Christmas at Howard Mesa – Part I

I was dreaming of a white Christmas.

On the Friday before Christmas, Mike and I loaded up the truck with a bunch of things, including some furniture, food, tools, Jack the Dog, and Alex the Bird. At about 9 AM, we headed north, to our property at Howard Mesa.

In Wickenburg, it was raining. It was the first time there had been enough rain there to actually get your skin wet for at least a month. Part of me wanted to stay behind and enjoy the weather. But the other part of me knew that it was likely to clear up in an hour or two and I’d just be disappointed. We don’t get many good rainy days in the desert and Friday was not going to be one of them.

Our path took us up Route 93 to Route 89, through Congress and up Yarnell Hill. We stopped at the Cornerstone Bakery for some fresh baked goods to munch on in the car and enjoy on Saturday morning for breakfast. It was a freezing rain there, but nice and toasty in the bakery, which was filled with the usual collection of locals.

Back on the road, we took 89 through Peeples Valley, turned toward Kirkland at Kirkland Junction, got on Iron Springs Road in Kirkland, and followed that to the first traffic light in Prescott. Then Williamson Valley Road to the Pioneer Parkway to Willow Springs Road to 89A. In Chino Valley, we stopped at Safeway, where Mike filled the truck with diesel and I hurried through the store to get veggies and a few last-minute food items. By this time it was snowing pretty hard, with just enough wind to blow the flakes at about a 30° angle to the ground.

Back in the truck, we followed 89A to Ash Fork, where we got on I-40 eastbound. The snow was sticking up there, coating the road with a thin layer of snowy ice. Trucks and cars were taking it easy, preferring a self-mandated speed limit of 35 or 45 MPH rather than the legal 75 MPH limit. It was slow going, but I’m sure it was better that way. Alongside the road, a light dusting of snow covered fields and trees. It looked more like Christmas than it has in a long while for me.

At the exit for the Grand Canyon (the third exit, the one that’s really for the Grand Canyon), we got off and followed Route 64 northbound. There was a lot of snow on the ground there but very few vehicles. Still, we both felt relieved when we reached the turn for Howard Mesa and began our last five miles of the trip. 20 minutes later, we were pulling through our gate while the snow swirled around us.

The entire drive, including the two short stops, had taken about 4 hours.

Inside our camping shed, the temperature was hovering around 35°F — which was pretty much the same temperature as outside. Mike turned on the gas and I struggled a bit to get the heater turned on. He unloaded the car while I turned on the fridge and started putting things away. Jack the Dog immediately got to work terrorizing whatever small rodents had made homes in the fire pit outside. Alex hung out in the truck where it was warmer. He didn’t come in until the temperature had risen to nearly 50°.

My first main task was to clean up after our unwanted lodgers — the mice. The shed has a mouse problem that we’ve tried everything to solve. The last time we were there, we’d gotten desperate enough to leave poison around. I had to scoop up what remained of it (only one of four pieces) before Jack came in. Then I had to uncover the furniture and get the vacuum going to suck up the mouse droppings that seemed to be just about everywhere. I used a lot of disinfectant cleaner on the floor and countertops. I took my time about it — there really wasn’t any reason to rush; I had all day. I had my iPod sitting in the iHome base, playing Christmas songs. Within two hours, I was pretty much done.

In the meantime, Mike was working in the bathroom on the plumbing. On our last brief visit (by helicopter during snow showers), we had discovered that most of the pipes had frozen and cracked. Mike had brought along pipes and connectors and tools to replace the broken pipes with new ones. The job required that he cut away one wall to access the pipes and do a lot of disconnecting. There was no running water in the shed and wouldn’t be until the pipes were repaired. Even the 5-gallon water cooler jug was mostly frozen; I had to light a candle under its spigot to get the water to flow.

I made us a hot lunch of canned chili with scallions and cheese, then washed up using water I boiled on the stovetop. It reminded me of the old days at Howard Mesa, when we’d camped out in our pop-up camper. That camper was wonderful on warm summer nights, but it lacked basic conveniences, such as a refrigerator or toilet. We’d use the tiny two-burner stove to heat water in the morning for coffee and washing up. During the day, we’d use those solar shower bags to heat water for showering and washing dishes. (They really do work in Arizona; we once had the temperature of the water in one of those bags up to 110°F — too hot to shower in!)

