The year 2010 started out just as any other year, but my adventure into the world of the snow birder, was just beginning and the learning curve was proving to be steeper then I had anticipated and quite costly. I have never been accused of being a know-it-all except maybe by my wife, and certainly not by my mother, as she had a saying that would smarten you up and it went something like this, “If you think you’re so smart, there must be a couple of words you can’t spell.” (This was based on the naivety of an acquaintance, who in all seriousness claimed he knew most everything, but in his pseudo-humility he acknowledged there were still a couple of words that he couldn’t spell.)
To save about $2000 I had arranged to have a tow package put on my RV at Al’s RV in Bellingham WA, so I could pull my Pontiac Vibe, behind my Holiday Rambler.
Sandy and I and a friend, Marianne, who needed a ride to Walla Walla, spent Wed night just north of Bellingham, so we could drop the car off at Al’s RV early Thursday morning, for the base plate installation. The three of us ate breakfast Friday morning at a neat little restaurant in Bellingham, while Al’s RV did the final wiring on the motor home itself.
Arriving back at Al’s RV, the technician went over the new setup with me before we took off. Little did I know that from that moment on things were on a downward spiral.
We finally got away from Al’s around 2 o’clock and everything seemed to go just as planned except the red sensor that told me that the brakes on the car were actually working, refused to light up. That bothered me some, but not enough to go back to Al’s and find out what was wrong. The first mistake.
We stopped at the rest stop at Indian John Hill and I dumped the RV and did a walk around. Things looked OK.
We pulled off the freeway again at Union Gap and headed down Lateral A to visit Sandy’s Sister Sharon and brother-in-law Don.
I stopped at a service station about a half-mile away from Don and Sharon’s place, unhooked the car and attempted to start it so we could drive to their farm. Things were not OK. The battery was stone dead. I fiddled with the switch turning it on and off but to know avail, so I got out of car and hooked it back up to the RV, while we waited for Sharon to drive over to us instead.
We visited with Sharon for a short while then went on our way, hoping to arrive at my son’s place in Walla Walla, in a couple of hours.
The car seemed to pull jerkily as I took off from the service station, but I only glanced in my side mirrors and continued on my way. The second mistake.
Also as we took off I noticed that the motor home pulled harder and seemed to need a lot more throttle, but I let it pass. The third mistake.
There was a church just down the road where I thought I would do a walk around but the driveway was to narrow and the parking lot seemed to crowded so I went on. The fourth mistake.
I still wanted to do the walk around but I was now on a narrow country road that I felt was still too narrow to safely stop on, but I should have anyway with my flashers on. The fifth mistake.
It took several more miles before we were back on the road that led to the freeway but I still didn’t see a good spot to pull over on and again I should have anyway with my flashers on. The sixth mistake.
Minutes later we were on the freeway but my delay in not immediately pulling over and doing a walk around became the seventh and last mistake
What happened next caused fear to run up and down my spine as I now noticed what appeared to be thick clouds of pure white smoke billowing out from behind the RV.
I immediately pulled off the freeway and ran back to see what had happened. White acrid smoke was billowing out from under the hood of the little Vibe and I could see an orange glow of what appeared to be flames trying to escape from under the hood.
My first thought was to open the hood so I could get access to the flames, but it was now too dark to find the hood release. This may have saved my life as this could have caused the flames to really explode into life as the oxygen rushed in to fuel the fire.
I ran back to the motor home for the only fire extinguisher that I had, but it proved useless because of its small size and emptied so quickly that it no more then caused a hick-up to the roaring inferno under the hood. I now frantically tried to find the release pins of the tow bar so I could move the RV out of danger from the flames. To lose the car was painful but the motor home and all it contained made my heart sink.
Unhooking the Vibe from the RV now proved impossible, I had run out of time, the flames were increasing in intensity, three times I had breathed in the acrid fumes, and my chest was now in pain. I decided it was better to leave and ran to the front of the RV where Sandy and an off duty Highway Patrolman and his wife were talking. He had asked Sandy if she had made the 911 call, which he immediately placed, as in our panic we had completely forgotten. It seems that he had been following us for the past few miles and pulled over just as we did, as he had noticed fluid dripping from under the Vibe and then suddenly the clouds of acrid white smoke billowing from under the hood.
I still thought if I went back, I might be able to disconnect the RV from the Vibe, but the patrolman talked me out of it. It was easier for him to make that decision as it was my rig and not his that he suggested would be toast in a matter of minutes, or at least when the Vibe’s gas tank blew. His logic make sense however, as I could replace the motor home, howbeit with some financial pain, but should the gas tank blow, it wouldn’t be just the stretch inning, it would be game over for me.
One of the most dreadful experiences to go through is to realize there was nothing we could do but watch our car and maybe our RV go up in flames. Time seemed to stop, but it was probably less then ten minutes before the engines arrived and what was left of the little Vibe lay smoldering, it’s front end burnt off, the windshield gone, and the plastic dash dripping in puddles onto the floor mats.
A few minutes later a wrecker came to tow what was left of our little Vibe to the wrecking yard and we carried on to our son’s place, in a state of shock, but thankful that God had spared us and our RV. Except for some blistering on the end cap of the RV, that our insurance covered, the motor home was unharmed.
It seems that by getting sidetracked with the dead battery I did not check to see that the car was in neutral and I must have inadvertently left it in reverse on getting out. As to why the battery was dead, that is up for debate, but as it was the probably reason for diverting my attention and leaving the car in reverse, it indirectly was the cause for our mishap.
Some may question the fact that it was God’s providence that an off duty patrolman was following us and made the 911 call, and that the fire truck arrive in less then 10 minutes, which saved the RV or as the off duty highway patrol officer affirmed to Sandy, the whole rig would have gone up in smoke when the Vibe’s gas tank blew. You be the judge. God does work in mysterious ways and I must believe that his angels are more interested in our welfare then we might want to believe.
Bird Cove Looking into Bay
Looking West into the Bay
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
123 Guatemala Land of Eternal Spring
Called the Land of Eternal Spring, Guatemala lives up to its name in the central highlands where Guatemala City at 4850 ft is situated. Guatemala City is the national capital and largest city in the country. The spring like temperature of Guatemala City, at between 16-21 degrees C is complimented by an annual rainfall of between 30 and 60 inches.
As Guatemala is situated approximately midway between the Tropic of Cancer and the equator the rest of the country, which is lowlands, has a tropical climate. The lowlands a narrow strip along the Pacific Ocean and a plain to the north and along the Gulf of Mexico, has an average yearly temperature of 27 degrees C with little seasonal change.
To begin our adventure we caught the plane from Victoria International Airport one Thursday morning in 1992, the day before Good Friday. This although not planned proved to be to our good fortune as we arrived in Guatemala during the height of Holy Week.
In Seattle we were met by some of Sandy’s family Bill, Jadie and Eric who saw us off on our adventure. After spending the night in LA we flew out Friday morning to Dallas Fort Worth and from there, just about straight south to Guatemala City.
Landing at the Guatemala City International Airport a few hours before midnight we were met by Mandy and several of her friends from the orphanage at Los Pinos, where she had gone to work in Sept of ‘91, as a student missionary.
After checking in with customs they all wanted to know if we would like to go and see the Easter processions. Not yet sure of what it was but game to give it a try, we agreed, so away we went in the orphanage’s Toyota Mini Van. It was not long before we were in down town Guatemala City where the action was.
The city was like a carnival with people everywhere even though it was near midnight. Each cathedral had their own procession which wound through the city for hours finally ending at midnight back at the cathedral from which it had started earlier in the day. The last event in each procession known as the Principle was extremely large and carried on the shoulders of either men or woman. If the principal was of Mary, only women would be allowed to carry it, the men were there only to coordinate and give support to the women. For the privilege of carrying the Principle the penitent had the pay $30 for just one block.
And finally last but not least was the generator which followed each procession to give light to the musicians which played the music for the event, solemn music for Friday and the crucifixion and joyous music for Sunday and the resurrection morning.
Placed here and there throughout the city were what looked like the most beautiful rugs. Why would such beautiful rug be laying in the middle of the street? These beautiful rugs were not rugs at all but made of colored sawdust. They were placed strategically where the processions would travel over them.
Sunday morning we drove up to Antigua the ancient capitol of Central America until 1776, when a major earthquake destroyed the city. Once in Antigua we had some time to browse while the bells on the cathedral were ringing, calling the faithful to gather for the Easter Sunday procession that was soon to begin, so it was off we went to see some of the 1976 ruins of the last major earthquake. There did not seem to be any restrictions as to where you could climb, you just had to be careful you did not slip and fall as many of the magnificent old cathedrals were far from being restored as only the rubble had been cleared away.
San Fancisco was one of the cathedrals we explored while we were waiting, and inside were many amazing icons and relics to view.
Before long many people had gathered for the procession, but as we could see many peasants had come not to view the procession but were setting up stalls to sell merchandize.
Fire crackers appear to be quite important it the life of the Guatemalan people and you can hear them going off any time day or night. Easter seems to be no exception. After what seemed hours and many fire crackers later the big moment arrived and the procession, which contained only two events, was about to emerge from the cathedral. After some difficulty the risen Savior appeared followed shortly by the Virgin Mary and the sound of the most triumphal music, quite a contrast from the funeral marches of Easter Friday.
We came upon, a marimba band; steel drums and all, what a unique sound, I only wished I had videoed more of them.
A major cathedral yet to see in Antigua was La Merced a large yellow cathedral with an incredible domed ceiling and many icons and statues to see. Many of the faithful were paying homage to the image of Jesus below a glass in one of the alcoves.
What would a trip be to Guatemala be without a visit to the famed Mayan ruins at Tikal. It was close to and hour in a small plane to Santa Elena by Lake Peten. A bus took us from Santa Elena up to the Mayan ruins at Tikal where there were nice modern cabins and a main lodge where we could eat. When we first arrived there, a young Guatemalan lad took us on a very informative tour of the ruins. It was after the formal tour that I really enjoyed myself and took all kinds of pictures of the beasts that lived in the jungle.
We came upon a Ceiba tree, the national tree of Guatemala, from which we get kapok, once used for flotation in life jackets and for stuffing in cushions.
Although not as pretty as the orchids from Hawaii we could see orchids growing in the top of most of the large trees.
The jungle of Tikal has many types of berries and neat creatures such as ants, lizards, unknown insects, woodpeckers, and a wasp with a fierce sting.
The weaver’s nests I thought were amazing but not as plentiful as the green parrots, which were everywhere.
We even came upon a wild turkey, and on top of one of the temples a flock of vultures. The loud deafening noise that we heard was coming from an insect called the Cicada. When it gets dark their noise gets louder as if to announce the coming of the fire flies and they were everywhere as well.
The Mayan ruins are impressive, especially Temples 1 and 2 near the North Acropolis. Temple 2 rises 125 feet above the Great Plaza. I climbed to the top of temple 2 and had an incredible view of the jungle canopy and Sandy and Mandy sitting in the Great Plaza.
The Mayans believed in human sacrifices and we were able to look at one of the altars on which thousands of them were performed.
Temple 4 is the largest of the aboriginal structures standing in the New World today at 212 ft. After climbing a steel ladder up the side of Temple 4 I was able to see the jungle canopy just below with many of the trees which were still in bloom.
