Helicopter Tours in Wine Country

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The reality for would-be helicopter operators.

I got yet another email from yet another helicopter pilot interested in doing the kind of work I do. He’s currently in the military, based overseas, and emailed me about his situation and an idea. I deleted his original message after responding, but did retain this:

Have you looked at increasing your footprint with a business partner and second helicopter? From reviewing your website it seems you have the perfect job and location to cater to the wine industry of central WA.

At Martin Scott
Here’s my helicopter, parked in a great landing zone at one of my favorite wineries. Unfortunately, the winery’s insurance company told them I could no longer land there. This year’s challenge: getting them to reverse their decision.

This made me laugh. “Perfect job and location to cater to the wine industry.” I’m not sure whether the author of this message understands the realities of the wine industry in this area. Yes, there are wineries in the Wenatchee area. In fact, there’s one about 1/2 mile down the road from where I live. But the dozen or so wineries near here don’t need helicopter service. And most of them either don’t want it, can’t support it with a safe landing zone, or have insurance-related restrictions that make operation on their premises impossible.

Of course, there are more wineries in the Chelan area, about 20 minutes flight time north of here. But there’s also another Part 135 operator up there with a business virtually identical to mine. The cost of me getting up there to service wineries in that area would make me far more expensive than that pilot, who is based right there. So I have to limit my Chelan activities with offering round trip flights from Wenatchee to Chelan — just as he’d likely limit his flights in Wenatchee to flights originating in Chelan. Simple economics of supply and demand.

I responded:

Thanks for writing, but no, I’m definitely not interested in adding a partner or helicopter. There isn’t enough business in the area for me, especially with competition in nearby Chelan. A second helicopter would add cost without revenue.

If you’re interested in building a tour business to serve the wine industry, I suggest Tri-Cities or Walla Walla. They both have far more wineries and activity than the Wenatchee area.

Good luck.

The Tri-Cities and Walla Walla areas are much bigger wine-producing areas. There are dozens of wineries in each place, many of which are in rural areas that can support helicopter landing zones. I’ve even done a little research in the Walla Walla area and found a number of winery owners interested in helicopter winery tours to their facilities. Trouble is, Walla Walla is about 45 minutes each way from Wenatchee, so flights there would be too costly. And I’m not interested in relocating to Walla Walla.

But again, it all comes down to supply and demand. You need to base an operation in an area where there are a lot of potential clients who have a lot of disposable income. After all, how many people are interested in spending $500 or more on a few hours of entertainment for up to three people? And if you’ve found the perfect place to offer helicopter tour services, chances are, there’s already an operator there. Now you’re dealing with competition which makes it even harder to get off the ground because you have to share that potential client pool with someone who is already known in the area.

And then there’s the problems faced by a Twitter/Facebook friend in the Margaret River area of Australia. He started a helicopter charter service, Wild Blue Helicopters, in that wine region and was soon plagued by noise complaints from the locals. One of those locals took matters into his own hands by vandalizing my friend’s helicopter, causing several thousand dollars in damage. After making a major investment in his business there, he’s abandoning it because he’s simply tired of dealing with the problems the locals are causing. Who wants that?

Why don’t people see this? Why do so many pilots think that all they need to do is buy a helicopter, move to an interesting place, and hang out a shingle for the clients and money to start rolling in?

I thought I was done with the conversation, but he replied. Again, he made me laugh.

Thanks Maria! I’m not sure how to do it but I think it would be a lovely way to spend a few years. Do you enjoy it?

“Lovely.” It would be lovely if I were independently wealthy and didn’t need to make a living as a pilot.

I responded with the brutal honesty I’m known for:

I enjoy the flying, but there simply isn’t enough of it.

And after 14 years in this business — in Arizona and now in Washington — I’m tired of dealing with potential clients who can’t respect the value of my services and understand the cost of operating a helicopter. Too many cheapskates. Too many people who think I’ll spend an hour preflighting/postflighting my aircraft to take their 8 year old kid for a 10-minute birthday ride for $25.

If you think you’re going to get into this business and make a good living at it right away, think again. It took more than 5 years for my business to support itself and another 3 years for it to become profitable enough to support me. I was fortunate to have another income for those 8 years; most people don’t. It’s a difficult business to succeed in.

I’ve written about this extensively on my blog, https://aneclecticmind.com/

My advice? Get a job flying for someone else. Let them have the headaches and costs of dealing with aircraft maintenance and the FAA. Fly, get a paycheck, spend your off time with your friends and family.

