Steve & Sandy Blog

For some reason, Sandy’s and my universe said 10 things had to happen over a few days:

On Friday, I attended the unveiling of a new memorial for U.S. Coast Guard aircrews who were lost on missions since Air Station San Francisco opened just before World War II. It was very nice. Then we took Sandy’s dad, Dr. Patel, to a Vietnamese restaurant Friday night. He is a new man, trying new foods and going out to restaurants. Lucy talked him into going to a Sushi place last week, and then convinced him to try raw fish. She can be very convincing!

Lucy and Spooky spent the night Saturday night. Spooky is in the US for a couple weeks from Hungary, and had just finished spending a week in the Arizona desert learning how to deal with life, the Native American way. She was great fun, but much too thin – apparently being a vegetarian in Hungary during the winter is not an easy task. Although we are not vegetarians in this house, we have enough experience with vegetarians to fill them up with yummy food.

Sunday went to downtown San Francisco and picked up Dr. Shah, his wife and son and brought back to house for dinner. They were visiting from Mumbai India for a conference at Moscone Center. He is the urologist who essentially saved Sandy’s dad a year and a half ago during his trip to Mumbai. Let’s just say Dr. Patel was very, very excited to host him for the few hours he had – even ensuring his flight arrived here a week early to look after every detail. They arrived a few days early and he made me call them every day to ensure they were doing okay and helping out where I could. The wife is vegetarian, and had found limited options to eat in San Francisco, so we packed her at least 5 days worth of food so she could survive through the rest of the urology conference.

Also on Sunday, which we had to miss, was Karla Bristow’s ordination as a minister in Monterey, a Cooking With Kids Foundation board meeting, and a barbecue of a close friend who recently moved back to the area.

Monday was the annual neighborhood block party – so there was plenty of food, wine and mojitos. Dr. Patel stayed at home – the excitement and stress of entertaining Dr. Shah caused his blood pressure to climb a bit, so he just spent the day relaxing.

With that weekend out of the way, we should be in pretty good shape for the rest of the summer.

Steve Hilferty

We’ve been thinking of you, too. We decided to not go anyplace for Christmas this year. For the past five years, taking advantage of the slowdown in Sandy’s real estate business that coincided with the holidays, we have gone to warm locales, which means traveling internationally. Sandy was super-busy through November, and was afraid too much would fall through the cracks if we left the country for a couple weeks.

However, we’ve both been working at a frenzied pace for months, and realized we needed to get away from Walnut Creek for ten days or so to relax. So at the last minute, we got ourselves invited to my cousin Hope/Sutton’s house for Christmas in Morgan Hill.

Arriving Christmas Eve, we kicked cousin Nina out of her recently completed in-law unit at Hope/Sutton’s. She and Parvati would bunk together. Parvati is the foreign exchange student from Nepal that Beth sponsored and who has been staying at Hope/Sutton’s since February.

Hope/Sutton put out a wonderful dinner of Italian lasagna and antipasto. Although she and 6 year old Payton were sick, both rallied for opening presents on Christmas Eve. Joe surprised us with a great Chia pet of Barack Obama. Barack’s hair will grow green if we water it.

In the morning, eight year old Phalen, woke us up, all excited that Santa had been there, eating the cookies and drinking the milk. We watched the astonished wonder as presents from Santa were opened, as only children can have. A close second was Parvati ’s delight with her first American Christmas. After breakfast it was off to Nina’s for more gift opening. For dinner, more family arrived, making it a fabulous family Christmas.

The following afternoon, on Boxing Day, we hit the road and traveled further south on Highway 1, planning to make our way toward Santa Barbara – hoping for a little warmer, drier weather. We planned to find a cute town with a nice Bed & Breakfast where we could comfortably relax for a few days. After all, that’s what we’ve done for years in all the other countries we’ve visited. We even had a shiny new Blackberry Storm2 with easy Internet access to help us.