The Mayan civilization at Tikal began about 600 B.C. and collapsed about 900 A.D. with about 1100 years of ceaseless construction. Temple 1 was built about 700 A.D. and is known as Temple of the Jaguar from a motif carved on one of its lintels. Temple 2 is known as the Temple of the Masks after its richly embellished façade, was built about the time of Temple 1. Much of the architecture at Tikal over the centuries was built upon existing structures.
The next morning we left for Flores, which is on a little island in Lake Peten and connected to Santa Elena by a causeway. We made it in good time even with cows blocking our way. Once in Flores we boarded our tour boat and the guide took us on a sight seeing trip along the lake.
Our first stop was by the home of a woman and her small child where our path began to a lookout. On the way to the viewpoint we saw some leaf cutter ants and some cicada’s making their racket. The view back to Flores from the lookout gave us a good view of the island and Santa Elena along the lake.
Traveling along the lake we stopped at a little Island where Sandy and Mandy went for a dip and I went looking for flowers. After stopping at another little island further along the lake we walked along a series of bridges to a zoo with the jungle animals on display.
On our way back to Flores we got a splendid view of the little island that Flores is on. Many of the houses in Flores are disappearing into the lake. No one knows why but for several years the lake has been rising.
After eating lunch in a cafe in Flores our guide took us on a last little tour of a limestone cave before we caught our plane back to Guatemala City.
Something you have to see if you ever go to Guatemala is the market day at Chichicastenango. On the way to Chichicastenango we stopped and had breakfast in a quaint little cafe called the Chickoy Cafe. Breakfast consisted of black beans, fried bananas, corn tortillas, eggs, either boiled or scrambled, and fresh orange juice.
Then it was on to Chichicastenango, also known as St Thomas and well known for its cathedral as well as it’s incredible market. The whole town becomes a giant market a most incredible sight to see. Wares and people everywhere so thick you can hardly walk down the street.
The Cathedral of ST. Thomas is quite famous and is on many post cards. The faithful wave their incense pots on the temple steps while the tourists come to watch.
The hotel St Thomas in Chichicastenango is quite large with a very attractive courtyard. A large parrot lives in the courtyard and was very interesting to watch. While in the courtyard we saw the waiters in their very colorful native costumes going about their work.
Guatemala is quite mountainous especially the road to Panajachel on a very beautiful lake called in the Spanish Logo de Atitlan where we spent the night in the Rancho Grande Inn, in our own cottage with a real banana tree in the front yard.
In the morning we walked down to the lakefront to catch one of the local passenger boats that carries passengers to the numerous little villages along the lake. You can pay more for your tour of the lake by taking the trip in one of the large professional sight seeing boats, but we wanted to feel the flavor of the locals.
Each community has its own little dock to serve the many houses built along the lakeshore. Many of the houses have little terraced gardens but scattered her and there are the odd mansion. Below the more humble communities there are many women doing their washing by hand in the lake.
After traveling for over an hour we finally reached the little town of San Pedro where we disembarked and went for a walk into the town. As in most towns people are selling their wares trying to make a few quetzals. One man went by us carrying the largest pile of for firewood sticks I have ever seen tied to his back. Stranger yet was when we each decided to buy a soda. Would you believe, they first poured the pop into a plastic bag before handing it to us, and kept the bottle. They did have the courtesy of first sticking a straw in each bag before handing it to us.
One of the highlights of our trip was a trip to the Pacific Ocean. After traveling on a good paved road we finally found our self on a road that stopped at a brackish estuary, where the temperature was about 100 degrees F with 100 per cent humidity, a real killer. Here we found a barge like skiff tied up to the sand with two planks in place to drive on. Our little Nissan Stanza made it across the planks and onto the barge and away we went to Monterrico and the Pacific Ocean.
During our winding trip down the estuary we met many boats with people going the opposite way we were as well as a canoe with two guys fishing. Along the sides of the brackish estuary were many white egrets covertly hiding in the brush watching for their dinner. I felt sorry for the boney cows that we passed along the way; you never saw cows in a much sadder shape the only cows that came close were the ones we saw by Lake Peten.
We would have probably gotten stuck on the main street of Monterrico if a little boy had not run out waving his arms at us to stop. The street was pure sand and appeared to end in more sand at the Pacific Ocean.
The first time I saw a cashew nut tree was in Monterrico. The part that is eaten is inside a little gizmo on the end of the fruit. The fruit looks like a pear, with the cashew sticking off the end in its poisonous shell, which is as hard as a rock. Until heated it is also very poisonous.
We made it finally to the beach and what a lovely sandy beach with an incredible surf and pure black sand. But oh so hot and humid, I thought for sure that I had burnt my feet as I ran back to put my shoes on.
After a good swim, we really only got our feet wet, we decided to get a bite to eat. What lovely fish and chips. The pigs and the birds wandered in and out as we ate our dinner. The restaurant as with all of the buildings had only a low wall with a roof on poles and you could look out all 360 degrees.
Before we left Monterrico we stopped for a few minutes at the government preserve where they are attempting to conserve the sea turtle population. They also were raising Iguanas. They seemed to have more Iguana then sea turtle but we did finally manage to find some sea turtles in a small tank.
After a hair-raising trip back up the winding mountain road we finally made it back to our bed and breakfast. That sounds easy but to actually arrive at our bed and breakfast was a miracle and only by God’s grace did it happen. While climbing up the high plateau to Guatemala City a large truck came roaring by passing everybody. If a car came he would just pull over and force who was beside him off the road. What a jerk.
One of the highlights of our trip down to Guatemala was going to church on Sabbath and meeting Mandy and Tammy’s Guatemalan friends. Even though the church they had been working on for the past 10 years was still to be completed, the inside was quite pleasing. We found the church service a blessing even in Spanish, which we could not understand. There is a joy and spiritual refreshing just being with God’s people. We enjoyed the singing and especially the marimba music.
Mandy became good friends with Christy who worked at Los Pinos and was Luis Castenada’s friend. After church, which was only a few houses away from where Luis lived in Zone 6, we went over to his house to meet all of the family.
Mrs. Castenada knew the lady that made tortillas in a smoky little shop, which was probably her home as well. It was amazing to seeing how corn tortillas are made. Mandy gave it a try but it was obvious that she needed mor practice.
Our trip down to Guatemala would not have been complete if we had not spent some time at the orphanage at Los Pinos where Mandy worked. The International Children’s Care ran the Orphanage. It was a non-profit organization founded by Mrs. A. Fleck from the USA and run on much donated labor and supplies. Most of the orphans were adopted out to families in the USA. Many of the children at the home would not have been alive if they had not been placed in its care.
After dinner at the orphanage we took the Los Pinos van and saw some of the sights of Guatemala City. One of the interesting things we visited was a relief map of the country in a little park done by a man named Francisco Vela. The dictator of that time had him killed when the project was completed so another relief map would not be constructed anywhere else.
To close our little adventure in Guatemala we took a final sight seeing trip of Guatemala City and the immediate area. A must see south of Guatemala City was an active volcano Mount Agua, near Lake Amatitlan. I actually got some video footage of the mountain spewing lava.
A must see if you ever visit Guatemala City is the central market in down tow Guatemala City. It is composed of two levels. The lower level has mostly produce, anything you could imagine you could eat. The upper level had just about anything else to sell that was not edible.
We also visited the national palace and it’s amazing interior with its fountains of fish, and beautiful tile work with many amazing tapestries depicting some of the early history of the region.
The busy bus exchanges were something that would amaze anyone. Guatemala City must be the graveyard for every old school bus in the world, and they are all diesels and belch out tons of foul exhaust. Except for the three days that we rented the little Nissan Stanza we rode the buses with standing room only.
Our last trip was traveling down Reforma Avenue to the airport. It has a beautiful boulevard with many monuments depicting important historical events. At the airport we said our goodbyes to Mandy, Tammy, Norma and a volunteer nurse from Los Pinos who came to see us off. As we waved goodbye to Guatemala we will always remember the good times and friends we made in our short visit to their country.
To begin our adventure we caught the plane from Victoria International Airport one Thursday morning in 1992, the day before Good Friday. This although not planned proved to be to our good fortune as we arrived in Guatemala during the height of Holy Week.
In Seattle we were met by some of Sandy’s family Bill, Jadie and Eric who saw us off on our adventure. After spending the night in LA we flew out Friday morning to Dallas Fort Worth and from there, just about straight south to Guatemala City.
Landing at the Guatemala City International Airport a few hours before midnight we were met by Mandy and several of her friends from the orphanage at Los Pinos, where she had gone to work in Sept of ‘91, as a student missionary.
After checking in with customs they all wanted to know if we would like to go and see the Easter processions. Not yet sure of what it was but game to give it a try, we agreed, so away we went in the orphanage’s Toyota Mini Van. It was not long before we were in down town Guatemala City where the action was.
The city was like a carnival with people everywhere even though it was near midnight. Each cathedral had their own procession which wound through the city for hours finally ending at midnight back at the cathedral from which it had started earlier in the day. The last event in each procession known as the Principle was extremely large and carried on the shoulders of either men or woman. If the principal was of Mary, only women would be allowed to carry it, the men were there only to coordinate and give support to the women. For the privilege of carrying the Principle the penitent had the pay $30 for just one block.
And finally last but not least was the generator which followed each procession to give light to the musicians which played the music for the event, solemn music for Friday and the crucifixion and joyous music for Sunday and the resurrection morning.
Placed here and there throughout the city were what looked like the most beautiful rugs. Why would such beautiful rug be laying in the middle of the street? These beautiful rugs were not rugs at all but made of colored sawdust. They were placed strategically where the processions would travel over them.
Sunday morning we drove up to Antigua the ancient capitol of Central America until 1776, when a major earthquake destroyed the city. Once in Antigua we had some time to browse while the bells on the cathedral were ringing, calling the faithful to gather for the Easter Sunday procession that was soon to begin, so it was off we went to see some of the 1976 ruins of the last major earthquake. There did not seem to be any restrictions as to where you could climb, you just had to be careful you did not slip and fall as many of the magnificent old cathedrals were far from being restored as only the rubble had been cleared away.
San Fancisco was one of the cathedrals we explored while we were waiting, and inside were many amazing icons and relics to view.
Before long many people had gathered for the procession, but as we could see many peasants had come not to view the procession but were setting up stalls to sell merchandize.
Fire crackers appear to be quite important it the life of the Guatemalan people and you can hear them going off any time day or night. Easter seems to be no exception. After what seemed hours and many fire crackers later the big moment arrived and the procession, which contained only two events, was about to emerge from the cathedral. After some difficulty the risen Savior appeared followed shortly by the Virgin Mary and the sound of the most triumphal music, quite a contrast from the funeral marches of Easter Friday.
We came upon, a marimba band; steel drums and all, what a unique sound, I only wished I had videoed more of them.
A major cathedral yet to see in Antigua was La Merced a large yellow cathedral with an incredible domed ceiling and many icons and statues to see. Many of the faithful were paying homage to the image of Jesus below a glass in one of the alcoves.