After lunch, I went on mouse cleanup duty on the shed’s little loft, which is where we sleep when we camp there. I discovered a place where they might be getting in; I’ll work on closing it up this weekend. Outside, the snow was still falling lightly. Everything was covered with a dusting of it. Jack the Dog was still hard at work at the fire pit, with the fur on the lower half of his body soaking wet. Oddly enough, it wasn’t windy, even though the weather forecast had called for wind gusts up to 28 MPH. A low cloud hung over the mesa, cutting our view to only a few miles.

Before the end of the day, Mike had finished replacing all the cold water lines. He connected the hose from one of our water tanks to the shed’s water line, turned on the pump, and pressurized the system. That’s when he saw the cracks in the hot water lines. We turned off the pump and disconnected the hose, then let any water in the lines run out.

The sun went down and it got dark. We brought Jack in. I made leftovers from home for dinner. The heater, which had been set to 85°F, had gotten the temperature in the shed up to a high of 64°. It didn’t seem that cold. We settled down on the sofa with my 15″ MacBook Pro on a folding table in front of us. I popped in a DVD from the first season of 24. We watched two episodes. We’d heard a lot about the show but had never actually seen it. So I’d added it to my Netflix queue (along with the second season of Boston Legal) and we were checking it out for the first time. Not bad. I can’t imagine watching it with commercials, though.

I slept badly. It’s the stupid hot/cold/hot/cold middle-aged woman thing, combined with the sounds of sleeping someplace different. It was pretty quiet when we first got to sleep, but at about 3 AM, the wind finally kicked up, blowing from the west right at the loft’s only window. I’d left the window open a crack — I’m always worried about asphyxiation in a closed space with a gas appliance running — and Mike had to close it. Sometime during the early morning hours, the wind shifted around to the northeast, which is the back side of the shed. It wasn’t blowing hard enough to shake the building, as it sometimes does. Just loud enough to hear it rushing past in the piñon and juniper pines scattered over our 40 acres. The sky had cleared and there were billions of stars out.

In the morning, the temperature in the shed was 43&degF with the outside temperature 28&deg. This was a problem. The heater was turned up, still set on 85°. As we moved around, making coffee and tea, washing up with water heated on the stove, we started finding drafty places. Around each window. Where the water heater sits against the outside wall. Around the edges of the door. I got my assignment for the day: caulk.

Mike decided he needed something from the hardware store to keep working, so we made a trip down to Williams, AZ. The town was remarkably busy for the time of year. I think it’s because the Grand Canyon Rail Road is doing a special “Polar Express” to the Grand Canyon each day and that’s attracting a lot of families. The town also sets up a real Christmas tree on side street off Route 66 and blocks off the street so visitors can walk around it. Nice.

We took care of business in the True Value hardware store, buying about $90 worth of stuff that included a new front door mat and weather stripping. Then we hit Safeway for a few things, stopping at the Starbucks counter on the way out for mocha lattes.

By the time we got back to the mesa, before lunchtime, a lot of the snow had melted. Mike got back to work and Jack continued his vigil at the fire pit. Sometime during the day, he started barking at something — we looked out the window in time to see an antelope hopping away across the road. One of the open range cows also came by, but since we’d kept the gate closed, she didn’t get into our property. (Cows have done a lot of damage at our friends’ place on the other side of the mesa, making us very glad we fenced in our entire lot years ago.)

Soup and sandwiches for lunch. The shed temperature was in the low 60s while it remained in the 30s outside.

I went through a whole tube of caulk on the windows. The shed was built with window frames that they’d stuck standard sized windows into. Unfortunately, the frames were about 1/2 inch too wide and tall for the windows, leaving a gap on at least two sides. They’d finished the outside of the windows with trim, closing up the gaps a bit, but they were still drafty. And one window leaked. I’d fixed the leaky window during the summer but had never thought that the gaps might cause drafts in the window. So I went to work with the caulk gun, which I’m actually pretty good at using. I ran out of caulk before I’d finished all of the windows, but I’d closed up the worst of the gaps.

Mike, as part of his pipe insulation procedure, had sealed up around the water heater with Fiberglas and foam insulation. I used garage door weather striping around the front door. The door was made to fit the shed and it doesn’t fit quite right. You can see light through the cracks around the door. Even with the thick rubbery weather striping, you can still see light in a few places. But it’s a lot better than it was.

Mike finished up all the piping by sunset. Hooked up the water again, ran the pump, and pressurized the system. No leaks. He turned on the water heater. I washed dishes from lunch. He cleaned up. Then he was ready for a shower.