Now I’m sure lots of folks who don’t operate helicopter charter businesses in Washington’s wine country — or small helicopter charter businesses in a big city like Phoenix, where I used to be based — will take this opportunity to bash my business skill and blame me for my belated success. My response to you: If you think you’re so smart, you try it. And then let us all know how you do.

You might want to read this, too.

As for this pilot, I hope he makes the right decision for his future.

Construction: The Upstairs Lights are On

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Well, at least the first six of them.

On May 20, 2014, I began blogging about the construction of my new home in Malaga, WA. You can read all of these posts — and see the time-lapse movies that go with many them — by clicking the new home construction tag.

If you’ve been following this blog, you might know that I decided to be “the electrician” for my new home. That means I’ve taken on the task of designing the electrical system, doing all the in-wall wiring, and ultimately hooking up all light fixtures, ceiling fans, and outlets.

These posts will give you an idea of what I’ve been up to with the electricity since buying my property in July 2013:

Wow. I didn’t think I’d written so much about electrical power, but there it is.

Electricity is an important part of our lives. We don’t think much about the electrical power in our homes. Flick a switch, a light goes on. Plug in a device and power flows through it. We only notice it when it goes out or we get our bills. We normally don’t think much about what’s going on behind the scenes, inside the walls. The planning that puts outlets and light switches and ceiling fans in the “right” spot. The wires, the connections. Amperage. Circuits. How does the power get from the transformer on your property to your microwave oven? Most people have no idea of what a “home run” — as it relates to power in their homes — really is.

I do. I have a vast, intimate knowledge of all the power in my home because I’m the one who designed the system and ran all the wires.

With a little help from friends, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere.

The Panel

After creating all the circuits you can read about in the last few entries listed above, I wound up with about 20 lengths of Romex wire dangling out of a cavity in the wall between my stairs and RV garage. Each length of wire represented one circuit, from the lights in my living room to the outlets, lights, and exhaust fan in my bathroom, to my water heater, to my stove/oven.

Romex is good stuff, mostly because each gauge — or thickness — is color coded. 14 gauge for 15 amp circuits is white, 12 for 20 is yellow, 10 for 30 is orange, and 6 for 50 is black. This would make it easy to match the wire to the correct circuit breaker amperage.

As I ran each home run, I used a Sharpie to write on the end of the wire, labeling it for its circuit. For example, KIT 1 and KIT 2 were my two kitchen circuits, BATH was for the bathroom, and LR TV was for the northeast side of the living room while LR OFFICE was for the northeast side. Although I never came up with a formal electrical plan for my place, I did keep track of each circuit on a sheet of paper. This helped me keep track of which circuits I had, what amperage it needed, and what my progress was on each one.

An Ugly Mess
After running all the home runs, I was left with this mess at the circuit panel. (You should have seen it before I neatened it up.) The round thing is my Internet router, which I hung up there temporarily. I’m going to have the local cable company re-do the Internet wiring so the router can be in my office area upstairs.

Of course, what I had at the circuit panel end was a big mess. Everyone who looked at it — especially the county and electrical inspectors — wondered how I was going to get the wires into the circuit panel neatly, without the Romex being exposed below 8 feet. I wondered, too.

My friend Tom is a retired union electrician. He’d been giving me a bunch of advice for the past few months and had helped me with some of the more difficult tasks, such as getting conduit to my shed up to code, helping run the circuit panel and outlet ends of my RV garage’s 30 amp RV circuit, and installing fixture bases for my outside wiring. These are tasks that I could have done on my own, but it would have taken much longer and I likely would have gotten it wrong several times before it was right and to code. He knew all about the job that was ahead of me at the panel and he also knew that I’d be depending on him for help.

He said he thought a lot about it while I was on vacation. He said he worried about it.

Tom at Work
Here’s Tom contemplating the panel not long after we started feeding Romex into it.

But when he came by yesterday, it didn’t take long for him to figure out how to get the job done. I cut another piece of wood to complete the wire channel and we notched it so the wires could come out neatly in one big bunch, high above the panel. The drywall guys, who hadn’t done that area yet, would be able to work around the wires and then close up the space in the notch with fire tape.

The wires then came to the wall over the panel where they’d be secured before coming down the wall and into the panel. 8-foot lengths of 2×4 lumber, which I happened to have handy — doesn’t everyone keep lumber around their home? — would be secured to the posts on either side of the panel. The drywall guys would lay in one 8-foot long sheet of drywall, with a hole cut to the size of the electrical panel, and fasten it to the 2x4s. Result: a neat panel area with no Romex exposed below 8 feet.

Sunny Day
It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood. I shot this photo from my Lookout Point not long after Tom left.