What would a trip be to Guatemala be without a visit to the famed Mayan ruins at Tikal. It was close to and hour in a small plane to Santa Elena by Lake Peten. A bus took us from Santa Elena up to the Mayan ruins at Tikal where there were nice modern cabins and a main lodge where we could eat. When we first arrived there, a young Guatemalan lad took us on a very informative tour of the ruins. It was after the formal tour that I really enjoyed myself and took all kinds of pictures of the beasts that lived in the jungle.
We came upon a Ceiba tree, the national tree of Guatemala, from which we get kapok, once used for flotation in life jackets and for stuffing in cushions.
Although not as pretty as the orchids from Hawaii we could see orchids growing in the top of most of the large trees.
The jungle of Tikal has many types of berries and neat creatures such as ants, lizards, unknown insects, woodpeckers, and a wasp with a fierce sting.
The weaver’s nests I thought were amazing but not as plentiful as the green parrots, which were everywhere.
We even came upon a wild turkey, and on top of one of the temples a flock of vultures. The loud deafening noise that we heard was coming from an insect called the Cicada. When it gets dark their noise gets louder as if to announce the coming of the fire flies and they were everywhere as well.
The Mayan ruins are impressive, especially Temples 1 and 2 near the North Acropolis. Temple 2 rises 125 feet above the Great Plaza. I climbed to the top of temple 2 and had an incredible view of the jungle canopy and Sandy and Mandy sitting in the Great Plaza.
The Mayans believed in human sacrifices and we were able to look at one of the altars on which thousands of them were performed.
Temple 4 is the largest of the aboriginal structures standing in the New World today at 212 ft. After climbing a steel ladder up the side of Temple 4 I was able to see the jungle canopy just below with many of the trees which were still in bloom.
The Mayan civilization at Tikal began about 600 B.C. and collapsed about 900 A.D. with about 1100 years of ceaseless construction. Temple 1 was built about 700 A.D. and is known as Temple of the Jaguar from a motif carved on one of its lintels. Temple 2 is known as the Temple of the Masks after its richly embellished façade, was built about the time of Temple 1. Much of the architecture at Tikal over the centuries was built upon existing structures.
The next morning we left for Flores, which is on a little island in Lake Peten and connected to Santa Elena by a causeway. We made it in good time even with cows blocking our way. Once in Flores we boarded our tour boat and the guide took us on a sight seeing trip along the lake.
Our first stop was by the home of a woman and her small child where our path began to a lookout. On the way to the viewpoint we saw some leaf cutter ants and some cicada’s making their racket. The view back to Flores from the lookout gave us a good view of the island and Santa Elena along the lake.
Traveling along the lake we stopped at a little Island where Sandy and Mandy went for a dip and I went looking for flowers. After stopping at another little island further along the lake we walked along a series of bridges to a zoo with the jungle animals on display.
On our way back to Flores we got a splendid view of the little island that Flores is on. Many of the houses in Flores are disappearing into the lake. No one knows why but for several years the lake has been rising.
After eating lunch in a cafe in Flores our guide took us on a last little tour of a limestone cave before we caught our plane back to Guatemala City.
Something you have to see if you ever go to Guatemala is the market day at Chichicastenango. On the way to Chichicastenango we stopped and had breakfast in a quaint little cafe called the Chickoy Cafe. Breakfast consisted of black beans, fried bananas, corn tortillas, eggs, either boiled or scrambled, and fresh orange juice.
Then it was on to Chichicastenango, also known as St Thomas and well known for its cathedral as well as it’s incredible market. The whole town becomes a giant market a most incredible sight to see. Wares and people everywhere so thick you can hardly walk down the street.
The Cathedral of ST. Thomas is quite famous and is on many post cards. The faithful wave their incense pots on the temple steps while the tourists come to watch.
The hotel St Thomas in Chichicastenango is quite large with a very attractive courtyard. A large parrot lives in the courtyard and was very interesting to watch. While in the courtyard we saw the waiters in their very colorful native costumes going about their work.
Guatemala is quite mountainous especially the road to Panajachel on a very beautiful lake called in the Spanish Logo de Atitlan where we spent the night in the Rancho Grande Inn, in our own cottage with a real banana tree in the front yard.
In the morning we walked down to the lakefront to catch one of the local passenger boats that carries passengers to the numerous little villages along the lake. You can pay more for your tour of the lake by taking the trip in one of the large professional sight seeing boats, but we wanted to feel the flavor of the locals.
Each community has its own little dock to serve the many houses built along the lakeshore. Many of the houses have little terraced gardens but scattered her and there are the odd mansion. Below the more humble communities there are many women doing their washing by hand in the lake.
After traveling for over an hour we finally reached the little town of San Pedro where we disembarked and went for a walk into the town. As in most towns people are selling their wares trying to make a few quetzals. One man went by us carrying the largest pile of for firewood sticks I have ever seen tied to his back. Stranger yet was when we each decided to buy a soda. Would you believe, they first poured the pop into a plastic bag before handing it to us, and kept the bottle. They did have the courtesy of first sticking a straw in each bag before handing it to us.
One of the highlights of our trip was a trip to the Pacific Ocean. After traveling on a good paved road we finally found our self on a road that stopped at a brackish estuary, where the temperature was about 100 degrees F with 100 per cent humidity, a real killer. Here we found a barge like skiff tied up to the sand with two planks in place to drive on. Our little Nissan Stanza made it across the planks and onto the barge and away we went to Monterrico and the Pacific Ocean.
During our winding trip down the estuary we met many boats with people going the opposite way we were as well as a canoe with two guys fishing. Along the sides of the brackish estuary were many white egrets covertly hiding in the brush watching for their dinner. I felt sorry for the boney cows that we passed along the way; you never saw cows in a much sadder shape the only cows that came close were the ones we saw by Lake Peten.
We would have probably gotten stuck on the main street of Monterrico if a little boy had not run out waving his arms at us to stop. The street was pure sand and appeared to end in more sand at the Pacific Ocean.
The first time I saw a cashew nut tree was in Monterrico. The part that is eaten is inside a little gizmo on the end of the fruit. The fruit looks like a pear, with the cashew sticking off the end in its poisonous shell, which is as hard as a rock. Until heated it is also very poisonous.
We made it finally to the beach and what a lovely sandy beach with an incredible surf and pure black sand. But oh so hot and humid, I thought for sure that I had burnt my feet as I ran back to put my shoes on.
After a good swim, we really only got our feet wet, we decided to get a bite to eat. What lovely fish and chips. The pigs and the birds wandered in and out as we ate our dinner. The restaurant as with all of the buildings had only a low wall with a roof on poles and you could look out all 360 degrees.
Before we left Monterrico we stopped for a few minutes at the government preserve where they are attempting to conserve the sea turtle population. They also were raising Iguanas. They seemed to have more Iguana then sea turtle but we did finally manage to find some sea turtles in a small tank.
After a hair-raising trip back up the winding mountain road we finally made it back to our bed and breakfast. That sounds easy but to actually arrive at our bed and breakfast was a miracle and only by God’s grace did it happen. While climbing up the high plateau to Guatemala City a large truck came roaring by passing everybody. If a car came he would just pull over and force who was beside him off the road. What a jerk.
One of the highlights of our trip down to Guatemala was going to church on Sabbath and meeting Mandy and Tammy’s Guatemalan friends. Even though the church they had been working on for the past 10 years was still to be completed, the inside was quite pleasing. We found the church service a blessing even in Spanish, which we could not understand. There is a joy and spiritual refreshing just being with God’s people. We enjoyed the singing and especially the marimba music.
Mandy became good friends with Christy who worked at Los Pinos and was Luis Castenada’s friend. After church, which was only a few houses away from where Luis lived in Zone 6, we went over to his house to meet all of the family.
Mrs. Castenada knew the lady that made tortillas in a smoky little shop, which was probably her home as well. It was amazing to seeing how corn tortillas are made. Mandy gave it a try but it was obvious that she needed mor practice.
Our trip down to Guatemala would not have been complete if we had not spent some time at the orphanage at Los Pinos where Mandy worked. The International Children’s Care ran the Orphanage. It was a non-profit organization founded by Mrs. A. Fleck from the USA and run on much donated labor and supplies. Most of the orphans were adopted out to families in the USA. Many of the children at the home would not have been alive if they had not been placed in its care.
After dinner at the orphanage we took the Los Pinos van and saw some of the sights of Guatemala City. One of the interesting things we visited was a relief map of the country in a little park done by a man named Francisco Vela. The dictator of that time had him killed when the project was completed so another relief map would not be constructed anywhere else.
To close our little adventure in Guatemala we took a final sight seeing trip of Guatemala City and the immediate area. A must see south of Guatemala City was an active volcano Mount Agua, near Lake Amatitlan. I actually got some video footage of the mountain spewing lava.
A must see if you ever visit Guatemala City is the central market in down tow Guatemala City. It is composed of two levels. The lower level has mostly produce, anything you could imagine you could eat. The upper level had just about anything else to sell that was not edible.
We also visited the national palace and it’s amazing interior with its fountains of fish, and beautiful tile work with many amazing tapestries depicting some of the early history of the region.
The busy bus exchanges were something that would amaze anyone. Guatemala City must be the graveyard for every old school bus in the world, and they are all diesels and belch out tons of foul exhaust. Except for the three days that we rented the little Nissan Stanza we rode the buses with standing room only.
Our last trip was traveling down Reforma Avenue to the airport. It has a beautiful boulevard with many monuments depicting important historical events. At the airport we said our goodbyes to Mandy, Tammy, Norma and a volunteer nurse from Los Pinos who came to see us off. As we waved goodbye to Guatemala we will always remember the good times and friends we made in our short visit to their country.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
122 The first Twenty Years
Anniversaries come and anniversaries go but the first one of any importance to roll by was our twentieth. It sailed into sight so fast that I was taken just about by surprise. It seemed that we had not been sleeping together that long and I was still quite enjoying the experience, I still looked forward to jumping into bed every night and snuggling up to my honey. If you believe some of the stuff out there the experience for many has long since faded into an act of boredom by then, but strange as it may seem, for me, quite the contrary.
So it was with a sense of appreciation that we entered into the evening that our daughter Teri had chosen to commemorate what to us was the beginning of our history as a family. I guess I never told Teri, who was nineteen at the time, how pleased I was that she put the whole evening together in honor of us. She invited all of our close friends over to celebrate, and we all sat around in a big circle eating anniversary cake and drinking punch from a big punch bowl while we all visited together. I do not remember what the cards said or what gifts were given to commemorate the occasion, but I always felt warm and fuzzy about the event.
To add to the evening as a historical event we dug out some old super eight movies that Sandy had from her childhood and were boring our friends with them. Much to the relief of our friends the phone rang and the voice on the other end stated that the pastor who was one of the visitors and building a new home at the time, should leave immediately as his partly built house was on fire.
That immediately broke up the party and everyone took off to check out the fire and to see if they could be of any assistance. The Pastor, Mel Atwood in the meantime jumped into what he thought was the most convenient vehicle, which turned out to be in fact an old Corn binder pickup owned by a good friend Dan Johnson. His dad happened to be driving the old beater with one of the doors wired shut, and to make matters worse Dan’s dad drove all the way to the fire slower then most people walk. Our poor Pastor was biting his nails all the way the house, which he thought would be burnt to the ground by the time he got there, but to his relief he found still standing. It turned out that someone had set fire to a pile of scrap lumber that was stacked close by the house.