Unfortunately, he’d waited too long. The outside temperature had dropped and the hose, which had never fully defrosted from the night before, had thickened up with ice. The pump was unable to bring in enough water. His shower was very short-lived. He stepped out, cranky and miserable. I was just glad I’d let him go first.

Getting water from the tanks to our camping equipment had always been a problem in cold weather. In the spring of 2004, I’d moved up to Howard Mesa in our horse trailer with living quarters, which also had a pump to get water from the tanks to the inside plumbing. Unfortunately, during the night the hose would freeze and the pump would try in vain to get the water out. That would run down the trailer’s battery and burn up the pump. So I had to turn off the pump each night and use the trailer’s internal water storage system for water. Not a big deal. Once every few days, I’d fill the internal tank so there was always water there when I needed it.

But here at the shed, we don’t have internal water storage. All the water has to come from one of the big tanks. The closest one is about 40 feet away. Because this is not a permanent setup, we didn’t dig a trench and put in a pipe. We use a hose. And the hose freezes every night, even though we do our best to drain the water out of it.

At least it hasn’t cracked yet.

Anyway, we spent Saturday night much the same way as Friday night. A nice hot dinner and two episodes of 24 on my MacBook Pro’s wide screen. The shed was much warmer — it had gotten up to 71°F by late afternoon. I slept well, waking about an hour before dawn. Outside, the moonless sky was bright with stars.

This morning, the inside temperature was 57°; outside it was 31°. I like to think it was my excellent caulking and weather striping that kept the shed reasonably warm overnight.

Today, Christmas Eve, I’ll finish cleaning up the shed — didn’t get much done in the bathroom with Mike making such a mess in there. Then we’ll put up the Christmas lights. Later, when it gets warmer, we’ll go for a walk around our fence line, making repairs and looking for castoff elk antlers as we go. It’s beautifully clear outside — I can see for at least 50 miles in every direction — and, as I write this at 10 AM, its already nearly 40°. It’ll be nice to get out. And I’m sure Jack the Dog is looking forward to a good run. He’s been going nuts every time the coyotes start howling nearby.

This afternoon, after a nice hot shower (got my fingers crossed), we’re going up to the Grand Canyon to meet some friends for dinner at El Tovar. Then dessert at our friends’ house on the other side of the mesa.

I’m looking forward to driving back to our place tonight, to seeing those red Christmas lights all alone in the middle of nowhere.

[composed on top of a mesa in the middle of nowhere with ecto]

Gift Giving

Buying the right gift.

I stumbled upon an article in Slate Magazine titled “The Sovereign vs. the Idiot: What kind of gift-giver are you?” by Joel Waldfogel. Its lead paragraph includes the following factoid:

Most of the time, people choose purchases for themselves and only buy things that they expect to value at or above the price they pay. With gifts, by contrast, recipients end up with items that givers guess that the recipients might appreciate.

The result of all this, according to the article, is that we often pay more than we should for items that may or may not be appreciated by the recipients. In other words, we don’t get as much satisfaction for our money. The article, which is about the economics of gift giving goes into more details.

The article brings me back to the days when Christmas shopping was a chore that required multiple trips to department stores and malls for gifts that would allow me to check off names on a list. In those days, the main concern was the people on the list, my budget, and what each recipient might like. Not would like, mind you. Might like. In those days, it seemed more important to check off the names than to get a truly appropriate and appreciated gift. I bought a lot of crap from those department store displays — you know, the rotating tie racks, the scarf and glove sets, the gift-packaged cologne. Easy gifts chosen by the store’s marketing department rather than the giver, generic gifts of the one-size-fits-all variety.

I was younger then. Not busier, but younger and less wise. Since then, I’ve realized that gift giving is more than just checking off names on a list. It’s finding the right gift for each person.

In my family, we cheat. In late November, we e-mail each other a list of items we’d like to get. Sometimes we include links to the items online. This is even easier if we maintain an Amazon.com wish list (as I do) or some other gift registry. Then we discuss it with each other to make sure there are no duplicates and shop online.

For example, suppose my sister in law had a wish list at the Gap that included 5 different items. I’d go check out her wish list and see that my budget allowed me to buy her two of them. (I always pick the ones that I like, too.) I’d then e-mail my sister and mother and tell them which items I was buying so neither of them would buy the same thing. They might each buy something else on the Gap list or perhaps something from another list. As a result, my sister in law would get exactly what she wanted with no duplicates.