On the first day, we had trouble finding any place to stay, which should have been a warning to us. We expected it to be a slow time around Christmas, but many B&Bs were full, probably due to more Staycationers remaining local.

Finally, in a dumpy town, we did locate a nice place that actually was a two room suite. That was fortunate, because at 9 PM Steve had an intense upper and lower gastrointestinal attack – not a pleasant thing to be around in a cramped room.

The following day, while Steve slowly recovered, Sandy drove and tried to find another place to stay. After several hours, we finally found a place next to a highway that was adequate as long as we slept with earplugs. Fortunately, we found a German restaurant with Jager Schnitzel and potato pancakes for dinner. Sandy had never eaten at a German restaurant before, and thought the potato pancakes were the best she’d ever had. Now she’s ready to visit my brother Heidelberg!

The next afternoon we finally located the only “room at the inn” (get it?) in Cambria, a delightful coast town near the Hearst Castle. One of the guests was leaving early, so we had a room! We walked around town, had a nice lunch and dinner in the rain, then went back to the expensive, cramped room to relax. The next morning, rather than driving around aimlessly looking for a better, cheaper place, we asked about availability for another night but found it was booked for the rest of the week.

That was it for us. Instead of a relaxing week, we had stressed most of the time trying to find any place for the night, even ones next to a highway. So we hoofed it back home.

Yesterday, we lounged around in our PJs, catching up on phone calls and the 300 emails we each had. We relaxed like we had hoped to do at the B&B we couldn’t find. Of course, if we hadn’t had the misadventure, we wouldn’t appreciate how good we have it at home. It needed to be put back into perspective.

Tonight, New Year’s Eve, we’ll be celebrating in style, in bed trying to stay awake long enough to watch the ball drop – but suspect it will happen while we sleep.

Happy 2010 !!!
May it be happy and prosperous for you and yours.

–
Steven Hilferty

Reflections on the Roost, 2008

Checking in at the Roost Hospitality Suite, 30 years after receiving my wings, a young helicopter pilot watched as I wrote my Coast Guard Aviator number on the roster.

“Number 1781. Wow!”

I hoped that the awe in his voice was imagining the rescues I had made, but he could also be surprised that I didn’t need a walker, yet.

I asked what his number was: 3951. Maybe I am as old as my gray hair indicates, since my number is closer to Elmer Stone’s than to this new aviator’s.

It was with some trepidation that I had originally signed up for the Roost. My post-Coast Guard career is going great, but while in the service, my strong convictions weren’t always shared by those around me.

However, it was obvious from the way I was greeted that our fraternity has been built on trust. We had to trust our lives to the person in the other seat, in the back, and in the hanger. And it worked. The 150 or so pilots there had saved enough lives to populate a small city.* What an extraordinary group we belong to.

The history embodied by the attendees is amazing. While looking at the various displays in the hospitality suite, I started talking to an older gentleman who shared stories of the P5M Marlin before transitioning to the Goat. Others flew HO4S, PBY, C123s out of Italy, the first Coast Guard C130, test flying the first H52. One older crewmen talked about times he had flown all day, fixed the airplane through most of the night, and flown the next morning’s first light search, trying to keep alert for any sign of life in the unforgiving ocean.

Later, a young pilot asked which aircraft I had flown. I’m not sure he even knew what a Goat was, had only heard of the H52, but did make a connection when I mentioned the H65. Of course, my last Coast Guard flight had been fifteen years ago, while he was in junior high school. Still, he was genuinely interested in what I had to say, soaking up everything in our short conversation.

I came to the realization that the history in all former pilots and aircrew is important to keeping CG Aviation a heritage for staying professional and relevant in future generations. For instance, when people from the various programs made presentations, I took note of how measures implemented by my generation of aircrews were still being followed. As new programs are pushed onto the leaders, they are taking the necessary time to develop new equipment and procedures, test them out at Mobile and other units, implement best practices in organized fashion, even when timeframes are very short!