And that’s the way things went. Tom and I worked on the panel for a few hours, stopping only for some grilled sausage sandwiches I cooked up for lunch and the occasional cigar break. The day was beautiful, with scattered high clouds, lots of sun, and temperatures in the high 50s. We had lunch outside in the sun. I opened the big garage door beside the panel about halfway to let in lots of fresh air. We worked as a team with Tom doing most of the connection work and me handing him circuits and marking the slot each circuit was connected to on my master list. Later, when the door was put on the panel, I’d label each slot on the sticker provided. At the end, we found that I’d failed to label three home run wires: by process of elimination, we figured out the 20 amp wire and know which two are the 15 amp wires — I’ll know exactly which is which when I finish wiring them and turn them on.

The Panel
Here’s the finished panel. The long circuits with the white labels on them are arc fault protected, which are required for living space circuits in Washington as of July 1, 2014. The dangling black wire on the right is for my range.

We had them all done by around 3 PM. All except the 50 amp range circuit. That needed a 3/4 inch connector, which I did not have. (The others used 1/2 inch connectors and I had plenty of those.) I’d finish it up on my own before inspection. I’d also have to attach the wires to the wooden board behind the panel.

But at this point, I had all of my other home runs wired to the circuit panel. That meant I could begin wiring light fixtures, outlets, and other devices.

When Tom drove away, he stopped and said out his window, “We did pretty good. I didn’t think we’d finish in one day.”

He wasn’t the only one. The task had seemed overwhelming. But with his know-how and my help — not to mention being organized and having everything we needed on hand — we’d knocked it out in less than five hours.

Wiring the First Circuit

While I was away, the light fixtures I’d ordered for my living room about two months before finally arrived. The six boxes were stacked neatly by my drywall guys in my shop area.

The living room light circuit was one of the easiest to do. There were only the six fixtures on it. I’d run the circuit with 14/3 Romex with the idea of having two separate switches. I wasn’t sure if I wanted each switch to operate every other light or if I wanted one to do the north side of the room and the other to do the south. The benefit of using 14/3 wire (instead of 14/2) is that I could make just one run, from fixture to fixture, rather then two separate runs, each of which went directly to the lights I wanted connected to each switch. I could decide now which lights would be controlled by each switch but could easily change it later if I wanted to.

I decided to run the first three lights on one switch and the last three on the other. So the red wire brought power to the last three fixtures on the run and the black wire brought power to the first three fixtures on the run. I wish I had a decent drawing app to show how it was done. It’s actually quite interesting — if things like this interest you. (Which they might if you’ve read this far.)

It was getting dark, so I started by running an extension cord up the stairs and plugging in my portable shop lamp. I put it high up on my scaffold, which had been parked in my office area. I also brought up my radio and old iPod. I figured I’d be doing a lot of work upstairs in the coming weeks and some music of podcasts would be nice to listen to. Then I brought up all my electrical tools, the boxes of light fixtures, and a step stool. I put on some music and got to work.

First Installed Fixture
Here’s the first fixture I installed. Each fixture sits between and slightly above a window. The idea was to provide light high enough that it wouldn’t shine into your face when you looked out the window.

The light fixtures I bought were rather ornate. They’re sconces, each of which has a metal twig sculpture that holds a colored glass shade. Installing them was a remarkably easy multiple-step process:

  1. Use a yellow wire nut to fasten together the two unused power lines (in and out, red or black, depending on the fixture’s location) to allow power to continue down the circuit.
  2. Adjust the length of the central post in the metal base.
  3. Screw the metal base into the blue fixture box.
  4. Attach the ground wire from the fixture to the metal base.
  5. Use a provided wire nut to fasten together the grounding wires.
  6. Use a provided wire nut to fasten the fixture’s white wire to circuit’s white wires.
  7. Use a provided wire nut to fasten the fixture’s black wire to the circuit’s power wire (black or red, depending on the fixture’s location).
  8. Use the decorate nut to fasten the fixture to the metal base on the wall.
  9. Set the glass shade into place.
  10. Use a level to adjust the angle of the fixture and shade.

It went pretty smoothly. If I hadn’t stripped two screws for attaching the metal base to the blue box, I probably would have finished at least 30 minutes sooner. I took a break for dinner after the first two fixtures, still not sure whether I’d get it done that night.

In hindsight, I wish I’d taken some progress pictures. But I think I was too excited about getting it done that night. I was driven. I wanted to have the whole thing done at night so I could light them and see exactly how much light they cast so I worked as quickly as I could.

When the last fixture was installed, the only thing left to do was wire the switches. These switches would be at the top of the stairs in a box that held switches for three different circuits. I pulled out the mess of wires that, like the ones in the blue fixture boxes, were covered with paint overspray. I sorted out the ones I needed for my circuit and made the necessary pigtails for the black and white wires.