It goes the same way with big gifts. Suppose my brother wanted some heavy-duty power tool. The price tag might be beyond what I’d normally spend, but if my sister chipped in, we could get it together. He’d get exactly what he wanted and my sister and I would both be done shopping for him within minutes.

In my case, Christmas shopping has become very easy. Not only do I buy just about all my gifts online these days, but I have them shipped right to the recipient. In the case of family members this year, they’re shipped right to the place the recipients will be — at my mother’s house. (She has already confirmed receipt of two of the three packages that will arrive.) If I was there, I’d take them from their shipping boxes and wrap them. But since I’m not, the shipping boxes become the wrapping. True, it’s not as attractive, but no one seems to mind. The only thing I miss is seeing the recipient’s faces as they pull out the gifts they really wanted.

I actually give gifts year-round. Not every day or week, mind you. Just occasionally. You know how it is. You go on vacation and see a shirt that’s perfect for a friend. There’s no reason for a gift, but the match is so good you can’t resist. So you buy it and bring it to your friend. I did this after my Thanksgiving trip. We’d been to a place called “Stan’s” and they sold t-shirts that said, in big letters, “If found, return to Stan’s” on the back of the shirt. I have a friend named Stan and I thought he’d get a kick out of it. So we bought it and gave it to him. I have another friend that we tease with SpongeBob SquarePants items. Every time I see something cool (but small; he lives in a fifth wheel), we pick it up for him. Gifts like these are seldom expensive, but they’re usually a good (or at least fun) match for the recipient. I get more pleasure out of giving these random gifts than Christmas or birthday gifts. I think it’s because it’s unexpected by the recipient and it makes them feel just a tiny bit special to be thought of for no apparent reason.

And isn’t that what gift giving is about? Making the recipient feel as if you’ve been thinking about him/her and what he/she might like?

Mac Cowboys

Maria Speaks Episode 30: Mac Cowboys.

Join me and a bunch of other Mac geeks for a dude ranch mini-vacation.

Transcript:

Welcome to WickenburgA few months ago, I started thinking about how cool it would be to have a computer conference here in Wickenburg, at my favorite guest ranch: Rancho de los Caballeros. Los Caballeros is not only the nicest dude ranch in this Dude Ranch Capital of Arizona, but it has the most interesting activities and the absolute best restaurant.

The idea was to invite a bunch of authors and let each of them do three or four sessions over a five-day period. The sessions would be in the morning and there would be all kinds of activities in the afternoon, like horseback riding, golf, shopping trips into town, Jeep tours, and, of course, helicopter rides. The people who came would have a lot of fun, learn a lot, and have a great opportunity to network with other Mac users. For some people, it could even be considered a business trip. Best of all, I could introduce people to Wickenburg, the little town I live in and often blog about.

The event would be called Mac Cowboys because of the western dude ranch theme.

Now in case you don’t know, I’m a busy person. It took me nearly forever to talk to the ranch people and crunch the numbers to see what the trip would cost. It looked feasible, so I set a date in early December, before the busy Christmas holidays. Then I got a list of possible author/speakers from one of my editors at Peachpit and invited them to attend.

I guess everyone is just as busy as I am. None of them could attend. I hope that it’s nothing I should be taking personally.

Desert SceneSo rather than give up the whole thing, I decided to restructure the event. I shortened it from five days to four. I cut the speakers from five to one. I cut the sessions from 12 to just two and made them more discussion based, giving all the participants a chance to share what they knew and ask everyone questions. I arranged the activities so all participants could go together, giving everyone an opportunity to network like crazy outside the meeting rooms. Then, with greatly reduced costs, I recalculated the per-person cost. The numbers I came up with were certainly within reason for a 4-day, all inclusive weekend at a luxury dude ranch.

Now I’m taking it public, offering it to the readers of my blog, podcast listeners, and the folks who buy Mac books from Peachpit Press.

Please understand that this isn’t a typical computer conference.

For a moment, think of the last computer conference you attended. You know, the one in the big conference hall with thousands of attendees shuffling around a show floor with shopping bags. The one with overcrowded dark classrooms with bad sound systems and speakers telling you more about whatever it is they’re trying to sell than something you really want to learn about. The one where you paid to get into the conference hall, you paid to sit through seminars, you paid to stay in a hotel, and you paid to eat disappointing meals. The one with uncomfortable free shuttles or long walks from your hotel to the conference hall. The one where your only entertainment were demos on the show floor or sad vendor parties with bad food and expensive alcohol.