Well no more party but the memories of that evening still linger in my heart and the fact that Teri thought enough to remember our twentieth always leaves me with sweet memories. What part the fire plays in these sweet memories I am not sure but for our friends it did cut short for them what was turning out to be a most boring evening of home movies.
So it was with a sense of appreciation that we entered into the evening that our daughter Teri had chosen to commemorate what to us was the beginning of our history as a family. I guess I never told Teri, who was nineteen at the time, how pleased I was that she put the whole evening together in honor of us. She invited all of our close friends over to celebrate, and we all sat around in a big circle eating anniversary cake and drinking punch from a big punch bowl while we all visited together. I do not remember what the cards said or what gifts were given to commemorate the occasion, but I always felt warm and fuzzy about the event.
To add to the evening as a historical event we dug out some old super eight movies that Sandy had from her childhood and were boring our friends with them. Much to the relief of our friends the phone rang and the voice on the other end stated that the pastor who was one of the visitors and building a new home at the time, should leave immediately as his partly built house was on fire.
That immediately broke up the party and everyone took off to check out the fire and to see if they could be of any assistance. The Pastor, Mel Atwood in the meantime jumped into what he thought was the most convenient vehicle, which turned out to be in fact an old Corn binder pickup owned by a good friend Dan Johnson. His dad happened to be driving the old beater with one of the doors wired shut, and to make matters worse Dan’s dad drove all the way to the fire slower then most people walk. Our poor Pastor was biting his nails all the way the house, which he thought would be burnt to the ground by the time he got there, but to his relief he found still standing. It turned out that someone had set fire to a pile of scrap lumber that was stacked close by the house.
Well no more party but the memories of that evening still linger in my heart and the fact that Teri thought enough to remember our twentieth always leaves me with sweet memories. What part the fire plays in these sweet memories I am not sure but for our friends it did cut short for them what was turning out to be a most boring evening of home movies.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
121 A Lovely Week at Cape Kiwanda
Who doesn’t enjoy spending a week on the beach in the month of August especially if it’s on the Oregon Coast? Oregon has some of the loveliest sand beaches anywhere in the world, and the scenery is spectacular. So it was with great anticipation that twenty-five of us showed up at Cape Kiwanda, by the little seaside town of Pacific City. With so much family coming from all over, the two condo’s we rented couldn’t hold everyone, so some of the gang had to stay in a nearby motel.
Uncle Steve and Ginny drove down together, his sons, cousin Mick and cousin Will, came down with Great Gramalene, Mick doing the driving. Aunty Sharon drove down from her fruit farm near Wapato with Cousin Cori and cousin Brandon. Sharon’s oldest, Cousin Philip also came down with his two kids, Tyler and Kelsey. Uncle Bob and Aunt Becky drove all the way over from Walla Walla, the land of winter wheat, bringing their four kids Chloe, Paul, Spencer and little Mary Bella. Grandma Sandy and Grandpa Bob drove down from Canada and picked up Aunt Mandy and her son Benjamin in Bellingham. Aunt Teri and Uncle Teddy drove all the way up from Arizona with their two kids Meagan and David and what topped it off was that Grandpa’s good friend Wally Wacker and his wife Geri came over from Eugene midweek and spent a day with everyone on the beach.
Just because it is the first week of August is no guarantee that the weather on the Oregon coast will be warm and sunny. Without notice the fog and drizzle that hangs just off shore can come rolling in and in a matter of minutes you are chilled to the bone. We were fortunate indeed as the weather was so perfect that even Grandma Sandy’s spirits were revived, in spite of a broken leg. Such a perfect week meant that whatever we did had fun written all over it. And of course the first few days had to be beach stuff, everything from wading in the surf and not getting soaked by that extra big wave that you didn’t see coming, to the making of sand castles and the flying of kites.
Someone decided that we should completely bury Meagan and Chloe, except for their heads, so that’s what we did. What’s cooler then to see what looked like two talking heads just lying there on the beach, waiting for someone to take home and add to their mantle?
One afternoon we went for a hike through the woods to a head of land with the sea on every side. The trail was very rocky and uneven and in some places except for the salal and the odd tree, there wasn’t much between you and the rocks below. If you should catch your foot or lose your balance it was just about clear sailing and a swim in the ocean below. We had been walking for sometime when we realized that Teri was not with us. After waiting for a few minutes we saw her running frantically to catch up. When she finally caught up with us we asked her why the blood on her face and she told us her story of survival.
Not realizing her interest in birds we had left her to her own amusement and it was at this point that she started running to catch up. In her haste she caught her toe on a stone, which sent her sailing for a loop. She was fortunate indeed to catch hold of some salal to keep from rolling down the bank and into the sea. Trooper that she was, she got up and just kept running until she finally caught up with the rest of us.
What better place to celebrate a birthday then at the beach and as luck would have it Great Gramalene was having her eightieth birthday on our first Saturday at the beach. That Saturday everyone had a great time, as there was plenty of cake, lots of punch, with more than enough balloons and presents. You only get to celebrate your eightieth birthday once in a lifetime so we made it one that Great Gramalene would not forget.
Well what do you do when you want a change of pace from doing beach stuff? You go golfing; visit an aquarium, or air museum or even a cheese factory if one is near by. And the evenings were no less entertaining as each evening the kids put on an adlib talent show, which everybody thoroughly enjoyed.
The week ended all to soon and everyone wished that they could have stayed even longer. But that’s a good thing as we now have something to look forward to in the years to come.
Just because it is the first week of August is no guarantee that the weather on the Oregon coast will be warm and sunny. Without notice the fog and drizzle that hangs just off shore can come rolling in and in a matter of minutes you are chilled to the bone. We were fortunate indeed as the weather was so perfect that even Grandma Sandy’s spirits were revived, in spite of a broken leg. Such a perfect week meant that whatever we did had fun written all over it. And of course the first few days had to be beach stuff, everything from wading in the surf and not getting soaked by that extra big wave that you didn’t see coming, to the making of sand castles and the flying of kites.
Someone decided that we should completely bury Meagan and Chloe, except for their heads, so that’s what we did. What’s cooler then to see what looked like two talking heads just lying there on the beach, waiting for someone to take home and add to their mantle?
One afternoon we went for a hike through the woods to a head of land with the sea on every side. The trail was very rocky and uneven and in some places except for the salal and the odd tree, there wasn’t much between you and the rocks below. If you should catch your foot or lose your balance it was just about clear sailing and a swim in the ocean below. We had been walking for sometime when we realized that Teri was not with us. After waiting for a few minutes we saw her running frantically to catch up. When she finally caught up with us we asked her why the blood on her face and she told us her story of survival.
Not realizing her interest in birds we had left her to her own amusement and it was at this point that she started running to catch up. In her haste she caught her toe on a stone, which sent her sailing for a loop. She was fortunate indeed to catch hold of some salal to keep from rolling down the bank and into the sea. Trooper that she was, she got up and just kept running until she finally caught up with the rest of us.
What better place to celebrate a birthday then at the beach and as luck would have it Great Gramalene was having her eightieth birthday on our first Saturday at the beach. That Saturday everyone had a great time, as there was plenty of cake, lots of punch, with more than enough balloons and presents. You only get to celebrate your eightieth birthday once in a lifetime so we made it one that Great Gramalene would not forget.
Well what do you do when you want a change of pace from doing beach stuff? You go golfing; visit an aquarium, or air museum or even a cheese factory if one is near by. And the evenings were no less entertaining as each evening the kids put on an adlib talent show, which everybody thoroughly enjoyed.
The week ended all to soon and everyone wished that they could have stayed even longer. But that’s a good thing as we now have something to look forward to in the years to come.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
120 Aunt Dorothy, You Have to Love Her
The world is full of unique and somewhat eccentric characters and Aunt Dorothy was as unique as they come. She never was a very big part of my life but what little I saw of her idiosyncrasies led me to believe that she was unique indeed. As she was Sandy’s aunt on her mother’s side I did not get to know her until after we were married. I will never forget the first time that I met Aunt Dorothy, who was two years older then Sandy’s mom and at forty-two looked to be in her eighties. When Sandy’s grandmother, Bina, who was in her late seventies introduced her as her daughter, the friend responded, “Bina you must be losing it, you mean your mother.”
Aunt Dorothy spent time in the US Navy as a hospital corpsman in both the Second World War and again during the Korean War, where she acquired a taste for strong drink, which haunted her for many years. Her strong will and the desire to be free from booze led her to take the drug Anabuse as treatment. She faithfully took the drug every morning, and eventually conquered the habit. She was a chain smoker though and succumbed to her habit shortly after her eighty-second birthday when her heart finally gave out. I can still remember the last time Sandy and I visited her just weeks before she died and what she said with a smile on her face.
“The doctor told me that it would be harder on me now if I quite.”
She then invited us outside so as not to annoy us with the smoke and lit up another Camel.
It was not until after the last of her fourth or fifth (lost count) husbands that I really got to know her. Her last husband Willie, who I met briefly, was a nice enough fellow but was young enough to be her son. The relationship only lasted a few years as Willie took off for the hills of Tennessee and as far as I know was not heard from again.
We used to stop to visit Aunt Dorothy whenever we could. I remember the time on our way back from Disneyland when we pulled into the old farmhouse at the Curtain-Lorrane Junction where she happened to be living. It was a damp and rainy evening when we arrived at the ancient farmhouse that Aunt Dorothy rented with an assortment of animals and Charlie her pet pig, which she eventually ate.
South central Oregon is normally fairly dry but that evening the light rain had left the yard somewhat muddy. Rather then have us put the tent trailer up in the rain and mud she invited us to sleep in her bed.
I said, “Don’t bother Aunt Dorothy we don’t want to put you out, by making you have to change your sheets.”
And she responded, “No bother, I wasn’t going to change them anyway, they have only been on two weeks.”
I realized the offer was to good to be true when I laid back the covers to climb in and noticed all of the debris between the sheets
Here I was on my knees with the covers pulled back, frantically brushing away at the sheets to clear the bed of as much of the debris as possible, while poor Sandy, who couldn’t believe her eyes, watched from her chair in the living room. All she was thinking was it’s a good think that Aunt Dorothy couldn’t see what I was doing from where she was sitting.
Just a few months before she passed away, Aunt Dorothy came up to visit some of the family at my son Bob’s place in Walla Walla. This normally would not have been a heroic event but in view of her failing health it put quite a strain on her. She was determined to make the trip before she died and had taken care of the minutest details in case the inevitable should happen while she was there. On arriving from her arduous plane trip she explained to Bob my son, how he was not to worry as she had taken care of everything. That is to say, she had contacted the appropriate authorities, coroner etc. in case she didn’t make it back home from his place.
She informed him that she never slept in late and if she did he was to check immediately as her time had probably come. Wouldn’t you know it, that first morning she slept well beyond her usual time, so needless to say, they were terrified thinking that Aunty Dorothy had ended her days in Chloe’s bed. They knocked frantically on her door and all breathed a sigh of relief when she finally answered the knock by sticking her disheveled head out with a most questioning look on her face. When she finally realized what the concern was about everyone had a good laugh, especially Aunt Dorothy.