Switches
The two center light switches in this box will control the six living room lights.

Then my brain shut down. I knew how to do it, but they way I thought it needed to be done didn’t seem right. I didn’t want to bother Tom — especially after I’d texted him earlier, assuring him I knew how to wire the switches. So I grabbed my electrical how-to book, opened it to the page with the wiring diagram that applied, and studied it for a moment. Yes, I did know how to do it. I closed the book, went back upstairs, and finished wiring the switches.

Light Bulbs
Amazingly, I had lightbulbs.

But did I have lightbulbs? I did! I think I’d picked up a box at Home Depot or Costco not long after ordering the fixtures. I found them in my shop, exactly where they belong. I wasted no time twisting them in.

Then I texted Tom:

I’m flicking the switch. If you don’t hear back from me in 2 minutes, I got it very wrong.

After all, if I electrocuted myself, it might be a good idea for someone to collect my smoldering remains before the drywall guys came in the morning.

I went downstairs, consulted my master sheet of circuits, and determined I’d wired circuit 15. I counted down the board three times to make sure I’d flick the right switch. Then I flicked it. No smoke, no fire. So far, so good.

I went back upstairs and flicked the first switch. The first three lights went on. I flicked the second switch. The other three lights went on. No explosions, no fire. It worked.

I texted a photo to Tom. He congratulated me and I responded that I couldn’t have done it without his help.

I turned off the shop light. The room was fully illuminated by the six lights. At first, I was a bit disappointed by the amount of light each fixture cast. But as the bulbs “warmed up,” the light brightened.

Six Lights Pano
Here’s an iPhone pano shot of all six lights in my living room. There are two on each wall.

Lighted Light
The lights even look good when they’re turned on. In this shot, you can also see the reflection in the window of another light on the other side of the room.

I’d used the equivalent of 60 watt bulbs. The fixtures can support up to 100 watts. But I like the gentle light they cast. Not only can you see the fixtures when you look right at them, but the light is mellow enough that you can still see the city lights out the window, even when sitting away from the window. The light doesn’t overpower the room and make everything outside look black. I like that.

Milestone Achieved

Once again, I can’t describe the amazing feeling of accomplishment I get every time I knock off a little part of my construction project. To me, this is yet another milestone — the first circuit in my living space completed. The ball is back in my court and it’s all coming together quickly now.

Later today, I’ll wire some of the outlets upstairs so I can get rid of the extension cord on the stairs. And, as the days go by, I’ll wire one circuit after another, flicking each one on to test it before the final electrical inspection. Before long, my electrical work will be behind me and I’ll be on to other tasks.

This evening, I’ll fill my freshly painted and lighted space with friends and the smell of smoked ribs and the sound of music and laughter. Another milestone achieved, another celebration with friends.

The Little Prince

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A classic children’s book full of ageless wisdom.

The Little PrinceYesterday, I read The Little Prince a novella by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. According to Wikipedia,

The novella is both the most-read and most-translated book in the French language, and was voted the best book of the 20th century in France. Translated into more than 250 languages and dialects (as well as braille), selling nearly two million copies annually with sales totaling over 140 million copies worldwide, it has become one of the best-selling books ever published.

Odd that I should live 53 years before managing to squeeze such a famous 98-page read into my busy schedule.

On the surface, this children’s book, which includes simple watercolor illustrations by the author, tells the story of an aviator who has crash-landed in the Sahara Desert. He’s working hard to repair his plane when he meets a small prince who has travelled to earth (and a few other places) from a tiny asteroid. What follows are stories from the little prince’s travels, each of which has an important message that isn’t just for children.

The Fox

Chapter XXI made the biggest impact on me. In that Chapter, the little prince meets a fox who explains to him, in the course of their conversation, the meaning of the word tame:

“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. “It means to establish ties.”

“‘To establish ties’?”

“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…”

Later, the fox adds:

“My life is very monotonous,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…”

Can you think of a more beautiful way to describe the bond between two people who have come to love and depend upon each other?

There’s more to the story than that, but I’ll let you discover it on your own. I’ll just say this: the end of the story of the fox made me cry when I read it yesterday and it made me cry again today. There’s so much truth in the words. I’m filled with sadness at the knowledge that so few people understand this simple wisdom and how it applies in their lives.

You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.

Matters of Consequence

Underlying most of the book is the idea of what’s really important in life. Saint-Exupéry refers to this as “matters of consequence.”