Now wipe those ugly thoughts right from your mind.

Wickenburg SunsetMac Cowboys is a mini-vacation first: a four-day, three-night stay with luxury accommodations at a ranch that can only accommodate about a hundred and fifty people at once. You get yourself to Phoenix Sky Harbor airport or Wickenburg and just about everything else is paid for — ground transportation to and from the ranch, hotel room, three meals a day, horseback riding, golf, Jeep tour, helicopter tour, swimming, tennis, nature hikes — all kinds of activities. There’s even free wi-fi access in certain hotspots throughout the ranch. All you pay for is alcoholic beverages and extras like skeet shooting or golf cart or club rental.

I’ve set aside three short hours a day on the two middle days for official business stuff: a pair of conference sessions where you can learn more about using your Mac. One session covers Mac OS X topics. The other covers Web publishing topics. And there will be plenty of informal sessions among participants to pick brains and get burning questions answered.

And if you’re wondering what December is like in Wickenburg, AZ, imagine 60° to 70° F sunny days — often without a cloud in the sky. Weather won’t keep you inside during the day. Sure, at night it gets cold, but it also gets dark. And you have to rest sometime.

Sound good? I think so — and I do this stuff all the time.

This first Mac Cowboys event, which is scheduled for December 7th through 10th, 2006, is a test of my idea. If it works out on this small scale, it should work out on a larger scale with more speakers and more guests. If it ever outgrows Los Cab or I feel like trying someplace new, I can take it on the road to another ranch. I’d like to do it once or twice a year, just to keep life interesting.

So consider this your formal invitation. Come on out to Wickenburg and be a Mac Cowboy for a few days.

Want more information? Check out the Mac Cowboys Web site at maccowboys.com.

AmazonConnect

I officially become an AmazonConnect Author.

If you regularly read these blogs, you may recall my rant against Amazon.com a few months ago. I was POed because Amazon offers free “Super Saver” shipping but, when you choose it, they delay your order. In my case, they tried to delay it for two months. Then, when I complained, they sent half my order and never sent the rest. The incident convinced me to switch to BN.com for my book buying needs. Their free shipping orders are shipped promptly and in full.

Unfortunately (or in some cases, fortunately), BN.com’s Web site lacks many of the features of Amazon.com.

Unfortunately, it lacks a decent Wish list feature. On BN.com, your wish list is yours alone and can’t be shared with others. How idiotic is that? My Amazon.com Wish List, however, can be shared with a link on a Web page or by e-mail. What better way to ensure that I get what I want for Christmas or my birthday each year?

Fortunately, BN.com lacks all the marketing junk that Amazon.com is constantly throwing at shoppers. I’m talking about recommendations, member lists, “the page you made,” and “also bought” lists. Sheesh. When are those guys going to give it up already? What really irks me is how often I connect and get a recommendation for a book that directly competes with one of mine.

The other day, I logged in to look up the availability of a book I heard about on NPR. Amazon recognized me immediately from one of the cookies it had stored in my computer. And it displayed what it calls a “plog” with a series of blog posts from a woman I’d never heard of. Turns out, this woman is an author and she evidently wrote a book that Amazon.com thinks I bought. (I don’t recall buying the book; it’s about new age healing and I don’t believe in most of that stuff.) The blog entries were of a “here’s what’s new” and “here’s how you can learn more about my books” nature — marketing through and through. I found the link sequence to make them go away.

There was also a link on my page that invited me to be one of the blogging authors. I guess they matched my name with names in their book database. (Enough to recognize me as an author, but not enough to stop recommending competing books. Oh, well.) I followed a bunch of links and got myself registered as an author with my own AmazonConnect blog.

i’m not sure how this works. It seems to me that if I write a blog entry, it might appear on pages for everyone who has purchased one of my books. Now although Amazon.com lists 68 titles for me, I only claimed about 10 as mine — no sense doing virtual paperwork for out-of-print titles. So I think that if you bought one of those 10 books and connected to your Amazon.com account, you might just see a blog entry from me.

Anyone out there qualified to try this? If you bought one of my books on Amazon.com, do try logging in to see if they push some of my prose at you. Then report back here, please, and use the Comments link to let us know.

Now this means I need to contribute to yet another blog. Just when I thought that I’d combine a bunch of my sites to reduce my blogging workload, there’s another blog to write for. But don’t worry — I won’t write nearly as much or as often there as I do here. And I won’t fill it with marketing bull.