“The doctor told me that it would be harder on me now if I quite.”
She then invited us outside so as not to annoy us with the smoke and lit up another Camel.
It was not until after the last of her fourth or fifth (lost count) husbands that I really got to know her. Her last husband Willie, who I met briefly, was a nice enough fellow but was young enough to be her son. The relationship only lasted a few years as Willie took off for the hills of Tennessee and as far as I know was not heard from again.
We used to stop to visit Aunt Dorothy whenever we could. I remember the time on our way back from Disneyland when we pulled into the old farmhouse at the Curtain-Lorrane Junction where she happened to be living. It was a damp and rainy evening when we arrived at the ancient farmhouse that Aunt Dorothy rented with an assortment of animals and Charlie her pet pig, which she eventually ate.
South central Oregon is normally fairly dry but that evening the light rain had left the yard somewhat muddy. Rather then have us put the tent trailer up in the rain and mud she invited us to sleep in her bed.
I said, “Don’t bother Aunt Dorothy we don’t want to put you out, by making you have to change your sheets.”
And she responded, “No bother, I wasn’t going to change them anyway, they have only been on two weeks.”
I realized the offer was to good to be true when I laid back the covers to climb in and noticed all of the debris between the sheets
Here I was on my knees with the covers pulled back, frantically brushing away at the sheets to clear the bed of as much of the debris as possible, while poor Sandy, who couldn’t believe her eyes, watched from her chair in the living room. All she was thinking was it’s a good think that Aunt Dorothy couldn’t see what I was doing from where she was sitting.
Just a few months before she passed away, Aunt Dorothy came up to visit some of the family at my son Bob’s place in Walla Walla. This normally would not have been a heroic event but in view of her failing health it put quite a strain on her. She was determined to make the trip before she died and had taken care of the minutest details in case the inevitable should happen while she was there. On arriving from her arduous plane trip she explained to Bob my son, how he was not to worry as she had taken care of everything. That is to say, she had contacted the appropriate authorities, coroner etc. in case she didn’t make it back home from his place.
She informed him that she never slept in late and if she did he was to check immediately as her time had probably come. Wouldn’t you know it, that first morning she slept well beyond her usual time, so needless to say, they were terrified thinking that Aunty Dorothy had ended her days in Chloe’s bed. They knocked frantically on her door and all breathed a sigh of relief when she finally answered the knock by sticking her disheveled head out with a most questioning look on her face. When she finally realized what the concern was about everyone had a good laugh, especially Aunt Dorothy.
119 Bring on Those Golden Years
Oh for the days when getting old was so far in the distance that it could be easily dismissed as a bad thought. As a young fellow I was not really concerned with aging but I did have an appreciation for the carefree and under forty. Having worked in a care home for the elderly in my twenties, I saw firsthand the ravages of old age and what inconsistencies in lifestyle can reek upon the human body.
The young I suppose all look for the day when they can get out from under the parental thumb and have their first car, and what to them is total freedom. I never felt the anxiety that some seem to feel about parental restraint and did not even own a car until I was twenty-three and then it was only a month or so before my marriage.
I still remember my fortieth birthday and how I felt depressed at just the thought of reaching that milestone and the implications of what it meant to enter, what I considered middle age. I could not bring myself to admit that in fact, if it was not middle age, it was pretty darn close.
Life passes by at such an incredible speed. It is amazing to sit there and watch such things as your childhood, university, marriage, work, and having kids accelerate by. Before you know it, you are sitting there in the empty nest watching it again as your kids do a rerun of your life. Life just seems to blend together in one big blur.
I suppose the one thing that makes up for the never ending spin of events is the fact that at some point you end up with grandkids, which seem to make it all worth while. I must say that they brighten the most negative of moments. You gotta love those grandkids. What a joy to visit with them, love them, and then leave them without having to take care of them.
With the good also comes the not so good and I remember when the hospital was sometimes the only answer. I rejoiced over the positive outcome when I had a malignant thyroid, but felt the pain of what Sandy had to go through, what with her lumpectomy and the radiation that it entailed. We were however thankful for the positive outcome.
Old age seems to strike each of us indiscriminately and what it did with Sandy’s bones was not good. At this point in time she is a bionic woman with more metal in her then a pincushion.
The first bone to break was the ball off her left hip when we were on a trip to Arizona. She did not know it was broken so walked for what seemed like miles at both the Las Vegas and Seattle airports. When she got home the doctor, not realizing it was broken prescribed physiotherapy treatments on her broken leg, and it was bone against bone until the therapist realized something was wrong and discontinued the treatments. It wasn’t until her regular doctor got home that an x-ray showed it was a broken hip. What seemed strange to us was the day of her surgery for her pinning; they bumped her for someone that had just broken their hip. Sandy had only been walking on a broken hip for six weeks by then so I guess the doctor figured another few days of pain was of no consequence.
A year or so later the right femur broke in the middle and had to be pinned followed by the left femur which snapping in another place as she was getting out of bed. That meant a five thirty am trip to the hospital by ambulance and another pinning.
Life is not easy, not after forty but the alternative is not for the faint of heart or the sissy. Bring on those golden years I can handle them, I think. If the gold in those golden years does not turn to dust before you get there, you only have God to thank.
“Hey mother, could you please shove the walker over this way so I can get up and walk to the bathroom and empty my urine bag.”
“What did you say, I’m sorry, can’t hear you, left my hearing aid in the bedroom.”
Oh the sweetness of old age, no time to sit down and take a break cause I might not get up again.
I still remember my fortieth birthday and how I felt depressed at just the thought of reaching that milestone and the implications of what it meant to enter, what I considered middle age. I could not bring myself to admit that in fact, if it was not middle age, it was pretty darn close.
Life passes by at such an incredible speed. It is amazing to sit there and watch such things as your childhood, university, marriage, work, and having kids accelerate by. Before you know it, you are sitting there in the empty nest watching it again as your kids do a rerun of your life. Life just seems to blend together in one big blur.
I suppose the one thing that makes up for the never ending spin of events is the fact that at some point you end up with grandkids, which seem to make it all worth while. I must say that they brighten the most negative of moments. You gotta love those grandkids. What a joy to visit with them, love them, and then leave them without having to take care of them.
With the good also comes the not so good and I remember when the hospital was sometimes the only answer. I rejoiced over the positive outcome when I had a malignant thyroid, but felt the pain of what Sandy had to go through, what with her lumpectomy and the radiation that it entailed. We were however thankful for the positive outcome.
Old age seems to strike each of us indiscriminately and what it did with Sandy’s bones was not good. At this point in time she is a bionic woman with more metal in her then a pincushion.
The first bone to break was the ball off her left hip when we were on a trip to Arizona. She did not know it was broken so walked for what seemed like miles at both the Las Vegas and Seattle airports. When she got home the doctor, not realizing it was broken prescribed physiotherapy treatments on her broken leg, and it was bone against bone until the therapist realized something was wrong and discontinued the treatments. It wasn’t until her regular doctor got home that an x-ray showed it was a broken hip. What seemed strange to us was the day of her surgery for her pinning; they bumped her for someone that had just broken their hip. Sandy had only been walking on a broken hip for six weeks by then so I guess the doctor figured another few days of pain was of no consequence.
A year or so later the right femur broke in the middle and had to be pinned followed by the left femur which snapping in another place as she was getting out of bed. That meant a five thirty am trip to the hospital by ambulance and another pinning.
Life is not easy, not after forty but the alternative is not for the faint of heart or the sissy. Bring on those golden years I can handle them, I think. If the gold in those golden years does not turn to dust before you get there, you only have God to thank.
“Hey mother, could you please shove the walker over this way so I can get up and walk to the bathroom and empty my urine bag.”
“What did you say, I’m sorry, can’t hear you, left my hearing aid in the bedroom.”
Oh the sweetness of old age, no time to sit down and take a break cause I might not get up again.
Friday, August 5, 2011
118 The Big Snow of ‘96
It is not often that it snows more then a few inches on the southern tip of Vancouver Island in the normal course of a typical winter. For this reason to live in the Greater Victoria area is quite popular and people flock there literally by the thousands to retire.
Because our climate is Mediterranean, the snowfall is usually light and the temperatures only on rare occasions reach into the single digits on the Fahrenheit scale.
This particular December when Christmas was yet a couple of weeks distant we felt the excitement of the first snowfall and the child in each of us thrilled to the eighteen inches that covered everything in white.
The week before Christmas Sandy and I took off for a trip south to Arizona to celebrate Christmas with my daughter Teri and her family. Our plane was to leave Seattle late Saturday afternoon, but on the way there we had an early mini-Christmas in Bellingham with my youngest daughter Mandy and her family.
The light snowfall that began sometime Thursday became a wild blizzard that screamed all night and by Friday morning when we got up to leave had literally surrounded our car in snowdrifts. After digging the car out and clearing the engine compartment of packed snow we took off for Bill and Jadie’s.
On the way to their home in Briar, where we were to spend Saturday, just north of Seattle, the roads were packed solid with six inches of icy snow. As we were coming down a small hill to an intersection the light turned red. I barely touched the breaks and the front wheels locked up solid on the frozen snow and instead of turning we came sliding in for a crash. I barely had time to take my foot off the breaks, and steer around the crash. But now we were flying through the intersection against the light. We were extremely lucky that no cars were in the intersection and we cleared the intersection unscathed. Whew what an adrenalin rush, many more like that and I would have a heat attack for sure. I think Sandy was pretty faint as well and just as shaken as I was.
It was nice to relax over Sabbath with Bill and Jadie as the snow of the previous few days had closed most of the roads and we stayed put until Jadie drove us to Sea-Tac for our late afternoon departure.
What a shambles when we arrived at the airport. People had literally been waiting for hours because of the winter weather. While waiting for our flight to leave Sandy asked a lady who looked somewhat distraught, how long she had been waiting for her flight. She said because of the weather her flight had left the day before without her and now she was not sure when she could catch another one as all the seats were taken.
As it was between storms our flight left on time and just ahead of another huge weather front that was roaring in. It felt good to be leaving all of the turmoil that the winter weather was causing on the ground and spend two lovely weeks with my daughter Teri and her family over the Christmas season in sunny Arizona.
In the meantime Mandy had gone over to Sidney to fill in for Sandy’s baby-sitting business, but as it turned out there were no babies to sit as the snow had ground everything to a halt. So instead of baby-sitting, Mandy spent the next several days just shoveling snow.
The Pineapple Express that came roaring in after the arctic front dumped enough rain on the already snow laden roofs to cause a major disaster. With the three feet or more of snow covering everything, the added weight of the several inches of rain from the Pineapple express was more then many of the roofs could stand. Many arenas, curling rinks, and school gymnasiums caved in under the added weight.
Because our climate is Mediterranean, the snowfall is usually light and the temperatures only on rare occasions reach into the single digits on the Fahrenheit scale.
This particular December when Christmas was yet a couple of weeks distant we felt the excitement of the first snowfall and the child in each of us thrilled to the eighteen inches that covered everything in white.