In the little prince’s travels, he meets a businessman who is busy counting and doing sums. He’s too busy to relight his cigarette and almost too busy to answer the prince’s questions between counting and adding. He tells the prince that he can’t stop, that he has so much to do, that he is concerned with matters of consequence. Those matters turn out to be counting the stars, which he has claimed ownership of, despite the fact that he’s not even sure, at first, what they’re called. The prince has questions about this:

“And what good does it do you to own the stars?”

“It does me the good of making me rich.”

“And what good does it do you to be rich?”

“It makes it possible for me to buy more stars, if any are discovered.”

Later, the prince asks the man what he does with the stars.

“I administer them,” replied the businessman. “I count them and recount them. It is difficult. But I am a man who is naturally interested in matters of consequence.”

The little prince was still not satisfied.

“If I owned a silk scarf,” he said, “I could put it around my neck and take it away with me. If I owned a flower, I could pluck that flower and take it away with me. But you cannot pluck the stars from heaven…”

“No. But I can put them in the bank.”

It’s that what it’s all about for too many people? Slaving their life away in pursuit of the almighty dollar, neglecting what’s really important in life? All so they can accumulate what they believe is wealth and keep it safe from others?

Later, the little prince is angry with the pilot because the pilot has failed to answer a question the prince thinks is important. He sums up his meeting with the businessman and what it means to him:

“I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved any one. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says over and over, just like you: ‘I am busy with matters of consequence!’ And that makes him swell up with pride. But he is not a man — he is a mushroom!”

In my life, I’ve spent far too much time with mushrooms. Indeed, I think I was a mushroom for a time myself.

Read the Book

If you’re more interested in morals and philosophy than what’s on reality TV, celebrity gossip shows, or the business press, do yourself a favor and read the book.

Read it slowly and savor the lessons revealed in the little prince’s travels. I’m sure you’ll take away a lot more than what I’ve shared here — I know I did.

Hiking with the Dogs

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As strange as this may seem, I have more stamina than two young golden retrievers.

I’m dog sitting for some friends in Arizona. In my charge are two golden retrievers: 1-1/2 year old Birdie and 6 month old Don Don. Of course, Penny the Tiny Dog, my 6-1/2 pound chihuahua terrier mix, is also with me.

I’m a huge believer in off-leash walking. Why would anyone put their animal on a leash if it can safely run free without bothering others or endangering local wildlife? In the Arizona desert, that means choosing a path on just about any back country trail or dry wash. Since the house I’m staying at is on a huge dry wash and Don Don is next to impossible to get into the car, it made sense to simply walk from the back yard out into the desert and down the wash.

Desert Wash
Although it’s not the most scenic place for a hike, a “wash” — or flash flood runoff channel — is a fine place to let dogs run off-leash and do some fast-paced hiking.

Trip ComputerI’d done the walk last week when my friend Janet was in town with her dog. We’d walked about three miles — almost all the way into town and back. Today, I did almost the same walk alone with the dogs. Total trip was 2.58 miles in under an hour. My Gaia GPS trip computer shows the details. You can see the steady but gentle downhill walk and the climb back. Elevation change was only 74 feet — no big deal. You can also see where I rested along the way back.

I had three goals:

  • Get some exercise. I’ve been slacking off this week, not doing nearly as much walking as I should. I kept up a quick pace, aiming for 3.5 miles per hour moving average. (I achieved 3.2.)
  • Get some color back into my skin. For the first time since 2012, my skin has returned to the sickly white color it had when I spend most of my time indoors, often in a cavelike Phoenix condo. Fortunately, it was sunny — for the eighth consecutive day in a row — and in the 70s. I put on a tank top and shorts for maximum exposure and put my hair up in a high pony tail to prevent it from shading the back of my neck.
  • Get the retrievers tired. These dogs have a lot of energy to burn off. Getting them worn out would be a great way to ensure a peaceful afternoon.

The dogs were a funny group. Birdie pretty much stayed near me for most of the walk. Don Don wanted to explore, but because he’s still a puppy, he’s afraid to go out on his own. Penny is fearless and loves to explore, especially if there’s birds or rabbits to smell or chase. So Penny took the lead and Don Don sort of blundered after her. Once in a while, Birdie would explore with them — especially when she saw Don Don getting good sniff of something on the ground.

I kept walking as fast as I could on the sand. And it was sand — sometimes deep sand. Fortunately, the rain that fell here the week before last was sufficient enough to form a sort of crust on much of the wash surface. It was broken only by a week’s worth of 4WD traffic and the footprints of others. In addition to the tracks Janet and I had made with the dogs the previous week, I saw tracks from horses, deer, and dogs or coyotes. I kept to the hard, crusty sand as much as possible. It was easier to walk on and I was able to keep up that good pace I wanted.