Coast Guard aviation still has the best, the brightest and the bravest. Many things are still the same: Boats get into trouble in bad weather, air stations have a “can-do” attitude, and the teamwork that we were all were part of is alive and well.

Other things are different: Department of Homeland Security, armed helicopters, satellite communications, reliable navigation systems, and much more.

The Pterodactyl leadership is ensuring that Roosts are less of a reunion and more a professional conference of present and former aviators learning from each other. Active duty pilots soaked up stories from the past, and proud to share stories of what is happening now. I was enthralled by today’s heroes, including the rescue swimmer who swam from house to house during floods outside Portland last winter, and how air station duty pilots intercept light aircraft that wander too close to Washington, DC.

Going to the Roost turned out to be great: I was able to renew friendships, see where CG Aviation is going, and share histories. In some ways it was like visiting home. Everyone was delighted to see me (even those that said they would never have recognized me with my gray hair!).

*My logbooks show I was on crews that saved over 100 lives in the twelve years I flew operational missions. I assume that would be a reasonable average for other pilots in attendance. 100 average lives saved by 150 pilots equals 15,000 lives saved by this small group.

After ten months of running practically full speed, Sandy and I finally arrived in Jamaica for two weeks of down time, just in time for twenty-four hours of rain showers. Of course, they weren’t the cold and blustery showers that define northern California’s winter. They were the warm showers of the Caribbean that make some run for shelter, but people like me just enjoy the experience of walking through a warm rain.

Afternoon tea on Aunt Rose’s front veranda was breezy and “cool”, so Doctor Patel had to put on long pants, socks, and a long-sleeve shirt as we munched on homemade cake and sipped his “fever grass chai” (tea with lemon grass and milk). Sandy and I stayed in our shorts and sandals watching the rainbows just before the sun set in a warm red glow behind the mountains.

Fortunately, on Saturday, the weather cleared and we were able to spend five hours at the beach. The wind from the previous day and night had left the water at Doctor’s Cave Beach cooler than the bath temperature we were expecting. We could only spend a half-hour playing in it before we had to get out. On the beach, I had to spend most of the time in the shade – I didn’t want to burn on the first day with two more weeks of beach to do. My afternoon was sitting in the shade, eating meat patties and drinking Red Stripe beer. Tough life.

I’m getting used to the throngs of people trying to get tourists attention. At Doctors Cave Beach, when a cruise ship is in, taxi drivers jostle each other trying to get people to choose them for the five dollar fare back to the ship. They all approach me at first, I fit the profile: pale white guy looking like a tourist, then they quickly ignore me once they realize I am not a potential customer. These taxi drivers, and other vendors, are just trying to make a small living, and Jamaica, like other places in the world, has not set up orderly ways to regulate the flow. And if they did set up orderly ways, the winners would probably be the larger companies with many taxis, and not the entrepreneur with a single automobile.

So, as uncomfortable as it may be for those of us used to more order, this chaos is actually quite beneficialfor building an independent workforce.

Christmas day was a flurry of activity. Dorothy, Aunt Rose’s close friend and helper for 40 years) came over to cook the Curried Goat and Coconut Rice & Peas.

11 AM, the cooking done, so we shared some Christmas morning Red Stripe

Also on the menu was curried beef, breadfruit, pear (avocado), and coconut water to drink. For dessert, Jamaican Rum Cake and champagne. Guests for dinner were the Jarmin’s, a retired couple from the UK who have been coming to Montego Bay for the last 16 years, and spending many Christmases with Aunt Rose.

Uncle Johnny also came by after dinner was over. Johnny runs Doctors Cave Beach, and had a long day at work on Christmas. Two cruise ships were in town, keeping many of the local people busy tending to tourists before they can enjoy the festive holiday with their own families.

The economic recession in the US is having a major effect on Jamaica and other places that depend on tourism. Less people from the US are visiting, and those that do are spending much more conservatively than before. So Jamaican have to take advantage of every opportunity to make some cash to survive until the US economy recovers.