The week before Christmas Sandy and I took off for a trip south to Arizona to celebrate Christmas with my daughter Teri and her family. Our plane was to leave Seattle late Saturday afternoon, but on the way there we had an early mini-Christmas in Bellingham with my youngest daughter Mandy and her family.
The light snowfall that began sometime Thursday became a wild blizzard that screamed all night and by Friday morning when we got up to leave had literally surrounded our car in snowdrifts. After digging the car out and clearing the engine compartment of packed snow we took off for Bill and Jadie’s.
On the way to their home in Briar, where we were to spend Saturday, just north of Seattle, the roads were packed solid with six inches of icy snow. As we were coming down a small hill to an intersection the light turned red. I barely touched the breaks and the front wheels locked up solid on the frozen snow and instead of turning we came sliding in for a crash. I barely had time to take my foot off the breaks, and steer around the crash. But now we were flying through the intersection against the light. We were extremely lucky that no cars were in the intersection and we cleared the intersection unscathed. Whew what an adrenalin rush, many more like that and I would have a heat attack for sure. I think Sandy was pretty faint as well and just as shaken as I was.
It was nice to relax over Sabbath with Bill and Jadie as the snow of the previous few days had closed most of the roads and we stayed put until Jadie drove us to Sea-Tac for our late afternoon departure.
What a shambles when we arrived at the airport. People had literally been waiting for hours because of the winter weather. While waiting for our flight to leave Sandy asked a lady who looked somewhat distraught, how long she had been waiting for her flight. She said because of the weather her flight had left the day before without her and now she was not sure when she could catch another one as all the seats were taken.
As it was between storms our flight left on time and just ahead of another huge weather front that was roaring in. It felt good to be leaving all of the turmoil that the winter weather was causing on the ground and spend two lovely weeks with my daughter Teri and her family over the Christmas season in sunny Arizona.
In the meantime Mandy had gone over to Sidney to fill in for Sandy’s baby-sitting business, but as it turned out there were no babies to sit as the snow had ground everything to a halt. So instead of baby-sitting, Mandy spent the next several days just shoveling snow.
The Pineapple Express that came roaring in after the arctic front dumped enough rain on the already snow laden roofs to cause a major disaster. With the three feet or more of snow covering everything, the added weight of the several inches of rain from the Pineapple express was more then many of the roofs could stand. Many arenas, curling rinks, and school gymnasiums caved in under the added weight.
I was greatly relieved, as I knew Tom, a good friend who rented my basement suite, and Mandy, were able to shovel my sun decks off before the rain came. It is on rare occasions that a heavy snowfall with a Pineapple Express roaring in from the Pacific causes such a disaster, but it is more then heartwarming to know there are those you can trust and rely on.
Ten days later when Sandy and I landed back in town all that was left of the ravages of our short winter were a few not quite melted snowdrifts. I said to Sandy I feel kind of gypped that we missed the biggest snowfall of the last one hundred years with all its excitement.
Maybe if I can hang on another 86 years I’ll be around for the next big one.
Maybe if I can hang on another 86 years I’ll be around for the next big one.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
117 Don’t Wash The Sheets; It’s Just For To-Night
The last trip back to Walla Walla from GMG Logging was one of the more memorable events during my days as a college student. We had left our car with my parents as my dad had said he would take it in for an engine overhaul in Campbell River, while we were away at camp. The extreme dusty condition of the logging roads during the previous summer in Idaho had ruined the engine causing it to blow out a quart of oil every hundred miles.
It was with a sense of relief that we took off in what we thought was a trouble free car and another year a Walla Walla. We were soon to awaken to the contrary as we had only been a little over an hour and were just approaching Marysville when the engine started missing so badly that I had to stop along the freeway. I was quite frustrated knowing I had just spent plenty of money for a supposedly trouble free car and now what. I lifted the hood but could see no lose wires, or anything that needed fixing, so I got in the car and luckily it started. The engine sputtered on in fits and starts until I finally pulled off at Marysville where we just managed to coast to a stop near an older looking motel.
It was now dark and I was not a happy camper as here I was with a wife and two little kids, a broken down car and maybe a place to sleep. The only thing left now was to hope that the man who owned the motel could put us up someplace for the night as his no vacancy light was turned on.
An older looking gentleman answered the ring and greeted me with a pleasant smile. When I asked about a room he confirmed that he was full, but when I explained that I was stuck in front of his motel with a broken down car and a wife and my two little kids his face softened and he said he could give us his bed as his wife was out of town and he could sleep on the couch. “Wonderful,” I just about shouted, that is until he stated, “I’m not much into making beds as my wife is the bed maker around here, and if you don’t mind using the same sheets that my wife and I have been using, the bed’s all yours.” In view of the fact that we were on a very limited budget we said yes and climbed into bed with our cloths on. We did take our shoes off however. I can’t really remember where the kids slept, but it was still better then a night with them in a car and I don’t remember them complaining.
If I remember correctly the kind-hearted gentleman gave us breakfast the next morning as well as recommending a shop that could fix the car, just up the road from where he lived.
A phone call for a tow-truck and a coupe hours in a shop and we were soon on our way to Walla Walla.
It seems that the incompetency of the shop that had fixed our car in Campbell River was beyond normal comprehension. They had not only installed a set of new points incorrectly, so that a wire came lose, but they had also hooked the car battery up backwards. Boy was I relieved that it was only a simple fix, but I sure wouldn’t recommend the shop that had done the engine overhaul.
Life has its ups and downs and I suppose we are better off in the long run if things don’t come too easy. We can be thankful however when someone comes along from time to time to ease some of the stress and I will always be glad for the fine old gentleman who gave us his own bed, dirty sheets and all.
It was with a sense of relief that we took off in what we thought was a trouble free car and another year a Walla Walla. We were soon to awaken to the contrary as we had only been a little over an hour and were just approaching Marysville when the engine started missing so badly that I had to stop along the freeway. I was quite frustrated knowing I had just spent plenty of money for a supposedly trouble free car and now what. I lifted the hood but could see no lose wires, or anything that needed fixing, so I got in the car and luckily it started. The engine sputtered on in fits and starts until I finally pulled off at Marysville where we just managed to coast to a stop near an older looking motel.
It was now dark and I was not a happy camper as here I was with a wife and two little kids, a broken down car and maybe a place to sleep. The only thing left now was to hope that the man who owned the motel could put us up someplace for the night as his no vacancy light was turned on.
An older looking gentleman answered the ring and greeted me with a pleasant smile. When I asked about a room he confirmed that he was full, but when I explained that I was stuck in front of his motel with a broken down car and a wife and my two little kids his face softened and he said he could give us his bed as his wife was out of town and he could sleep on the couch. “Wonderful,” I just about shouted, that is until he stated, “I’m not much into making beds as my wife is the bed maker around here, and if you don’t mind using the same sheets that my wife and I have been using, the bed’s all yours.” In view of the fact that we were on a very limited budget we said yes and climbed into bed with our cloths on. We did take our shoes off however. I can’t really remember where the kids slept, but it was still better then a night with them in a car and I don’t remember them complaining.
If I remember correctly the kind-hearted gentleman gave us breakfast the next morning as well as recommending a shop that could fix the car, just up the road from where he lived.
A phone call for a tow-truck and a coupe hours in a shop and we were soon on our way to Walla Walla.
It seems that the incompetency of the shop that had fixed our car in Campbell River was beyond normal comprehension. They had not only installed a set of new points incorrectly, so that a wire came lose, but they had also hooked the car battery up backwards. Boy was I relieved that it was only a simple fix, but I sure wouldn’t recommend the shop that had done the engine overhaul.
Life has its ups and downs and I suppose we are better off in the long run if things don’t come too easy. We can be thankful however when someone comes along from time to time to ease some of the stress and I will always be glad for the fine old gentleman who gave us his own bed, dirty sheets and all.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
116 Those Old Cherry Picking Days
Oh for those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer those days of soda and pretzels and beer, except that I am a teetotaler, but I will never forget those summer days up at Bill’s place and picking cherries in Bill’s cherry orchard. We never got a lot of cherries picked but they sure tasted good. I guess that answers a lot of questions, the important one being why so few cherries in the bucket and so little money, but you gotta love those cherries. I guess I should speak for my self, as I’m sure Sandy has a different story.
I never spent much time in Bill’s orchard with Sandy and the kids except on the weekends because of my work. Sandy and the kids however lived for July and cherry season so they could spend a few weeks in Bill’s orchard each year picking cherries and having a great time.
You might think that the greatest danger to cherry picking would be maybe falling out of the cherry tree and breaking an arm or a leg, but one day something far scarier came slithering into the cherry orchard and had everyone up a tree, cherry tree that is. It was a big old rattler, and if you weren’t already in a tree you sure headed for one. It wasn’t long however before Bill came over and dispatched it forthwith and things quieted down, but the tranquility of the orchard was never quite the same after that as everyone now had thoughts of a rattler behind every clump of grass.
Cherry picking was a lot of fun and a neat way to add some variety to the summer but it was also a great way to make a few extra dollars to supplement the family income. From the time the cherries were in season ending with tomatoes in the fall I would be hauling fruit down from Keremeos to sell out of our garage. By now the fun had somehow left and it was just plane work, but with three kids in private school and long trips to visit family, we had no trouble spending the extra money.
Those days are now gone but the memories of the times spent in Keremeos picking cherries in Bill’s orchard will always remain in our memory and are what give life it’s meaning and pleasure.
I never spent much time in Bill’s orchard with Sandy and the kids except on the weekends because of my work. Sandy and the kids however lived for July and cherry season so they could spend a few weeks in Bill’s orchard each year picking cherries and having a great time.
You might think that the greatest danger to cherry picking would be maybe falling out of the cherry tree and breaking an arm or a leg, but one day something far scarier came slithering into the cherry orchard and had everyone up a tree, cherry tree that is. It was a big old rattler, and if you weren’t already in a tree you sure headed for one. It wasn’t long however before Bill came over and dispatched it forthwith and things quieted down, but the tranquility of the orchard was never quite the same after that as everyone now had thoughts of a rattler behind every clump of grass.
Cherry picking was a lot of fun and a neat way to add some variety to the summer but it was also a great way to make a few extra dollars to supplement the family income. From the time the cherries were in season ending with tomatoes in the fall I would be hauling fruit down from Keremeos to sell out of our garage. By now the fun had somehow left and it was just plane work, but with three kids in private school and long trips to visit family, we had no trouble spending the extra money.
Those days are now gone but the memories of the times spent in Keremeos picking cherries in Bill’s orchard will always remain in our memory and are what give life it’s meaning and pleasure.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
115 You Shake My House; I’ll Shake Yours
If you are a rocker, you need a guitar to “shake it and make it,” but if you are a roofer, you need a fro to “shake it and make it,” for the best roof bar none, was a cedar shake roof. Bill Mason and I were not rockers as neither of us could play the guitar, but we were soon to start shaking, as each of us was building a new house and we were aiming for a premium roof of cedar shakes.
When I told Bill Mason that I was making my own shakes and I knew where I could get number one premium cedar free, he was onside. I told him if he would supply the truck and the muscle I would supply the saw and the cedar, so off we went one weekend to the Upper Klanawa, in the Franklin River Division of MacMillan Bloedel.