As I walked, the dogs would disappear from view. Every once in a while, I’d call out, “Penny, Don Don, Birdie, Penny, let’s go.” One by one they’d come back into view — usually Birdie, then Don Don, and usually Penny. Penny was always last. She had far more important things to do than come when I called her to make an appearance. But she always came so I didn’t bother putting her on the leash I’d brought along in case I had to tie them up.

Penny did a lot of running under the low bushes and trees that grew in and along the wash. Don Don often tried to follow her but was simply too big.

It was warm with a nice breeze on the walk out. The sun was ahead of me, to my right. The temperature was perfect for my tank top. And although the sun felt strong, I didn’t feel as if I was getting burned. (And indeed, I did not get burned. My skin seems to remember the sun very well.)

We walked as far as a set of power lines strung across the wash. I turned around and started back, consulting the trip computer to see how far we’d gone: 1.25 miles. Perfect.

It was warmer on the way back. I was now walking with that gentle breeze, so I didn’t feel it. The sun was at my back left side. As I walked, I began working up a light sweat.

Penny the Tiny Desert Dog
Penny kept motoring along.

The dogs, in the meantime, were definitely tiring out. Well, the big dogs were, anyway — Penny kept her fast pace, never stopping once. The retrievers now stuck together. They’d walk a bit ahead of me, then drop down to the ground in the shade and look up at me as I passed as if asking me to take a break with them. I kept walking and they’d eventually get up, catch up, and repeat the same process. Birdie was panting hard and it was easy to see why — she has a very heavy coat of fur.

Tired Dogs
These were some seriously tired dogs after less than a mile and a half of walking.

I stopped twice along the way for a total of less than 6 minutes non-moving time. The second time was in the scant shade of a large mesquite tree. The two big dogs rested, panting hard, while Penny explored the underbrush. Then we were off again, more than halfway home.

We didn’t pass a soul, either in a vehicle or on foot, in either direction. The only other animals I saw were quail and rabbits, including a rather large jackrabbit.

Our Track
Here’s our track, presented by Gaia GPS on a hybrid topo/satellite map.

I admit I was glad when I found the spot we’d entered the wash 50 minutes before. I was hot and tired and a little worried about the two big dogs.

When we got inside, they went right to their water dishes. I had to coax them out of the nice cool house and into the backyard. Then I got them over to a hose, turned it on, and hosed them off a little. Birdie seemed to like not only getting hosed down but drinking out of the hose. Don Don wasn’t as enthusiastic but did let me get him a little wet. And Penny, of course, wanted nothing to do with it.

Back down at the guest house, I filled a big water dish for them and set it down outside my door. Birdie and Don Don stretched out in the shade while Penny and I went inside. Penny drank and finished her breakfast. I had some lunch.

Within an hour, all four of us were dozing.

God is love? Why am I not seeing that?

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And when will we ever have religious tolerance?

The other day, I read an article shared on Facebook by my friend Derek, an active member of the Skeptic community who is mostly known for his fight against the anti-vaccine movement. Although Derek has been sharing tons of articles about vaccines and the harm currently being done by the anti-vax movement these days — after all, measles is on the rise because of parents opting out of the MMR vaccine for their kids — this particular article was about the role of religion in child rearing. Titled “Godless Parents are Doing a Better Job,” it summarized information in an Los Angeles Times Op-Ed piece titled “How Secular Family Values Stack Up.” That, in turn, summarized the findings of several polls and studies.

Because so many people seem to think that atheists and non-believers in general — the so-called “nones” — are amoral and likely evil, it was good to see an article that confirmed my thoughts on the subject: that belief in a God has no bearing on a person’s morals. I shared the article on my Facebook timeline with the following description:

Takeaway quote: “Parents who raise their kids without religion are doing just fine, studies say, possibly even better. Overall, not believing in God seems to make people and their offspring more tolerant. Less racist. Less sexist. Enviro-friendly. And their kids care less about what’s cool, which—say it with me—only makes them cooler.” That last bit also makes them more practical and more likely to live within their means — something that has made a huge difference in my life and my ability to be and stay happy.

My post got a modest two “likes” and, more surprisingly, two “shares.” One of the shares was by my friend Barbara, who used the description:

An interesting article, sure to stir up lots of discussion. And I would love to know more about each individual study. For me, the take home is that a strong moral foundation, no matter what you call it, is the key to successful parenting.

Clearly, Barbara drew a similar conclusion to what I did, although she did hint at skepticism by saying she wanted to know more about the studies.