Boxing Day, January 26th, was sunny and bright, with isolated showers – a typical day in Jamaica. We had breakfast of fried fish, breadfruit and pear (avocado) on Aunt Rose’s back porch. The porch has a view of the blue waters of Montego Bay, and overlooks a steep gully cut by rainwater, full of green bushes and trees.

In the bushes we watched butterflies chase each other from leaf to leaf, white, yellow, gold and multicolored butterflies came and went quickly, carried by the breeze.

For some reason, I had forgotten how many birds there are in places like Jamaica. Aunt Rose has just a small front yard, bordered with hibiscus and bougainvillea. Birds continually flitter in and out of it, birds of many colors. Her house is not in a rural area, where I would expect more, but in a suburb not far from the business center of Montego Bay. Doctor Birds (hummingbirds) keep coming to the feeder Aunt Rose has set out. They tell her when it is running low, so she has to quickly fill it. Besides the Doctor Birds, I’ve seen Mocking Birds, Mourning Doves, blackbirds, John Crows (buzzards), and birds of all colors I can’t identify. Aunt Rose says these are different from the summer birds, these fly down from the United States, like snow birds thronging to Florida and Arizona just ahead of the cold and the wind in their RVs. They flock to her yard, singing, playing and foraging – perhaps just to see Aunt Rose smile.

Like us, they must be delighted to be in Jamaica for Christmas.

Steve & Sandy

Steven & Sandy
Hilferty-Patel

1885 Castle Oaks Court
Walnut Creek, CA 94595

ss@hilfertypatel.com
Steve: 510-381-6618 or 877-globotec (toll free)
Sandy: 925-683-8202 ss@hilfertypatel.com

Two male lions had been spotted in the deepening dusk, just ahead of our open Land Cruiser but went into the brush as we approached. None of the guides was sure how long it had been since they dined on a Spring Bok – or how hungry they were. Suddenly Sandy pointed to a shape approaching from the trees only ten feet away. The mane was handsome, his gait slow and measured. His eyes were focused directly on me – did he see his next meal?

We had been in South Africa visiting family for a few days before we went on safari in a huge, private game reserve. After arrival, our car was parked and we were whisked away on an oversized Toyota Land Cruiser with lots of seats but no doors or cover. After a 20 minute drive looking at hippos, springboks, and impalas, we entered a small valley with several buildings and tents. Norma, our camp hostess, was waiting with a delicious drink of fruit juices and rum.

After lunch we were shown to our personal hut for our stay. It had a large bedroom, indoor plumbing, thatch roof, wooden floor and a small porch with a view to die for. The sides were canvas and mesh screen. They warned us to always keep the doors closed because the monkeys could cause major damage. There was no serious impediments for lions, cheetahs or other carnivorous animals, and I decided not to ask how often they came into the valley. Sandy was much more concerned about geckos than lions. Since she did not see any, she was delighted. Norma did point out an air horn near the door, in case we had some emergency. She would come running to protect us from the marauding elephants and lions, but she seemed more like a pleasant aunt than a warrior princess.

At 4 o’clock High Tea was served and we met the other tourists who shared the remaining four tents in our valley – only ten adults were accommodated in this area at a time, making it a nice, intimate group. Then we all loaded into the large Land Cruiser and went on the night safari to see which animals wanted to play. After some more Springboks and Impalas, we spotted the Wart Hogs – small but angry and fierce little animals with tusks that they looked like they were ready to use. Fortunately, the Land Cruiser was much too high for them, so after some snorting and stomping, they ran off.

The professional guides knew where many of the animals were, usually. So next was a group of four white Rhinos – they were large and fierce, but paid essentially no attention to our vehicle. They just ate all the grass in their path and banged heads with each other for irritation sake. The adult and baby giraffe were wonderful to look at and when they ran it was poetry in motion.