After checking in with the head ranger at the camp we headed off up the Klanawa where we found two beautiful cedar logs in old slash, that you would die for, if you were a shaker that is. One was six feet in diameter and about thirty six feet long and the second one was four foot in diameter by about forty two feet long, together they filled Bill’s truck with premium cedar bolts, but I never worked so hard in my life cutting the logs into blocks with Bill splitting them into bolts and the both of us hauling them out to the road and onto the truck. We worked like dogs until dark, but went home feeling that we had really scored.
A few months later however we realized that we still needed another truckload as I had finished my house and it was obvious Bill’s house would have only half a roof. Now that might not be as bad as it sounds as he lived in Keremeos where it hardly ever rains, but the winters can be touch and go.
What better time to go after more shakes then on a Thanksgiving weekend in October with what looked like perfect weather. So off we went with both of our families for a camping weekend and a little shaking up the Klanawa.
There was a lovely Mac and Blo Campsite, south side of the Nitinat, where we planned to camp with our families over the Sabbath. The campsite was a pristine spot with a beautiful sand beach surrounded by giant Sitka Spruce trees. Some of these trees were gigantic as the campsite was in a west coast rainforest and moss was hanging from all the trees.
Saturday was a lovely day and it was incredible to just sit by the fire and enjoy the family. The Nitinat Lagoon was too cold to swim in but the lagoon was just an awesome place to hangout. After lunch we all decided to take a walk down the south side of the lagoon. After walking for about a quarter mile we reached the Caycuse River, which enters the Nitinat. Here we had to turn back as the river was too large to cross. I still remember the grove of beautiful moss covered, giant spruce trees growing where the Caycuse dumped into the lagoon.
The whole area was very awe-inspiring but I am ashamed to say what really turned me on was what I saw in a small rocky nook. The winter storms had packed the rocky nook solid with cedar logs of all shapes and sizes. This really made my day, as I knew our search for cedar was over.
Bright and early Sunday morning we took off with Bill’s truck to our cache of what turned out to be prime cedar. What complicated things a bit were that winter storms had beached a number of giant full-length spruce trees and with their root as anchors their tops reached the shore. There were several of these but only one presented a real problem as it reached way out into the lagoon. Going was easy as Bill could drive way out into the lagoon and around the root as the tide was out, but coming back was a different story.
The cedar was better even then we had expected and we were able to back the truck right up to where we were cutting, which made the truck easy to load. I was thinking this was a cakewalk until I noticed that the sunny weather of the day before seemed to have vanished during our busy day and it now looked seriously like rain. More about that later.
Well, the truck was loaded, but the challenge now, how to get the heavily loaded truck back to our campsite. The tide had surreptitiously come in during our endeavor and there were now two feet of salt water and a very soft beach to drive on if we ever wanted to get past the largest of the grounded spruce. I said to Bill, “Either we chance it now, or we unload and reload the truck to make it lighter.” Bill only said, “Just watch me.” And with that he got in his truck and put the pedal to the metal and went roaring around the huge Sitka Spruce root with the water flying everywhere. Even with the pedal to the floor I thought Bill had met his match and the sea would win, but no, the truck suddenly picked up speed, sending water everywhere as it literally flew around the old Sitka Spruce root and onto dry ground.
Boy did I ever breathe a sigh of relief, for a moment I had visions of having to leave the truck over night, stuck up to its axels in the mud, and with the job of having to unload and reload it. What a nightmare, that would have been, and to think that Bill could have also lost his truck to the sea.
We made it into camp just as the sun was setting and what had been a light rain was now a steady west coast drizzle. The best thing to do now was to hunker down around a campfire and be glad we were not unloading a stuck in the mud truck. I can still remember sitting around the roaring campfire in the pouring rain under a huge sheet of plastic that we had tied up over the whole camping area. This seemed to work after a fashion but the trick was to not get drowned, because the plastic over the campsite dumped its load of water from time to time and if you were in the wrong place you would get soaked.
I would not criticize anyone if they complained about sitting around a Bob Betts fire under a plastic tarp in the pouring rain. But as I was enjoying my steaming bowl of hot soup with a thick slice of buttered bread in the dark with family and friends I realized how fortunate I was.
The rest of the weekend was so anticlimactic that I have remembered little, except to say, that our tents for the most part, kept the rain out, the cedar was just enough to finish Bill’s house, and we made it home the following day without any mishap.
The splitting of the last load of shakes had been done in unseasonable weather and the sooner we got going on Bill’s roof the better. So off to Keremeos I went on a fine Remembrance Day weekend with Sandy and all the kids for a fun week on Bill’s roof.
Bill had recently purchased a ten-acre fruit orchard, which was home to an old picker’s shack and a mother skunk with her family of little skunks and maybe the odd rattler.
I still remember trying to get some sleep after we stretched our sleeping bags out over the mother skunk’s den, and that of her family of skunklets who lived directly under the shack’s floor. It was really hard to get past the pungent smell of skunk as it wafted up through the holes in the wooden floorboards. It took Bill some time but he was finally able to evict the basement dwellers and the smell over time slowly receded into a distant memory.
As it was November the winter weather was hard upon us but we were fortunate that only the upper mountains about the valley got a dusting of white, as the weather held.
We awoke bright and early Sunday morning and I still remember how everyone got into the spirit of the project. I can still see my wife Sandy, with Bill’s wife June, hard at it on the roof, while the kids pitched in wherever we asked them too. It really felt good when the last nail got hammered in well before the Sun went down on Friday and we could now sit back and watch it rain or snow, we didn’t care, because it now didn’t made the slightest difference, what a nice feeling when you come out on top.
The bonds that form when done with a common purpose are those that last a lifetime. To this day Sandy and I include Bill and his family with our closest friends, more akin to family. Even with the passing of time, Bill remains a true friend, perhaps more like a brother.
When I told Bill Mason that I was making my own shakes and I knew where I could get number one premium cedar free, he was onside. I told him if he would supply the truck and the muscle I would supply the saw and the cedar, so off we went one weekend to the Upper Klanawa, in the Franklin River Division of MacMillan Bloedel.
After checking in with the head ranger at the camp we headed off up the Klanawa where we found two beautiful cedar logs in old slash, that you would die for, if you were a shaker that is. One was six feet in diameter and about thirty six feet long and the second one was four foot in diameter by about forty two feet long, together they filled Bill’s truck with premium cedar bolts, but I never worked so hard in my life cutting the logs into blocks with Bill splitting them into bolts and the both of us hauling them out to the road and onto the truck. We worked like dogs until dark, but went home feeling that we had really scored.
A few months later however we realized that we still needed another truckload as I had finished my house and it was obvious Bill’s house would have only half a roof. Now that might not be as bad as it sounds as he lived in Keremeos where it hardly ever rains, but the winters can be touch and go.
What better time to go after more shakes then on a Thanksgiving weekend in October with what looked like perfect weather. So off we went with both of our families for a camping weekend and a little shaking up the Klanawa.
There was a lovely Mac and Blo Campsite, south side of the Nitinat, where we planned to camp with our families over the Sabbath. The campsite was a pristine spot with a beautiful sand beach surrounded by giant Sitka Spruce trees. Some of these trees were gigantic as the campsite was in a west coast rainforest and moss was hanging from all the trees.
Saturday was a lovely day and it was incredible to just sit by the fire and enjoy the family. The Nitinat Lagoon was too cold to swim in but the lagoon was just an awesome place to hangout. After lunch we all decided to take a walk down the south side of the lagoon. After walking for about a quarter mile we reached the Caycuse River, which enters the Nitinat. Here we had to turn back as the river was too large to cross. I still remember the grove of beautiful moss covered, giant spruce trees growing where the Caycuse dumped into the lagoon.
The whole area was very awe-inspiring but I am ashamed to say what really turned me on was what I saw in a small rocky nook. The winter storms had packed the rocky nook solid with cedar logs of all shapes and sizes. This really made my day, as I knew our search for cedar was over.
Bright and early Sunday morning we took off with Bill’s truck to our cache of what turned out to be prime cedar. What complicated things a bit were that winter storms had beached a number of giant full-length spruce trees and with their root as anchors their tops reached the shore. There were several of these but only one presented a real problem as it reached way out into the lagoon. Going was easy as Bill could drive way out into the lagoon and around the root as the tide was out, but coming back was a different story.
The cedar was better even then we had expected and we were able to back the truck right up to where we were cutting, which made the truck easy to load. I was thinking this was a cakewalk until I noticed that the sunny weather of the day before seemed to have vanished during our busy day and it now looked seriously like rain. More about that later.
Well, the truck was loaded, but the challenge now, how to get the heavily loaded truck back to our campsite. The tide had surreptitiously come in during our endeavor and there were now two feet of salt water and a very soft beach to drive on if we ever wanted to get past the largest of the grounded spruce. I said to Bill, “Either we chance it now, or we unload and reload the truck to make it lighter.” Bill only said, “Just watch me.” And with that he got in his truck and put the pedal to the metal and went roaring around the huge Sitka Spruce root with the water flying everywhere. Even with the pedal to the floor I thought Bill had met his match and the sea would win, but no, the truck suddenly picked up speed, sending water everywhere as it literally flew around the old Sitka Spruce root and onto dry ground.
Boy did I ever breathe a sigh of relief, for a moment I had visions of having to leave the truck over night, stuck up to its axels in the mud, and with the job of having to unload and reload it. What a nightmare, that would have been, and to think that Bill could have also lost his truck to the sea.
We made it into camp just as the sun was setting and what had been a light rain was now a steady west coast drizzle. The best thing to do now was to hunker down around a campfire and be glad we were not unloading a stuck in the mud truck. I can still remember sitting around the roaring campfire in the pouring rain under a huge sheet of plastic that we had tied up over the whole camping area. This seemed to work after a fashion but the trick was to not get drowned, because the plastic over the campsite dumped its load of water from time to time and if you were in the wrong place you would get soaked.
I would not criticize anyone if they complained about sitting around a Bob Betts fire under a plastic tarp in the pouring rain. But as I was enjoying my steaming bowl of hot soup with a thick slice of buttered bread in the dark with family and friends I realized how fortunate I was.
The rest of the weekend was so anticlimactic that I have remembered little, except to say, that our tents for the most part, kept the rain out, the cedar was just enough to finish Bill’s house, and we made it home the following day without any mishap.
The splitting of the last load of shakes had been done in unseasonable weather and the sooner we got going on Bill’s roof the better. So off to Keremeos I went on a fine Remembrance Day weekend with Sandy and all the kids for a fun week on Bill’s roof.
Bill had recently purchased a ten-acre fruit orchard, which was home to an old picker’s shack and a mother skunk with her family of little skunks and maybe the odd rattler.
I still remember trying to get some sleep after we stretched our sleeping bags out over the mother skunk’s den, and that of her family of skunklets who lived directly under the shack’s floor. It was really hard to get past the pungent smell of skunk as it wafted up through the holes in the wooden floorboards. It took Bill some time but he was finally able to evict the basement dwellers and the smell over time slowly receded into a distant memory.
As it was November the winter weather was hard upon us but we were fortunate that only the upper mountains about the valley got a dusting of white, as the weather held.