There’s enough of that on Amazon without me adding to it.

Dana’s Last Flight

I take a passenger on his last journey.

It all started months ago. Dana had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. He called, wanting to join a flight up the Hassayampa River so he could tell me where he wanted his ashes scattered. Talk about planning ahead.

His friend Joe had gotten a custom half-hour tour for Christmas. Joe and his wife invited Dana to take the third passenger seat in the helicopter for the flight. When they arrived at the airport, I was very surprised. Dana didn’t look good. He was having trouble walking and had become bloated from the treatments he was going through. But he was alert and eager to go on the flight. He sat behind Joe in the left passenger seat. Joe snapped photos for the book he was co-authoring with Dana.

When we got near Seal Peak, Dana pointed it out. “I want to be scattered on the side closer to the Hassayampa River,” he told us. “So my ashes get washed into the river.”

I assured him I’d make sure it was done to his request. He wanted to know how much it would cost and did some math. He said he’d have the money set aside in his estate.

Oddly enough, I didn’t feel uncomfortable about it at all. I felt kind of good. I was getting final instructions — emphasis on “final” — from a customer. There would be no guessing as to whether the place we’d drop his remains was right. I knew it would be right.

Dana got a little better, then took a turn for the worse. His caregiver called me one day. She told me he talked all the time about his helicopter flight. She said she wanted to take him for another one. We talked about money. I could tell my regular prices were a bit beyond her means. But Dana was a lifelong Wickenburg resident, one of the folks who had helped shaped the town. There was a street named after his father and a flat named after his mother. The town claimed they’d be naming one of the peaks near his home after him. Surely I could contribute something to his last days.

His two caregivers brought him to the airport at the appointed time. He didn’t look good at all. His caregiver had to practically lift him into the helicopter. But he sat up tall and seemed alert, even though he didn’t talk much. His two caregivers climbed into the back seats — it costs the same to fly one passenger as three.

A while later, we were airborne, back toward Seal Peak. He wanted to be sure that I knew where to scatter him and that he’d have enough money set aside to pay for it. From there, we flew up the Hassayampa. I asked him where the old dam had been, the one that had washed away in the 1880s and killed all those Chinese workers. He pointed it out. He also pointed out the place downstream where some of the dirt from the dam had washed up. I took him southeast, past the Sheep Mountain house. They all enjoyed the views of the lake. Then west, over Santa Domingo Wash, across Grand Avenue, and around Vulture Peak. We were flying past Rancho de los Caballeros on our way to the airport when the low fuel light flickered. Time to land.

We’d been out longer than I’d planned. But it was worth it. Dana really enjoyed the flight. And his two caregivers, who probably needed the break, enjoyed it, too.

Dana passed away about a week and a half ago. One of his caregivers called to give me the news. She also dropped off one of Dana and Joe’s books at the airport for me. It was about Constellation Road and it had a few of the pictures Joe had taken during that first flight.

There was a big write-up in the paper about Dana. I didn’t see it because I don’t read the local paper.

Joe called later in the week. We made arrangements for Friday. Dana’s brother and sister would be joining him. I explained how the ash scattering worked: we’d wrap Dana’s remains in tissue paper and toss it out over the designated scattering area.

Joe, John, and Sophie came in two cars. They were surprisingly cheerful. We went into the airport’s back room to prepare Dana’s ashes in their tissue paper wrapper. I used two sheets — I didn’t want any parts of Dana slipping out during the flight.

We took a little scenic flight over town and past Dana’s house. Then we headed toward Seal Peak. I started to climb. I wanted to be at least 700 feet over the peak so the ash package would open and scatter.

My passengers pointed out places of interest along the way. They were enjoying the flight.

I circled the peak. The wind was blowing hard from the southwest. Joe saw the spot he wanted to aim for, but when he dropped the package, the wind took it toward the river. He saw a puff of dust — a puff of Dana, in fact — before the paper disappeared from view. We headed back to the airport along Constellation Road, making a short detour to try to figure out which peak the town was naming after Dana.

On the ground, Dana’s brother asked what he owed me. I knew Dana had set aside some money for the flight. I told him that it was my honor to take Dana on his last ride. I told them that the three of them should go out and have a nice lunch on Dana and me.

When they invited me to join them, I had to turn them down. Too much writing work to do. But maybe another time.