After it started to get dark, we found the male elephant who needed to mate. Shirley, our guide and driver, told us “Do Not Stand Up” in the vehicle around large game. As long as the animals saw the vehicle in its familiar shape, they would not pay it much mind. But if something became different, then they may see us as an enemy, or a meal. Shirley looked down at the dirt road we were traveling on and pointed out the elephant tracks. We came up behind it on a narrow road and Shirley told us again DO NOT STAND. He was huge, it seemed as if the Land Cruiser would only come up to his knees. Liquid was seeping from glands around his eyes and ears caused by too much testosterone and not enough female elephants. As the bull elephant on the reserve he was ready to mate, and in this condition could get out of control in an instant. At first he looked back at us, then ignored us for a while as it ate lots of grass and leaves. Suddenly, it turned and Shirley put the vehicle in reverse in case it decided to attack, or mate with, the truck. In a few moments it turned back again and went on its frustrated way.

A call came over the radio reporting the lion sighting, the first in several days. Although it was getting fairly dark, and cold from the night ocean air, we went in search. As we approached another vehicle that had called in the sighting, we couldn’t see the lions. So Shirley put the Land Cruiser in 4 wheel drive and we made our own path over some brush, tree stumps and saplings, to get to the sighting. We sat and waited as it got darker, and someone over the radio said the lions were approaching through the trees. That’s when Sandy suddenly pointed, and nobody had to tell me not to stand up. He didn’t look sinister, but I didn’t want to pull a Tarzan and wrestle a hungry lion. Eventually he got bored and moved off, and we followed for a little while before heading home in the dark, where a delightful dinner awaited.

At 5 AM, Norma knocked on our door for the dawn safari. Sandy stirred only long enough to tell me I was on my own. I explained to our co-safariites that Sandy had decided it was too early for her and was sleeping in. One of the men looked around and said, “I didn’t know we had a choice.” One of the tires from the Land Cruiser was flat, due to Shirley’s driving over one too many rocks, stumps and small trees the night before. The women changed the tire while I took photos, then we were on our way.

There were lots of springboks and impalas again this morning, as well as zebras and a few ostriches. Apparently the lions took a particular fancy to the taste of ostrich, and the number dwindled from 80 to only 5, who were very fast runners! With their supply of ostrich running out, the lions decided their second tastiest treat was springboks. Since we had seen plenty of ostriches at various ostrich farms on the drive to the Lalibela game reserve, I was not disappointed. Soon we found another elephant, the other bull on reserve and Shirley drove to within about ten meters and talked to him. This was her favorite elephant, and he knew her voice. Since he was not the dominant one of the herd, he wouldn’t have the same testosterone induced mania, and would be friendly for years to come.

Shirley stopped at one of the thousands of termite hills we saw, and explained each contained millions of termites, but many of the hills had holes in them where aardvarks had pushed in to have a tasty meal. She pulled a piece of the termite hill away and, of course, hundreds of tiny termites rushed out to repair it. She picked one up and popped it in her mouth, remarking that they were very healthy and full of protein. If you were caught in the savannah, you could survive on termites for a long while. Several of the women in the group decided to try them and said they tasted like herbs. I didn’t want to, but since the women could do it, I could try one too. I picked a very small one, chewed once to get the flavor, and swallowed it. It tasted like a breath mint, like a Tic-Tac. Here is a photo with me standing, carefully, on the mound.

A little bit later, we stopped at the edge of a hill with a beautiful morning view and had tea and coconut cookies for a snack. For the next 20 minutes of our jarring journey on rutted roads, whenever I felt a little bit of coconut in my mouth, I thought it was the termite again…

Eventually we came across a pride of five lions. It was warm and they were all sleeping under one tree, and nudging each other to get in the shade. They did not look menacing at all like that, and posed for a number of photos before it was time to head back to Norma’s wonderful breakfast, and to wake Sandy up.

Then we bid our other safariites good-bye: they were staying for a few more days to look for cheetahs, leopards and a host of other animals. Sandy and I were off to look for warm swimming water along South Africa’s Garden Route, which turned out to be more difficult than we hoped. But that’s another part of our story.