We awoke bright and early Sunday morning and I still remember how everyone got into the spirit of the project. I can still see my wife Sandy, with Bill’s wife June, hard at it on the roof, while the kids pitched in wherever we asked them too. It really felt good when the last nail got hammered in well before the Sun went down on Friday and we could now sit back and watch it rain or snow, we didn’t care, because it now didn’t made the slightest difference, what a nice feeling when you come out on top.
The bonds that form when done with a common purpose are those that last a lifetime. To this day Sandy and I include Bill and his family with our closest friends, more akin to family. Even with the passing of time, Bill remains a true friend, perhaps more like a brother.
Monday, August 1, 2011
114 What About Pringle?
The seasons come and the seasons go and whether we realize it or not most joy in life is ultimately associated with the pleasures we receive from their comings and goings. The seasons give us a grand occasion or excuse if you like, for getting together with family and friends. Some of my loveliest memories come from the festivities during these times.
Going to Camp Pringle was one of these times and over the years it was looked forward too with much anticipation, especially during the Christmas season. Seventy or more of us would show up at the camp each year to celebrate Christmas and the joy of the season.
People would start rolling in around 4 o’clock Friday afternoon with their compliment for what was to be a big banquet Saturday evening. But for now it was the soups that reined supreme as people began to arrive for the big Friday evening soup bash.
What an amazing meal if you were a lover of soup, as there would be an incredible smorgasbord of soups to sample. My challenge was to try as many as I possible could. There would be plain vegetable soup, then divine split pea soup, beautiful corn chowder soup, amazing bean soup, and an incomprehensible mixed bean soup, incredible squash soup, lovely lentil soup, stupendous cream of broccoli, charming tomato, glorious borsch, and I’ve probably forgotten a few.
And of course all the glorious and lovely breads you could think of to eat. Who eats soup without the luxury of a beautiful loaf of bread?
For dessert there were the pies, and oh the pies. There was raisin pie, apple pie, lemon pie, berry pie, bumble berry pie, pumpkin pie, chocolate pie, and maybe even delectable banana cream, and a plate or two of delightful coconut cream. What a glorious pie fest.
After eating all the soup we could hold and the assigned clean up crew had finished the dishes off we went to the great room to sit in front of a large stone fireplace with a great roaring fire to sing songs until Joyce Schafer pulled out her storybook of sob stories and started the tears flowing. Of course all the stories had a moral and we would each go to our beds after a prayer, with very noble thoughts.
I especially remember the early years when after the fire burned down we would all spread our sleeping bags out on mattresses on the great room floor in front of the fire place and hopefully be the first one to drift off to asleep, so you would not be kept awake by the snoring that would soon erupt.
Saturday was the big day that everyone looked forward too, and the meal that was to follow later on. As this was a church function the morning right after breakfast would find us singing around the great fire, followed by someone leading out in a lively study of the scripture with most everyone taking part.
After closing the discussion with a prayer we would head into the dinning room for a light lunch, which was an incredible fruit salad that would tantalize your taste buds when eaten with the many fruit breads, in anticipation of the banquet later that evening.
Going to Camp Pringle was one of these times and over the years it was looked forward too with much anticipation, especially during the Christmas season. Seventy or more of us would show up at the camp each year to celebrate Christmas and the joy of the season.
People would start rolling in around 4 o’clock Friday afternoon with their compliment for what was to be a big banquet Saturday evening. But for now it was the soups that reined supreme as people began to arrive for the big Friday evening soup bash.
What an amazing meal if you were a lover of soup, as there would be an incredible smorgasbord of soups to sample. My challenge was to try as many as I possible could. There would be plain vegetable soup, then divine split pea soup, beautiful corn chowder soup, amazing bean soup, and an incomprehensible mixed bean soup, incredible squash soup, lovely lentil soup, stupendous cream of broccoli, charming tomato, glorious borsch, and I’ve probably forgotten a few.
And of course all the glorious and lovely breads you could think of to eat. Who eats soup without the luxury of a beautiful loaf of bread?
For dessert there were the pies, and oh the pies. There was raisin pie, apple pie, lemon pie, berry pie, bumble berry pie, pumpkin pie, chocolate pie, and maybe even delectable banana cream, and a plate or two of delightful coconut cream. What a glorious pie fest.
After eating all the soup we could hold and the assigned clean up crew had finished the dishes off we went to the great room to sit in front of a large stone fireplace with a great roaring fire to sing songs until Joyce Schafer pulled out her storybook of sob stories and started the tears flowing. Of course all the stories had a moral and we would each go to our beds after a prayer, with very noble thoughts.
I especially remember the early years when after the fire burned down we would all spread our sleeping bags out on mattresses on the great room floor in front of the fire place and hopefully be the first one to drift off to asleep, so you would not be kept awake by the snoring that would soon erupt.
Saturday was the big day that everyone looked forward too, and the meal that was to follow later on. As this was a church function the morning right after breakfast would find us singing around the great fire, followed by someone leading out in a lively study of the scripture with most everyone taking part.
After closing the discussion with a prayer we would head into the dinning room for a light lunch, which was an incredible fruit salad that would tantalize your taste buds when eaten with the many fruit breads, in anticipation of the banquet later that evening.
Many chose to take a brisk hike to the old Kinsol Trestle in the hope of getting some exercise and an appetite worthy of the gustatory delight that was soon to happen. For those of us with out the energy to tackle such an endeavor, napping was in order but that meant taking a big risk because woe to the person without an appetite at dinner time. There were however, quite a few that were willing to chance it, due to either a lack of interest or maybe just plain laziness.
The ringing of the dinner bell and the rush that followed was worthy of what awaited everyone in the dinning room. One look at the tables was enough to satisfy anyone, even someone without so much as the faintest desire to eat.
What you do not know is that the meal I am going to describe is a vegetarian banquet. Could anything vegetarian taste good you might ask? Well if you have never eaten at an Adventist Vegetarian banquet you have not really eaten vegetarian. Most restaurants don’t know even what vegetarian means so unless one has eaten Adventist vegetarian cuisine keep an open mind. And phone an Adventist for an invite or come to Rest Haven SDA Church some Saturday, first Sabbath of the month and enjoy a feast of vegetarian cuisine that will amaze you.
Check this little known fact out and it might surprise you, it did me.
http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0511/sights_n_sounds/index.html
Sorry I got sidetracked; lets get back to the dinner. There were the vegetarian steaks, and the lovely baked potatoes with the beautiful gravy. If you didn’t like the gravy you could add butter and salt, or sour cream and salt, or onions and baco-chips. Then of course there were the beautiful plates of raw vegetables with all manner of fresh raw veggies and the many dips, not to mention the lovely garlic bread and the many fruit breads and muffins left over from lunch. And to liven up the dinner there were the pickles and the olives and the cranberry sauce. And let’s not forget the punch that even the children could drink.
The last thing to mention was the desert table, which I must say was well worth the wait as there was much more then necessary to satisfy even the sweetest of tooth’s. And of course, if your tooth was not so sweet, there were real mandarin oranges, not from China.
After the dinner and things were cleared away there was an evening of games such as Pit, Dominos, Scrabble, Boggle, Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit and would you believe it everyone just loved musical chairs.
I guess the biggest thing that people loved about it all was the social interaction. The kids just loved to sit in groups and rap until late in the evening. Everyone had fun and wanted to be there.
Sunday was ladies day and their chance to sleep late, as the men prepared a special breakfast with Dan Rippin in charge of the kitchen crew. This was an opportunity for the guys to impress the ladies with their culinary skills. Dan’s crew was a diverse lot but they all went to work with a will. Dan R would be on the pancakes, with Dan J taking care of the mounds of hash browns. Peter would be on the toast, while Leon was closely watching the fake sausages and bacon. Dan R also kept an eye on the potato skins, as they were his personal delight. And for beautiful scrambled eggs nobody does it better then Ed.
Just an aside for those that love sausages, the fake sausages, and fake bacon, require persistence and shear willpower, if you were willing to actually eat one.
You should have heard the squeals of delight as the ladies come charging in to devour what was created just for them. If you add real maple syrup and butter for the pancakes most people are willing to over look the fake bacon and sausages, providing you have not screwed up on the scrambled eggs.
Well, that was the weekend in a nutshell, the only thing left was the cleanup and with everyone pitching in, it was soon taken care of and off we drove with thoughts of next year and the fun we would have.
The ringing of the dinner bell and the rush that followed was worthy of what awaited everyone in the dinning room. One look at the tables was enough to satisfy anyone, even someone without so much as the faintest desire to eat.
What you do not know is that the meal I am going to describe is a vegetarian banquet. Could anything vegetarian taste good you might ask? Well if you have never eaten at an Adventist Vegetarian banquet you have not really eaten vegetarian. Most restaurants don’t know even what vegetarian means so unless one has eaten Adventist vegetarian cuisine keep an open mind. And phone an Adventist for an invite or come to Rest Haven SDA Church some Saturday, first Sabbath of the month and enjoy a feast of vegetarian cuisine that will amaze you.
Check this little known fact out and it might surprise you, it did me.
http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0511/sights_n_sounds/index.html
Sorry I got sidetracked; lets get back to the dinner. There were the vegetarian steaks, and the lovely baked potatoes with the beautiful gravy. If you didn’t like the gravy you could add butter and salt, or sour cream and salt, or onions and baco-chips. Then of course there were the beautiful plates of raw vegetables with all manner of fresh raw veggies and the many dips, not to mention the lovely garlic bread and the many fruit breads and muffins left over from lunch. And to liven up the dinner there were the pickles and the olives and the cranberry sauce. And let’s not forget the punch that even the children could drink.
The last thing to mention was the desert table, which I must say was well worth the wait as there was much more then necessary to satisfy even the sweetest of tooth’s. And of course, if your tooth was not so sweet, there were real mandarin oranges, not from China.
After the dinner and things were cleared away there was an evening of games such as Pit, Dominos, Scrabble, Boggle, Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit and would you believe it everyone just loved musical chairs.
I guess the biggest thing that people loved about it all was the social interaction. The kids just loved to sit in groups and rap until late in the evening. Everyone had fun and wanted to be there.
Sunday was ladies day and their chance to sleep late, as the men prepared a special breakfast with Dan Rippin in charge of the kitchen crew. This was an opportunity for the guys to impress the ladies with their culinary skills. Dan’s crew was a diverse lot but they all went to work with a will. Dan R would be on the pancakes, with Dan J taking care of the mounds of hash browns. Peter would be on the toast, while Leon was closely watching the fake sausages and bacon. Dan R also kept an eye on the potato skins, as they were his personal delight. And for beautiful scrambled eggs nobody does it better then Ed.
Just an aside for those that love sausages, the fake sausages, and fake bacon, require persistence and shear willpower, if you were willing to actually eat one.
You should have heard the squeals of delight as the ladies come charging in to devour what was created just for them. If you add real maple syrup and butter for the pancakes most people are willing to over look the fake bacon and sausages, providing you have not screwed up on the scrambled eggs.
Well, that was the weekend in a nutshell, the only thing left was the cleanup and with everyone pitching in, it was soon taken care of and off we drove with thoughts of next year and the fun we would have.
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Bird Cove
Looking East from House