Where do we start to describe the wonderful friendship we had with Ardie? It began when she read Heidi's column for the Salinas Californian. Asked by her kids how she wanted to celebrate her 81st birthday, Ardie replied whale watching with Sanctuary Cruises.

That January, several of Ardie's family members and friends joined us on a cruise aboard Princess of Whales. The kids told us that Ardie was an accomplished woodworker and still producing desks for her grand kids, and grand cake stands for their weddings. She had also served in the Coast Guard during WW II, but we had to learn all of this from her family because Ardie was outside, working with her new digital camera. That was the start of a one-in-a-million friendship with a woman who had twice the life force in her 80s that most people have in their 40s.

Over the years, we shared so many adventures. This is because she was a hands-on woman, always engaged in whatever caught her fancy, as so many things did. Ardie was not one to suffer fools gladly, yet somehow she managed to put up with us and our relentless push to broaden horizons. She often chided us for not slowing down and relaxing, yet she was one of our first guests when we bought our cabin on the Trinity River.

She came up to survey the scene and of course, pitched in with the cleaning. She often grimaced at the state of our garage, but understood combining the effects from a larger home to the smaller one took some doing and we have always had a chronic lack of time. Every time Steph organized the garage (which always comes just prior to crapping it up again), he would tell Ardie, because in some ways she was quite a mother figure for us. Make that Mother Superior/Merry Prankster/Construction Department. We usually cleared construction and refinishing plans with Ardie before embarking on them, always receiving sage advise.

Her visits were a hoot. She would drive up from Salinas in a quick trip because she drove like a bat out of hell, arriving early afternoon. "Just in time for Happy Hour!" she'd laugh, pulling an assortment of beverages and appetizers from her blue Subaru. It was a wagon, not a small SUV, which Ardie sneered at. "How would I haul lumber in that tiny space?" she asked.

When she bought this car, she proudly showed Heidi how, even though it was an automatic, it had a downshift option for extra power. No wonder she liked it; Ardie was equipped with the same feature.

When Heidi was diagnosed with breast cancer, Ardie didn't miss a beat. She was right there with a pink ribbon key chain and the assurance things would be OK. After surgery, she delivered easy-to-heat meals, never staying more than a few minutes. "Just checking in!" she'd say.

She and Heidi went to Yosemite instead of New York City. Go figure. When we first met, Ardie said she hoped to get back to ice skate one more time at Rockefeller Center, so a few years ago, we gave her the trip for two. It could be any two, but she chose Heidi. Typical of her, she said she'd really rather go back to Yosemite, so off they went.

Nearing the Ahwanee in the valley floor, Ardie told Heidi, "I'll either buy you a cocktail in the hotel bar, or we can break out the traveling bar." That's what they did, and every hiker that went by and noted the sumptuous feast laid out on the Subie's tail gate was envious.

Ardie was the fairy godmother for both of our businesses. Just last year, she came up with a brilliant solution for trimming hatch covers on Sanctuary (here's a video from that haul-out). Ardie is shown working on a couple of jobs that helped enormously. She took the video of the two of us in her backyard summing up the dismal state of affairs when we first got Sanctuary back from a failed sale of Sanctuary Cruises because she'd invited us over for much-needed baths and dinner. She even saved the day as recently as this spring by routing the openings for Sanctuary's new electronics when we replaced the dash.

With each cabin we added to the Trinity River Adventure Inn, Ardie was there with her portable work shop, ready for action. Whether it was framing, stripping wallpaper, painting, scrubbing or streamlining the operation, she was on the job.
But she had her rules. Regardless of the extent of the work, Happy Hour was strictly enforced.

And how many people in their 80s can you think of who kayaked six miles of the Trinity River solo their first time in a kayak? The oldest customer we have taken down the river in a kayak has scarcely been over 60, but Ardie was up for most challenges at least once.

Heidi often noted Ardie's accomplishments in our email newsletter and on the web sites, and every time, she was thoroughly upbraided by Ardie, who was never one to toot her own horn, nor allow others to do it. She was so adamant about not wanting any attention, Heidi often accused her of being in a Witness Relocation Program.

Typical of Ardie, every Memorial Day, she turned up at the cemetery and placed hundreds of flags at the graves, then returned to remove them after the holiday. Her reward? A sore back, a cocktail at the VFW, and a ham dinner she usually took home with her. Zero fanfare needed, or wanted.

It wasn't from a lack of trying, but we always ended up high on the receiving side when it came to gifts. Ardie showered us with handmade treasures, including oak trivets that framed wine bottle corks, often saved from one of our adventures; her thoughtfulness was as abundant as her generosity.

Our favorite trivet has a phrase she swore by: "A day without wine... Who needs it?" Another features a logo Heidi created for the inn. Ardie printed it from our web site and decoupaged it on a piece of wood during a visit to Trinity. In a fluke we all enjoyed, she used Heidi's decoupage medium, which had been a gift from another friend. Until it dried, who knew it was glitter?
When Heidi pitched the idea of Ardie designing and making a vegetable bin for Steph's Christmas present, this is what she created and delivered with a huge wrapping bag and bow. It was perfect, and it is as finely crafted as it is incredibly useful.

Christmas visits to Trinity were a tradition we held for years. They included really fun home-cooked meals which Ardie would photograph, and a trip to the snow complete with Ardie's CDs made just for the trip. (Manhattan Transfer's "Snowfall" will sure hit us like sledgehammers this winter.)

We dropped in on the boys at Alpen Cellars in the middle of nowhere one year and they put on a tasting just for us, but we always incorporated a tailgate party on these jaunts, courtesy of Ardie's Catering and the blue Subie.

Last winter, Ardie didn't come up. She opted to go to her daughter's in Florida where the family planned to gather.

Always practical, she explained to us, "I figure I better go while I can still travel." She was almost 87, and off she went. Another adventure!

It would be an understatement to say Ardie will be missed. We can't look any direction without seeing something she made, gave us, hung up, straightened out or advised against. But her memory is locked in our hearts way before those gifts. The big present she gave us was herself.

We'll leave you with this picture of Ardie from the Asparagus Festival in Stockton. It was taken aboard Princess of Whales after we took her out of service with Sanctuary Cruises. As with so many of our ventures and adventures, Ardie was there, complete with traveling bar, fabulous nibbles and a smile.