Sadly, Barbara’s Facebook friends weren’t quite as open-minded about the piece. Most of them latched on to the unfortunate lede of the article:

Hate to break it to you, Bible thumpers: Parents who raise their kids without religion are doing just fine, studies say, possibly even better.

Ouch. Apparently, believers don’t like the phrase “Bible thumpers.” Although the author was trying to be cute, all she (not he, as those who claimed to read the piece referred to her — I guess there are some men named Tracy, although their profile pics don’t usually show a woman holding a small child) managed to do was alienate anyone who dislikes that trite descriptor. I suspect that most stopped reading there, because their comments were more about the author’s bias than what came after that first sentence.

I see a lot of that. People who simply switch off their brains when they get to a word or phrase they don’t like. It makes it tough for writers to get what they want to say out if they have to worry about a choice of words offending a particular part of their audience.

(I suspect that the title of this post will have the same affect. How many people will comment without bothering to read it? Read the comments and figure it out for yourself.)

I attempted to comment about this from the point of view of a non-believer:

I agree totally with Barbara when she says that a strong moral foundation is necessary. But I do not believe that God or any religion is necessary for that moral foundation.

This particular website tends to present articles with a very definite slant — likely to fire up emotions and get hits — but if the conclusions presented here are backed up by real studies, the presentation tone is beside the point.

I also do not see how she is singling out Christians in any way. And doesn’t really make a difference that there are more people who believe in God than people who don’t? The “nones” are a growing segment of our society. When faced with the choice of a country run by politicians who want to insert religion instead of science in our schools, I’ll vote for a “none” any day.

I then took it a step farther:

As you’ve probably guessed from my comments, I am a non-believer. But I was raised as a Catholic including regular attendance at Sunday school until after Confirmation. Still, I don’t think I ever really believed that there was a higher power in control of the show down here on earth.

About those studies…

I’ve had time to do some searching. Here’s some reading material for those of you who think atheists are amoral. Educate yourself:

“Religion Doesn’t Make People More Moral, Study Finds,” livescience, September 2014.

“Atheists More Motivated by Compassion than the Faithful,” livescience, May 2014.

“Study Reveals Atheists Are MORE Compassionate And Generous Than Highly Religious People,” Addicting Info, May 2012

“Highly religious people are less motivated by compassion than are non-believers,” UC Berkeley Newscenter, April 2012.

“Atheists ‘just as ethical as churchgoers’,” The Telegraph, February 2010

Believers seem to think that without belief in a God to punish us for our “sins,” people will have no moral foundation for life. Studies have shown that this is not true. And no, unfortunately I cannot provide links to such studies at this moment. As a nonbeliever, I think it’s sad that people need to live in fear of punishment by God to simply do the right thing. I don’t need a list of Commandments to tell me what’s right or what’s wrong. It was not me, the atheist, who committed adultery – it was my believer husband who did so. It was not me, the atheist, who stole and misused funds given to me by people who trusted me – it was more than a few televangelists preaching the word of their God.

It’s the hypocrisy of believers — not all of them, I hope — that makes me angry. Yet I’m still very tolerant. As far as I’m concerned, people can believe whatever they want, as long as their beliefs do not harm others. Sadly, very few believers are tolerant of people like me who do not share their beliefs. Tell me: who’s on a higher moral ground?

I was ignored. The comments continued to revolve around the bias of the author, continuously referring to her as “he.” They were clearly made by people who had not bothered to read the entire piece or the piece it was based on. Instead, they took offense at “Bible thumper” and focused their angry comments on that.

Finally, I commented:

As usual, everyone misses the point.

And that’s when the attack turned on me. Someone said:

The point you’ve missed, Maria L, is that if you believe in God, it’s about love, not punishment.

It’s about love?

God is Love?

They Say God is LoveI remember “God is love” from Sunday school. In fact, it’s the only thing that sticks with me all these years later. I’d like to think that they tried to teach us more than that simple phrase, but, in all honesty, that’s all I remember. It’s almost as if it was pounded into our heads.

Heck, I don’t even remember any Bible stories being taught.

But even back then, “God is love” was meaningless to me. And as I sit here, I still can’t imagine what this is supposed to mean.

And if a belief in God is “about love,” then why do religious folks bring moral standards into the argument all the time? Why do they say atheists are amoral? Love and moral values are two different things.

Aren’t they?

Seems to me that the person who responded to my last comment was just regurgitating the same nonsense they pounded into our heads in Catholic Sunday school. It didn’t make sense to me then and it doesn’t make sense to me now.

In fact, given the history of the world, God seems to represent just the opposite: a reason to hate.

God and Hate

Try — if you can — to look objectively at the role of religion in current and past conflicts.

