge Cambodian population, ranking third in the world after Cambodia’s two largest cities.

This the family dog Flint, eyeballing shrimp shells left on Michael’s plate. Nate promised that the dog would get all of the shells later. Mona read that males of this breed, a type of Italian mastiff known as Cane Corso, typically weigh from 99 to 110 pounds. Flint is a giant, weighing 120.

Our last excursion in the LA area was to Van Nuys, where Mona’s good friend Sumy lives. Sumy and Mona were two-piano partners in college at the University of Hawaiʻi. This is a set up shot; normally, the two would be seated at separate pianos. The last time we saw Sumy, her son was toddling around a coffee table in the living room. Now, he and his wife have made Sumy a grandma twice over.

Lani and Charles live practically under the HOLLYWOOD sign. Mona took this photo by walking just a block up the hill behind their house.

When Lani and Charles were in Honolulu a few months back, we talked about the scarcity of great hamburger joints in Hawaiʻi, where Asian cuisine is favored. They boasted about Chris N Eddy’s smash burgers. So here we are. Sure enough, superior to anything we have back home. Those tater tots are good, too!

The morning we pulled out of LA to start our drive north, we had to stock up at the splendid Hollywood Farmers Market. California accounts for about half of the fresh vegetables produced in the U.S. Spot Lani in blue at the end of this table loaded with veggies.

We’re Off!

Michael in wheelchair at HNL airport

This year, we’ll take a road trip down the West Coast, from Seattle to Los Angeles. Going south, we’ll visit family and friends. Heading back north, we’ll do some fishing and exploring.

Michael having spam musubi for breakfast in SEA airport

About the wheelchair: Michael walks just fine . . . sort of. But he lacks range. He bought a lightweight wheelchair to practice for traveling to Japan with Courtney, Allison and their families come fall . . . maybe.

It turns out to be much harder than it looks. If he encounters even a small slope to the side, the wheelchair takes off on its own. 

After a lovely ferry ride, passing by evergreen-topped islands in Puget Sound, we reached Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. The seven-acre Rowe farm is just outside town.

Our camper fired up on first try. And the count has begun:

• Day 1: a black fox with white-tipped tail crossing the lower park of the property and a bald eagle swooping across the grass
• Day 2: a young buck deer with 2-inch antler nubbins, nibbling his through the yard
• Day 4: that same black fox with her kits (now we know it’s a she), scampering around their den at the curve of our driveway

We’re about to go off-island, and it’s nice to imagine the local fauna passing through.

Last Looks

As I write this, we’re flying over the Pacific Ocean, returning to our home on Oʻahu after an absence of almost three months. We spent most of that time not on the Continent but on islands: 12,000-square-mile Vancouver Island in British Columbia and 55-square-mile San Juan Island in Puget Sound. (For the record, Oʻahu is 597 square miles.)

Here are last looks, starting with Vancouver Island and ending with San Juan Island.

Vancouver Island

Mona with an orca sculpture made of driftwood

Surfers in the cold water of Long Beach, a 10-mile stretch along Vancouver Island’s west coast

Cedar tree with a strip of bark removed (so as not to kill the tree), a tradition practiced by First Nations peoples in Canada to make masks, baskets, clothes and even fishing line

Farmed salmon being transported first by boat and then truck. We were told that much of the salmon goes to Costco.

An unexpected pedestrian: locals see black bears all the time

The librarian in the Vancouver Island Library branch of Gold River made the First Nations cape for the library’s orca mascot. She told us the story of Luna. When the librarian was a child, in 2001, a young orca found its way into Muchalat Inlet of Nootka Sound. This orca had been born in 1999 in the San Juan Islands of Washington State and was known to the scientific community. He had even been named in a contest sponsored by a Seattle newspaper. Luna had lost his pod and seemed content to stay in the inlet at Gold River, forming a pod with humans and their boat toys. As a child, the librarian and other locals had played extensively with Luna. Orcas are very social animals. But Canada has laws to protect wild marine animals, and the Department of Fisheries and Oceans asked the public to keep away from Luna and devised plans to capture him. The Mowachaht-Muchalaht First Nation people of Gold River – interpreting Luna as their reincarnated tribal chief – opposed the government’s intervention and, in 2004, used canoes to try to lead the orca toward the ocean. All efforts were unsuccessful, and the two parties continued negotiations. Sadly, in 2006, following a tugboat he knew well, Luna was sucked into the propellers, even though they were set at idle. He died.

San Juan Islands

Soon after we arrived on San Juan Island, our neighbors came to visit at the seven-acre Rowe Farm (they have the adjoining five acres). Notice the resident black fox sneaking past our camper in the background.

Michael at Olga on a day trip to Orcas Island. As a child, his family spent summers at a beach house there.

Upper photo: Michael at the tower on Mount Constitution, with an elevation of 2,398 feet. Views of Puget Sound are spectacular. Lower photo: Sucia Island resembles a hand. We moored there overnight on one of several boating trips we took into the Canadian Gulf Islands and throughout the San Juan Islands, including Sucia.

A chance encounter: BC, Mona’s good friend from Long Island, NY – Dr. RPC, philosopher and historian of science, chair of the Department of Philosophy at Stony Brook University – was on San Juan Island for his son’s wedding. By boat, we caught up with him and and the bride’s father. A week later, we had B on our C-Dory to help pick up our crab trap; that red blob in the second photo is a red rock crab he pulled up. Later that day, B and wife S joined us for a crab dinner at the beach, where we feasted on Dungeness crabs and the rock crab that B’s holding.

Look carefully (at 12 o’clock in the cup) to spot the single crab larvae Mona scooped out of the water at Parks Bay at Shaw Island. It actually looks like a crab!

And finally, here’s a last look around the warehouse the night before we departed San Juan Island for Oʻahu Island. Our 19-foot Road Trek camper and 16-foot C-Dory boat are parked inside the closed warehouse when we’re in Hawaiʻi.