Nowadays, the big problem is terrorism by radicalized Muslims who believe that the world should be run according to strict adherence to Sharia Law. This set of laws is painfully outdated and ill-suited for today’s world. (Yes, that’s my opinion. Read the law objectively before you tell me you don’t agree.) Worse than that is the simple fact that since it is based on the Qur’an and Hadith — which have no bearing on non-Muslims — there’s no chance that it could ever be adopted by the entire world.

Yet there’s rampant hate, murder, and terrorist acts by these radicalized Muslims who claim that they are acting on the will of Allah — their name for God.

(Or is it a different God? I’ve never been able to figure that out.)

But it’s not just Muslims committing atrocities in the name of God. You don’t have to look back very far to see radicalized Christians bombing abortion clinics and killing doctors because of their beliefs. Heck, Wikipedia has a whole page dedicated to information about anti-abortion violence. Is this any different from Muslim terrorism?

And what about the Westboro Baptist Church‘s unsavory practice of picketing funerals — including the school children murdered at Sandy Hook Elementary School and those killed at the Boston Marathon bombing — to somehow protest gay rights. (Yeah, I don’t get the connection, either.)

You want some more information about Christians behaving badly? Check out Wikipedia’s Christian Terrorism page. (I didn’t even know there was such a thing until I started researching for this blog post.)

Hateful acts perpetrated in the name of God isn’t a recent thing, either. Look back in history and you’ll find the Salem Witch Trials, the Spanish Inquisition, and the Crusades. These are just three examples off the top of my head. I could spend all day searching for, reading about, and linking to other examples.

By why bother? I think I’ve made my point.

Non-Believers as Targets for Hate

I guess what bothers me most is how many people simply hate non-believers. I’m not sure why that is. If God is love, then surely that love should help believers tolerate the different viewpoints of others. After all, what is love?

Wikipedia defines love as:

Love is a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes that ranges from interpersonal affection (“I love my mother”) to pleasure (“I loved that meal”). It can refer to an emotion of a strong attraction and personal attachment. It can also be a virtue representing human kindness, compassion, and affection—”the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another”. It may also describe compassionate and affectionate actions towards other humans, one’s self or animals.

Yep, I added the emphasis.

If this is love and God is love then why are so many who claim to believe in God so full of hate?

Why can I, as a non-believer, have tolerance for religious belief systems when believers can’t have tolerance for mine?

Back to the Study Results

The article I should have linked to, the one without the offensive “Bible banger” phrase, is the one in the LA Times. If you haven’t read it, go do it now. It’s short and I promise it won’t offend you, no matter what you believe (or don’t believe).

It presents some conclusions that I find both confirming and reassuring. Because I know that most of you won’t bother to read it, I’ve shared a bit of it here:

For secular people, morality is predicated on one simple principle: empathetic reciprocity, widely known as the Golden Rule. Treating other people as you would like to be treated. It is an ancient, universal ethical imperative. And it requires no supernatural beliefs. As one atheist mom who wanted to be identified only as Debbie told me: “The way we teach them what is right and what is wrong is by trying to instill a sense of empathy … how other people feel. You know, just trying to give them that sense of what it’s like to be on the other end of their actions. And I don’t see any need for God in that. …

“If your morality is all tied in with God,” she continued, “what if you at some point start to question the existence of God? Does that mean your moral sense suddenly crumbles? The way we are teaching our children … no matter what they choose to believe later in life, even if they become religious or whatever, they are still going to have that system.”

The results of such secular child-rearing are encouraging. Studies have found that secular teenagers are far less likely to care what the “cool kids” think, or express a need to fit in with them, than their religious peers. When these teens mature into “godless” adults, they exhibit less racism than their religious counterparts, according to a 2010 Duke University study. Many psychological studies show that secular grownups tend to be less vengeful, less nationalistic, less militaristic, less authoritarian and more tolerant, on average, than religious adults.

Aren’t those all good qualities we want in our children and adults?

And look, Ma, no God!

Comments

Go to it. I know you have something to say.

I suspect this post will make the rounds of the religious websites, which will use it to show how evil atheists are. Whatever. It’s the same old, same old to me. I’ll just let those comments stand as they come in. I’m sure a good percentage of them will reinforce the truth of what I’ve written here.

I could remind commenters to read the entire post before commenting but most people can’t be bothered. The kinds of commenters who have nasty, hateful things to say don’t have time to actually read what they’re commenting on. They have lots of other sites to visit to spread their hate. It’s more efficient for them to zero in on a post title or sentence or phrase and comment on that.

But I also welcome comments by others who agree with what I’ve said — especially from those who can help me understand why this problem exists and what we can do about it — without pretending to believe something we don’t.